Friday, July 26, 2013

On My Own


It's a big day for my little Bubbaloo today at the kinderkrippe (daycare). Today is the first time they will try and get him to take a nap there (I'm trying to wean myself off the phrase 'put him to sleep'). I fear the results of this... But he has been very happy there during the last two introductory weeks and he seems very comfortable with Mäggie, his carer, so there is hope!

I've distracted myself by taking the train into the city and spending the morning being The Old Me. That is, going to Babus Bakery and Cafe, ordering a mittel michkaffee and a heisse oatmeal, sitting at the green table up the back in the corner, pulling out my laptop and my notebook and attempting to type and scribble simultaneously.

It is so incredibly strange to be without my boy. I feel like an amputee with phantom limb pains. Every time I see a bus, I say "bus!" in my head in a very excited manner, knowing how his eyes would light up when he hears this, how his head would be frantically turning left and right in search of this treasure, how he'd giggle and say 'Bah?', looking to me for confirmation. The same goes for every single bird and every puppy that I see. And I didn't realise how many there were... Every time I see another little toddler, I imagine them and my bean looking at each other, talking to each other in their own special language, him giggling (he's always giggling!).

Birdies! Everywhere!
(and yes the water is so clear! And deep!)

Being without him this morning and travelling into the big smoke has made me realise how much I have had to learn. I actively chose to take the train into Zurich that does not have a roll-on carriage for 'bikes and wheelchairs' (though of course it's always chockas full of prams with not a bike of wheelchair to be seen). I stood at the far end of the platform as I waited, instead of right next to the heated waiting-room (what the hell are those called in English? Do we have a word?), where I know those disabled doors will magically roll up in front of us. I then, to continue the adrenalin rush, took the stairs (gasp!) to the top of the carriage and put in my headphones, listening to Sufjan Stevens's 'Chicago' as I watched the lake roll on by. After arriving in town, I luxuriated as I jumped on the tram anywhere I chose and didn't have to ask anyone for help in lifting us in. I thrilled a little in my criminality as I jaywalked across to my very crowded little cafe, choosing the smallest, most pram-unfriendly table (strangely enough, the one that I always used to sit at, pre-bean). 

The view from the top of the carriage

Now though, I'm back in Horgen, just in case they call me and say he's beside himself. I can hear the church bells strike twelve times. It's nap time. There is something so magical about holding a tired little bubbaloo in my arms, his big blue eyes locking with mine, knowing that he is safe, that I am there, laying him in his bed and watching him turn to the side, cock his head back to that ever-uncomfortable-looking angle, placing my enormous hand on his back as his breathing slows, kissing his head and creeping out the door. And then, of course, popping back in five minutes later to stare at him for a moment, smile, and suck in the wonder.

I'm sitting on the banks of the lake right now, typing this out just before I head to Hotel Schwann to buy myself a lovely, quiet, long lunch by the fountain while I read my book (presuming I don't get that phone call). The old paddle-steamer has just rolled up and given a long TOOOOT, which I know my boy would go nuts over. Perhaps, right now, he's dreaming of being a paddle-steamer captain and tooting that horn whenever he likes.

'...in your dream boat, down to Blanket Bay.'