Bad blogger

I've been a bad blogger. I don't know where the time goes. Well, yes, I do. Let's see: mornings I stay in bed until two minutes before R has to leave for work; when Small Boy naps after lunch I sleep - not just a doze off on the couch with Eurosport humming in the background nap, no sir, a full on get-undressed-put-on-my-PJs-and-get-into-bed nap; afternoons Small Boy go outside in this wonderful weather (although he is not at all excited about the Return of the Sunscreen); and I go to bed at about 9pm. So, yes, I do know where the time goes: it goes to my bed.

I remembered this tiredness from the Small Boy pregnancy, but I didn't fully appreciate what it would mean to want to sleep 16 hours a day with a small child in the house. Let's just give the three cheers to the grandparents (again) who give me Wednesdays to recuperate. Of course, they don't know about the pregnancy yet so they don't know how much I really appreciate those days. They will soon, I suppose, those R and I will probably put off telling people about this pregnancy, like the last time, until they've all pretty much already guessed it.

I think we've found a Tagesmutter for Small Boy. Literally translated that would be a day-mother; a Tagesmutter is somebody who will take care of your child in their home one or two days a week. Usually they are women with a small child of their own at home, but sometimes they are grandmother types or younger women. The woman we've found has a daughter just a few months younger than Small Boy, lives 10 minutes away, would have Small Boy one full day a week, and is very sympathisch. Such a great German word, sympathisch: it translates as likeable or congenial, but it doesn't have the bland non-commital quality those words (for me) have in English. It's a pretty nice compliment, at least in Swiss German, to be sympathisch. Somebody you click with right away would be sympathisch; a neighborhood you want to move into the second you see it could be called sympathisch. Small Boy and her daughter seem to get along - what does that even mean when you're two? They don't fight or run away when they see the other one coming, they can share toys after a fashion (though she is much better at sharing than the Boy) and it seems like they'll enjoy the same things: parks, playgrounds, woods, toy cars. It seems like a good fit, though in typical Small Boy fashion he is more interesting in being friends with the adult than with the child. We've met three times now so that Small Boy can get to know them while I'm around. He's going to freak the first time I say "bye-bye now" but we'll burn that bridge when we come to it.

That's all the news from here. I'm tired. Mongo-tired. Oh, and low-level nauseated* all day. That's new. And it sucks. And I'm hoping it goes away soon because I'd kind of like to eat three squares, you know?

* Thanks, Strunk and White, for clearing up that whole nauseous/nauseated thing.