Okaaaaaayy

Like enough of the nazel gazing already!! (I knew the 'z' there was a typo, but liked it so have left it in.) Perkiness has returned and I realised we haven't had a list for a while.

This then, is Emma's Bottom Ten.

1. Injections (OWWWWW!)
2. Having face wiped (YUKKKK!)
3. Getting undressed (waaaaaaah!)
4. Getting dressed (WAAAAHHH!)
5.Pasta (GROSS!)*
6.Loud noises, especially
7.masking tape and
8. the ironing board being put up (SCREAMING!)
9. Nappy changes (BOOORRRRING!)
10. Having teeth brushed (BRUTAL!)

*(sigh)

Thanks to all of you for cheering me up. It is a lovely reminder that the Internet is not all pervy types but full of very dear family and friends. You are much cherished and thought about in this cheese-soaked land. (Even if, as I think about you, there is probably banana in my hair.)

Re: the homesickness. Right now it is as though my feelings about being in Switzerland have reached a plateau. I am definitely not miserable, but I am not thrilled either. I have my two favourite people in the world sharing the experience; we have a nice flat; we have enough money and don't need anything in material terms; I've made some friends, some of them I would call good ones, to whom I can reveal proper stuff to in spite of the language barrier. I have alot of blessings to count and before I know it this whole experience will be over - return is scheduled for 2006, though this is not set in stone. I'm determined to make the most of it.

It's just that nagging ache for my little corner of earth and more importantly, the other people who live there, is a constant feature of my day. Sometimes I barely notice it, and sometimes it drowns out the present things I know I should be enjoying. This is all normal, I'm sure. But I'm intrigued as to why it is still knocking around...I half expected to wake up in the morning one day and go "Hurrah! Adjustment period over. Full ex-pat identity assumed. Proceed!" (and yes, my brain does sound a bit like Knight Rider.)

I've never felt very British, I am not particularly patriotic. I would like the Royal Family to give all their money away, ditch the titles and move to the suburbs - for their own sakes. I don't like grubby, polluted London, the trains, the inferior recycling schemes or warm beer. Our quality of life is better here, though I make an exception regarding the stomach-flipping quantities of dog poo on Swiss pavements. But this place doesn't have my heart.

It's also made me think a lot about being foreign somewhere, and how I didn't really notice foreigners very much back home. There was a Somalian family living opposite in Tooting; we were there when they moved in and I didn't say 'hello' to them, not once. Now I really value it when strangers come and just introduce themselves. I hope I will behave a bit differently towards foreigners when I get back home.

Home, see. That's what it's all about.

and another thing

Blogger has gone bonkers.

I swear I didn't ask it to publish twice that time.

Any more of this nonsense and I shall start divorce proceedings. (From Blogger.)

ranting

Hello. I have been away. From the computer, not on an exotic holiday. I even typed a rather soul searching blog that blogger lost. I even tried to stick some weblinks in it. That didn't work, for some reason, turning me into a very sour Switzerlady.

But truth is, I am getting Blog fatigue. Blogigue. Things don't seem especially interesting in Switerladyland anymore. Not that they were that interesting in the first place. I do laundry. I go to the shops. I take the rubbish out. I cook. I wash up. I wash up more than I cook. I dress myself. I dress Emma. I change nappies. I hang out in the evenings with my dreamy husband. I get homesick. I am homesick now. Not the stuff of blockbuster novels.


Am I depressed? Don't think so. My inner self is still quite perky, homesickness notwithstanding. I blame Alias. We've watched nearly the entire 1st series (and will go to extreme lengths to get hold of the second, if any one can help me in this matter.) Life just seems a bit colourless when you're not a kick-boxing, postgrad-studying, glossy-haired CIA double agent securing the downfall of foreign, rogue intelligence agencies.

ranting

Hello. I have been away. From the computer, not on an exotic holiday. I even typed a rather soul searching blog that blogger lost. I even tried to stick some weblinks in it. That didn't work, for some reason, turning me into a very sour Switzerlady.

But truth is, I am getting Blog fatigue. Blogigue. Things don't seem especially interesting in Switerladyland anymore. Not that they were that interesting in the first place. I do laundry. I go to the shops. I take the rubbish out. I cook. I wash up. I wash up more than I cook. I dress myself. I dress Emma. I change nappies. I hang out in the evenings with my dreamy husband. I get homesick. I am homesick now. Not the stuff of blockbuster novels.


Am I depressed? Don't think so. My inner self is still quite perky, homesickness notwithstanding. I blame Alias. We've watched nearly the entire 1st series (and will go to extreme lengths to get hold of the second, if any one can help me in this matter.) Life just seems a bit colourless when you're not a kick-boxing, postgrad-studying, glossy-haired CIA double agent securing the downfall of rogue and evil intelligence agencies.

What French animals say*

Cows: "Meuh!"
Chickens: "Cot! Cot! Cot!"
Sheep: "Bee! Bee!"
Ducks: "Coin! Coin!"
Pigs (my personal favourite): "Grr! Grr!"

* courtesy of "Spot a la ferme"

Couldn't find cockerels, sadly. In German they go "Kikerikiii!"

We have this conversation every day

Mum; "Emma, sweetie, my angel..look! Look! Mummy's put these lovely, wooden, colourful, vaguely educational toys over here for you to play with while Mummy fiddles around on the computer! Herrrrree you go! Goood girrrl! Mwah, mwah!"

Emma(pink bottom in the air, defiantly shuffling in opposite direction); " No way, Mum! Those toys? They bore me. Now, if you don't mind, I'm just off to fiddle with those electrical flexes you and Dad have forgotten to tape down, and eat tiny objects invisible to the naked adult eye. Like staples. And apple pips. And newspaper, if you have any. Ciao!"

Error! Error!

Excuse very similar last posts. I'm not amnesic. At least I don't think so. What's my name again?

I wrote the first one last night, and thought it had been lost forever in the Blogger vortex. Apparently not.

This crazzzy cyberworld. You can tell I don't live here.

Thanks, all for your enquiring after Emma's welfare. My Snow Elf is very much better, thank you. She looks it, don't you think? And Mumps is looking pretty smart, too. Look at that coat! Look at those big, doggy jowls!

Mum and Dad, on the other hand, have been better.

Dad has a mystery virus that has kept him feverish and in bed for three days. This equals approximately 1 day off work, 1 quiet weekend, 3 litres of water, 10 paracetamol, 1 change of pyjamas, zero shaving opportunities, 1 resentful strop (Mum's), the entire No 1 Ladies' Detective Agency book series and 1 episode of Alias on DVD.

Mum is feeling a bit bereft after lovely visit from Best Friend, and a bit tired and homesick generally. Hence the inspiration for this poem:

Hey, Nonny Nonny
Hey Nonny, Hey
The Alps aren't a patch on
Tooting Broadway.

Normal service resumes

Emma is much better, thank you. And she looks it, don't you think?

In Other News:
- R Stricken By Mystery Virus! (..oR maYbe not so MISteRiouys, DaDdY)
- British Family gets 190 CHF Parking Ticket! (that's around 95 of your earth pounds. For being parked slightly on the pavement. For less than five minutes. Ow!)
- Switzerlady Homesick! (Best friend just left after lovely visit. Boo.)

woof, woof! 

The worst night since Emma's birth. It went a bit like this.

7pm The snow elf is fed and in bed. Mum and Dad settle down to yummy tuna pasta suprise.
7.15 Snow Elf starts crying.
7.30 Pick up Snow Elf and cuddle her.
7.30 - 10pm Cuddle SE. Rock SE. Jiggle SE. Tuna pasta suprise goes cold. Whisper soothing words to SE. Walk around flat with SE in arms. Breastfeed SE. Lie in bed with SE. All useless.
10pm-10.30pm SE sleeps, fitfully.
10.30pm - 1am Repeat of 7.30pm - 10pm scenario, plus tears (Mum's) and handwringing and Calpol.
1am-4am SE falls asleep in Mum and Dad's bed, on Dad's chest.
4am - 6am Repeat of 7.30pm and 10.30pm scenarios.
6am SE and Dad fall asleep in spare bed.
7am Time to get up.

In sickness and in elf

My golden-haired snow elf is not well. She had a temperature at the weekend and now she has a rash. Not a scary meningitis rash, thank God, but an all over body rash nonetheless. She has been sleeping and waking at odd times, and is more prone to those mournful, weak little cries that make me go to pieces. I've spoken to my paediatrician friend on the phone and feel reassured enough not to take her to hospital or anything like that. But I worry.

Then again she did giggle when I took her for a ride round the flat on her dog on wheels (called Mumps as ancient readers of this blog will know.)