Archive for January, 2012

Last year

Last year on New Year’s Eve, I was pregnant without knowing. I had my suspicions though. Kate and Liz were here with me. Along with the rest of Germany, we lit fireworks outside our house in the snow, and tried not to get blown up.

2011 was much more than I bargained for. I got depressed when the snow melted. I hated Germany, for a while. I went home to Australia, hugged my mum, and learned that not everything is better there.

I discovered Spring in Germany. I fell in love with the city I live in, it’s beautiful streets, it’s parks and canals, it’s horrific and glorious history.

Rose had her first hair cut, and made her first real friend. I found a fleamarket beyond my wildest dreams. I’m not going to say any more about it. I ate lots and lots of ice cream. Some I made with egg yolks and double cream. I wish I still had time.

I found out I was having a boy, and cried for several days. I did a lot of thinking, about men. I went to England, my favourite place. I slept in a tent with my daughter beside me. I ate pork pie and damson jam.

I experienced labour, it was crazy. I fell in love with my son. I waited and waited for summer to come. It did, the day I went into hospital. For three days it was 30 degrees. When I came out, it was raining.

I cried a lot. Theodore cried more than me. Rose cried a little, and Tony not at all. I watched two seasons of Downtown Abbey, twice. I started to sense my time in Germany was running out.

And now it’s time for us to go home. In just a few short weeks, we’ll be back in Australia, home to see family and friends, then off to live in a new place. I’ve never been to Brisbane. I hear it’s nice. But there are snakes, and floods, and no one I can call a friend. But that’s where I started here, so recently. And now here I am, thinking of the loved ones I’ll miss, and the wonderful times I’ve had here.

But enough of that, for now.


Zum Geburtstag, liebe Rosie

Dear Rose,

Today was your third birthday. Your Dad made pancakes for breakfast. Yours was the shape of an “R”. The living room was decorated with 38 balloons. I tried to make some bunting, but we’re terribly sleep deprived and I couldn’t manage it. Instead, I got out my collection of hankies and tied them all together. It looked grand, and you loved it. I decorated your chair with flowers, just like in the book Miffy’s Birthday by Dick Bruna.

All your presents were wrapped in red paper. You didn’t know or care that your new bike was bought second hand from the neighbour, or that your doll’s house once belonged to the lovely Hochschild girls. Aside from these we gave you glitter pens, a little stethoscope and an old black “doctor bag”, since “doctoring” is big with you right now. We also gave you a groclock, which was a pathetic attempt to recover your sleep habits. You seemed to like it. Your favourite gift is a blue ballet outfit. It was given to us years ago by Sarah Schachtel, who bought it at a garage sale. I’ve kept it hidden all this time. I can see it causing problems, you already want to wear it all day.

We organised a party for you at the last minute, and by “last minute” I mean morning of. Nevertheless, you had heaps of guests, and our flat became a chaotic whirl of children, babies and adults. You wore a dress that my mother made for me, with smocking and a peter pan collar. You asked for an apricot cake, but we couldn’t get dried apricots and your cake was chocolate instead. When we sang, you cried and hid your face. You didn’t want to blow out the candles.

At three years old, you’re an enchanting girl. You’re articulate, stubborn, imaginative, bossy, serious, silly and kind. Your storms are very stormy, your sunshine bright. We love being your parents.

Happy birthday darling girl.

About Me

A girl with a camera, a toddler and a sewing machine. Making sense of Germany... and life in general.

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