Monday, 15 April 2013


Oh to be ten again. Old enough to have a very grown up conversation about global warming, nuclear energy, or Hinduist traditions, but still young enough to be totally submersed in imaginative play.

,,I need needle number two''. My daughter and her darling friend N. have built a complete animal hospital in my daughter's bedroom. The girls - sensibly kitted out with hairbands and plastic gloves - are operating on a teddy bear. The bear is lying down on a makeshift table. my daughter and her friend are cutting him open and stitching him back together again. All the while pretending of course.
Both girls are at that wonderful transitional stage where one minute, when talking about their homework, or gossipping about some girls at school, they make you believe they are almost sixteen, where the next minute they are crafting themselves paper wings, because they are going to fly.
Watching them makes me wonder about my own life at the moment, which seems to be all work and no play. It is quickly turning me into an impatient, stressed out person that I do not like much.  I am never great when I have to move again, but this time I find it especially hard.
Technically we have to move in about twelve weeks, but we have not found a house yet. A fact that my husband W. handles so much better than I do.  I so like to be in control. At the same time I get a bit overwhelmed with the prospect of saying goodbye for the next three months.
But there is no avoiding it. It is all people want to talk about with me, ever curious as to how I feel about going back to the Netherlands. I tell them that I am ready to grow some roots again. That it is going to be really good for the children to reconnect with their culture and that it will be wonderful to one day own a house again.
Inside I am not so sure though that I am ready to say good bye to Switzerland, to the wonderful friends that I have made here, to the mountains that I have come to love so much and to my smallish house with the big barden that fits me like a glove.
Every Thursday - or Friday in good weeks - I reach the point when I get totally stressed out. I never get to the bottom of the to do list that I dilligently wrote down the weekend before. I also never manage to feed the children as healthily as I imagined I would. And then I wanted to read and play more with them. And be more involved with their homework. The list is endless. On top of it all I am the sole tidier, cleaner and organiser of our household at the moment.
Luckily W. comes home every weekend to sort me out. He tells me ready made pizza's are ok and also that nobody is going to really mind if the house is a little less clean. He also suggests that I make  more time for my writing and running. And best of all he orders me to enjoy Switzerland, while I still can. So playdate anyone?