The middle of summer

We're here. Kind of. Finally.

Baby A, for whatever reason, is only waking up 3-5 times a night now. So M and I get a lot more sleep. Long chunks of it being most important. We even took our first trip with her, at 7 months old, while our niece was visiting. All four of us survived a 3 hour train trip down to the Italian part of Switzerland and back. Glorious weather, palm trees, green mountains sloping down into a blue lake. And food. Great food. Gelato. Pasta. Sea food. Coffee with boiled milk at breakfast. And the last night, M and I stumbled on a newly opened restaurant in Locarno called Il Tartuffo where the chef took us into the kitchen to discuss the meal, explain the spices and herbs, even sent out a shot glass of the base (fish and chicken) he was using for the day's meals. Such an amazing meal.

Now, when I say stumbled, please don't get some image of us languidly walking the old city streets in search of the perfect place. We were staying up near the monastery on the hill above Locarno, and we'd already had 2 meals at one place (and were close to exhausting their fine, but small menu), and one meal at a very fancy place. We were nearing the end of the restaurant list for what was within a 10 minute walk from our hotel. Our niece was in charge of baby A after we put her down to sleep, but we weren't about to waste precious eating and sitting time on traveling down to town. We would have been more than happy to have 2 plates of pasta that night. It just turned out that our path crossed with this great place that had only been open for 3 months.

So back to now. We are sleeping more. Baby A will be starting daycare in a few months. Those first 5 months of her life still bring a sinking feeling to my stomach. But she and I are doing so much better now. I'm a mom. I see that. And feel it. Especially when my arms are the ones she wants to snuggle in when she falls and bumps her head. Which she does, a lot as she crawls and stands and couch-walks her way around her world.

I still have my moments, when I thought she was tired and she thought she was tired, but there we are with her wide awake and smiling in her crib and me trying to force a nap. Those are still the times that knock me off my balance. But I keep repeating what the one counselor at the hospital said. That parenting is not about knowing what your child wanted or needed, but trying to listen, getting it wrong half the time or more, and everyone having faith that everyone is putting in their best effort, and then trying again. That I can do. I can come back over and over. I can say "sorry, I totally misunderstood. Let's try again." I'm just working on letting myself be in that space instead of feeling embarrassed that I got it wrong in the first place.

Oh, and it is ridiculously hot right now in Zurich for an apartment that doesn't have central anything. It is us and our two fans against the hot sun. We are currently practicing the early morning open-all-the-doors-to-cool-things.

So yeah. Life is ok.