Move to London with the child? What a fucking idea!
We can still be so organized and plan everything in advance - sometimes our kids just mess up their daily routine. Because they have their own will and feelings that can not even be managed away.
This has also experienced Lucie Marshall. The actress and blogger, who is actually Tanya Neufeldt, has emigrated to London with her husband and son. There she encounters some obstacles, for example that the son does not want to go to kindergarten in the afternoon. Ungenuine and humorous she describes in her book "Mama, I need to kotz!" the chaos in which the family ends up, but through which she also learns a lot about herself and her child.
We've been fans of Lucie Marshall for a long time now and highly recommend this blogger's book to all moms!
Read exclusively an excerpt from "Mama, I need to kotz!":
Howling Skypts with Raffaella
The next day I bring a really bad-tempered child to kindergarten. On the way to the day care center at the traffic lights I repeat: "You stay in the daycare center all day, other children are there all day!" He stands next to me and cries: "I do not want to! I'm not going there! I'm also playing quietly in my room."
Help, that's awful. Above all, I find myself increasingly appalling; I sound like a hostmother from the 50s. I never wanted to be like that. I never wanted to say such sentences. Do I have a bad alien in me like Sigourney Weaver in the film of the same name that dictates my thoughts? I almost wish that was the puzzle solution. It would relieve me.
So I put in a dead end, but stoically continue to run against the wall. Normally, two-year-olds have a reputation for biting into things like a pit bull and never letting go. Is not there a dozen guides? Are there any guides for pit bull mothers?
What was that fucking idea to come here?
After finally handing Sam over to Miss Amanda (crying), I go home (crying). The stomach swelling can not be displaced. I email my friend Raffaella and ask for an emergency Skype date. She became a mother shortly before me and then got twins after that. She is a fervent supporter of Jesper Juul, and since I have the books, but too seldom read, a very, very good counselor.
"I do not even remember what's right or what's wrong," howl and sob as soon as it appears on the screen. "I want to go back to Berlin!" I continue. It came out of buckets, I'm not coming to work, and my kid hates the kindergarten! "I cry.
"BREATHE!" Raffaella casually interrupts, and I try to suck in sobs and not spit too much on my screen while sobbing.
When I calmed down, I start to talk. That Sam still does not want to go to kindergarten in the afternoon, but I have no explanation for it. That he is restless and started chewing his fingernails. That he startsle from nightmares at night and gets back in his clothes.
Tanya Neufeldt is an actress and blogs since 2012 under the name Lucie Marshall about her life as a mother. She has already published a book ("On Highheels in the Delivery Room"), as well as producing a very funny web series in which she plays the lead role.
© Jules VillbrandtI always wanted a child who expresses his free will
And while I tell all this out loud, I listen to myself for the first time. And also understand why I remembered the story with the guest list for his third birthday yesterday. I always wanted a child who expresses his free will. Now I have one that tells me on different levels that it's not happy, and what am I doing? Try to bend it because it does not fit my schedule.
"You know ...", Raffaella starts softly, "So that sounds like Sam does not like it there in the afternoon, not just on a whim, but because something is not good for him." "I know," I say meekly, "just what, I mean they do funny experiments and even yoga, so I want to know what it is!" "He's only 4. Most adults are not able to express themselves explicitly, which does not do them good, why ... asking for a four-year-old is ..." I interrupt them: "Yes, yes, yes .. .I know, I know." "And then nail-biting and pimpling ..." "Terrible!" I interrupt her again, startling myself because I ignored it all so skillfully.
The situation is just before the super-GAU!
With a buzzing head, but somehow sorted again, I finally go to collect Sam in the afternoon. I'm a little too early again. Sam's group stays in the small courtyard, which can be seen from the stairs. You have Science Class this afternoon and are currently doing an experiment. I can not see exactly what they are doing. But I can see that Sam is frightened a big step behind the other children and chews his nails in panic. Oh, shit, what's wrong with him? He sees me, screams almost hysterically "MAMAAA" and storms at me immediately. He tries to open the gate and is completely outraged.
I am shocked by his reaction. Miss Amanda wants to bring him back to the group, but I grab him and pick him up. "Can we go home, Mom? Can we go home?" He asks, sobbing again and again.
Okay, I did not just ignore the red hazard lights, but really underestimated the situation. That's just before the super-GAU. We pack his things, his science teacher quickly gives me a small bag with the experimental utensils, but I carelessly in my purse and squash Sam go up the entrance stairs.
On the way through Kensington Gardens he calms down slowly. We sit on a bench. "Sam, you do not have to go to kindergarten in the afternoon," I say. "I'm sorry that I pushed you so hard, that was not fair."
I imagine Raffaella and Jesper Juul patting me on the back. He looks at me, sniffs again and then nods firmly: "Are we going to the Pirate Boat now?"
Oh, children are so wonderfully pragmatic. There are no infinite sentimentalisms here. No long conversation. The situation is clear, so where is the playground? And Mommy sits on the bench, stunned, catching the thought, "Well, a little more thankfulness ...", but I can just bar the last part of the thought before Jesper's or Raffaella's flashes hit me , And as I follow Sam, I realize that the story is deep in my bones. And as Sam climbs happily on the pirate boat, I call Marc at work and tell him what happened earlier.
How do we solve the problem?
"Oh God," he says, "that really is not going to work, so we have to think of another solution this evening." We are both very scared. How could we just overlook that? At home, I'll check Sam's experiment bag again: there's a little box in which, at the time of analog photography, the small rolls of film were kept. In addition a head pain tablet and the experiment instructions: "Fill a quarter of the tablet with a little water in the jar, then take a generous distance and watch what happens!"
We'll try it. The tablet dissolves and catapults the lid of the quenching force through the air. "That's funny!", I exclaim enthusiastically. My son, who is actually to be had for every nonsense, coolly replies: "Not funny!"
In the evening, Marc and I sit together. We reckon on what a nanny would cost us in the afternoon - on top of the kindergarten costs, which we definitely have to pay in full by the end of this term. And how we can reorganize ourselves. Mary can not come every afternoon until one month, until then only irregularly, and a maximum of twice a week. "Yes," says Marc dryly, "that's going to be very, very, very expensive and a lot of organization, but we have dry beds for that and hopefully we'll have fingernails soon."
The book
"Mom, I need to puke!" by Lucie Marshall has been published by Goldmann Verlag, 8.99 euros, available for example via Amazon
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