Saskia

Table of Contents



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My Life in Pictures

Saskia One Hour Old

Saskia One Year Old

Saskia And Yamu at the
North Sea Beach, Summer of 1999



Anouk und Saskia - 2001



No War On Irak Demo
Hollywood Februar 2003




Saskia and Yamu in Berlin 2003



My Life in Numbers

1997

February 28, 18:31: I see what my mama looks like from the outside the first time.
February 28, 18:45: 52cm, 2850g, girl

1998

January 28: Tooth one comes in.
February 2: My birthday present for mama: my second tooth!
February 10: Tooth three ...
February 24: I am 76cm long and weigh 8.5kg!
February 28: We go snow shoeing for my first birthday in Rocky Mountain  National Park.
March 1: My web page got started ... finally!!
May 22: I attend Mama's graduation.
August 22: We move to Berlin, Germany.
October 26: We move to Hamburg, Germany.
December 2: I finally grew and gained again: 84cm and 10.1kg.

1999

February 28: I get a Brio Eisenbahn and a real birthday party with three cakes and three friends for my second birthday.
March 8: Mama gets her Green Card.
April 18: My sister Anouk arrives, she is great ...
July: We travel to Tating at the North Sea, where Astrid, Nils and Iris visit us.followed by Astrid and Yamu as well.
August 20: We move to LA (after spending two weeks with Dick and Frieda)
September 15: I start daycare at Fernald.

2000

February 28: We celebrate my birthday with Nino, Patrick, Eva and Matthias going whale watching, without any whales.
June-September: We spent the three summer months in Boulder, CO. Astrid and Yamu come visiting us.

2001

February 28: To my fourth birthday I invite Emily (my best friend from Fernald), Adam (and sister Talia, who is Anouk's friend) and Anna and we play typical German birthday games, eat my favorite pizza from La Bottega on Santa Monica Blvd, and have the cake Mama baked me as I wished: Carrot Chocolate Cake (downloaded from the Web).
March 21-30: Papa travels to Uruguay while Anouk, Mama and I have fun at home.

2002

February 28: To my fifth birthday I invite Emily, Anna, and ??? I forgot already.
One of our activities was to make our own pizza. That was fun. March: we move to Strathmore Ave ... our place is still a mess, so we stay with Niki in 11009.5 for three months.
Summer: we go to Boulder and live in a community somewhere between Boulder and Lafayette. It was great. Anouk learned to ride her bike at the age of three year s and three months. We also tried to learn how to swim again, but di dnot go far beyond playing in the water. Mama took us 5.5 miles to the pool almost every day on the bike. We sit in the Burley. It is hot, but fun. WE also go the the German playgroup a lot.
September: we come back to LA ... our place is still not done, but we try to move in nevertheless. Our room is almost finished. I go to Warner Ave Elementary School, Kindergarten with Ms. Ichikawa in Room 15. My best friends are Kifu and Sara Terada. I learn how do add and 'take away', some wrting as well. Every Tuesday we practive "On Broadway" with Miss Burr, and on Thursday we do stitchery with Ms. Browne. I started playing piano with Ms. Olim, Mr Martin in Books Alive. I learned a lot in my first year and finish it with "There is a Hippo on my tree" and get a price for being one of the best Kindergarten players.
December: we celebrate our first X-mas at home. Mama and Anouk got a tree, but waited for me to come home to decorate it. X-mas Eve Verica and Jovca come over. They always get us presents when they come.

2003

February 28th: My sixth birthday ... of course I invite Kifu, Sara T., Alana and Emily again.
Summer: We go to Berlin for eight weeks. Papa comes only for the last three weeks though, because he has a summer school in Los Angeles. We ride all kinds of buses: 111, X11, 170, and the U-Bahn, and S-Bahn, and Strassenbahn. We meet Daniel, Nina, Marian and Alina a lot and go to the Domaene Dahlem. That place was so much fun, picking berries, in the middle of the city; Astrid and Yamu come for a week; Zoo, Dulle, Gitti and Patrick, boat riding with Maike and Jonas. I almost forgot: I finally lost my first tooth!

My Life in Words

A Birth Story for Saskia Maria Brose
by Bjorn Stevens (her Dad) and Andrea Brose (her Mom)

It is Sunday, just after noon, March 2, 1997. We are in the back bedroom of the Maxwell Ave apartment. I'm sitting at the laptop, and Andrea is on the bed. Saskia Maria Brose is at her left breast - of course that's the sorest one. This is the story of Saskia Maria, and how she came into this world. Our world. Home.

Saskia was born Friday at 18:31, LDR 6 in Boulder Community Hospital. But that's near the end of the story; let's begin a bit sooner. Thursday night Andrea and I spent at home. One of our first nights alone with each other in many weeks. We thought of going out for a coffee, our "last coffee" as a responsibility free couple. But of course I worked late, and we got tired after dinner and just stayed at home, enjoying each other's company. We went to sleep around 10. Andrea started feeling "crampy" at 0:33 (according to the bedside clock), but never told me. I woke up at 6am convinced that she had secretly been trying to suffocate me all night - this hand would periodically emerge from nowhere and pinch my nose. But she claims I was snoring - a persistent, but as yet unsubstantiated claim of hers. Anyway, about 6am, I found out that Andrea thought she was in labor.

We got up, trying to figure out what to do, but things got easier for her, so we figured the contractions were just practice ones. I went to work, and Andrea said she would call if things changed. The phone rang pretty near 12:33, I was home by 13:00. In between going to work and coming home a front passed. The winds shifted and it was snowing good for the ride home - a couple of inches were on the ground in some places. When I got home the contractions were every 5-12 minutes and were moderate. The snow however was getting more intense. We scored the contractions on a scale of 1-??; these were ones or twos (moderate menstrual cramps)... maybe a couple threes (strong cramps). We called the practice and they said to keep track of the contractions and if things didn't change a whole lot to call between 15:00 and 16:00. So I read, and putzed around, Andrea tried to get some rest and took a bath (in my "nicely washed" tub). Whenever she went to the bathroom the contractions came harder, which made life difficult given that her bladder had disappeared some months ago. Movement also intensified the contractions, indicating that this was the real thing.

Because the contractions weren't intensifying too much (5-7 minutes apart, 30-90 s long, twos and threes in strength) we didn't end up calling the practice until 16:30. After describing the situation to them, they said we probably should go down to the hospital just to have Andrea checked out. We, however, were not so eager to go and spend hours in the hospital, or be sent home. So we thought to hangout at home for a bit more. We checked with the hospital and they were fine with this. Andrea still had a sense of humor, she managed to laugh when I asked her if she knew the contractions were going in the right direction. I was worried for a bit, 'cause I thought maybe her body could be confused and the contractions could be closing rather than opening the cervix. The fact that she didn't hit me was a good sign that we probably had a way to go.

But then at 17:00 the contractions started coming in earnest. Every 3 minutes, with a few of strength four. We got serious about packing. It took longer than it should have. Getting dressed was also more of an ordeal then we had anticipated. The snow was still coming down strong, so we had to put extra clothes on. But we made it. We probably left the house shortly after 17:30 (the last recorded contraction was at 17:22). Anna our neighbor saw us leave, Andrea was bent over on the railing encountering the first contraction of the walk. So this is what labor was about! The walk took longer than we figured. Somewhere between Portland and North Street Andrea's water broke. At the time we thought it might have been her bladder, but upon closer inspection (by the pH paper in the labor ward) this supposition was shown to be false. We figured the walk took about 6 contractions, with the latter ones being a good five on our "contraction scale." We probably arrived at the labor and delivery desk shortly before 18:00.

Just as they were asking what we were there for, Andrea had a major contraction, it ranked a six on the scale. My explanation of our intent was rendered useless by Andrea's contracted form. The nursing staff managed to get us a room and get someone to take care of us, but not with any sense of urgency. It turns out that snow storms are good for labor, and the place had been filling up rapidly. The day before, I had stopped by the labor ward to drop off some forms. I announced to the attending nurse that we planned to stop by the next day and have a baby, and would she mind holding room 4. Well, I guess she didn't take me seriously, cause room 4 was taken. We settled for room 6, we were just happy that there was a room free at the inn. Andrea just barely had time to get out of her clothes and get on the bed before the next contraction came. This was a six or seven, things were really getting intense, each contraction defined a new upper bound on our hastily constructed scale. The one nurse put the fetal monitor on, while the other nurse examined her. By the way Andrea was responding to their efforts the nursing staff was probably thinking they were going to be in for a long night. But the examination of her cervix relieved them of any angst they may have been developing. The nurse announced Andrea was finished, the rapidly intensifying contractions had been the notorious "transition" phase of labor. When the nurse announced that Andrea was done, we were a bit confused. I asked, does this mean she is completely effaced, and if so how far dilated is she? The nurse said no, she was done, she was more or less ready to push. All we needed was a doctor!

Up until this time Andrea hadn't had the urge to push, but when it was announced that she was ready, she was told not to push (the doctor still hadn't arrived). Of course on the next contraction she had the most tremendous urge to push. We tried to forestall this urge by using the floppy cheeks technique that we had been equipped with in our childbirth education class. It was kind of ludicrous, but seemed to work! At this time Andrea started yelling out for Maggie, her midwife, asking us why we hadn't gotten her yet (as if she had been waiting around the corner in some snow drift waiting for Andrea to go into labor). Fortunately, the doctor on call from our practice, David Thayer, was in the building; he made it in a matter of minutes. Andrea remembers looking up in-between contractions and suddenly seeing Dr. Thayer in a surgical outfit, standing beside a table full of instruments, and a big bright light! Because things were happening so rapidly, the staff hadn't got a good read on the baby's vital signs, so they seemed to be quite careful and were getting prepared for everything. This included keeping the fetal monitors on, despite Andrea's pleas to the contrary. Moreover, they did not want Andrea to push until they had everything ready. Of course Andrea could not accept this piece of advice, but she managed! Everything was happening so fast, there was no time to choose birthing positions, and it was tough for Andrea to get in a rhythm with her breathing. She was breathing too rapidly and started to hyper ventilate. She announced she was getting dizzy and was going to faint (she used to faint quite easily), I announced this to the doctors and nurses who paid us no mind, then Andrea seemed to me to faint, which caused me great consternation, but the nurses and doctors never seemed to notice. Andrea emerged from her fainting (which wasn't a fainting at all, just a pause for energy) and Dr. Thayer calmly described to Andrea how he wanted her to breathe. The one nurse told Andrea to just listen to her body; Dr. Thayer concurred, saying, "yes, listen to your body, unless of course it tells you to breathe rapidly!"

I remember when we first came into the hospital how I had looked at the monitor to see how Andrea's contractions ranked compared to those of the women down the hall. The video terminals in each room showed the baby's heart rate and mother's contractions for every mother-to-be in a labor and delivery room. I thought that was kind of cool. Kind of like going to the races. When I saw how minuscule Andrea's contractions looked compared to the others I thought we had a long time to go. Fortunately, the strength of contractions on the monitor had little if anything to do with the strength of the contractions in reality! The woman with the horse-race-winning contractions ended up being sent home early, and Andrea was in transition!

In the end it probably took 4-5 contractions for Andrea to push the baby out. During the final stages Dr. Thayer said, that Andrea would feel an intense feeling as if her skin were tearing, but that she should not worry about it, it was just the skin stretching. Well, Andrea nodded yes, and then on the next push she screamed that it was burning. Dr. Thayer said: "this is the skin stretching." Andrea said: "NO!! The skin was BURNING!" Of course it was a case of mistaken adjectives, and it was indeed the skin stretching. Baby's head finally made it out after a few good pushes, and that was weird to see. Saskia with her head dangling out of Andrea's body! Just before this time Andrea remembers looking down, and she could see the very tip of the head. It looked to her the size of a tennis ball which made her immediately think: Oh great, all this work for a baby with no head! After the head came out, baby got a bit stuck, causing Dr. Thayer to ask Andrea to push again. This confused Andrea, because she remembered from the videos that the babies all seemed to flop right out after the head was through. Now that Andrea had been informed that the baby did indeed have a head, and it was out, she wondered what could be left to push - another head? It turns out that Saskia had her arm folded and her elbow wedged in Andrea's birth canal, leveraged against any further pushing. It was as if she was having second thoughts, or didn't want Andrea to get off too easy! But she didn't have too much energy, and finally relented to being pushed into this world.

Immediately after her birth, Saskia was put on Andrea's stomach and breast, I cut the cord and Mom and Daughter got to know each other while Dad looked on and Dr. Thayer waited for the placenta and took care to make sure that Andrea was doing all right. Saskia was left in peace with her mom for at least an hour before the nurses weighed her (2850 grams, 6 lbs 4 oz) measured her (21 inches, 53 cm) and did a variety of other experiments and data collection exercises (blood sugar measurements, vitamin K, eye drops, etc.). It was not until this time, that the nurses got around to admitting us to the hospital.

As for the gender I saw immediately that Saskia was a girl, something I never doubted (publically anyway). Besides why would a boy announce, to Andrea in a dream, that he wanted to be called Saskia? We can't remember exactly how Andrea came to first learn of the child's gender (she heard me and one other person announce the gender, but can't remember who she heard first). It was kind of funny, because everyone who had a strong opinion about the gender thought that Andrea would have a girl, everyone from Saskia's very wise father to the Italian waitress at the seafood restaurant in California, to Nili Feingold who cooked us a great dinner 6 days before the birth, to the nurses who inadvertently referred to Saskia as a she throughout the labor and delivery. Even Isabelle, Saskia's first and best friend must have known that Saskia would be a girl - babies know these sorts of things.

All in all it was a wonderful birth. A great and positive experience. As Andrea says it now (from her bed with Saskia - imitating her buddy Isabelle imitating the pope - asleep at her side): "It was really 30 minutes of hell, but ..."

The End.


My Moon's Gone 'round Once! (and then some)
A Four Week Story by Saskia Maria Brose

So, it is Sunday. I'm four weeks and two days old. Lately I've taken to banging my head on my mama's breast. I like doing it back and forth first, kind of like a head-banger in a "Punk" band, then side to side. It's kind of cool to make the milk spray. My folks think I'm retarded, but what do they know. Oh in case you are wondering, I took over my dad's feeble brain in order to write this.

The first four weeks haven't been too bad. My parents seem to be quick learners, although I swear my dad is getting worse at changing my diapers - not better. So far I've been out to eat lots. I've been to the Gondolier twice for ``All You Can Eat Spaghetti''. I particularly like going to the Trident in the sling that Erik and Brad got me. I think I've been there three or four times. Everyone ooohs and aaaahs, as if they haven't seen a baby in a sling before. Well maybe they haven't. Today I climbed Mt.Sanitas again. My third time. My first time was with my mama two weeks ago. Not bad huh?! She seems to be recovering fast. After the climb today I had a world record poop. My parents didn't seem to believe that I could hold that much in me. It was great, it went everywhere. They were amazed, especially my dad. He's weird like that. But hey, after that one that went shooting off the changing table three feet and on to the floor, no one should be surprised. My aunt Zara was here to witness that one. She is cool.

Eating is fun. I hardly have to suck. I just open my mouth, and fountains of milk/joy come pouring in. In the beginning it was tough though. Here I was with this new and tiny belly, and my mama kept confusing me with a breast pump. She would wake me up three times a night, change me, burp me, do whatever she could just to make me eat. I think I spent the first two weeks completely bloated. If dad hadn't got mama that breast pump I probably would have burst! But now things have finally settled down into a regular schedule. I eat some, then sleep some. In between I absorb some stimuli, and through out I exercise my bowels.

It has been a busy four weeks though. Hard to believe that the moon has already completed its orbit around the earth. The grandparents were out, an aunt, a great aunt, and Indiana Oma (Uroma) even. Lots of people have come over for dinner, and even more have brought us dinner over. You should have seen the confluence of soup just after I got home. Graham and Nili brought this great huge bowl of fantastic pea soup, Anna and Bruce brought great curry like concoction, and Ligia brought a vegetable soup with gobs of different types of pasta (all on the same day)! Second to soup was the Lasagne offering. I think my parents were pretty appreciative of it all though. Mama was tired and they both seemed to be captivated by my charm, so not having to worry about preparing dinner probably helped keep them from starving those first few days. Not to mention the fact that they seemed to love the food!

Throughout the pregnancy I was kind of worried about how dad would manage without sleep. He gave it a good try (sleeping with me and mama), but he's a man so we can't really blame him for not being able to hack it. So he moved into the guest room where he gets plenty of sleep. He's gonna owe mama one for a long long time (even though he's been known to help out now and then on particularly rough nights). Me and mama got it pretty good though. We can just lay side by side, and I get all the food I want. Dad calls it docking, probably 'cause mama wraps me up so tight that I look like a cross between an Egyptian mummy and a space ship. Really he's probably jealous. Especially now that we got this great Poo-bear night light which illuminates all of our maneuvers.

I've got this bad case of acne, but other than that people seem to think I am cute. If so I don't really know where I get it from. My folks seem to be particularly fascinated by the faces I make for them when I wake up. They like it when I scrunch my lips and face and make lethargic sucking motions. If I slowly stretch my arms and legs that drives them over the edge. They seem pretty easy to please. I've done my best to return the favor. One thing that I'm still trying to get used to is getting changed. Laying naked on the changing table, with all that space, and the neighborhood in full sight kind of freaks me. I try my best to keep calm, but sometimes it is just too much. But my parents seem to be figuring it out. By stopping crying immediately after the source of my discomfort is removed I hope that they can figure out what's bugging me and cut it out. For walkies (that's what I call people who stand upright) they seem to have pretty good deductive skills, unfortunately their induction still sucks!

One thing that has made this world a bit easier to enter is all the generosity that comes pouring out of people. My father has this theory, but I'll spare you. Suffice to say that my life would have been miserable had it been up to my mama and dad to buy all the things I need. My mama's math department colleagues had a baby shower for us, and it is amazing all the things we got. That on top of the shower that Marilyn and Shelby threw for us. And then, when the relatives were here, I got this new crib, and lots of stuffed things, and tones of clothes (thank god that most are natural fabric and not too girly). They took my mama and dad out to eat every night, and I got to ride in a car. That was one of my favorite things - my folks just don't get it. Like I mentioned above, Zara and I get along real well. I have yet to meet a nicer aunt! Although I really look forward to meeting Aunt Astrid this summer. My Oma and Opa still seem kind of young, but that will change. My dad said that Opa did pretty good in keeping up on the ski slope. I can't wait to go skiing. They went to Breckenridge with Zara. The rest of us did town things. Really, it turned out nice meeting them all so soon. I can't wait till I can wear overalls like Aunt Stevie's. My Opa is nice; he seemed to have tones of patience (I'll have to remind Dad about that). I remember driving around town with everyone yelling different directions to him, most at the last second. He never once got frazzled. My Uroma seems to see about as well as me, so we had that in common. Her skin is sooo soft too. Just like mine will be once I get rid of this damn acne. My dad seems to be particularly fond of his Oma, he kept licking her. My Oma is cool too. I liked falling asleep on her shoulder, but once (just before they were about to leave) I puked. I hope she doesn't take it personally, I tried to shoot most of it on the floor.

Speaking of Astrid. She's due to give birth to my cousin in this cycle of the moon. I hope my cousin is good to her. I can't wait to meet Cousin Bah. I think Mama is excited too. Not too many days pass before she picks up the phone, dials a gazillion numbers and says: "Na Dicke." Dicke is Astrid. She's big these days. I think mama enjoys being first at something for once. Dicke was always first at things. Sometimes Mama tells me that I will be the oldest. It is funny, of the four grandchildren of Old Irmchen, all will have had grandchildren by the end of this year, where as at the end of last year only Ralf showed signs of reproductive prowess. I was born in February, Cousin Bah is due in April, and then Stephan and Dina are cooking up something in October. So at the end of this year their will be 5 great grandchildren. I will be the only Brose though.

My dad took the first week off from work, and some days off during the second week. Now he's trying to get in Monday through Friday. He seems to be managing OK, even if he gets a late start most days. At night he manages to work after me and mama go to sleep. Although pretty often mama goes to bed too early for me, and dad and I will stay up to talk about God and the world. Dad does most of the talking. During the days I try to keep mama busy for most of the morning, but during the afternoon I give her some peace, or we go on an adventure, or even have visitors. Let me see, we once went up Mt. Sanitas, another time we went for a walk up the Canyon with my buddy Isabelle and Vivian (that was the time Mama forgot to bring me enough stuff to change into ... I showed her), and one day Noah and Diana came over. Noah is the same age as Isabelle. When we went to the mall, I got to ride on the hop. It was almost as good as a car. Pretty often mama sings to me. Despite what dad says, she has a great voice (actually dad likes it too). She sings me German children songs about monkeys and coconuts (kokosnuss), and reads me cool stories from this bed time book I got from my cousins Pauline and Jenny. They're German, so it is good that mama is speaking German to me. It keeps me in good shape for when I get to visit them this summer.

Well I was already to let this stop here, but mama wants me to tell you how I'm doing coping with this infantile body they gave me. Hmmmm let me think. Today I turned my head from side to side for dad, although I've been holding my head up pretty good for days now. That impressed the relatives, but then they're easily impressed. Last Wednesday I gave mama and dad my first smile that wasn't induced by gas, or angel whispers ... Darn, some days this body gives me lots of gas - I wonder where I get that from?! As for my angels. My dad told me all about them. Actually, I knew about them before I came down here. They kind of sent me off and they gave me lots of gifts to share with all the walkies. What gifts you ask? Well, that will have to wait for another story.

The End.


Almost Two Now!!
A 22 Months Story by Andrea Brose

There is no way that I can fill in all the details of the past 21 months, that we have not written really anything about Saskia. So let's see what I can tell about her today, without falling into a story on her soon-to-be sibling arriving in about three months.

Just yesterday I wrote a little anecdote to AJ about what Saskia was doing today - December 27th, 1998, Hamburg Germany. I guess I should at least do a little update on our life now. We are in Germany for a year. Björn got a Humboldt Fellowship so that we can be here. First we stayed in Berlin for two months, where he took a German intensive course at the Goethe Institut. And now we are in Hamburg for the remaining 10 months. And the best of all is that Saskia hangs out with Yamu - her cousin - a lot. They are great together and to Astrid and me it seemed right away, that they got along differently - better - than with other kids, as if they knew that they have a little more in common than just their age. And here was the story from yesterday: Yamu and Saskia usually look forward to seeing each other a lot, and the minute they meet they start mildly fighting, not bad, more funny. And so for a while they were playing on the ground and I and Björn were in the room also, when Björn mentioned that lately the two haven't been too sensitive anymore when they fall down for example. Just finished the sentence, Saskia got up, stumbled a little bit, fell artificially on the floor and gave some of her crocodile tears!! It was so funny, Björn and I had to laugh and at the same time were astonished that Saskia followed our little conversation seemingly and then wanted to contradict us! So we even ask her to do it again, and indeed she did it again.

The last two or three months, Saskia keeps surprising us about her developmental steps. Of course all parents probably feel the same. Saskia is nothing special with that, but the first time around, it is so much fun seeing all the things she learns now. She finds things we cannot find anymore, once we ask her if she has seen them - things like keys in a moment when I really wanted to leave the house for example. As of now she likes doing household chores like bringing the laundry in the hamper, and then from the hamper into the washing machine; helping doing the dishes, which is less of help than more fun to see. It would be great if that'd last until she moves out!

The End.


Now We Begin Counting in Years or Weiter geht's!
A Two Years Story by Björn Stevens

Actually there is no official rule, but I think more or less, now we begin counting in years. When we read this together you will be two, no more ``fast zwei'' like the way you say ``fast alle'' when you are scrounging around in your bowl for the last remnants of soup, or potatoes, or Quark. No more ``fast nur zwei''.

All the letters I should have written in the past two years, too busy writing articles instead ... somehow I think my letters to you might get read more, especially some years from now. If I would have written this letter last week, I would have started by describing you running full blast through the first floor of the Berliner Aquarium, toward the big fish tanks at the end, rocking back and forth as you do when you run, still the remnants of a fast walk in your step, the unsteady see-saw of a toddler loosing her toddle. The picture is still vivid, the way you ran, not listening to our calls to wait, full blast to the big tanks, with the big fish ``große Fisch,'' at the end. The way you ran back and forth from side to side shouting ``Guck Bal'', for the entire world to hear, as if nobody could ever be so excited to see a fish. And perhaps nobody ever was.

If I would have started this letter an hour ago, I probably would have started by saying: ``Remember when you had no hair?'' It seemed to last forever. Looking at pictures now, I almost forgot how bald you were. I have this great recollection of you coming off of the airplane after your first trip to Germany to visit Yamu, Astrid, and Lai, when you were less than six months old. Out you came from the gangway leading from the plane, with your striped hat, and your bald head, sitting in the sling strung from your Mamma's shoulder; like a Buddha emerging from a pea pod, but fairer than any Buddha ever was, although just as bald.

That is how I would have started my letter an hour ago, because that is what I was thinking about when I was lying by your bedside, waiting for you to go to sleep. Each night now, for over a year, I have been putting you to bed. These days we read books together. For the longest time Good Night Gorilla was your favorite, your vocabulary mirroring its contents. From ``Maus'' to ``Nana'', to ``Affe'', to ``Ballon''. These days, here at Esmarchstr. 36, you have so many of the words, from ``Hyena-Hund'' to ``Lelefant'', from ``Giraffe'' to ``Maus''. Yes of course, most in German, all there, by your bed, ``Saskia's Bett'' as you are happy to inform anyone who asks, or should I say anyone who will listen, or just anyone in earshot. But these days Sandmann , or Müllman are your favorites, or maybe ``Zieh' dich an kleiner Bär''. Yeah, I was laying there thinking how bald you once were, how your hair, like your first steps would never come. But now you are walking, running, climbing stairs ``Treppe hoch'' as you screamed to me in the phone the other day, excited and breathless and almost as proud as your mother, and it's a struggle to think of the time when you weren't doing all that ---- just like it's hard to imagine you as that bald little Buddha you once were.

Speaking of books, of Mäuse and Giraffen, your book Opposites comes to mind. There is this scene in there, where the big hippopotamus `whispers down to the little hippopotamus, ``Whisper''. And the little hippopotamus shouts back: ``SHOUT''. Well these days you are our little hippopotamus, saying: ``Papa, whisper, papa whisper'' in a quiet, soft, whispery voice. And I am to respond, ``whisper,'' in an equally quiet soft, whispery voice, after which you get to burst out like that little hippopotamus, ``SHOUT''. It's become a good game to play when we are out too close to your nap time, and you are ready to succumb to the seductions of sleep offered by your blue stroller, and we would much rather have you fall asleep first in your own bed. So we say as we are rapidly pushing you home: ``Saskia, whisper, whisper, whisper.'' And if we are lucky, if we haven't waited too long, our little hippopotamus comes roaring back from the edge of sleep with a great big grin and a real loud ``SHOUT''.

So many images, and so many are so recent, I wonder about all those that already have been lost forever, in some forgotten corner of my brain. Like tottering down Holstenstraße with a sing-songy gait, kicking cans and pointing out ``Hunde Kacke'' as we search for play grounds, laundry mats, or just simply ways to spend the time. Like stomping fiercely in puddles, trying to recreate best we can the joy you and Yamu had in Wohlers Park, going full blast through puddles until the dirt and grime and mud was guaranteed to have penetrated to your bones, your socks are probably still brown from that, or has your mother already committed them to history.

Or singing ``Bummelbahn'' with your mother as you dance in circles eagerly awaiting ``Pause'' so you can call out the animal that waits at the gate, and then make its noise: Vogel -- peep peep; Schwein --- urrghmph urrghmph; Hund -- Wow Wow; Bär --- Raaaaarrrrr. And then klinging your bell for the conductor and shouting ``Weiter geht's'' a line you and Mama added all on your own. I have to laugh now, hearing your little voice shouting ``Weiter geht's'' with your Bummelbahn. Tuesday Yamu was over, and we did it altogether, you, her, Mama and me, and Yamu was laughing so hard that she almost lost her breath and then you two would rush together and hug each other, like friends separated by years of war, only to see each other for the first time. And all that really was separating you was verses of the Bummelbahn that ``wir gerne fahren ... ''.

Weiter geht's!

Airplanes roaring over head as they landed at Flughafen Tempelhof, whose runway more or less began around the corner from the end of Warthestr. 45, where we lived in Berlin for two months. Or ``dee deee dee, festhalten'' as we road the S-Bahn through Berlin on some daily journey. Or ``Papa sitz'' as you commanded me whenever you wanted to ``malen'', which was at least once an evening and three times a day on weekends. Or ``Saskia's turn'' as you demanded the ball from me so that you could throw it against the wall, or at the tower of blocks that we had just then so carefully built. Or ``Fenster-Fenster, Saskia Fenster'' as you commanded your mother each morning so you could watch me ride around the corner on my rusted Holland bike, on my way to work. Or dancing to the music of the Sandmann, in Karin's apartment in Berlin, or proudly standing up from the toilet as if the seat is on fire, immediately after discharging your business, so proud, almost as proud of yourself as we are of you.

But not all of the older recollections are out of reach of my recall. I still remember how you spent months in 1855 Athens St. Apartment, clicking your throat like an aspiring hen. Or how when we celebrated Christmas in Oregon you took a fondness of pulling your lips back from your mouth and sucking all the surrounding life, forcefully through the gaps in your gums, and whatever teeth you might have had then. Maybe you didn't even have any, your teeth, like your hair, and your steps, but not like your words, came late.

For ever it seems your greatest delights came from discarding not only your possessions from our balcony, the first time we caught on, it was amazing what we found in the bushes below: balls, bottles, toys. Balls were always your favorite though, whether it be to launch from balconies, to throw in the Boulder creek that we got to know so well, or to kick down the hallway of our apartment building. Gosh, when I reach back into my recollection, it's amazing what memories reside there, how full the past two years have been --- I couldn't even begin to write it all down.

And the future comes: ``Baby in Bauch'', you say to your mother, meaning your sister, who everyone else mistakenly thinks will be a brother. All these impressions and feelings you fill our life with, a strange richness you give it, one I never knew about before you came along, and here you are, only just now beginning to be counted in years.

Somehow our living rooms will never look the same as they did before you joined us. Just glancing around now, there is the blue ball, one of the few things we brought from Boulder, with its yellow-fading-into-red hearts by your box of toys, surrounded by the rainbow wooden rings left from some previous adventure. Its funny to think how once your most major accomplishment was to put a ring on the pole correctly, and you did it so nonchalantly, like the way you learned to walk and crawl, it seemed as if one day you just did these things, and thereafter it is as if you have been doing them your whole life. But back to our living room, the lawn mower stands ready and primed by the door, being looked after by the duck. And of course, the ever present red pottie, sure to be a fixture in our minds for some months to come, stands gaping and waiting in the center of the room. So much has changed, it is weird to see you there, but it's also hard to imagine that there was a time when you weren't. All this and you are just now beginning to count in years.

You know what I like, and hate at the same time. When early in the morning you climb into bed with me. Doing your best not to wake me up, but completely incapable of going back to sleep yourself. Laying softly and as quietly as you can, there by my side, maybe stroking my arm, until maybe 20 minutes have passed and you can't bear it any longer, and you whisper softly: ``Papa up, Papa up,'' or maybe ``Whisper, Papa whisper'' and then when all else fails, even the alarming cry of ``Kacke'' you kiss me, that magic kiss, that which after I am completely incapable (let alone allowed) of remaining further in bed. I like it, 'cause nothing is quite so nice as getting love from you. I hate it because sometimes I wish that the love didn't have to come just six hours after I managed to fall asleep. But if one really must get up, there can't possibly be another, better, way.

Elternschule, Papa Lai, Hafen, Boote, andere Kinder, Patrick, Dan-Dunn with your lips puffed full out. Einkaufen, Yamu, andere Mama -- Astrid, Saskias Teller, Saskias Tee, Saskias Stuhl, Saskias Wasser, Mäo (wollof for 'milk'), Dala (wollof for 'shoes'), Kai, Kai Tock (wollof for 'sit down'). Wasser, Schnee, nass, Nackalei. Heiss, heiss, warm. Pizza, Hafer, Brot, Muss, Nuss Muss, (Kar)toffeln, and above all, above everything else, Käse --- Saskias Käse. Regenjacke, Papas Hose, Socken, Regenjacke, und noch mal Regenjacke.

Weiter geht's!


Excerpts From Letters to Friends
From Andrea Brose and Björn Stevens






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