Calling Your Cat Names 

Bastian my cat is annoying early in the morning. You might say he’s cute and beautiful and whatever words you want to use for this:


But he is making me consider slitting my veins in the early hours when I’m juggling breakfast and pee pee and dressing up responsibilities to the best of my ability and this mofo stares at me from outside scratching the kitchen door only to wait on the porch and lick his fur when I let him in in haste. Once he eats his food he claws my calf asking for more and I swear to an Egyptian cat he looks like this:


Is calling a cat “dog” counts as verbal abuse?

There’s nothing to be proud of but I did tell him: “No more food for you, dog”.

He left the room and jumped on San-Jay’s bed.

Not my problem now. Phew…

Do You Consider This Annoying? 

Is it normal to be annoyed with your husbands so much that the punishment ideas just queue in your head. And not because or when your period is coming.

My mother used to put laxatives in his dinner the next day he came home too late (and basically had more fun out than her in stuck, with two hormonal teenage girls).

I literally had to use all my self-control powers today to not wipe my husband’s mug with Arya’s soiled wipe. And not for any particular reason. Basically for the whole 10 years of annoyance.

I’m a horrible wife but I promised nothing.

These Oh So Familiar Conversations with Toddler

If you’re ever near Lisbon – make sure you don’t miss Sinatra. I never knew a place like this exists, soaking in romanticism, rich history (and rich on many levels), mysticism and fairy tale spirit. 

This is however not a post about travelling. The beauty of the place is just a bonus. It’s about the conversations between a parent and a 2 (and almost) half years old child.

So – pay attention to the first part when Sanj briefs me on what he’s taking with us and what not. Can you hear that the word “milk” is pronounced in spelling rather than a “human” word. It’s because in our family Arya’s desired objects, no matter how quietly and at what times are pronounced , Our daughter will pick on and will take advantage of to such an extent that we might regret even thinking them. “Milk”, “chocolate”, “ice-cream”, “tubby” (Teletubby) have this power of being needed right after they are called upon. They therefore simply have to be spelled and we are safe until the girl learns how to read (I’m very much in Catch 22 here when answering the question: “Do I want Arya to learn to read?”).

Secondly, there’s always the aspect of making decisions. They take long but if not respected irrespective of the outcome, we are screwed.

Thirdly, there are daddy’s lectures. Painful to hear for mummy, ignored completely by the daughter.

And most importantly – “Mummy! Put the phone down”.

​​​​​​​​​​

Moana

Never been a fan of Disney movies. Bambi, Lion King – parents die, Sleeping Beauty waiting for her true love sleeping prior to serving 7 other men (O.K., I know, it’s Grimm’s story originally). Yes,  I understand all of them tell beautiful stories of being strong and believing your dreams but I could always find something wrong about each of them. Well, not always wrong, but not quite right.

My first and only (up to this day) favourite one was for a long time was Princess and the Frog with its beautiful Almost There song (no, it’s not a chanting tune for during sex), very close to my heart. And now, Moana joins this short list.

Perhaps it’s a commercial grasp of the moment (as it’s usually the case) , as Christy Lemire says: “Moana would have been enormously entertaining regardless of when it came out, but its arrival at this particular moment in history gives it an added sense of significance—as well as inspiration.” but Moana takes every girl to walk with her arm in arm, with their doubts, good, gentle hearts,

She’s strong, kind and beautiful, willing to learn, loving her family, devoted to her community, doubting herself but listening to her heart which is entwined with her intelligence. She’s the woman. She’s every single woman. Ridiculed by some big muscle demi-god:

“You are gonna stay here with the other chicken.”

“Daughter of the chief.
I thought you stayed in the village.
You know, kissing babies and things.”

“If you wear a dress and have an animal sidekick, you are a princess.

And she puts up with this. And she makes him a better man.

For all of you ladies:

Moana

Beautiful and sexy can go very well together with strength, sporty, intelligent.

No one Around

I haven’t been writing. I’ve been tired. More emotionally and mentally than physically.

I’m tired and apart from that – almost no access to my phone or a computer apart from work and when Arya falls asleep so not really able to keep the update. I fall asleep right after her. I love my baby with all my heart and I can’t bear being away from her just for my own pleasure or leasure although I so badly need it.

I haven’t been here for a while also because otherwise I would complain or ask for her and I don’t do that. I wish I did but I don’t want to sound like a whining woman (who my husband surely thinks I am)

Arya’s the only one I’ve got. She has been since she was born but with time more and more.

I can’t bear weekends because I feel so lonely. I can’t sit down with Arya at the table with a cup of tea and chat? I can’t have a man and woman nice evening together with a man telling me that I’m still pretty and that he would like to take me somewhere nice and then follow through. I can’t even speak about it to any of my very few friends because they’ve got their lives and I’m the strong one who can always cope and my life is not that bad afterwards. In fact it’s pretty good. I finally have my perfect family…

I can’t count on my family either. And in the moments like this I want to hide my face in my hands and burst out crying spasmatically. 

Arya is my life. And I say it with tears of bliss; if not her I don’t know if I would be in flesh here and now. But I also am a woman, just a human. It’s all about balance but it never is.

Normally you don’t read posts like that in blogs which you expect to tackle only the essence of awesomeness. These are posts in those self-deprecating, pessimistic holes of the Internet. Well life is not an Instagram Profile. Definitely not mine.

I have no one. Literally no one around. 

Philosophical Conversations – Moodleys Talk

Me: I’m scared that I don’t speak to Arya in Polish because I don’t want to connect with my past me.

Sanj: I’m scared that because I don’t have any connection to my culture Arya will not have any, she will be like a floating child. That’s why I’m happy you speak to her in Polish sometimes

Me: What do you mean “floating child”.

Sanj: Speaking about floating child, wears running out of toilet paper

Finding Dory

For some reason Arya for months now has been a big fan of Nemo and Dory without even seeing a single frame of either of the animations. She has her Finding Nemo treasure book with the characters and plays with them every day.

Come Saturday, the Moodleys plan is to watch a movie together (symulatig cinema with popcorn and large Coke) while Arya sleeps. Yesterday afternoon while browsing Sky store we noticed there’s Finding Dory. BLOODY £5.45 it was for later and a crappy programme for us during the afternoon nap. 

In the evening after Arya’s dinner I put Arya next to me and Sanj put the movie on. 

The reaction was priceless. The first scene with little Dory and Arya’s face lit up. She covered her mouth with excitement like a celebrity on hearing her name at the announcement of the winner of the best actress Oscar Award. I have never seen this reaction before. She smiled every time little Dory was on and stayed tuned throughout the whole movie (another new thing in the world of our hummingbird). I watched all emotions coming out of this little soul. Happiness, worry, fear, surprise, excitement… 

It was amazing. It was amazing that our baby matures emotionally, connects with characters and feels for them. 

Milestone… this one’s huge.

Only Animals Lovers will Get this Post

See, Bastian is my fist baby alive.

I miscarried twice (although NHS would consider my unborn babies as insignificant foetuses) and Bastian fillled the long-hurting void. He is my first baby – he let me give him love I’ve had as a mother. I remember the day when I was with him after only a few days he had been with us and he got sick throwing up throughout the whole day – my stomach was churning, I was all in tears and scared out of my mind…

He became a man a couple of months after we moved to our first house. A lion guard, the man of the neighbourhood. People in the community speak about him as if he was the Man. But when Arya was born, very often I was being asked – “Are you not scared that your cat can hurt Arya?” Or I got warnings. ” Be careful! There are cases of cats killing newborns”.

Bastian was always cautious with my baby. When Arya was born, sleeping between me and Sanj, he slept at our feet and always so careful with his paws not to even touch her. Jealous and needing love from us but protective of her. 

Only animal lovers will understand this – Bastian is an older brother for Arya. Right now he is sleeping in her room, curled up on the carpet, guarding her. 

Don’t get me wrong if she’s bothering him, he can plonk her with his tail or scratch her (gently, never too hard – I’ve whitnessed that) as a warning. What do you expect if someone is pushing you off the chair if you cozily dozed off (that’s the only time he plonks her). Other times – he lets her have her way. Older brother, he is.

I e got two babies and I love them equally. 

Only animal lovers will get this.

Moodleys Talk – Coffee

Me to Sanj: “Do you know what Pret calls Americano?”

– Amo?

I’m upset because recently whatever I start with “Do you know.. ” he knows all ready.

So I say: “I can’t even have a conversation with you because you know everything”

Sanj: “No, Agusia you can tell me stuff about SQL but I know about coffee because I was a coffeetician”

I can’t even (and if you know me, you know that I have a face for it). Sanj knows this face so he develops confidently: “Yes. Coffeetician. It might not be a word yet but it will catch on”.

Life is Not what You See

Does whatever people observe relates to us: 

• follow us like a curse or a magic spell once spoken and 

– although we realise it has been true we will never be able to turn it around because it’s inflicted upon us with the power of always powerful words

– Or, brought up in a “don’t say it or you jinx it” culture we think we are doomed and we “decide” that from now on we will be what we were “doomed ” to be, JUST TO FOLLOW

• is just a reinforcement of who we are and what happens around us happens irrespective of what they say because they just observe a fact about us

• gets imprinted in our minds and from the moment the spell was cast on we are programmed to do as it was said.

Irrespective of how many algorithms your mind create you must realise that

 life is what happens in your mind and soul it is…  
Life is not what you see and since it’s not, and I’m a very visual person and take pleasure from what I see, I therefore dream and it’s amazing…

Screwing you Over Mums, BIG TIME

I’ve got two jobs, my husband is a management consultant, our baby is in a nursery and as much as there’s only benefits of the latter I cannot digest the thought that I pay £1500 each month for this. She’s having fun there and very much enjoying the time spent with her teachers and peers but almost each day I cry over this £1500 per month. 

£1500

Do you realise… DO YOU REALISE!!! that nurseries charge more than an average university for an MBA degree and yes, some mothers will jump on me saying that my child is the most important to me and money has no meaning when it comes to happiness of your child. Well, fuck it does because for this money I could get my daughter lots of things that inspire her, or, what would most of you say I could SAVE for her “real” education. 

You have to be realistic about the costs. Wake up and realise that the government is f***ing you like a prostitute (what? A mother shouldn’t use a language like that? Oh oh oh let me tell you something, who are people to judge?) 

Let’s see… If I pay £1500 per month she either comes out from it with a secured pension plan for me and my husband or 

she knows Chinese and AT LEAST basic programming 

or

she knows how to figure out what the next Euro millions results will be.

I cannot comprehend it – the newborns are our pension providers, mothers are some of the kegs in the economy wheel (still undervalued and underpaid but they are) and yet they fucking charge the FAMILIES for that. 

W-T-F?!!! I say?

Do you know, parents, we are being ripped off, big time. FUCKING BIG TIME (and although I’m a parent I will fucking swear here, just because I’m a human. Not a woman, not a baby… but a fucking human… who has a brain, who is believed to have a brain, as opposed to women and babies).

There I had my rant. 

And I’m actually considering moving out of this country – as a mother. #brexit to the win (short-term win)

And you know what – I know lots of women with babies who, with their families, decided to move out too.

Families, babies, women are not wanted here. 

Hm, if most of us leave who will pay for your pensioner holiday, Britain?

Quality Time with Daddy

San-Jay to Arya:

-Arya, daddy will draw you a butterfly.

The blue crayon swishing across the pink paper. Sanj is in his element.

I’m peeping. This appears in front of my eyes:


I swear to Batman, a little pee came out when I saw this. And even more when I realised, while Sanj was colouring the “butterfly” he still believed, deep in his heart, that the drawing depicted a perfect butterfly.

I wanna conclude this post with this sentence: “The world is not what it is, the world is what you think it is”.

Number One Rule in Gym

Sanj trying on his new gym clothes (he’s starting his regime this month): “You can’t look like an idiot in a gym, you know. That’s like number one faux pax”.

After approximately 30 seconds I can hear Sanj speaking to himself while taking of the trousers he just put on: “I guess it would help if I was putting them right side on”.

Number one…

First Night Lonely Sleeper

Arya slept in her own bed, on her own for the whole night. Not a single wake-up in between until 7:15. So I guess it’s another milestone for us, for me rather than for Arya as she probably doesn’t give a squat unless she gets milk once she’s up. 

It’s one of those “happen when ready” moments again – for all this time I was simply not prepared to let my baby lie stranded in a big bed with no one beside her, checking if she’s breathing. The thought of sleeping snug with my husband while my poor daughter is out there, in another room with no one beside her. No one wants to sleep alone. Right… 

But last night, we just put Arya to HER bed, (it took a while because this girl refuses to sleep) and returned to the sleeping arrangement from the time before Arya was born. Husband and wife reunited. And survived. 

This is another era ending. I remember each milestone and having to let go. Very likely have been doing all this completely off the book and later than any other parent but I-DO-NOT-CARE! “Ready” is the magic word. Remember that!

Things That Make a Mother of a Sick Child on Holiday Happy

Just how women have their secret menstrual cycle diary I should start Arya’s sickness cycle calendar. Hardly two weeks have passed since her last cold, just to arrive at Amsterdam with accompanying two green candles  continuously sticking out of her nose. 

And here is the list of anomalies that have made me happy while on this holiday:

– when your husband throws your baby worryingly high because the snots perfectly come out so you can wipe them out to clear your baby’s nose

– being against too hasty medicine application, on this occasion shooting Nurofen into your baby’s mouth to help her enjoy holiday

– your baby devouring fatty pizza (which you normally consider a no-no food chasing your baby with carrot and organic chicken but at this point you’re ecstatic that she’s at least eating something)

– your baby way past her bed time hoping that the next morning she would wake up at least this tiny 32 minutes later than the usual 5:58

– ZARA just around the corner, when your baby’s nappy has just leaked wetting the underwear, tights and the dress and after changing the body and covering your baby with just a jacket (not counting shoes) you perform the giant slalom stunts among the tourist crowd in order to quickly get an alternative outfit. You’re reaching ZARA with a massive “PHEW!!!” only two slow down a pace to carefully choose the right dress or trousers and top. 

– your baby still not knowing how to speak because watching a cartoon in Dutch is as perfect as in her native language. You on the other hand go beyond your intelligence levels to figure out the remote control just to find a language changing option. Thank god, the Dutch prefer the original version with subtitles. 

Any other mums and similar oddities?

 

Moodleys Talk

This could be put into the basket of “I don’t know what to respond, other than: “Do you even think what you’re saying”.

We are going to a cafe for afternoon tea which I booked a few days ago.

Sanj: Have you already paid for this?

Me: Nooo, it’s a cafe. You don’t buy tickets for it. You pay for the food you eat.

Sanj: Do you know how much it is?

Me: It’s £6 per person.

Sanj: Including Arya?

*********

The problem here is that he doesn’t understand where he went wrong. 

This is the fourth time I have been sick since I last breast fed Arya. Fourth time. And it’s not just a runny nose and a bit of sneezing, but a full blown flu with bone pain and old smoker’s cough. I’m starting to think that I probably need a Michael -Jackson-face-mask to save myself from the nursery bug vividly transmitted by my beloved child. When they say hybrid children have strong genes I didn’t know they have strong weapon genes.Today it’s the 11th day and I think, I THINK it’s all better because I’m not on beechams or day nurse yet, albeit it’s only 9:20 am. 

I diagnosed myself – it’s bronchitis and who knows what I will bring from the nursery next time. 

I hate being incapable, immobile, debilitated. The most annoying is that as soon as I feel worse physically, my dopamine level drops to the lowest extremes and I develop depression symptoms (I know, because I’ve been there) and it scares me. 

It’s like when a recovered alcoholic drinks a shot of vodka (say, by accident) and then he gets anxiety attack that it all is coming back again and he’s falling and nothing will stop this.

The good thing is that today I’m feeling better and as soon as Arya is up we, are out.

I say basta to the toy mess in the living room.

Rollercoaster 

It’s been a rather hectic roller coaster. Lots have been happening and fast. I managed to get flu twice, Sanj became a Brit
  Arya acclimatised perfectly in her new super nursery.  
Yes, she cries here and there but it’s a type of a
cry I’m familiar with (stubborn, moaning type) so not a big deal. 
Our lives are a little bit crazy at the moment. When I work in the office I take Arya to the nursery for a full day, running fast at 16:30 to collect her and get home just to get ready for my meeting with a client, intern, collaborator or whoever is in the schedule. The days when Arya is with me are tricky as in order to do some work I rely on her sleep which doesn’t happen as often and doesn’t last as long as a few months ago. But I put the mobile devices away when she’s awake in order to spend quality time with her. 
I got a fold-up sofa for her to sleep on. It’s time for her to let her snoring and wriggling disturb no one… but am I ready? ??

Of course I’m not!
We keep defending our decisions by saying that the baby is not ready for this or that, but in reality – it’s us who have more difficulty facing the cruelty of time. So when last night, the first time we put Arya in her new bed in another bedroom, I eventually landed sleeping next to her. For no other reason than that I was missing her. I fell asleep holding her hand only to get kicks in my face next morning.
The styling business is literally rolling on adrenaline and the hits I keep getting while organising the events are incredible. They feel like punches in the face but at the same time they make me stronger. They show me how professional and how ambitious I am. Or at least I’m striving to be. They teach me a lot. But at the same time they hurt. 
Intense period. Ups and downs. More ups please!

My Love has Turned 1 Earth Years While Being With Me Eternally

Last Saturday I experienced a day I had waited my lifetime.

Arya turned 1 on 11th February and last Saturday we celebrated this milestone in Poland.

Initially, there were supposed to be around 50 guests but due to various reasons 22 adults and 11 children turned out and although those who were missing were missed the afternoon could have not been more amazing.

For the event I choose The Palace in Popowo Stare in Poland. After the naming ceremony didn’t happen due to the hated by me, family politics, all my energy and effort were focused around making sure Arya Sofia’s 1st birthday was going to be the memorable experience full of love and happiness. The palace staff prepared everything according to my strict instructions and although it’s still very hard to virtually communicate in Poland in order to get the service providers work their asses off to please the customer, this time, luckily, my perseverance and pushing (again) paid off.

My stress level was high up to a very last moment, culminating when I was pushing the soft shoes into my baby’s feet with no success and me shouting with frustration: “I can’t do it! In leaving”.

Thank God for my sister who took over while I was a total melt down.

5 minutes before the scheduled birthday there was absolutely no one in the palace and I was an utter bundle of nerves, ready to hide myself in some deep deep corner to rock myself back and fort to a complete madness.

13:00 sharp and suddenly the palace spilled with guests so Sanj and I took my beautiful but sniffly Arya outside through the back gate to ride into the front court:

  
There were many moments when I was fighting tears with emotion while looking at oblivious Arya. It was the time I waited for my entire life (those who know me, understand that it literally was a lifetime waiting) and everyone claimed they enjoyed themselves.

 
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  

The 12 months passed like a whip lash. But time is irrelevant when your soul knows life is constant and your body needs a physical realisation of life.

It’s one of these things I say that are hard to comprehend. Because they are beyond here and now.
To Arya Sofia

Thank you my baby for coming down into this life. I could only scold you for letting me feel this darkness without for such a long time. But now that you’re with me, nothing else matters. The scar is just a representation of how much I needed you to be near me in flesh.

I don’t wish anything for your birthday. Live your life and I want to be part of it as much as you allow me to be but please don’t be upset with me for trying to always protect you and love you.

Spontaneous Almond Cake

It was supposed to be a roulade but in our house, where baking is only getting born, there are no proper utensils so as a form I used the meat casserole bowl. 

amatour almond cake   

I therefore decided to go for a traditional cake style. And there you go.

Didn’t even noticed that while I was making my masterpiece Mr Moodley and Miss Moodley were still watching TV. Only then it came to me that Sanj was complaining the baby was still awake. For love of God, how is she supposed to sleep when you’re glued to the screen enjoying Peppa Pig. March to bed in this instance. 

Back to Normality – I’m Already Torn

 December was like a roller coaster ride – things happening quickly and unexpectedly. Arya started walking, I decided to go to Poland earlier, Sanj surprised me coming to Poland for a short visit at the weekend before coming there for Christmas, Arya got sick and completely ruined the weaning off plan, two stays in spa hotels booked randomly, First Christmas and New Year, our 9th anniversary (well, the last three didn’t of course come unexpectedly). And now things are getting back to normal. New normal – because my baby will be turning 1 year next month and her routine will be sharing her routine between nursery and mummy time. I’m trying not to think too much about it because for months now it has caused only anxiety and heart palpitations. I’m still dreading this breakthrough moment of putting her in a nursery. I’m scared out of my mind. Scared and worried for her and for myself. For her because of course I don’t want her to feel anything negative, I’m worried that she would feel sad, lonely, betrayed, terrified. I can’t prepare her for this and I can’t explain it to her – that’s the frustrating part. And I’m worried for myself because I might feel lonely, guilty and/or sad without her for most of the day. All that keeps me sane is the thought that millions of babies around the world have done that and they are ok. OK in such a way that there’s no data that leaving a baby in a nursery can cause trauma or negative effects of some sort.

I’ve left my daughter with Sanj again just to go out with my friend. Just coming back home now and for the whole time I have been torn. So much was looking forward to this meeting and immensely need some me-time but at the same time I feel awful leaving Sanj with her. A bad mother – that’s what I am. A Polish mother should do everything for her child. Everything meaning looking after them ALWAYS and sacrificing friendships, me-times and other activities not involving the little ones. Torn. That’s what I am. Between what I want and deep down think is OK and what my upbringing and my gender stereotype expectations.

Is this why parents bring children presents when coming back home?

Is this why spouses keep scores who can go out next because the other one owes them?

I know one thing – I missed my baby painfully and seeing her smiling face at the door when we saw me was absolutely awesome!

New Year’s Reflections 

For some New Year’s celebration is just a commercial fad and peer pressure to have fun. To me the end of a year has always been a big hope for a fresh start with whatever is important to me. Hope that I realised is more of a disruption in life rather than a spur. I still do think that if hope is misunderstood as just sitting and praying for a better fate it will just f*** up your life. I very often got stuck in a rut because of this type of hope. I find it more refreshing to clap for yourself for the past year and to get armoured for the new one. Action, no stills!2015 for me was The Year. It brought me back to life. My persistence and stubbornness paid and probably lots of TLC to myself and my body because without healthy body and mind it would never happen. Who knows. But if it would have been this one more year without my baby God knows where I would have been. Would I still be? Because it was torture. And to those who struggle with what I have – before Arya was born I never spoke about my struggle, I never sought help (because I never expect others to help me, I was born this way; making Sanj do the chores is a different story 🙂 ) I just want to say I’m here and I can offer hugs and my story but you probably are crying right now and hate me just how I did – those who were lucky in this department. And it’s absolutely normal. To everyone else – leave people alone with your stupid comments and questions:”When will you have children?” Or “Do you not want to have children?” Stick these comments deep into your ass! You don’t know the pain! If you’re making a list of your resolutions – this one should be your priority! This is directed to all the aunts, parents, in-laws, nosy “friends” and “fake” aunties! Think before you speak!

And in regards to my resolutions? Now that I’m alive, my mind unblocked, my heart healed, wings fully fastened and ready to take me around the universe I am doing this exercise my very dear friend Kavish Rajpaul taught me and I find it brilliant. I’m writing down a list of achievements I want to happen by the end of 2016 in a form that I’ve already accomplished them and put the list away for 12 months. On 31 December 2016 – let’s see how many of them will have been done. 

I always say to myself: 

“The key here is to work hard because life doesn’t owe anything and no pleading prayer is a magic wand. Remember about the balance (this is so tricky so one needs a significant other or a family member to help with it and always be on guard for you – that’s what they are for) – the balance of your body, mind, soul and everyday life. Balance of entertainment and hard work, balance of adrenaline and chill, balance of self-indulgence and charity… And family is the most important circle in my life so I must look after each and every member of it like there’s no tomorrow. Because it might never come… Fight for each and every member of your family! Fight for this love as Cheryl sings 😉” 

And one more thing about the New Year Reflections – Life isn’t what it is. Life is what you think it is. Huh? Good one, huh?

Now go and make your own life in 2016 !

Put The Toys Back after You Play

This is how our room looks like after Sanj finishes playing with Arya and goes away to do something else.  

Well, not really. That’s how it looks in the middle of ME cleaning up. I come to the room after they left and I flip. WTF.

And just now, Sanj decided to cook and threw all the toys in the middle of the carpet. I flipped. Started tuning this song from Chicago: “He had it coming”. 

He came into my knife three times 🎤🎤

NO! – I screamed. Every time you finish playing with Arya I end up picking up toys like some not-cute minion!

Sanj freezes. I continue my rant for approximately 3 more minutes and conclude with: “Pick the toys NOW”.

Sanj, confused:

– Are you talking to me or Arya?

I’ll let him figure out this one himself…

First Things First After Christmas

We’re back at home and first things we did were:

* cuddle Bastian – we literally dropped all the bags shouting: “Basty!!” Sanj, probably more happy than he has ever been on seeing me. Bastian jumped on the kitchen table to be petted. Casually, as if unwillingly. Still, he’s not going to show how much he missed us. It’s his minions who missed him. He’s just let us enjoy the moment of uniting with him.

* turned on the heating – no story needed. Practicality is the word.

* opened remaining presents for Arya and Sanj. 

   
   

 Huge thanks to all Santas who sent presents for my baby. She will enjoy them I’m sure.

This brings me to the next point:

* I ordered a toy chest. Pronto. Seeing all these toys lying around, Christmas additions scattered on the carpet and some on he sideboard (where they are NOT SUPPOSED TO BE, SAN-JAY)

  
literally provoked me. No way I will be tripping over a talking dog, a bicycle with eyes or Igle Pigle. 

* sent Sanj to the shop for necessary groceries while I was pacifying Arya. She’s still been sick and not herself so since we arrived she’s never left my arms. 

Oh, and I was greeted by unindentified white spot on my black carpet. Always ask. Always ask. So I did. Sanj explained. A morning after he partied with his mates he was so hangovers that waking up seemed like a chore. Poor Bastian, starving the whole night and day, clever as he is, had to help himself and fished out some chop of a chicken from a pot on a stove and consumed it lavishly on my carpet.

Leave a man alone at home! 

Anyway, Merry Christmas and so happy to see my Bstian at last!