There are various ways you can wrap the sling (also on your back), but we started with the belly position. It was like having a bump again!
Tuesday, 6 January 2009
Happy new year to everyone!
Just a few pictures, taken by Jonny's parents over the Christmas holidays. They brought over a new sling (Beatrice was getting to heavy for the other sling) and we used it when we went to Seydnaya and Malula. It was a cold day (7 degrees), but Beatrice was nice and warm against me. She looked around for a while and then fell asleep.
There are various ways you can wrap the sling (also on your back), but we started with the belly position. It was like having a bump again!
There are various ways you can wrap the sling (also on your back), but we started with the belly position. It was like having a bump again!
Tuesday, 16 December 2008
Does three hours count as sleeping through the night?
"Physically she should now be able to sleep 5 hours in a row" the peadiatrician informed us. That was almost two months ago. Instead our little girl chooses to still feed roughly every three to four hours. Day and night. Which is most likely against all 'expert advice' and the routine she is undoubtedly supposed to have by now. I don't really care, since she is gaining weight steadily, seems content after every feed and is a very happy baby in general. And I believe my sister meant it when she said that the bags under my eyes were really not that bad considering.
It might have been the video quality on Skype or maybe I have my new best friend Touche Eclat from Yves Saint Laurent to thank for that. Anyhow, although I am secretly a little bit jealous of babies that sleep 13 hours in a row, I have actually no idea how often she feeds at night. The first thing I re-packed was the alarm clock. After staring at it during one night (with my thoughts going something like this: "Oh no, only 1:30, I have only slept for two hours. What? Four o'clock, that's not even three hours she has slept! Six o'clock? I hope I can sleep some more before Jonny needs to get up"- you get the idea), I decided that I didn't want to know. I realise I still have the luxury to be able to have a nap during the afternoon most days and I also know that it will get better. Until then I relish the night time moments Beatrice and I have together.
We are well on our way with establishing a night time routine: bath time with Jonny (I hear lots of singing, giggling and water splashing whilst I am busy doing something in the kitchen), then a book, a feed and then bed. Our perseverence paid off and by night three she was okay to fall sleep in her own cot. As opposed to our arms. Or the sofa. Somehow she still ends up in our bed somewhere during the night. Which is probably also against the 'rules'. Each morning we are met with the biggest grin ever. She looks at me, then looks at Jonny, then at me again, to make sure we are both there. And then she wees. In her potty.
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It is now getting colder here. Not European cold, but with sub-ten in the morning and 18 degrees in the afternoon it is colder than 35 degrees. Cold enough to put the heating on and cold enough for me not to want to go outside unless I have activities that take me outside. Today I had no things planned and decided to do some baking for the pot luck for the Christmas party from the international baby group tomorrow. But we did not have enough eggs left for both the brownies ánd the white chocolate fruit cake I wanted to make. And I couldn't choose between the one or the other. So with Beatrice in the sling I ventured outside to the little corner shop down the road to see if they sold eggs. They did, so I asked for six eggs and got them in a bag. Chicken poo and feathers still on them, so I knew they were real eggs.
Meanwhile Beatrice was undecided between giving the telly her attention or the Syrian shopkeeper who was cooing at her. In the end she decided on the shopkeeper and grinned back at him. As a thank you he added a slice of chocolate cake to our order. For the baby. "Is good, yeah?" Don't worry grandparents, I have not given it to her. Yet. It has so many additives, that it will still be okay by the time she is weaned and ready for it. In fact, I don't know what to give her first. The chocolate cake or the Rolo she was given by the Bahraini couple in the Beirut hotel. ;-)
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Having children in the Middle East is great. Apart from the unsuitable sweets Beatrice is given that is. People here love little children and she is constantly talked to, smiled at and carried around. I can't think of many places in Europe where other customers in a top-end Japanese restaurant wouldn't bat an eye-lid when a group of people with a baby and a toddler in tow arrived. Beatrice gets her mouth wiped by the shop owner of the Kodak store, is told by the maid from the neighbours that she loves her and carried around by the driver from the club. And she thrives with all the attention. We have been told that she is the smiliest baby ever, which is really nice to hear!
Last week was the first time I dressed her in a pair of jeans. And proudly mentioned the fact to a woman I met that day. She looked us both up and down and told me how a friend of hers warned her of the danger of having daughters and how you dress them identical to yourself. Only then I realised that we were both wearing a stripey top and blue jeans..
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Jeans and a basic top seems to be my uniform these days. I can't find much time to dress up and heels are slightly uncomfortable when carrying a baby around. Friend A. will be glad to hear I am wearing normal underwear again though. On the more embarrassing side was Jonny's question last night how long I had been wearing my top inside out. That is twice in two months. With the first time being worse, since I was in Jonny's office when one of his female co-workers inquired whether inside out tops were the new fashion. Argh.
How do other new mothers find time? I can't even find time to sit down and reply to all my email (sorry L., R. and M. that I have not replied yet, I will, promise!), unpack the last boxes, let alone write a post every day (like J.) or even twice a week (like V.). Maybe I should finally learn how to speed type. If only I had time!
It might have been the video quality on Skype or maybe I have my new best friend Touche Eclat from Yves Saint Laurent to thank for that. Anyhow, although I am secretly a little bit jealous of babies that sleep 13 hours in a row, I have actually no idea how often she feeds at night. The first thing I re-packed was the alarm clock. After staring at it during one night (with my thoughts going something like this: "Oh no, only 1:30, I have only slept for two hours. What? Four o'clock, that's not even three hours she has slept! Six o'clock? I hope I can sleep some more before Jonny needs to get up"- you get the idea), I decided that I didn't want to know. I realise I still have the luxury to be able to have a nap during the afternoon most days and I also know that it will get better. Until then I relish the night time moments Beatrice and I have together.
We are well on our way with establishing a night time routine: bath time with Jonny (I hear lots of singing, giggling and water splashing whilst I am busy doing something in the kitchen), then a book, a feed and then bed. Our perseverence paid off and by night three she was okay to fall sleep in her own cot. As opposed to our arms. Or the sofa. Somehow she still ends up in our bed somewhere during the night. Which is probably also against the 'rules'. Each morning we are met with the biggest grin ever. She looks at me, then looks at Jonny, then at me again, to make sure we are both there. And then she wees. In her potty.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------
It is now getting colder here. Not European cold, but with sub-ten in the morning and 18 degrees in the afternoon it is colder than 35 degrees. Cold enough to put the heating on and cold enough for me not to want to go outside unless I have activities that take me outside. Today I had no things planned and decided to do some baking for the pot luck for the Christmas party from the international baby group tomorrow. But we did not have enough eggs left for both the brownies ánd the white chocolate fruit cake I wanted to make. And I couldn't choose between the one or the other. So with Beatrice in the sling I ventured outside to the little corner shop down the road to see if they sold eggs. They did, so I asked for six eggs and got them in a bag. Chicken poo and feathers still on them, so I knew they were real eggs.
Meanwhile Beatrice was undecided between giving the telly her attention or the Syrian shopkeeper who was cooing at her. In the end she decided on the shopkeeper and grinned back at him. As a thank you he added a slice of chocolate cake to our order. For the baby. "Is good, yeah?" Don't worry grandparents, I have not given it to her. Yet. It has so many additives, that it will still be okay by the time she is weaned and ready for it. In fact, I don't know what to give her first. The chocolate cake or the Rolo she was given by the Bahraini couple in the Beirut hotel. ;-)-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Having children in the Middle East is great. Apart from the unsuitable sweets Beatrice is given that is. People here love little children and she is constantly talked to, smiled at and carried around. I can't think of many places in Europe where other customers in a top-end Japanese restaurant wouldn't bat an eye-lid when a group of people with a baby and a toddler in tow arrived. Beatrice gets her mouth wiped by the shop owner of the Kodak store, is told by the maid from the neighbours that she loves her and carried around by the driver from the club. And she thrives with all the attention. We have been told that she is the smiliest baby ever, which is really nice to hear!
Last week was the first time I dressed her in a pair of jeans. And proudly mentioned the fact to a woman I met that day. She looked us both up and down and told me how a friend of hers warned her of the danger of having daughters and how you dress them identical to yourself. Only then I realised that we were both wearing a stripey top and blue jeans..-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Jeans and a basic top seems to be my uniform these days. I can't find much time to dress up and heels are slightly uncomfortable when carrying a baby around. Friend A. will be glad to hear I am wearing normal underwear again though. On the more embarrassing side was Jonny's question last night how long I had been wearing my top inside out. That is twice in two months. With the first time being worse, since I was in Jonny's office when one of his female co-workers inquired whether inside out tops were the new fashion. Argh.
How do other new mothers find time? I can't even find time to sit down and reply to all my email (sorry L., R. and M. that I have not replied yet, I will, promise!), unpack the last boxes, let alone write a post every day (like J.) or even twice a week (like V.). Maybe I should finally learn how to speed type. If only I had time!
Friday, 12 December 2008
Trip to Beirut
Apologies for the delay, but I'm finally getting around to writing a quick summary of our trip to Beirut a couple of weeks ago...
We went just for one night, since it's only a short distance from Damascus. However, this was our first border crossing experience by car and despite leaving home relatively early and travelling on a relatively quiet day, it still took us about one and a half hours and $US 100 to cross. Not only do we have to buy our exit visa and purchase our entry visa for Lebanon, but we also have to export our car out of Syria and temporarily import it into Lebanon. This process is not helped by the fact that our car has tax free license plates and the associated paper work is different to the majority of local cars, which only serves to confuse the boarder guards (although it does give them the opportunity to ask for a higher "facilitation" fee).
Once across the boarder, it is apparent that Syrian driving is actually pretty good in comparison to Lebanese. The route from the boarder to Beirut crosses the Anti-Lebanon mountain range, a twisty road made even more dangerous the day we travelled by a thick fog reducing visibility to 20 meters, is mostly single carriageway with a continuous game of chicken being played out by the overtaking cars. Contrary to Europe, the Lebanese prefer to use their hazard warning lights in poor visibility conditions rather than "fog" lights.
Still, we made it safely across the mountain range and the view down to Beirut is a stark contrast to the countryside in Syria... much more green vegetation with a wonderful blue backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea. Driving in down-town Beirut is a nightmare though, particularly without the assistance of a good street map. The traffic is terrible and the plentiful one way streets make it even more difficult to get to your destination. As much by fortune than anything (and after taking a detour with the wrong co-ordinates in the car's sat-nav system) we stumbled across our hotel for the night... Le Bristol.
The stressful journey was made worthwhile that evening as we met up with some friends and colleagues who had also made the trip over from Damascus that day. It turned out that the restaurant we intended to eat at was closed that evening due to a wedding function, so we ended up taking taxis to the pedestrianised downtown area to see what was on offer. This part of Beirut is almost too good to be true... it's akin to the nicest streets of Paris (complete with Buddha Bar) and we'll definitely return here in the summer to sit out and sip some coffee and absorb the atmosphere. We stumbled across the Japanese restaurant Shogun and decided to give it go (since we were all missing our fish quotient living in Damascus). We weren't disappointed... the sushi in this restaurant ranks amongst the top I've ever tasted and I subsequently discovered that the owners fly fresh products across from Japan twice a week to ensure that their reputation as the best Japanese restaurant in Lebanon remains unopposed.
The following morning we went along to the hotel's buffet breakfast and Beatrice ended up being entertained by a couple from Bahrain sat at the table next to us. Although we're still getting used to this sort of behaviour, it seems that it's quite common in this part of the world and Beatrice certainly seems to enjoy the attention!
After breakfast we stopped off at a shopping mall to get our retail therapy. Shops in Lebanon are pretty good and the shopping malls certainly as good as European ones, which helps explain how the Lebanese manage to look so well dressed and manicured. However, the prices in the shops are very expensive, noticeable more so than back in the Netherlands. For a country that does not have a great deal in the way of natural resources, it makes you wonder where the inhabitants get their money from? It was at the mall where we indulged in a couple of great coffees.
Before departing back to Syria, we popped into a supermarket to stock up on items that are difficult or expensive to find in Damascus (mainly pork products and alcohol... Lebanese beer and wine are both pretty good). The journey back was uneventful and the return boarder crossing went smooth, taking less than half an hour. I'm certainly glad that we visited Beirut, but given the stress of the boarder crossing and the drive (and the cost) I'll want to stay for a few nights next time. It will be nice to return early summer and sit on the beach and there are plenty of nice places to visit outside of Beirut, with great walking and cycling opportunities.
We went just for one night, since it's only a short distance from Damascus. However, this was our first border crossing experience by car and despite leaving home relatively early and travelling on a relatively quiet day, it still took us about one and a half hours and $US 100 to cross. Not only do we have to buy our exit visa and purchase our entry visa for Lebanon, but we also have to export our car out of Syria and temporarily import it into Lebanon. This process is not helped by the fact that our car has tax free license plates and the associated paper work is different to the majority of local cars, which only serves to confuse the boarder guards (although it does give them the opportunity to ask for a higher "facilitation" fee).
Once across the boarder, it is apparent that Syrian driving is actually pretty good in comparison to Lebanese. The route from the boarder to Beirut crosses the Anti-Lebanon mountain range, a twisty road made even more dangerous the day we travelled by a thick fog reducing visibility to 20 meters, is mostly single carriageway with a continuous game of chicken being played out by the overtaking cars. Contrary to Europe, the Lebanese prefer to use their hazard warning lights in poor visibility conditions rather than "fog" lights.Still, we made it safely across the mountain range and the view down to Beirut is a stark contrast to the countryside in Syria... much more green vegetation with a wonderful blue backdrop of the Mediterranean Sea. Driving in down-town Beirut is a nightmare though, particularly without the assistance of a good street map. The traffic is terrible and the plentiful one way streets make it even more difficult to get to your destination. As much by fortune than anything (and after taking a detour with the wrong co-ordinates in the car's sat-nav system) we stumbled across our hotel for the night... Le Bristol.
The stressful journey was made worthwhile that evening as we met up with some friends and colleagues who had also made the trip over from Damascus that day. It turned out that the restaurant we intended to eat at was closed that evening due to a wedding function, so we ended up taking taxis to the pedestrianised downtown area to see what was on offer. This part of Beirut is almost too good to be true... it's akin to the nicest streets of Paris (complete with Buddha Bar) and we'll definitely return here in the summer to sit out and sip some coffee and absorb the atmosphere. We stumbled across the Japanese restaurant Shogun and decided to give it go (since we were all missing our fish quotient living in Damascus). We weren't disappointed... the sushi in this restaurant ranks amongst the top I've ever tasted and I subsequently discovered that the owners fly fresh products across from Japan twice a week to ensure that their reputation as the best Japanese restaurant in Lebanon remains unopposed.
The following morning we went along to the hotel's buffet breakfast and Beatrice ended up being entertained by a couple from Bahrain sat at the table next to us. Although we're still getting used to this sort of behaviour, it seems that it's quite common in this part of the world and Beatrice certainly seems to enjoy the attention!
After breakfast we stopped off at a shopping mall to get our retail therapy. Shops in Lebanon are pretty good and the shopping malls certainly as good as European ones, which helps explain how the Lebanese manage to look so well dressed and manicured. However, the prices in the shops are very expensive, noticeable more so than back in the Netherlands. For a country that does not have a great deal in the way of natural resources, it makes you wonder where the inhabitants get their money from? It was at the mall where we indulged in a couple of great coffees. Before departing back to Syria, we popped into a supermarket to stock up on items that are difficult or expensive to find in Damascus (mainly pork products and alcohol... Lebanese beer and wine are both pretty good). The journey back was uneventful and the return boarder crossing went smooth, taking less than half an hour. I'm certainly glad that we visited Beirut, but given the stress of the boarder crossing and the drive (and the cost) I'll want to stay for a few nights next time. It will be nice to return early summer and sit on the beach and there are plenty of nice places to visit outside of Beirut, with great walking and cycling opportunities.
Saturday, 6 December 2008
Beatrice meets Sinterklaas!
Yesterday we took Beatrice along to the Dutch Ambassador's Residence close to Damascus, since we heard that Sinterklaas may be paying a visit there. Fortunately, the rumours were true and on her first ever Sinterklaas, Beatrice got to sit on the lap of the great man.
Beatrice has obviously been a very good girl since she was born, as she also received a present.
She really liked her present (especially the wrapping it came in), but not as much as Flo enjoyed the pepernoten (although she's now in bed after spending the night vomiting... it's not certain if this is the result of eating too many pepernoten however).
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| From Beatrice Dorothy Corcutt |
Beatrice has obviously been a very good girl since she was born, as she also received a present.
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| From Beatrice Dorothy Corcutt |
She really liked her present (especially the wrapping it came in), but not as much as Flo enjoyed the pepernoten (although she's now in bed after spending the night vomiting... it's not certain if this is the result of eating too many pepernoten however).
Wednesday, 3 December 2008
A slight change of plan
Instead of going to Jordan, we ended up going to Beirut last weekend. And instead of telling you about that, some old pictures I forgot to post before. Beirut update to follow...
Last month we went for Friday lunch on Mount Kassioun. This is where Cain slew Abel and also where the prophet Mohammed took his first look of the city of Damascus before turning away from "earthly paradise".
Nowadays the paradisical view is slightly spoiled by all the litter on the mountain, but you get a good view over the city from one of the many restaurants. We went to the restaurant Best View where I had the lamp with vegetables...
Last month we went for Friday lunch on Mount Kassioun. This is where Cain slew Abel and also where the prophet Mohammed took his first look of the city of Damascus before turning away from "earthly paradise".
Nowadays the paradisical view is slightly spoiled by all the litter on the mountain, but you get a good view over the city from one of the many restaurants. We went to the restaurant Best View where I had the lamp with vegetables...
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