Reading · The Unhinged Mom Edit

Some things seem so obvious you don’t think they need explaining.

Apparently, they do.

Every weekday at 7 a.m., Berlin permits construction to start. Which means every weekday around eight thirty, Mini-Us and I are standing at one of the five construction sites within a two-kilometre radius of our apartment.

Recently, it’s become one version of our morning routine.

Last Wednesday, near the end of our tour, we were watching two bulldozers and a digger on Veteranenstraße when one of the construction workers waved us over. He gave Mini-Us a private tour. Pointed out the controls. Asked if he -meaning we- wanted to sit inside.

I climbed in and pulled him onto my lap.

Mini-Us looked like I would if I’d just met Bad Bunny.

“Come back tomorrow,” the man said. “I’ll show him more vehicles.”

Exactly the kind of entertainment I can get behind. No tickets. No queues. No gift shop. No strings attached.

We started walking towards Weinerei, a local favourite, where I was planning a stay-at-home-mum-before-noon wine. A small reward for standing in the sun watching hydraulics.

Then he called after us.

“Or maybe Friday… we could get something to eat afterwards? McDonald’s maybe?”

I stopped.

I wasn’t sure what surprised me more. That he asked. Or that he thought a woman standing next to a bulldozer, carrying a toddler covered in banana and dust, might be available for a date.

I’d assumed the toddler said it all.

Not available. Not flirting. Just here because somebody really loves excavators.

“No, but thank you,” I said, and continued towards my wine.

That construction site did not make Thursday’s itinerary.

For two years, I’d apparently been walking around assuming motherhood had already answered the question for me.

It hadn’t.

Good Taste

Cherry season ends in August. Summer does too, but I’m not emotionally available for that conversation.

Let’s stick to cherries.

Our kitchen island currently has a permanent bowl, so obviously they entered my frozen-dessert operation.

Blend 2 cups Greek yoghurt, 2 cups pitted cherries, 1 tbsp lemon juice and the seeds of ½ vanilla pod until smooth. Freeze in a loaf pan for at least four hours. Attack with a fork until somewhere between granita and fake gelato. Add chopped almonds if you’re feeling ambitious.

Cherry season: handled.

Summer ending: absolutely not.

Elevator Mom Diaries

Ting.

I step out of the elevator in my favourite little black dress.
From the hallway, I can hear Ricardo Villalobos playing from my friend’s phone, strategically placed inside a glass for maximum sound. It’s 9 p.m. We’re getting ready to go out in Berlin, drinking Skinny Bitches -vodka, soda, lemon- and wondering what the night would bring.

At midnight, we’ll enter the club.

It’s 2015 - when we could still call drinks “skinny bitches” and think nothing of it.

Ting.

It’s 9 p.m. I step out of the elevator in old jogging bottoms and an even older T-shirt, carrying a small plastic bag containing one very full smelly diaper.

Apparently, this is the same 9 p.m.

My teeth are brushed. My phone is charging. My Kindle is waiting in bed. Tomorrow’s overnight oats are already in the fridge for Mini-Us and our 8 a.m. construction-site tour.

This diaper is the only thing that could get me out of the apartment at this hour.

I throw it away.

Ting.

9:02 p.m. Back upstairs.

Thank God.

In 2015, I wouldn’t have left the house for another three hours.

Tonight, I resent the diaper for getting me out at all.