Ceci n'est pas un blog

Our new neighborhood is, for those of you that know Austin, most analogous to Clarksville. An old worker neighborhood later invaded by Bohemians and slowly gentrified but still with a quirky air and rising house prices. Kampen means Struggle and probably dates to the early part of the 20th century when it was well known as the Communist part of town.

And so this post takes its spirit from that name.

I, clearly, struggle to post here regularly.

We all are struggling not to be brought down by the sniffly cold that's going around. It has effectively prevented us from celebrating S's good news (employment here at Opera).

H is particularly struggling with Barnahage (something between day care and kindergarten). Tears and screaming "I don't want to go to school. I don't want to see Dag and my friends." Just anticipating it sent her into over an hour of anxiety crying on the weekend ... and yet, once there draws and paints and plays and rides the bikes around and is a good kid. We think we've sussed out the source of the anxiety and she seems, today, a bit reassured.

I am struggling to get enough sleep. Walking the dogs and getting H off to barnahage means waking up a fair amount earlier than I used to but I'm not really going to sleep any sooner.

The hedgehogs are struggling to avoid our dogs. The parks are full of the little spiky critters and Tosca and Seamus are obsessed with them. It takes all my strength to hold them back from the slow moving and very cute little animals waddling about in the wet grass.

And right now, I'm struggling to get wrap this up so we can serve dinner before H falls asleep. With no nap and active days, she doesn't need a bed time, she's falling asleep even before we can go to bed and read stories most days.