witoszyn

witoszyn

 

 

It is hard to believe that last time I posted photos on my blog was over a year ago.

I’d like to start taking care of this little place of mine again.

But it is damn hard. The brake was so long.

I wanted to come back couple of times, and it almost felt like getting back with somebody I broke up with. Than I started asking myself questions, a lot of question that remained without answers and I just could not. I still don’t have those answers and questions keep popping out in my head. I am unsure, mixed up, little disoriented and overall I feel like an elephant trying to feel comfortable in a tiny traffic shop.

Last year was very difficult. For me it was probably the most difficult year so far in many ways. I stopped blogging and doing almost everything that made me the person I was due to our life situation. I was fighting a personal crisis, we were trying to make our relationship work and there were times when all I could think about was to just keep it all together till the next morning.

When some things loosened up a bit I wanted to step back on the track and I realised it does not work that way. You cant just leave a train and than after 10 months jump on the same one like nothing happened. I felt like I am standing in the middle of nowhere without any idea where to go or what to do. And I simply could not figure out what kind of sense this makes.

Why should I be back and be back to what exactly. Why should I share my life, my privacy, my fears, my pain, my happiness with somebody out there. Why should I write these posts and show pictures of our life. I was confused, I felt like I owe that to somebody, some abstract faceless persona out there, and at the same time there was sort of my inner rebellion towards that senseless feeling telling me that on the contrary I don’t owe anything to anybody and it is just me and thats it.  How should I start doing that again and WHY.

So I did not force anything. I copied photos from my the card to the computer, many times without even looking at them, moved them into new folders, named them, categorised them, closed them and forgot them. There was no need to share myself. And many times I was also questioning my right to share bits of Leo’s world with anybody out there.

And where am I now? I still have no idea. But I guess that it is all part of some healing process and therapy, of moving forward.

I am here to see if that makes any sense or if I just have to move on with things in a different way. If this will make me feel OK,  if there is anything I have to say to myself and to incidental you, if there is anybody out there who wants to listen at all, and if that is important after all.

One year can be so short and so long, so meaning less and meaning full. One year can be a lifetime.

Or maybe I am simply strong enough again to stand the judgements of strangers who don’t know me at all and to whom I am exposing myself voluntarily.

PS: Last weekend we spent in a small wooden house in Witoszyn. When we packed on Monday morning and were about to leave, Leo hid himself in the corner and said he does not want to go back to Warsaw and he wants to live in the woods. That made me very happy. I think he also felt the magic of that gloomy atmosphere.

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Ciężko uwierzyć że od ostatniego razu kiedy wrzuciłam zdjęcia na bloga minął rok.

Chcę znowu zacząć dbać o to moje miejsce.

Ale to cholernie trudne. Przerwa trwała za długo.

Chciałam zacząć pisać kilka razy i czułam się prawie, jakbym miała wrócić do kogoś, z kim zerwałam. Zaczęłam zadawać sobie pytania, wiele pytań, które pozostawały bez odpowiedzi i nie dałam rady. Nadal nie mam odpowiedzi i pytania wciąż pojawiają się w mojej głowie. Jestem niepewna, zagubiona, trochę zdezorientowana i ogólnie, czuję się jak słoń, który próbuje poczuć się komfortowo w kiosku ruchu.

Zeszły rok był bardzo trudny. Pod wieloma względami, chyba najtrudniejszy ze wszystkich. Z powodu naszej sytuacji życiowej, przestałam pisać bloga i robić wszystko to, co sprawiało, że jestem tym, kim jestem. Zmagałam sie z wewnętrznym kryzysem, próbowaliśmy uratować nasz związek i bywały chwile, kiedy myślałam tylko o tym, żeby dotrwać do następnego dnia.

Kiedy tylko wszystko wyluzowalo odrobinę, chciałam znów wrócić do gry, ale zdałam sobie sprawę, że to nie takie proste. Nie możesz tak po prostu wysiąść z pociągu i po 10 miesiącach, wskoczyć do tego samego przedziału, jak gdyby nigdy nic. Czułam się, jakbym stała na jakimś pustkowiu i nie miała żadnego pojęcia, dokąd iść, ani co robić. Cały czas nie wiedziałam, czy to wszystko ma jakiś sens.

Dlaczego miałabym wrócić i do czego tak naprawdę. Po co miałabym dzielić się moim życiem prywatnym, obawami, bólem, szczęściem z obcymi ludźmi. Po co pisać posty i pokazywać zdjęcia z naszego życia. Miałam mętlik w głowie, czułam się, jakbym była komuś coś winna, jakiejś abstrakcyjnej osobie bez twarzy i w tym samym czasie, odzywał się we mnie głos buntu, sprzeciwiający się temu wszystkiemu, który mówił mi, że wręcz przeciwnie, nikomu nie jestem nic winna, jestem tylko ja i to wszystko. Jak mam zacząć od nowa i DLACZEGO.

Nie chciałam robić niczego na siłę. Wiele razy zgrywałam zdjęcia z karty pamięci na komputer, nawet ich nie oglądając. Kopiowałam je do nowych folderów, nazywałam je, przydzielałam do różnych kategorii, zamykałam i zapominałam o nich. Nie miałam potrzeby dzielić się mną. I wiele razy zastanawiałam się, czy mam prawo dzielić się z kimkolwiek strzępkami świata Leo.

Gdzie teraz jestem? Nadal nie mam pojęcia. Wydaje mi się, że to wszystko jest częścią procesu leczenia, terapii i podążania naprzód.

Piszę, żeby zobaczyć, czy to ma sens albo czy powinnam pójść w innym kierunku. Czy to sprawi, że poczuję się lepiej, czy mam coś do powiedzenia sobie i przypadkowemu tobie, czy jest w ogóle ktoś, kto chce słuchać i czy ma to jakieś znaczenie.

Rok może oznaczać bardzo krótko albo bardzo długo, może być znaczący lub zupełnie nieistotny.

Jeden rok może być całym życiem.

A może po prostu czuje się znowu na tyle silna, żeby znieść ocenę obcych ludzi, którzy mnie nie znają i przed którymi obnażam się z własnej woli.

PS. Zeszły weekend spędziliśmy w małym, drewnianym domku w Witoszynie. Kiedy w poniedziałek rano spakowaliśmy się i mieliśmy wyjeżdżać, Leo schował się w kącie i powiedział, że nie chce wracać do Warszawy, chce mieszkać w lesie. Bardzo mnie to ucieszyło. On chyba też poczuł magię tej ponurej atmosfery.

Tłumaczenie: Weronika Makowska

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one month in Warsaw

one month in Warsaw

 

 

We spent last month and a half in Warsaw. I suppose that was it for this year. There is couple more days left before we take off for a new adventure and than probably two more day days in september and thats it. Leo’s room will wait until little man walks in by himself next time he comes.

This past month was busy, very busy, intense in many ways, untraditionally social which in other words means we even met some people, I mean we actually set up meetings with a lot of different people not just met them by coincidence, and that is something quite new to us :). But most of all this past month was emotionally challenging, well at least for me it was, because I had to deal with tons of my own intense emotions, and that’s not my favourite thing to do.

We arrived to Warsaw at the beginning of July with little baby, we set up his own room, deleted “living room” from the map of our flat and moved our bedroom to where this fancy, bohemian and useless salon used to be. Things get a bit more functional once there is resident under three years living with you. Sometimes when I lay in the bed at night and can’t fall asleep after Little L woked me for third time I get this exaggerated idea that setting up his own room must have somehow speeded up his growth. Maybe he felt that he has to grow up and become responsible for his own place, his toys and all his possessions, or simply the fact that he has his own room like a big boy made him wanna be a big boy. Anyway that little baby that arrived to Warsaw is gone and there is little boy sitting in his room talking in some strange language to himself reading one of his four contrast books over and over again and if he is not reading he is vehemently demolishing his potty, because who likes to sit on the potty and be cheered up like a american football player if he can throw it around and make some real noise.

L simply went through some incredible transition and I feel like I woke up next to independent little person one day. And believe me that fact activates A LOT of strong emotions. He is not that sweet little thing that I can cover with kisses every half a minute, that I can squeeze in my embrace anytime I feel like, which is again every half a minute. He still is little and crazy sweet but he is in charge now, he shows me that he gets really bothered when I kiss him like insane, when I hug him to much or to often or when I do both at the same time. He pushes me away with his little hand and gives me a strange look of annoyed 10 year old. I am really glad he does not talk yet. He shows his personality, his need for his own space which is not constantly attacked by a crazy affectionate woman called his mama. His need for freedom is so noticeable and he is not even 10 months old, that it scares the hell out of me. Like he is gonna be four and he’ll be free solo climbing or what? I thought I have a baby and babies are supposed to be babies for a long time not only for couple of months. Litte L’s growing independence is terrifying me much more than finding a grey hair on sunny sunday morning or listening to good advices on parenting and life in general from women who raised their babies in times when cell phones did not even make it to sci-fi movies. I loved that obsessive kissing attacks when I could easily without any obstacles almost eat him up and now I have to ask this little man who possesss four teeth and his own mind for a permission. I am sure one day I will be able to appreciate an independent kid who can entertain himself for half an hour without my assistance, I will be over the top happy about it, but for now this change from baby that was external part of me to baby who is a complete separate unit is just way to shocking. Why nobody prepared me for this? People were giving me so many trivial advices but they somehow forgot to tell me that my baby will grow up over one night.

But having an independent nine moths old living with us was not the only fact that caused me some sleepless nights. We have hired a baby sitter. OMG. Baby sitter a word that in my pre-baby period connected in my mind with horrible quality youtube videos showing some big ladies with mean faces hitting little people, carrying them around the house in aggressive way, throwing them on the floor or letting them cry in their crib while they play FB games. I never thought I will have a baby sitter for L, at least I did not think about it when he was three, four or five months old. I was sure we will make it, just us and Little guy until he is at least one year old. But we did not. As he started to move around, change his position within minutes, as he showed his elevated interest in electrocity plugs, smashing chairs on himself and than on the floor, eating everything that does not run away and finding the most dangerous objects in house most interesting we capitulated. I thought I was busy with him when he was a little lying veggie. No I was not! Only now I truly understood the luxury of fearless one minute pee break. So we did what I thought was the last option, we called for help from a stranger, gave this strange lady the most valuable thing in the world in her hands together with a bottle of water and clean nappy, showed her the way to the park and felt relieved when we saw her back getting of our sight behind the next corner. First time this happened I did not know if I should cry from sadness, fear or happiness. So I cried from all of those reasons each at a time and some other as well. Like feeling of complete failure as a mother, feeling worried if L will not be kidnapped by some organised group infiltrating pensionary harmless looking ladies into the lives of young families. If this lady will not suffer from fatal hear attack during one of those tropic days in the park and L will be pulled away in his stroller and we will never find our where he ended up. I saw myself running around the streets of Warsaw in unspeakable panic, with long gray hair and thorn apart clothes for the next 20 years, becoming an urban legend. I saw many different scenarios and I actually still see them every time I wave to my little man and see his content smile as he is being driven to park with by his nanny.

Oh yes I had to fight a lot of crazy emotions this month and I know I am still at the beginning and there is much more waiting for me along the way. As for now I am happy we ‘r packing and hitting the road again very very soon. No nannies just four of us, one car and loads of plans, how positive does that sound :)

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Ostatnie półtora miesiąca spędziliśmy w Warszawie i chyba to koniec na ten rok. Pozostało jeszcze kilka dni zanim ruszymy po nową przygodę i pewnie ze dwa dni we wrześniu, ale to wszystko. Pokój Leo poczeka, aż następnym razem, on sam do niego wejdzie. Zeszły miesiąc był bardzo, ale to bardzo zabiegany, pod wieloma względami intensywny, nie tradycyjnie towarzyski. Nawet poznaliśmy nowych ludzi i umawialiśmy się na spotkania, a nie tylko spotykaliśmy ich przypadkowo i jest to dla nas coś nowego. Ale ten zeszły miesiąc był przede wszystkim trudny pod względem emocjonalnym. Przynajmniej dla mnie, ponieważ musiałam radzić sobie z ogromem moich silnych emocji, a nie jest to moje ulubione zajęcie. Przyjechaliśmy do Warszawy na początku lipca, z małym dzieckiem, któremu urządziliśmy własny pokój, zamazaliśmy “pokój dzienny” na mapie mieszkania i przenieśliśmy naszą sypialnię w miejsce tego luksusowego, ekscentrycznego oraz bezużytecznego salonu. Rzeczy przybierają bardziej funkcjonalny charakter, kiedy mieszka z tobą człowiek poniżej trzeciego roku życia. Czasami w nocy, kiedy leżę w łóżku i nie mogę zasnąć, po tym jak Mały L obudził mnie trzeci raz z rzędu, zaczynam myśleć, że posiadanie własnego pokoju sprawiło, iż szybciej dorasta. Może poczuł, że musi dojrzeć i wziąć odpowiedzialność za swoje własne miejsce, zabawki oraz resztę rzeczy, które do niego należą, albo po prostu to, że posiada pokój, niczym duży chłopiec, sprawiło, że zapragnął stać się dużym chłopcem. W każdym razie, małe dziecko, które przyjechało do Warszawy zniknęło, a w jego pokoju siedzi teraz mały chłopiec, który mówi do siebie jakimś dziwnym językiem i ogląda w kółko jedną ze swoich czterech książeczek, aż do znudzenia, a jeśli nie czyta, to z zacięciem demoluje swój nocnik, bo kto lubi siedzieć na nocniku i być dopingowanym jak jakiś amerykański piłkarz, jeśli może nim rzucać, robiąc przy tym niemożliwy hałas. L przeszedł niesamowitą przemianę i czuję się, jakbym pewnego dnia obudziła się obok zupełnie niezależnej osoby. I uwierzcie mi, wyzwala to we mnie WIELE silnych emocji. Nie jest już słodkim dzidziusiem, którego mogę obcałować co trzydzieści sekund, którego mogę wyściskać, jak tylko mam na to ochotę, czyli również co trzydzieści sekund. Nadal jest mały i szalenie słodki, ale teraz to on ma kontrolę i daje mi do zrozumienia, że przeszkadza mu, kiedy całuję go jak opętana, czy za mocno lub za często przytulam, a co gorsza, gdy robię obie z tych rzeczy równocześnie. Odpycha mnie swoją małą rączką i patrzy na mnie poirytowany, niczym dziesięciolatek. Naprawdę cieszę się, że jeszcze nie zaczął mówić. Pokazuje swoją osobowość, potrzebę własnej przestrzeni, która nie jest wiecznie naruszana przez szaloną i zbyt czułą kobietę, zwaną jego mamą. Mimo iż nie skończył jeszcze dziesięciu miesięcy, jego potrzeba wolności jest tak zauważalna, że aż mnie to przeraża. A co jak będzie miał cztery lata? Będzie się wspinał bez zabezpieczenia, czy co? Myślałam, że mam dziecko, a dzieci powinny nimi zostać przez długi czas, a nie tylko przez kilka miesięcy. Rosnąca potrzeba samodzielności Małego L przeraża mnie bardziej, niż siwy włos znaleziony w słoneczny, niedzielny poranek albo słuchanie dobrych rad na temat rodzicielstwa i życia w ogóle, od kobiet, które wychowywały dzieci w czasach, w których telefony komórkowe nie pojawiały się nawet w filmach science fiction. Uwielbiałam te chwile, kiedy mogłam rzucać się na niego z pocałunkami, jakbym chciała go zjeść żywcem, a teraz muszę prosić tego małego człowieka, który posiada cztery zęby i własny umysł, o jego pozwolenie. Jestem pewna, że któregoś dnia docenię niezależne dziecko, które potrafi się samo bawić przez pół godziny, bez mojej pomocy i będę nawet super szczęśliwa z tego powodu, ale teraz ta zmiana z dziecka, które było zewnętrzną częścią mnie, w dziecko, które jest osobną jednostką, jest dla mnie zbyt szokująca. Dlaczego nikt mnie na to nie przygotował? Ludzie dawali mi tyle błahych rad, ale z jakiegoś powodu zapomnieli mi powiedzieć, że moje dziecko urośnie w jedną noc. Ale fakt, że nagle mieszka z nami niezależna, dziewięciomiesięczna osoba, nie był jedyną przyczyną moich bezsennych nocy. Zatrudniliśmy opiekunkę do dziecka. O mój Boże. W moim okresie sprzed porodu, opiekunka do dziecka kojarzyła mi się z okropnej jakości filmikami na you tubie, w których występują grube panie ze złośliwymi twarzami i które biją małych ludzi. noszą je po domu w agresywny sposób, rzucają o ziemię i pozwalają płakać w łóżeczku, podczas gdy same grają w gry na Facebooku. Nigdy nie wyobrażałam sobie, że będę miała opiekunkę dla L, a przynajmniej nie myślałam o tym, kiedy miał trzy, cztery czy pięć miesięcy. Byłam pewna, że nam się uda, tylko my i nasz Mały chłopiec, przynajmniej dopóki nie skończy roku. Ale nie udało się. Kiedy zaczął się ruszać, zmieniać pozycję w ciągu kilku minut oraz okazywać wzmożone zainteresowanie gniazdkami, wywalać krzesła na siebie, a potem na podłogę, jeść wszystko, co nie ucieka, a w końcu, kiedy najbardziej zaczęły mu się podobać najniebezpieczniejsze przedmioty w naszym domu, skapitulowaliśmy. Wydawało mi się, że miałam z nim dużo pracy, kiedy był jeszcze małym, leżącym warzywkiem. To nieprawda! Dopiero teraz naprawdę doceniam, jakim luksusem jest móc pójść w spokoju na siku. Więc zrobiliśmy to, co uważałam za ostatnią opcję, poprosiliśmy o pomoc nieznajomą, powierzyliśmy tej obcej pani najcenniejszą rzecz, jaką mamy, podaliśmy ją jej do rąk razem z butelką wody i czystą pieluchą, pokazaliśmy drogę do parku i poczuliśmy ulgę, kiedy zobaczyliśmy, jak znika z naszego wzroku, za najbliższym rogiem. Za pierwszym razem nie wiedziałam, czy mam płakać ze smutku, strachu, czy szczęścia. Tak więc płakałam ze wszystkich tych powodów po kolei oraz z kilku innych. Na przykład dlatego, że czuję się okropną matką albo boję się, że Mały L zostanie porwany przez jakąś grupę zorganizowaną, która podstawia młodym rodzinom starsze panie, wyglądające na nieszkodliwe. Bałam się, że ta starsza pani dostanie zawału w parku, a w tym czasie ktoś zabierze wózek z Małym L i już nigdy go nie odnajdziemy. Wyobrażałam sobie, jak biegam po ulicach Warszawy w niewyobrażalnej panice przez kolejne 20 lat, z długimi, szarymi włosami i podartym ubraniem, stając się miejską legendą. Widziałam przed oczami wiele różnych scenariuszy i, prawdę mówiąc, nadal je sobie wyobrażam za każdym razem, kiedy macham do małego mężczyzny i widzę jego zadowolony uśmiech, podczas gdy niania zabiera go do parku. O tak, muszę walczyć z wieloma pokręconymi emocjami w tym miesiącu i wiem, że to dopiero początek i jeszcze tyle mnie czeka po drodze. Teraz bardzo się cieszę, że się pakujemy i za chwilę wyjeżdżamy. Przez jakiś czas żadnych niań, tylko nasza czwórka, jeden samochód i mnóstwo planów, jak to pozytywnie brzmi :).
 

 

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6 months

6 months

 

It is almost one week since we celebrated Little L’s first small anniversary. I have never been aware of time passing as much as I am now. Past 6 months have gone so fast and so slowly at the same time. My own perception of time has changed so much. I’ve experienced minutes that seemed to be hours, and days that seemed to be seconds. Little L turned my whole life upside down.

One would expect that after waking up next to Little L 174 times I should be pretty much used to it. But I am not. Sometimes when I hold him in my arms I get this strong feeling that is hard to describe. I feel shocked, surprised, terrified, happy that I am a mother and he is my son and that it is perfectly real and it will never change. Other times during our walks when I look at him so peacefully resting I feel almost physical pain caused by an enormous amount of fear that paralyses my whole body. There is this little person that I will be worried about every day for the rest of my life. Every single moment in my unconscious there will be fear if he is ok, if he is healthy and if he does not suffer in any way. I realise how helpless I am, how many things out there I can not influence or change. I realise that all I can do is be there for him and the rest will happen in front of my eyes as a theatre play.

Past six months have been beautiful, intense, overwhelming, difficult, confusing. I stared to question everything much more than before. Making decision is not that easy anymore. Suddenly every litte thing seems to have bigger meaning. I am not responsible for myself only, I influence another life. This little person will be experiencing life through me for the first years, I will be middle of his universe. I feel the need, the necessity to do things right, to show him right, to teach him right whatever that right might mean, cause who is to decide.

I am wondering if one can ever get used to being a mother, a parent. For me its is so new every morning I wake up. Just like  Little L is changing every day, he discovers something new every day, he learns something new every day, I look at him and this simple statement “I am your mother” becomes so overwhelmingly meaningful that it fills up the room and takes us on a new ride.

 

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Breast feeding and Birds

Breast feeding and Birds

  

I have been wanting to write this post for so long. I was dreaming about it. I planed to do it before Christmas, than during Christmas, than I thought I would post it on 31.12 or maybe 1.1. but I just was not able to take that time. To steal one uninterrupted hour, without beeping of finished washing machine program, barking of Mr.T, crying of Little L., without having to look at pile of clothes waiting to be ironed, diapers waiting to be washed, Mr.T’s hair on the floor screaming to be vacuumed. All those things that have to be done in short breaks when Little L. has successfully finished his visit in milky bar and fell asleep.
Now when it looks like this may be THAT one hour (there is still clothes waiting to be ironed, and full washing machine waiting to be turned on, and Mr.T will probably bark within next 5 minutes) – lets say almost uninterrupted hour I can’t remember what I actually planed to say. To be focused and concentrated exactly when that short moment of peace happens is quite impossible. I feel as I would probably feel if I was a man and I would be expected to have erection on demand – impossible – and I chose this comparison because I don’t even want to talk about mental possibilities but it looks like physical ones stand even more the way.
As soon as THE short moment of peace happens I feel like falling asleep right away…my body stops listening to me and requests to fill up the missing gas. It is not saying that Little L. is a difficult baby,not at all,but time management is different and I find it sometimes difficult to divide the rests of my free time when Little L. sleeps between Mr.T, my family, things I have to do and thing I want to do – the last ones always loose :)

Days are passing by and I see Little L. growing into small person that is not a veggie anymore…He starts to laugh a lot and I love to wake up next to him and see his smile first thing in the morning…A lot of things changed for us, for me…I start loving being a mother…I am not nervous any more about everything that I can’t do…I am not nervous about constant lack of time and days filled with repeated actions…I feel like a helpless observer when looking at Little L….he is changing daily…he is growing at ultra fast speed and only through him I am now able to understand passing of time…I know everything will be different in month, in half a year or in one year and I will miss these moments so much…moments of him being so taintlessly and absolutely dependent on us…A lot of things changed….the worse fear I had before giving a birth was me breast feeding…It was my secret night mare..I was googling any kind of information about women who refuse to breast feed because they don’t feel comfortable about it…I just could not imagine it happen…My breast were for my whole adult life a synonym for sexuality and now they were about to change their designation and a small human being was supposed to suck them all day long…HOW????….I desperately needed to know that it is OK not to be into breast feeding in the times when women fight for society to accept public breast feeding as something normal…and here I am, two months after giving birth breast feeding and what more…I find it absolutely beautiful…it’s the time when me any Little L. are completely detached from rest of the world and closed in our own bubble…I see him calming down, feeling secure, holding my finger and examining my face over and over…I love those moment and that incredible bond that it creates between us…

This year was actually the first time that I was sort of thinking about making some sort of resolutions for coming year…and surprisingly it has nothing to do with the need and necessity to plan that is essential when having a baby….my urge for resolution appeared while watching Winged Migration…I know it is an old movie, but I was never able to watch it as there are birds dying…this year I watched the movie while breast feeding Little L….it seemed as good time to give it a try and I was hypnotized…completely and absolutely…paralyzed by by the beauty and perfection of the nature…the majesty and flawlessness of birds…and the combination of those two was breath taking….and than comes the human to the picture and everything is fucked up…each trace of human action is like a black depressive cloud full of shit….humans and their creations their greed their ignorance their arrogance and ability to damage and devastate…many times I feel ashamed for human race…many times I wish they were not given a chance to spoil such beautiful place…but there are moments when I feel hate, strong extreme hate…and watching Winged Migration was one of them..I felt I need to do more, much more, to change more in my life…not that it would change the world but it would make me feel better about myself…it would make it easier for me to live with the fact that I am also contributing to destruction of nature by the way I live….So my resolution was to find ways how to lower the negative side effects of my being here…I plan to cut down buying crap, I plan to be more precise when it comes to choosing products I use…we already use only not tested cosmetics and cleaning products, but there is still place where I have to be more aware of what I use and choose, I plan to go more for second hand chooses when possible, I plan not to buy shoes, clothes this year, I plan to take some plastic bags when we go out for walks in the nature and pick up the shit that people leave behind…I simply plan to be more aware of my actions than I was until now…And I plan to illustrate a book for Litte L.

  

Little L is 9 weeks old today…in his short life he spent first 3 weeks in Warszaw, next 3 weeks in Klodzko, now 3 weeks in Slovakia and we are already packing to move a bit more south to Vienna…we make him live the way we live which means to constantly move between three places, three countries…just as I did for last 5 years without knowing which one is actually “home” and I already resigned on actually trying to define one of those places as my home…I don’t have that need anymore…the need to attach to one place, to imaginary strike my roots somewhere…my home is where Mr.B, Mr.T and now Little L is…and we have loads of travel plans for near future…dear Little man I hope u don’t mind :)PS: Some of these photos are taken from my INSTAGRAM account, so I apologize to those of you who have seen them already

  

16 days of roller coaster

16 days of roller coaster

  

Its been 16 day since Mr.L made his appearance into this world….16 crazy days…emotional roller coaster ride. There has been a LOT of crying….crying for no reason, crying for millions of reasons…out of sentiment, out of love, out of pain, fear, happiness, sadness, exhaustion, despair, simply loads of crying. Whatever I have thought that might happen after I become a mother was galaxies away from reality. And it started with birth itself. I was dreaming of a home water birth….I saw myself in that funny plastic pool in the middle of our living room. Mr.B would be cooking a dinner, Mr.T would be shocked running around, and I would be giving a birth to our son looking into the garden on those huge black crowns that wander around, of course with the assistance of a skilled midwife that I would fully trust. My dream of a home birth was cut short when I actually met the midwife which is known in Poland for promoting home births. Well the first thing she did when we met was telling me to give birth in the birth house that she runs and not to do it at home without actually giving me some reasonable explanation except for bureaucratic obstructions. I was so shocked that I could hardly talk to her back. The reason why I came to give birth in Poland was that I wanted to do it my way – the way it is not possible in Slovakia. And there is this “most” competent person who should help me and support me telling me that I should do it in her facility which , as she thinks, looks almost like at home. I was trying to fight back but when she asked about my past and heard about my miscarriage 3 years ago there was no more talking. I was simply not qualified to give birth at home. So I was trying to refocus myself to the idea that Mr.T will not be there during my labor, that Mr.B will not be making dinner and I will not look into the garden instead I will walk down that sterile hallway with plastic floor, horrible lights to end up in a room which is supposed to feel like home but in reality it feels like a fake room pretending to be “home” with fake bed pretending to be my bed, the room where nothing feels like home. But it seemed that there is no other way so I had to and I did sort of adopted that idea, but soon after new circumstances started to pop out. It looked like my pregnancy will never end and Mr.L has decided not to ever come out for some reason. I even started to think that he was gonna start to get smaller and smaller again until he would just disappear. The longer I was past my due date, the more confusing opinions I was getting from different doctors that were seeing me almost daily. Suddenly I did not even qualified for birth in the birth house because according to USG Mr.L was over 4 kg which meant I had to give birth in a proper hospital. All the pictures I had in my mind faded away and I was left with nothing to hold on to. All my plans, everything was gone and I lost the solid ground under my feet. After two very stressful and chaotic days of decision making I ended up in completely different hospital than planed, with midwifes I did not know. I did all I could to give natural birth, not at home in the water, not in the birth house…in the hospital but at least natural. I wanted the best for Mr.L and I am sure natural birth is the best. After 17 hours of labor my last dream exploded and it only took half an hour until I was connected to all kinds of machines with blue courtain in front of my face and Mr.B holding my hand….in a terrifying fear prepared for C section – something that I did not even think of as a possibility for long 10 months. Something that was such a bad option that I just forgot that it existed. The reason I am writing all this is the one short but monumental moment when I thought I’ve gone insane, the moment when I felt as if I traveled into the space around the earth and back in one second…the moment when I heard Mr.L cry, I could not see him, all I could see was tears in Mr.B’s eyes… I think if I gave birth the way I hoped it would be great peaceful and quiet experience, but the way things turned out made me go through something overwhelmingly strong….I felt so sorry for giving birth that way, I felt sorry for that little guy who was cut out of my body and held by some strange guy with a mask on his face and plastic gloves on his hands into the cold white hospital lights and sounds of surgical instruments instead of Nigel Kennedy as I planned. I was so sorry that first people touching Mr.L are those anonymous silhouettes doing their routine in the most emotionless way possible. I was following Mr.B with my eyes just to read from his face if everything is OK and the moment he looked at me and gave me a sign that little guy has all his fingers and other body parts on the proper places I could finally start to cry… Its been 16 days since the big bang day and I have cried every single day. I cried because my heart or whatever is the place where we store our emotions got so full that it felt painful. It was full of love towards Mr.B for being the best father, to Mr.T for accepting little man and towards Mr.Leo who came from some unknown galaxy and crawled on my chest as a little / ok maybe not so little / warm looking so lost and confused. I cried because in one moment I could feel all the fears of generations of mothers, I cried because I thought I can not handle having one more person to worry about in my life, I cried because I was looking at Mr.Leo and I had to think of mortality in a completely new way, I cried because I was afraid I will die while he is still a child and I will not be able to be there for him when he goes through hard times of growing up, I cried because I wanted to pause life for a moment, I wanted to have a chance to record all his facial expressions, every single sound he made, just to remember it. I cried because I knew it was not possible and that I am going to forget tons of beautiful moments and it felt so unfair. I cried because Mr.Leo cried, I cried because I was tired of Mr.Leo crying, I cried because I thought I will not make it – we will not make it, I cried because I thought I am the worse mother ever, I cried when I realized this is for real and I can’t give him back in hospital claiming that he is not what I asked for after not sleeping for 4 nights. I cried because he was so vulnerable, so fragile, so helpless that it hurt me. I cried for Mr.T because I was worried how he feels, I cried because Mr.B was the best husband I could wish for, I cried because I was so happy that it was literally taking my breath, I cried because I was feeling ugly and worn out, I cried because I forgot my bathrobe in the hospital, I cried when I went for the first walk with Mr.T alone, and I cried for no reason at all. Yes I did jump on a craziest emotional rollecoaster of my life, going up and down, going really high and really low within seconds. Most intense 16 days of my life and I believe of Mr. Leo’s as well :). Its has been very exhausting both physically and mentally, every single day brought some new challenges to fight with and I know this is just a beginning. For now all I can do is take it as it comes hour by hour, day by day. I don’t even plan for tomorrow, because tomorrow everything happens according to Mr.Leo’s decision and I will go with the flow. I’m learning a lot these days….I m looking out of the window thinking of novembers…november three years ago when I was short after loosing our “first” child and than I have to pinch myself to remind me that this all is happening for real.

PS: My instagram feed naturally became Mr.Leo and Mr.Teo feed…oh yes now I understand why that happens….simply because I spend 24 hours with those two polyps at home, ironing and doing washing in the short breaks between nursing.

PS 2: I have received a beautiful letter…true letter not an email from a person who did not leave any contact so I can’t write back. But I hope that person will read this one day and will know that I am very very very thankful for those words as much as for the fact that it was a letter and also for the fact that that person had to think how to deliver it to me as she did not know my address and simply for deciding to write it. Thank you so much !!!!

  

 

 

home is wherever I am home

home is wherever I am home

 
 

Last week we went for a short trip – “vacation” to Mazury. We would love to make a longer trip to some more exciting destination but even those 3 hours in the car were not the most pleasant experience of my life. For some time now we were trying to find sort of an “escape” place not far from Warsaw, where we could easy drive (not for 6 hours) to spend couple of days. A place that would fulfill our – I don’t think hight – expectations, which means privacy, nice surroundings, lake or river, apartment with kitchen, not to many people which in reality means from 2 to 0 :), and of course place that does not look like stuck in 90’s super polish design mode. We were not very lucky so last year we to do a trip to Mazury with our beloved Sven….And that truly was something! We came back after 4 days and 3 nights, exhausted, pissed and in a really really bad mood, but that is a separate story. This year I somehow accidentally came across place Masuria Arte and we were sure that is the place. And IT WAS THE PLACE. Everything was perfect. Private lake, loads and loads of space around for walking, only three apartments which meant very few people, nice design, small veggie garden….ideal. BUT that ‘s it. Driving to get there was terrifying – well for me. Before each time when I came to Poland I sort of was taking things easy here, or at least I was trying to (when I forget about our robbed flat and some drunk sick bastard beating me up on the street). Polish adventure was always just an adventure for limited amount of time. I knew I was coming to Poland just for a period of time and I knew I was going back to Vienna. unconsciously this fact was sitting there in the back of my mind and was letting me take things easy. Easy in the sense that I was just overlooking them, taking them as part of “adventure” in this “exotic” country. This year things changed, and they changed a LOT. I know now that I am not packing myself by the end of september and I am not going back to Vienna. I know I am staying here, and next year, and next and next…..This is now the country that I am going to live (if some sort of miracle does not happen and we will not get an offer of well payed jobs somewhere else), the country that is supposed to become my home. And this fact scared the shit out of me in such a way that it even surprised me. And yes, I realized that drive to and back from Mazury. I was thinking if I should write this post at all and not just skip it post the photos without any comment. I hate to cumulate negative energy, as there is enough of it around anyway…and making statement in the virtual space is even more tricky, as people tend to take things more personally and have less distance. But I just have to get it all out no matter how many of those who will read it will think I am a sucker. Whatever you might think, Poland is one of the visually most depressive places I know. Driving through Lomza gave me one of the most creepiest feelings, almost claustrophobic, as if I was closed in a small dark room without air and possibility to get out. That is probably because I realized that these kind of views are my reality now. Since I came here in July I was more or less closed at home or walking around in Saska Kepa. I did have a strange feeling of some sort of agression among people that was kind of hidden under the surface but you could just sense it almost everywhere. Kind of tension, people are not nice to each other, they give u bad looks, they are pissed about something most of the time, talk together in a very provocative way and explode easily. Yes I did feel that around and even tried to explain it to Mr.B who I think is so used to it that he does not see it anymore. But visually I was in a bubble, disturbed by amount of broken glass from bottles along Wisla, or trash that people for some strange reason put in the car and drive it to the wood to drop it. But it still was a bubble. As soon as we left central parts of Warszaw and drove through the outskirts and small towns the bubble just deflated like a truck tire and I was staring around me in shock. What happened in this place should be punished. I remember having a separate post on my blog about how much I love and admire polish poster design. But that is a past….polish design is past. What happened to that craftmanship and mastery of using types, of lettering, of working with colors and space? Where did it all go? Who let this dehonesting situation to go so far. Enormous amount of posters, advertisings, billboards create a separate space within a space. They cover everything that can be covered,using the most awful fonts, and colors and shadings and photos, there is no creativity it is just a plain horror that attacks your sight and gives you headache. Your eyes have no place where they could stop for a minute to rest, it is one attack after another. Billboards covering buildings that have nothing to do with architecture and in between there are these huge gypsum statues of horses, bulls, spiderman, buffalos and I don’t know what else sticking out as some kind of proud figurative masterpieces, together with plastic palms covered in dust. It looks like if somebody delibrately decided to screw up everything that can be screwed. There is zero feeling for any kind of aesthetics, zero feeling for the nature, for combining architecture with the actual space, zero respect for the country and for the people as well. Driving couple of hours through places like this surely must provoke agression. There is no other way. It is like turning on TV and switching the channels really fast for 3 hours, your eyes and brain get so exhausted and besotted that you start to be really nervous and easy irritable which is only one step away from either depression or agression. Now I can say that I really admire people who live here and are still able to create any kind of beauty whatsoever, who remain positive and creative, because I was not positive at all, and even less creative as we arrived to our place, where we literally locked ourselves for one week without any attempts to drive around and discover. I am not gonna try to make this sound any better than I mean it. It really is horrible and something should be done to stop this ridiculous and punishable devastation of the country. And instead of people start being sensitive on it, and start seeing those things trying to change them they get to read even more ridiculous article in one of the most opininon-forming newspaper. An american writer Jenn Pelly visits Poland for music festival and writes and article about it. Besides all the positive reactions to the music scene itself she is so “impertinent” to write also something negative about the place itself. AND SO WHAT. She was right. How come people are only able to accept the glory but reject completely critic? The fact that anonymous readers, frustrated haters and dickheads were insulting her on internet is nothing unexpected or new, but that the text in Gazeta Wybiorcza with master title “Ratunku, naszych bija!” was a true shame. Whoever wrote it probably does not read well in english, does not see, or has some other problem with accepting reality. But the polish reality will not change unless people will not be able to be critical about themselves and have a bit of fucking distance. OK that is about all I wanted to say :) ….. I am not Jenn Pelly and I am not writing an article for american paper….I am coming from postcomuinst country as well …. from country that is FAR away from being perfect in any way just as other countries I know. But that does not mean I can not have an opinion on Poland and that this opinion can even be negative in some aspects. And now I am gonna take Mr.T for “fakir” walk by Wisla and think about black storks……

  

 

yeah it can get too hot

yeah it can get too hot

  

I hate the weather talks…always hated them and always will. They are not even useful as a dull conversation saviors…No matter what, the subject weather is always connected with complains…its a never ending story…either too hot, too cold, too much rain, no rain, too much snow, no snow…the weather can never get right for longer than one day. I was always trying to fight with myself not to get involved in such boring and annoying bulshiting and hell that I was really close many times as I don’t happen to be happy about the weather condition all the time as well….last week I was listening a lot about the heat and I had my comments on how people are getting on my nerves complaining that it is too hot…common its a summer time and its supposed to be hot…if it was not everybody would be crying what a fucked up summer it is….BUT….the heat got me…I was trying to be over it very much till sunday evening…yesterday was a total knock down…I’m literally not doing anything else since yesterday but complaining how crazy bad I feel…Our flat thanks to the fact that it’s actually on a cellar level has always been quite cold and very pleasant in the summer…unbeatable got beaten and I’m sweating and boiling in my own sauce…..I had a huge drawing plans, photo plans and kitchen plans as Mr.B’s and my parents are coming for visit tomorrow…NONE of them happened…I spend last two days more or less in the bed half naked with wet towel on my head…Mr.T acts as the weirdest creature in the world…he lies in the sun until he is almost fainting and when we gradually cool him with water he goes inside, hides himself under the bed sheets and comes out only in the moment when he can’t breath anymore….it takes him 20 loud minutes to cool down…and than he does the same thing over again….I really don’t remember introducing him sauna on our trip to Finland…so I wander where this comes from. Well what I wanted to say with all this complaining was that I was all ready to run this blog properly on a regular basis but the weather is against me :)

PS: ps has to be of course…IT has to be because I have to thank for all the comments under my last post…I felt like being welcomed at home after being on a long journey away…I felt like loosing my virginity writing a new post after such a long time and this amazing welcome home was so unexpected and warm that it made me really sentimental.
  


 

really good for the heat…pears, cucumber, kale, coconut water, chia seeds ….its super delicious

 

 

morning energy supply…frozen bananas, dates, vanila soy milk, coconut water

 

 

when Mr.T cant take the heat and does not give a shit about the ball it means its a case of emergency

 

  

shake it iPhone

shake it iPhone

  
For those who are so lucky not to be on FB or those who are on FB but don’t follow my almost daily posts on I want to be fool page….here is a small summary of hyper instant iphone shots form last months or so..for such occasions Mr.B got me in present hyper hipster olympus mju so I’ll see if I can be so instant using something else than iphone :)

 

 

 

  

no christmas no fun

no christmas no fun

last days in Warszaw were more than great…I met nice people had a good time..I was baking christmas cookies with Elwira and Soozie …had a nice talk with Tizian who gave us a painting and after all 13 hours hard talking with Marta :) … we had a visit coming over at three o clock at night and still loads of snow in the garden. Now its the time to pack and hit the road first to school in Czech and than home to start stressing with christmas preparations…I m trying to pack all day today actually, but the look in the nearest future makes me so nervous that I can not start doing it…Why christmas has to be such a pain? It became for me thanks to general over demanding behavior of the moving crowd on the streets in the shops unbearable time. And what about this short-period-change of “humans” to humans, people are becoming nicer and nicer until one day before christmas eve it finally culminates into almost scary politness and unconditional love of everyone for everyone and everything, but on 25th things are back to normal…I never understood this mysterious phenomenon.

so if you’r gonna feel like you need to hide yourself from humaneness you may want to check this crazy blog

or watch some interesting vids

Lise Sarfati from FLY16x9 on Vimeo.

Shirin Neshat from FLY16x9 on Vimeo.

beer and bath

beer and bath

Mr.B came back home yesterday…that’s good…he was 3 days in Nice and Mr.T was 3 days in depression…well the truth is there are some men’s things which these two guys have going and I can not catch up with…like fighting for a better place in the bed, showing who is the boss of our pack, complaining about me or simply drinking beer in the bath…I prefer to drink wine

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I don't want my life to be a reason for other's life to be a suffering that is why I am vegan and that is how I want to raise my son. I love my little family, birds, rainy days and life on the road. I believe in life before death :).


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