A rock and a soft place.

Author: Julia · 13 July 2012

Wow. it's been a fast paced week, too fast to post, but full of things I would love to remember. The week started with the journey from England to Istanbul. As EasyJet helpfully only fly from Luton at the moment and the flight is at 6.30 am, an airport hotel is the way to go. Making the most of my final day Mum took Neve for a walk in the Silver Cross, which has a bounce that can conquer any determination against sleep, before I stuck her back in the Ergobaby to meet a friend in London. Having only her with me, and not needing to think ahead of a toddler, was such a rare opportunity to think clearly, and miss Ville deeply. I resolved to face my worries about how my reticence to speak Turkish is affecting Anton and reveal just how poor my Turkish is to everyone who fancies a chat. Walking down South Bank I feel no more 'at home' than I do walking along Istiklal Street, though I love doing both. But it is so good to be able to talk to people easily, to sort things out without the Pac-Man of misunderstanding gobbling up meaning. My amazing Mum brought Anton to Luton and then stayed the night with me and the children. Being one of nine staying in hotels and eating out did not really feature in our shared history, and both of us were a little giddy with the novelty of it. Only Neve was asleep before midnight.

Since (the all of six weeks) Ville has been back going to an office I have been faced with the classic stay at home parent dilemma: Do I want him to think that I manage the home and children effortlessly or do I need him to understand something of how difficult it can be and appreciate that I never drop the baton, however I feel? The reality of course is that there are too many times when the tiny trials of the day come spilling out for him to imagine that I glide around in a glow of maternal perfection. Unfortunately one of these spillages happened when I returned after nearly two weeks away. The flight went well but when Anton's (already second hand and design flawed) pushchair came off the carousel it could only be steered in one direction, and therefore was impossible to manage when one hand was needed for luggage. I managed to get to the coach to Taksim by lifting it every few steps. Getting across Taksim Square to Ville's office was horrible, it was hot, crowded and I was a spectacle. By the time I reached the office I was so angry, and with no where to direct it, I opted for the person who I love most, and deserved it least.

Thankfully the next day Ville instructed me to go shopping (its one of the few times men are allowed to be bossy) and I was back in love with Beyoğlu. Of course there is a limit to how rewarding clothes shopping with two kids in tow can be. I found a shop in Demirören shopping centre that had lots of things I like and decided to approximate what would fit while Neve remained in her sling. The assistants were having none of it. They took Neve and Anton from me and began to circle the shop doing the keep a baby quiet jiggle. It didn't work because Neve was asleep before they grabbed her, and her protests were getting disturbing, but they did not want me to give up. I was taken downstairs to the breastfeeding and changing room so I could sort Neve out. Within five minutes there were three of us breastfeeding in the tiny space with the other two mothers balancing their suckling babes while I sat. One of the women was covered except for her eyes and the breast from which she squirted milk at her toddlers angelic mouth, to encourage him to get on with the job. It was a good moment to expose myself (linguistically speaking) and the three of us quickly shared information about our beloved babies. Then it was back up to the shop where Neve giggled and I did speed changing. New clothes and a better attitude. A good day. It even ended with taking Anton and Neve to listen to their first live jazz, where Ville showed off his advanced jiggling Neve, while rocking Anton, and he didn't even noticing he was doing it.

The next day Ville left for three days of meetings in Ankara and I had my first nights alone with three children. I decided to tackle this head on and take them to the newish Istanbul Akvaryum before Matti had time to miss his Baba. In the tram on the first leg of the journey a woman pronounced me brave, and by the time I realised that the connection to the metro at Aksaray is not nearly as clear as it looks on the transport map, I saw her point. I had to ask five people directions for what was represented by a short line. It was a great day though and the kids love laughing about these small adversities if I am not too frustrated to make light of them. The rest of the day was great despite having to breastfeed standing up on a the tram and spending half an hour trying to put together a Beyblade before realising I was over-thinking it, a lot. I don't want to forget the three women who took it in turns to fan Neve for 35 minutes on the tram home. On the vapur back to Heybeliada Matti declared me a hero after the third time down on my hands and knees rescuing said Beyblade fom under the seating. And then (as we had stayed in the city) there is the first view of home for a couple of weeks and on arrival my neighbour produced an ice cream container of Yaprak Sarma to share while we drank tea. Good times.