Kings of the road

One might think that pushing a stroller ahead of you would trigger polite manners by other traffic participants (in particular drivers of cars and bicycles). Not so in Suedtirol. Here, if you walk with a stroller, you better get yourself a second pair of eyes that help you cover a 360° radius, to make sure you don't oversee the kings of the roads with their bully jeeps or their 5000 Euro bikes.
Just today, I was already in the midst of a pedestrian crossing, a biker (who approached me and the stroller on his 5000 Euro bike) shouted at me - while almost driving into Mia's stroller with 50 kmh - to open my eyes before crossing the street (note: on a pedestrian crossing) . How comes these idiots on bikes think that they are exempted from traffic rules, just because they have fancy outfits and expensive bikes and well trained bodies? After all, I was already on the pedestrian crossing while he was still 200 meters away. Before I was able to tell him that it would be him to pay in case of an accident, because he 1) drove to fast 2) did ignore the pedestrian crossing - he was already around the corner.
But worst then the bikers are the owners of jeeps, and here again in particular female owners. I remember a middle aged women who recently parked her disgustingly big jeep in the midst of a pedestrian strip. I with my stroller had to walk on the street in order to pass her jeep. When I noticed her that the pedestrian strip was for pedestrians, she only shrug her shoulders and continued devoting her whole attention to her unnaturally full lips. Bitch. Besides the fact that I think its ridiculous to drive a jeep in a town where you can count the potholes on one hand, they should at least respect traffic rules. But after three months of stroller pushing, I have learned that it's size and speed that matter in Suedtirol. No wonder Italy has one of the lowest birthrates around the world.

Life outside Hollywood

Though still waiting for the happy end, I should add that there is more to tell about life with a child (and life in general) than what shallow hollywood movies are able to tell us. Luckily. How awful would it be if one would have to constantly worry about too many, too few, or simply the wrong men, deal with mothers and mothers in law, live in messed up appartments, and on top of everything also try to be funny while dealing with all this?

One thing that's beautiful about having a child is that suddenly, there are so many things out there to be (re)discovered. How should I put it? It's different to do stuff with a child, even if it is about something which one has done a hundred and more times before. Simply things. For instance spending a day on lake Garda, or going for a trek, or going for a swim, walking through the town in the evening, or travelling by plane, seeing relatives or friends. All these apparently well known things suddenly feel new, as if I would do them for the first time. Sometimes it doesn'teven require one to do things; it's enough to follow the eyes of Mia, try to look at things she is staring at, and suddenly there are new things in the room, in the street, in the car, whereverI am with her. Things I never noticed before - even so they were always there - because I just didn't pay any notice to them. Little things. Which are out there and all around to be discovered. First time trekking with Mia

First time lake Garda with Mia

Hollywood

Somehow I just can't keep myself from drawing analogies between my life and a shallow hollywood comedy:

One baby - Mia
Three men - Mia's dad, someone I love, someone I can't forget about
A flat in dire need of a cleanup
A facial skin that could put up with some scrubbing as well
A mom who believes that grandmothers have a bigger say in the upbringing of grandchildren than the granchilds' mom has
A mother in law that is not quite a mother in law but would still be happy to babysit whereever I decide to work and live
A dog who loves sunbathing on his back in the garden at 30 something degree
A bunch of lovely-crazy self declared aunties of Mia, around the world
And a group of other moms for the occasional gossip-coffee meet ups in town

I'm confident the happy-end is just hiding around the corner.

Früh übt sich

Pictures taken during a recent - improvvised - martial arts training session.

She's a real little fighter...

Thinking - screaming

At least she knows what she wants.

Sweet life, where are you??

It all started off so quiet, but I guess babies just can't continue sleeping away day and night. As I discovered over the past nine weeks, babies grow at an enormous speed, and with their body size, their voice gains power. And they discover that there are more interesting things to be done than sleeping (the day when she will appreciate a afternoon power nap will come again one day). Mia does keep me quite busy these days, both with smiles and with cries. When she smiles, she smiles all over her face, when she cries, she cries with her entire body. Though I prefer the smiles, I do have to smile over her cries, too. One wonders: what is it that makes such a tiny being turn from total joy into complete weltschmerz? What does she think when she's throwing her hands against her head while screaming the lungs out of her body? And what does she think when she's smiling away at the little pandabear which my mom bought in the souvenier shop of the Vienna zoo? But to be honest, there isn't actually much time left to read her body language. Between feeding, nappy changes, comforting her, pushing the stroller, a bit of homework, garden work, walking Argo, grocery shopping, meeting other moms, and the occasional glass of wine in the evening, it's only thanks to a bit of multitasking that I still manage to read a newspaper or write an email. Sweet life, seems gone. And yet, happiness is all around.

Just happy

Can't really say why or about what, but woke up this morning with a feeling of just being happy and content about how things are. Looking at Mia, as she is smiling away in her cradle next to me, she must have the same feeling, maybe even knowing less why so than I.