.SOMETIMES RAW.

This is to all toddlers world-wide. I am seven-years-old. It is tough being a toddler. Some days are really hard. Having your every need met does not allow for much downtime. With this in mind, how can you even find space to take care of you? It starts with small things such as cutting nails. Why does my mom cut them once a week and does not give me permission to make sure my nails are sharp enough to draw blood and claw others when I want to be a werewolf or a bat? Grown-ups are strange. She also forgets that I am small and see things from a different angle. The air is different down here. I see the sign with a red, huge bug on it and she just walks by. Why? And, how come I cannot eat chocolate only and survive let’s say on chocolate, soda, and plain baguette? Mom says I need to eat vegetables and fruit because of the vitamins and that if I don’t eat it, my teeth will all get a cavity and I have to go to the dentist who straps me down on a chair and pulls those teeth out. She told me the story of Karius and Baktus! Wow, this is so scary. But chocolate has vitamins, no? I am a busy toddler, and sometimes I have the feeling that my self-care gets pushed in the corner underneath my bunk bed. You may be in the same boat so I want to share a couple of tips on how to survive as a toddler.

Don’t feel bad about saying no. It was one of my first words and all toddlers learn it for a reason I think. Use it wisely though. Become super comfortable with saying no by saying it as loud as possible, over and over again to every question grown-ups ask you. Especially questions such as “Do you need a nap?, “Do you want more zucchini? Do you want to go to bed? Don’t you want to clean up your room?” Oh, one more thing. The next time you want to say yes, just say no. Then cry because you meant yes, and that should have been obvious. My mom does that sometimes. Whenever it comes to food, enjoy a healthy snack. Grown-ups are right. As fresh as possible. Ants on a log is a great option. Or flies from the windowsill. Just indulge in whatever snack you feel nourishes you. Proteins are important, my mom says.

Demand that grown-up reads books to you. Preferably the same books. Over and over. Until you know it by heart. I love detective stories. Also, make sure to bring the book back to grown-up continually to show them something until you see all the light drain from their eyes. When I was younger, I loved the book Doggies by Sandra Boynton and make my mom bark like all ten dogs. She loooooved it. I really think my mom loves to make an abundance of non-human noises. Like all days long.

Bathtime. Obviously, make it as fun as possible. Mom says that her bathtime is her wellness and time-out. What does this even mean? Splash around and make the entire bathroom your ocean. Grown-ups don’t understand how awesome this is. You can also enjoy your nightly Sunday evening bath with a warm cup of bathwater and then get sick. Must be all the soap I guess. If you are thirsty, wrap your mouth around the entire faucet to ingest as much water as possible. If grown-up gave you a washcloth, use it to clean the entire tiles of the bathroom, then wash yourself. If nobody is looking refill bathtub with as much warm water as possible. Take your scuba mask, snorkel, goggles, whatever you can find to dive. Call your Mom and then scare her by playing dead and lay in the bathtub without moving. She will get super scared, I swear.

Running in crowded places. Mom and I love to go to museums. I love to take a quick, breezy stroll through a crowded public space. Like, I just run around. Fast. I am super fast. This is best accomplished when grown-up is not looking when they are talking to someone or helping another child. As soon as you get the chance, head toward any visible thing that screams fun: water fountain (anything water), staircases, things to climb up, things to climb down, things to open and close. See how far you can get before your name is yelled, then obviously ignore it because you are having a blast. If grown-up caught you, make sure to scream and thrash about wildly to fully complete the exercise. It is exhilarating.

Sleep. Make sure to sleep as much as possible and get up super early on the weekend to watch cartoons. Saturday/Sunday, let’s say get up between 6.30 am to 7 am. Be cranky when you have to get up during the week at that time though. Make sure to sleep ten minutes in the car/train/subway on the ride home from wherever because just ten minutes will keep you refreshed for the next ten hours. Grown-ups love it.

Rearrange your space. I mean, I have to live here and want to be comfortable. Take all the vases and sponges out from under the sink and rearrange them artfully in the bathroom. Bananas are so yummy. Squeeze them out of the peel and decorate them nicely on the kitchen floor. Eat some of it. I love blueberries. Do you know what is cool? To roll them under the fridge and behind the counter. Like little marbles. The other day I thought I will mix and squeeze some blueberries from the freezer with coconut milk to see what happens and how this tastes. Mom makes awesome smoothies but I was not able to turn on the blender for some reason. Then I dropped the bowl with everything in it. The colors were awesome! Mom had this weird look on her face when she saw the mess. She cleaned everything up, had this weird twitch in her left eye, and hummed the Sesame Street Theme Song. Again, grown-ups are weird.

Skin Care. Mom says that using most of the beauty products is bad for the skin. She has all this natural stuff. I don’t want my skin to be bad, so I mixed a bit of the rest of the coconut milk with her cream. I only took a bit because Mom said it was rather expensive because it is naaaatural. Whatever that means. So I squeezed some into the coconut milk. I added some of her perfume. It is called Cloé; like the fat cat from Pets- The movie. The perfume has the same name which is funny. Then I rubbed it all over my body. No wrinkles, ever.

Hug people you love. Grown-ups love that. Tell them you love them. These things can help and save you if you decide to make your own “cream” again or play “mermaid” in the bathtub. Mom always says: Don’t negotiate with (little) terrorists. I don’t know what that means.

Help whenever you can. Grown-ups can always use help. When your mom is tired, this is when you can assist. Remove all the canned goods from the shelf or the pantry. Save energy by unplugging all the cords you can reach. Especially the internet. Remove folded clothes from the laundry basket and put everything in the washing machine. Turn washing machine on. Make sure you provide your service at the right time. This is usually, when grown-up cooks, talks on the phone, cleans, or deals with paperwork. Make sure you get the appreciation you deserve.

Hey, I am not supposed to be on Mom’s computer and she is coming back. So I am signing off. I hope you will put one of my tips into practice soon. Always remember, we need to make sure our own cups are full of apple juice before we can pour the content into the fridge to see what will happen, right? It is a busy world out there. You deserve some time to yourself, happily alone with a black marker and a white wall.

This is an article I have written in February 2019 and slightly changed. It is still so accurate that I would love to share it again. Enjoy!

“He who has no house will not build one now. He who is alone will be alone for some time. Will be wakeful, will read, will write long letters and will wander restlessly along the lanes when the leaves fall.” – Rainer Maria Rilke (originally in German “Herbsttag”)

I had a discussion about “husbands” with a friend the other day. She told me that it felt odd to be married. What is a husband, anyway? As the author André Alex questions: is it someone with whom you have a relationship, a relationship that evolves because time passes and one changes? I would answer: Certainly. But in some way, I could say the same thing about a house or a dog, even (if only instinctively), I feel that a husband is more than a house or more than a dog. So my question is: Is a husband desire or love? Desire and love are way too inconstant to make anything at all, right?! I mean it in the sense that today, for example, my version of love and desire may include my husband, but tomorrow it may not. The next day they will, and then they will not. She did not want to continue the conversation further and switched to “Valentine’s Day” and what she should buy for her husband. Also, she actually does not need or want anything from him, but that he will suffer for at least one week if he does not come home with at least chocolate.

Today, I will have the most amazing dinner-date at an Italian restaurant with my six-year-old son whom I love so much. As far as relationships, I believe, a partner does not need to be a constant presence, a shadow, or a version of myself but rather an equal, not an idea, a nuisance or habit to fix or constantly nourish (a project), but rather someone who can challenge me on an intellectual level, a shoulder to lean on, someone who has no fear of change, has confidence, spontaneously invites me to a romantic dinner, has good and not only one-sided conversations with me, plans a fancy night out but is also comfortable talking on the couch with a cup of tea, has good emotional intelligence, has a sense of self-awareness, someone who can make me laugh and has similar goals and dreams, invites to spontaneous bookstore dates and at the bookstore comes up with the idea to pick a book for each other – that element of serendipity and then we go out for dinner to talk about all things bookish. Someone who is curious and is willing to read aloud to me (especially when I cannot sleep). The basics. In my head, a couple is made up of two opposites, centered around some passion and attraction that mystery causes. Both are curious about and drawn to each other because of their dissimilarities to ourselves. In a healthy relationship, I am fascinated by my counterpart, and I can learn a lot by spending time together. If I do not feel this, I have to move on. Firstly and more important, however, is self-love and the relationship I have with myself before I can fully open up to someone else.

In addition, it is important to learn to argue properly. We all get annoyed and stressed out from time to time. We can be nagging, grumpy, irritated, stressed out or all of the above simultaneously. No couple is perfect, even if some try to make us believe it by posting “happy couple” pictures on Facebook or Instagram. The key is to argue in style with no tension left afterward. No name-calling, no dishes throwing. I want to add to also be apologizing and forgiving. This way it is easy to move on. The air is clean. Overall, having the same rhythm is more important than I often realized. Going to the gym together, or climbing, or jogging. Having the same sleep/read cycle or how both get inspired by the same author. Whatever it may be for you; just feel the same beat. And if you don’t, then sometimes leaving is the only reasonable thing to do and to give energy to relationships that are deserving of it instead of draining.

I celebrate Valentine’s Day every day so this day has no significance to me. But today is the actual Valentine’s Day and if you are freaking out because you do not have anything for the love of your life or you forgot this day altogether, I have some emergency tips for you to make up for it tomorrow.

Take them for a long walk to reconnect. Look at things together. Go to a museum. Talk. Laugh. Get coffee or tea. Surprise them with a little gift just because it is NOT Valentine’s Day anymore. Read together or to each other. Suggest and start a project together, i.e. train for the half-marathon or any other adventure. Sit them down on the kitchen counter. Pour them a glass of wine and kiss. Put on some Jazz. Cook dinner. Repeat every two weeks. SHOW them you love them. Telling/writing is not enough. Give HER a “Sunday”: A whole day carefully planned, no kid(s), Spa, brunch, wine and a movie at night on the couch. Be generous: with money, with matters of the heart and with time. Conquer the world together.

Or alone.

One beautiful but chilly July morning, on her way back home, she walked past the 100% perfect man. In her hand, a bag of oranges to make juice. Tell you the truth, he is not that good looking. He does not stand out in any way. His clothes are not special. The back of his hair is still messed up from sleep. She guessed it was a long night. But still, she knew from far away: He is the perfect man for her. The moment she saw him, there was a rumbling in her chest and her mouth was as dry as a desert. Not dessert. She wished she could talk to him. Half an hour would have been plenty: just ask him about himself, tell him about herself, and what she would really like to do, explain to him the complexities of fate that had led to their passing each other on a side street this morning. After talking, they would have had brunch somewhere, maybe seen a Woody Allen movie, stopped by a hotel bar for brunch. Potentiality knocked on the door of her heart. Now the distance between them had narrowed to ten meters.

How can she approach him? What would she say? Good morning. Do you think you could spare half an hour for a little conversation? No, ridiculous. This sounds like an insurance salesman or the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Maybe just the simple truth would do: Good morning. You are the perfect man for me.

They passed in front of a flower shop. A wisp of air touched her skin. The asphalt was damp, and she caught the scent of lavender. She could not bring herself to speak to him. He wore a black sweater, and in his right hand, he held a white envelope lacking only a stamp. So: He has written somebody a letter, maybe spent the whole night writing, to judge from the sleepy look in his eyes. The envelope could possibly contain every secret he has ever had. He took a few more looks at his watch and turned: He was lost in the crowd. He is gone. Her bag of oranges ripped at the bottom. She rolled her eyes. Now, of course, she knew exactly what she should have said to him. It would have been a long speech, though, far too long for her to have delivered it properly. Usually, the ideas she comes up with are never very practical. Oh well. It would have started like “Once upon a time” and ended “A sad story, don’t you think? Remember when the bag with the oranges ripped?” “But, he smiled at me,” she whispered.

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and a girl. The boy was eighteen and the girl seventeen. He was not unusually handsome, and she was not especially beautiful. They were just an ordinary boy and an ordinary girl. But they believed in miracles. One day the two came upon each other on the corner of a street. There was a lamp post. They walked a bit and then sat on a bench in the park and talked, however, a tiny sliver of doubt root in their hearts: This was perfect. Was it really all right for one’s dream to come true so easily? Could this be it? And so, when their conversation stopped for a bit, the boy said to the girl, “Let’s test ourselves. If we really are each meant to be together, then sometime, somewhere, we will meet again. And when that happens, and we know that we are the perfect ones, we will marry then and there. What do you think?” She said, “Sure, let’s do this. We are still so young. There is still so much out there to explore.”

And so they parted. The test they had agreed upon was totally unnecessary of course. They should have never agreed to something dumb like this because they knew and felt that they are meant for each other. It was a miracle that they have even met. But it was impossible for them to know this, young as they were. Then life happened. They didn’t see each other for years. They were two bright, determined young people, studied, wrote dissertations, made good money, got married, got divorced, had children and lived in the same city all those years. They became members of society and started families. Maybe they actually become citizens who know how to figure out the subway lines in a heartbeat and can send special-delivery letters at the post office. The ones when a signature and another document needs to be filled out and is required.

Time passed with shocking swiftness, and soon the boy was forty-two and the girl was thirty-eight. One beautiful July morning, in search of a cup of coffee and the post office, the boy walked from west to east, while the girl walked from east to west, both along the same narrow road. They passed each other in the very center of the street. The faintest gleam of their lost memories glimmered for the briefest moment in their hearts. Each of them felt a rumbling in their hearts and they knew. He/she is the one.

But the glow of their memories was too weak, and their thoughts no longer had the clarity of all those years ago. Without a word but with a smile they passed each other and disappeared into the crowd. Maybe this time forever. But nobody really knows.

She then picked up the oranges and walked home.