Wow. Famous last words. "See you on the other side" - and then some! It's been nine months since that last post and most people who have two kids will understand the radio silence. Turns out I'm only human, bl**dy hell I struggled royally the first few months. Initially more with getting over the physical violation of giving birth to beautiful baby Emil, then Max' reaction to having a little brother, having moved house again and starting at the new French speaking nursery - the poor soul - then after Xmas the sleep deprivation caught up with me and I spent pretty much up until now, with brief moments of brilliantness, in a blurr of winter illness, reflux terrorism (Emil suffered so badly the poor sausage), more illnesses, more sleep deprivation and a whole heap of mini (and maxi) nervous breakdowns. Hindsight is a wonderful thing and let it be said now, once and for all, had I known what was coming I wouldn't have moved to another country while pregnant so readily. Oh no sir. But most importantly now I really do think (although I've been known to have said this before) we've come out of the fog a bit. And while it's been hard (did I say how hard it's been?) it has quite possibly been the most amazing twelve and a bit months. I mean, we crammed a couple of lifetimes in such a short time. And we felt so alive (in a sleep deprived, living life to the full kind of way). No two days the same, so much newness... Quite amazing. Very special new friends have been made, many beautiful times spent in the mountains, on the lake etc. And most importantly, uttermost importantly, a very unspeakably brilliant, sweet, amazing, skin pinchingly fabulous little human being has come into our world. Emil. Let me tell you about Emil...
After having endured a three day (yup) labour with Max, Emil practically fell out within a few hours. I remember thinking, as the midwife handed him to me (and I realised he is indeed a he), I thought "was that it?" Well, I have the epidural to thank for that but it was just so quick! Both Rick and I hadn't quite realised how much we'd both thought Emil was actually an Emilia, so when we saw proof of his manhood we were quite taken aback for a minute there (or two). I spent a week in hospital (hail to the Swiss health services) which gave me time to get to know this little man who looked so much like Max at first and then morphed more and more into a mini baby version of me. Yes, me. After the Rick clone in Max I can't deny the self-indulgent pleasure of that. He was delicious. Little. Tiny. The first thought I had when Max walked in to greet him was that Max was HUGE. Having another child really is as mind blowing as having the first, maybe in other ways. Luckily, Emil turned out to be, at least initially, a very easy baby. Thankfully as it was Max who was the challenge at first. Having gone through a lot of change he was a little thrown by the new baby around, attached to me almost the entire time and having to share (which is very hard for any three year old...) his parents with a stranger who mainly slept or cried. So poor old Max went through a bit of a crisis (or in other words, he temporarily turned into a total terrorist) which of course had me in a ginormous parental crisis. I'd questioned everything, major guilt trips etc, etc. Somehow we got through it and just as Max turned a corner for the better, Emil decided to become, well, difficult. His previously half decent sleeping pattern went out the window, he had reflux and the whole weaning to solids and off the boob turned into one hellish nightmare. I do not want to revisit that time just yet so let's just leave it at that... As with all things children: it was all just a phase and he is now sleeping better, eating fine and generally starting to display various examples of his cheeky personality. Shifty is all I say.
Momentarily Max and Emil are one great big love story. They play together, Max does what he can to make Emil laugh (and no one makes Emil laugh like Max does), Emil loves a good pull on Max' curls and they generally egg each other on to do all things naughty. My future is bright! So, while in a good place, happy and all (ask me tomorrow and I'll tell you I'm busy searching for a bridge to throw myself off - it's a bit like that these days...) I thought it'd be a great opportunity to revive the blog, with some pictures of a beautiful family day out we had today. Rick suggested we head out to the French alps, to a lake near Morzine and a village that apparently has goats wandering around freely. Well, it was a brilliant idea. See for yourself.
Tadpoles. In case you wondered what this was.
I made Rick's shirt out of leftover material from the rug he's sitting on.
We like labelling our children (see above and below).
That's enough kisses now Mami. Never!
Tadpole hunting with big tadpole on my back.
The French do Switzerland better than the Swiss do. Best goatsville I've ever seen.
