Gaby Rocks My World (or well, the globe of a belly)

This very short video is dedicated to the amusement of my never-been-pregnant readers.

( I had to add in some semblance of music to hide my heavy breathing.)

I had initially intended to take a video of Gaby hiccuping. Unfortunately, the lighting was poor and the movements too subtle for my Nokia camera phone to pick up. However, Gaby decided to surprise the recording with one of her very sudden and violent movements -- which is quite characteristic of her behaviour these couple of weeks.

The ultrasound last week indicated that she is a healthy mid-range 2.06kg baby for 33 weeks. She refused to show her face during the twenty minute session with the sonogrammer (if that's what they are called), so I do not have any nice new sonogram pictures to put up. So sad. =/ The first disappointment from Gaby.

Oh, and I just realised that my Countdown to Parenthood ticker-widget box on the right of my blog is suddenly showing a rotating picture of a baby -- upside down! I guess this is when Gaby's expected to be in her kick off position. I sense that she probably is because the hiccup movements are constantly in the lower left part of my globe these days. I cross my fingers and toes hoping she will cooperate so we can have a natural birth...

And while I am at this entry, here's a visual update on my globe:

37 inches and counting (Courtesy of IKEA)

Car Rental

A good piece of advice from the pregnancy books Lionel and I use for toilet reading suggest that we take a trial drive to the hospital prior to D-Day. With that in mind, Lionel booked a car last Saturday morning to give the route a try. Of course, we couldn't just go to the hospital and back, could we?

So he took a 4 hour booking and we planned to do the hospital drive, to IKEA (for the umpteenth time) to get Gaby's changing table, and to the hypermart, Coop, located in the same warehousy kind of area of Dietlikon.

Mobility Car-Sharing

Mobility is a massive car sharing company here that has stations all over Zurich with one to a few cars in each station. The closest one to us, with just one car, is but a five minute walk from our home. Even then, there are another three within a couple of bus stops. While Mobility carries several sizes and models of cars, all their cars are red. (So you probably do not want to get a red car here in Zurich, just as how we won't get a white Mercedes in Singapore because it screams out "Taxi!")

With his university, Lionel got a three-month free membership with Mobility. However, he had to get his Singapore driver's license converted to a Swiss one before he could take up this membership.

Getting a Swiss Driver's License

Besides an eye test that had really funky components to them, there was no other test we had to take. (Both of us decided to convert our license because we have to do it within a year of our arrival, otherwise, we would have to take the local test to get a Swiss license.)
It cost us each:

• 12 francs for the eye test
• About 3 francs worth of stamps to send in documents when they came ping-ponging back at us
• 30 francs to the Kreisburo (the office in-charge of each neighbourhood) for a useless piece of certification which was still not what the driving office wanted
• 85 francs for the administration's paperwork

That totals up to 130 francs for each of our license.

Oh, and they seized our Singapore licenses upon our application, returning them by normal (not even registered) mail only when our new Swiss license comes. And see what they stickered to my Singapore license?

Singapore license above, Swiss license below

Pardon the digression, and back to the car rental.

I am amazed at the technology this company uses. The car is just left sitting in a Mobility labelled parking lot. alongside other normal car lots. There is no office or personnel taking care of it. How then do you collect and drop keys off? Ah, this is where that red sticker on the bottom of the windscreen is for.

Lionel flashes his university matriculation card in front of what looks like a sticker -- and Tadaa! The car unlocks itself. This is the same mechanism used to lock the car as well.

Next, we enter the reasonably clean car and a screen from the rearview mirror unfolds downwards:

Here, information about our booking and journey is shown. When the engine starts, the screen automatically folds back under the mirror, so that you do not get a chance to fiddle with it while driving.

So here we are, sitting in the car. I am taking in the feeling of being in a car again after some nine weeks of being carless while Lionel, in his usual engineer-mode efficient chop-chop self, is immediately fumbling around, looking for the car key. The glove compartment? The side pockets at the door? Under the hand brake? Nope, nope and nope.

Then Lionel suddenly feels around the steering wheel, and realises there is no key hole for the engine.

Hehe... that's when I *very I'm-so-proud-of-myself-ly* spot the "Start button" beneath the radio and aircon controls.

Seriously, you press this button and the engine starts up sans the "ee hee hee sputter sputter" sound. Very clean, very efficient. The quiet and inconspicuous engine start-up proved really face-saving when our engine died because Lionel was getting used to handling a manual car all over again.

It was so nerve-wrecking for Lionel getting us from one point to another initially. There were so many things to be alert to:

• As mentioned, the car we rented was a manual one. And it is hard to remember to press on, half release, the clutch when moving off, changing gear, and braking.
• Cars here are left-hand drive so besides the change in driver's perspective, one also has to get used to the roads being mirror image in orientation.
• We have never driven or travelled much here. The tram routes are slightly different from the car roads. So it is like driving in a whole new terrain.
• When crossing some junctions, you need to look out for trams coming from in front or behind you. They always get priority no matter what colour your traffic light flashes you.
• The lanes here are super narrow! Trams can past you with just a pen's length allowance.
• The traffic lights are super high up. I think they were made for child or short drivers, because you had to lean forward and squint up to keep an eye on the changing lights.

Traffic lights directly above the windscreen

By the time we arrived at IKEA, Lionel emerged from the car with two triumphant dark grey patches of armpit sweat on his fitting T-shirt. (Did I mention Lionel has lost his paunch here with all the expensive outside food and hence the healthy homecooked food we've been having? So now he has moved one belt hole back and he can wear his tighter fitting T-shirts again. Ooh, I like.....!)

I am so glad I was not the one driving. I would have probably got my 130-franc driving license revoked after knocking someone down at the crossing, crashing backwards when my engine dies while moving off a slope, scraping the car on a tram, mounting eight curbs as I make my turns with poor spatial judgment, turning into a lane and finding myself facing another car head-on twice or thrice, not moving off when the light turns green, lose my way for three out of the 4 hours, and have two trams crash into me.

Anyhow, guess how much our very well-planned 4 hours and 23km cost us? Just 30 Francs! And no add-ons like petrol or insurance!

We were pleasantly surprised, and now we think we may not get a car here in the end. Afterall, on weekdays, it is way easier for Lionel to take a single tram that gets him from our home to his office in under 20 minutes.  And the Clementi Central equivalent for my grocery shopping is just three bus stops away, with the return bus stopping right in front of our doorstep. So if it is just weekends that we MAY want a car, then there is no point sinking money into the purchase of a car (even if they can be three times cheaper than in Singapore), to pay a monthly carpark rental fee, and to pay for the car's regular maintenance.

We're going to rent a car again perhaps in two week's time to do the hospital route once more. This time, Lionel can focus on the route instead of the driving, and do without the sweat.

O Milo!

I just had my first Zurich cup of Milo Dinosaur!

After carefully rationing my half packet of Milo here for the last two months, I've finally indulged in a sinful cup of 3 over-the-top teaspoons of Milo powder, a whole tray of fish-shaped ice cubes, and another over-the-top teaspoon of Milo powder to Milo-cap my mountain. Hee.... (((((=

Bliss...

I finally let go after a refill pack came all the way from Singapore through a nice friend of ours who was stopping over in Zurich.

Prior to this aid delivery, I have been saving my Milo for emergency situations when my craving could  bear no more waiting. On other normal days, I would have an intricate combination of Ovaltine and Nesquik as a substitute for my morning, and sometimes before-bed hot drink.

Oh Milo, Milo, what would I do without you? It is always when I am away from Singapore and Malaysia -- the Milo capitals of the world -- that I miss you so.

More Big Deliveries before the Grand One

Guess what made me so happy on Friday when I was, for the first time in Zurich, left all alone at night because Lionel had an office party to attend?

Our Dell Desktop finally arrived after a 1.5 month wait! No more sharing of my small ThinkPad in the evenings with Lionel. No more lousy laptop speakers when we watch our cheap DVDs from Germany. Instead, I now have a huge screen to do my blogging, Facebooking, weather checking, 1000-word e-mail reply writing and prenatal Yoga-ing from.

I spent what would have been a lonely miserable evening taking my time to set up the whole PC, and forgetting about my dinner. Say hello to my new 24-inch screen. We would never have had such a big screen if not for the fact that we're doubling this screen as our TV for movie screenings. We decided that it wasn't worth getting a TV here because there is more or less only BBC we can watch that is in English, and we did not need an additional TV license fee added to our monthly bills. especially when we do not have time to watch TV anyway. Also, Lionel's workplace has two of these big screens attached to his desktop. You know, the kind where he can click and drag a window from one monitor to another, and where his mouse can suddenly cross the air space to the next monitor...

Before the Dell delivery, we had another big delivery all the way from Singapore! Lionel's Mum excitedly bought a lot of clothes and baby-related stuff for our dear Gaby. She had them flown over to us by their SIA pilot friend who was A380ing to Zurich. My own mum threw in 2 tubs of Body Shop Body Butter that I bought at almost half price in Singapore too.

Can you spot the difference? I took the first photo without realising my belly had been caught in the shot. Then I remembered the old Nokia phone that we requested from Singapore as well., and included it to take another shot. 

With this spare phone shell, I can put in my Singtel SIM card and leave it on. Now our dear friends and family in Singapore can SMS us and pay local Singapore rates. This is all in preparation for the Big Day when well wishers want to shout us to us from Singapore.

While I am on the topic of Gaby and preparations for her, see the state of her cupboard! It's a little messy now, and it has gotten more filled up with Gaby's new clothes, bedlinen and swaddling cloths from my MIL (mudder-in-law) since this photo was captured. I definitely underestimated the size of Gaby's wardrobe. Lionel and I are now looking for how to increase storage space so that my Mum can put her clothes comfortably when she comes over for three months to help me out. (Aren't Mummies so wonderful?)

We have relocated some of Gaby's stuff to our wardrobe to make room. Since diapers are something she would definitely grow into and will consume faster than she digests milk, we've been stocking up on Size 2, 3, and 4 Pampers when they are on Aktion (sale) here. We save about 30-40% with these buys.

Ah, and we haven't updated you with our, well, some would say obiang or gaudy hall curtains. Lionel and I love colours, and since we probably will not be able to afford sending Gaby to playschool here, we wanted to make home as visually stimulating as possible with bright colours and pictures.

|I see myself carrying Gaby around the house and talking to her about the pictures on the curtains as a daily routine before she starts talking and when she is at the stage where she is content to just being talked to...

Rant of a Beached Whale

This is what I feel like when I lie in bed these days at 32 weeks.

It is increasingly hard to find a comfortable position to sleep in where I do not feel the weight of Gaby and my uterus suffocating me or causing backaches.

I had a rather sleepless night last night with both Lionel and Gaby kneeing me through the night. And I believe Gaby broke her first hicupping record. Her hicupping spasms at 3am lasted almost a good 10 minutes! So by the time she was done, I was wide awake.

While Lionel cannot wait to manufacture number 2, I need a break from this whole labour of  childbearing. The thing about pregnancy, as I have come to realised, is that it really eats a whole year of your physical freedom away. Of course there is the lifetime of parenthood, but at least physically, I am so tightly bound to this little creature and the societal expectations of what I should and what I cannot do while with child.

First begins the vulnerable first trimester where the chances of miscarriage are extremely high and I am obliged to really take care of myself. No fitness classes or massage spas would take you in before your first trimester is over. And do not forget morning sickness, bloatedness, nausea, reactions to strong smells -- and hell, not automatically being able to justify the paunch-like bulk just yet.

Then the second trimester -- the supposedly heavenly one -- where I really start growing out of my clothes and go through puberty again, scouring for bras that fit, and resigning to the fact that Triumph would spare me no feelings in labeling me an XL in the underwear department. And while most of decent society would allow you to resume watered down fitness regimes, my changing centre of gravity dictates that I be more careful not to trip or slip. It is an arduous concentration exercise walking down a flight of stairs to ensure I do not miss a step.

And then there's the third trimester of being humongous and beached. In a few more weeks, it will be a waiting game. Will she come early at 37-38 weeks as I have heard many babies do? Will she come before my mother arrives? Has Lionel made all the arrangements for emergency transport and parking? Will I be able to do a natural birth? Are there going to be medical students looking on in horror at my labour? Will the nurse with me speak and understand my English? Have we really gotten everything ready?

And in the fourth quarter of the pregnancy year after the baby pops, that is when I am confined to 2-3 hour cycles and regiments of breastfeeding and diaper changing. No long trips out, no long dinner events...

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I am surprised I have not ballooned all over. The voluminous growth has largely been visibly confined to the belly area, although my sister-in-law would beg to differ. She insisted she could tell I'm pregnant from the expansion of my previously-also-not-very-humble rear. Well, at least I have a credible counterweight to the rear now -- so, come to think of it, I should effectively have a more stable centre of gravity with pregnancy. 

And while the marginal growth has been substantial in the mammary department (considering that I started out with a negative value), the visible final outcome is, well, still pretty modest.

At 31 weeks (last week)

Although I have been fortunate not to be inflicted with the common banes of pregnancy -- swollen feet, backaches and regular leg cramps -- my below-the-navel tummy has nonetheless succumbed to stretchmarks. Soon after I entered the third trimester, they started out inconspicuously as a little bruise like mark. Lionel spotted it first and we thought it was a bruise from my clumsy bumpings around the house and opening of fridge doors into my belly. 

But after a quiet embryonic stage that lasted but just a few days, it grew with great vehemence, spreading  its dark red streaks out, upwards like insidious roots claiming territory. And I thought being a young mother would spare me the physical tribulations of pregnancy. Alas, I have not been blessed with my own mother's good genes, who despite delivering us well into her late thirties, does not have a single stretchmark as evidence of childbearing.

I was just mentioning to my sister in an e-mail how I enjoy the part about growing up and adulthood where one stops caring so much about what people think. I am still confidently donning a bikini (because maternal swimwear is ridiculously overpriced and really, bikinis are the staple for any sort of age and figure here) when I go swimming. It may be that some of my confidence and oblivion stems from the fact that I cannot see my own stretchmarks from where my eyes sit, now that my belly is a huge sphere and I cannot see whatever is south of the protruding naval equator.

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And here ends my 837-word rant of a beached whale. (There isn't enough social interaction here for me to finish my weekly word quota. And I can't let Lionel bear all of it, can I? So here you are, dear faithful friends and readers to share the load. Thank you for following my blog.)

Additions to the Home (no, addition isn't Gaby yet)

Guess what arrived last week? Kekeke.. the 20kg box we shipped via SingPost before we left for Zurich. It sailed the seas for about nine weeks before arriving in this state. I'm glad we kiasu-ly did the Scotchtape reinforcements all round the box. I am a little stunned though at the number of stamps the post office put on the box. Surely there is a more efficient way of indicating S$120 worth of postage?

What did we have in this box?

• 
  
  A slow cooker that was given to us by my mates at NIE (National Institute of Education) for our (Singapore) housewarming
• 
  
  Lionel's Food of China cookbook, which he swears he survived his four years in the US with
• 
  
  Two baby carriers kindly donated by Lionel's cousin, Hwee Ling, and my friend, Saiful
• 
  
  Two big vacuum packed bags of winter clothing for Gaby, mostly donated by Hwee Ling too
• 
  
  Cartoon-print reusable cloth diapers for Gaby we bought at a baby fair in Singapore -- I thought I could do my part for the environment since I have the luxury of being a stay-home Mum (but allow me to update you with the reality of reusable diapers several months from now)
• 
  
  Hehe.. a packet of pads -- I know Zurich should be more advanced and well-equipped than Singapore, but I couldn't help putting that in to give me peace of mind
• 
  
  Lots of Watson's pocket tissue packets to pad the slow cooker 

When Lionel went to collect the box in the morning, guess whom he got waylaid by? An elderly lady from the Jehovah's Witness. I am certain it is the same team attacking Asians, especially Chinese looking Asians. I had a couple of women from the sect knocking on my door and ching-chong-ing me in Chinese several weeks back just because we had a Heng and Chen on our door label. These are the publications they try to hand out to people they evangelise to.

After my incident with them at my door the last round, Lionel and I went to read up a bit more about them. Apparently, they are an organisation with very tight social control and norms. Members are obliged to fulfil a quota of new believers they bring in, and it is very hard to leave the group. They do not mix much with non-believers also. Even when I told them I was a Presbyterian, they were still trying to convert me to their particular brand of Christianity.

Jehovah's Witness is a Christian sect banned in Singapore and several other countries because they do not carry arms -- i.e. males in Jehovah's Witness, for religious reasons, would refuse to participate in our compulsory National Service.

Ah, the third mop stick I have broken in my mopping life of six years. I must have some superhuman upper body strength, or these aluminium sticks just aren't made to last.

Our loot from the second trip to Konstanz last weekend! German prices (way better than what we get in Switzerland) plus duty free shopping!  We have enough toiletries, natal supplements, highlighters, colourful Stabilo soft-tip pens, imitation Post-it notes and cleaning detergent to last us at least next six months. *rubs Aunty-hands gleefully* Can you spot the new mop stick?

I had to buy new highlighters because I fell asleep while doing my German homework one day with my highlighter caps detached. And unlike in Singapore, the humidity here is lower, so that sapped the life of my highlighters.

And more stuff for Gaby:

• 
  
  The cheapest car seat we could find (since we already splurged so much on the baby vehicle they call the pram, and since we are not planning on yet owning a car)
• 
  
  Yellow cot pads to prevent Gaby from bumping her head on the bars of the cot
• 
  
  A waterproof sheet for the mattress
• 
  
  A baby nail clipper (which really is no different from an adult nail clipper, except for the plasticky colourful add-ons which supposedly makes it more ergonomic for cutting baby finger nails -- oh, curse the profit-making baby industry that feeds on naive parents' excitement and trust!)
• 
  
  Pacifiers -- for crying emergencies. I hope not to use them, but at the same time, my own mother has taught me to be less idealistic. And baby books (at least the ones I am reading) are quite sympathetic to the use of pacifiers and reassure me that my child will not end up having buck-teeth nor remain addicted to it past societal norms of the pacifier-totting age
• 
  
  That white dress looking item is what they call a sleeper. I would probably never have heard of that if I had not been living in this winter-susceptible country. Apparently, you are not supposed to put any pillows, blankets or loose items in the cot when the baby's small because they increase the risk of Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. So how do you cover the baby in winter then? The sleeper is a stiff padded dress you wear over the baby while she's sleeping in the cot. Since it is stiff, it is less likely to get entangled in baby's face, neck and limbs.

And this ends my themeless update for now!

Dear Gaby

Dear Gaby,

It will be about 10 weeks before you pop out. I can feel your increasing muscular strength as you make yourself comfortable in my uterus, elbowing, kneeing, heeling me. Unlike in many areas of my life, I have no control over when you would move and cause a ripple over my tummy. And that makes your being, and more importantly, your individuality, more real than before.

I cannot wait for you to arrive. I don't know what you're going to bring to this world, or at least to Daddy and Mummy's world as we know it. In all sorts of baby books, we've been warned that you're going to turn our lives upside down. And ironically, we cannot wait for that. I do not know what physical and personality traits you are going to inherit from us -- two also very different individuals. I do not know what antics and perspectives you're going to surprise us with as you, without even trying to or realising it, teach us about life.

As I write this now, you've started another bout of hiccups in my belly again. It feels like a really strong regular heartbeat -- like the pulsations I feel through my whole body after a sprint -- but only much slower. You really must have Daddy's genes. I am sure I will tell you at some point in your life how amused I am that your Daddy seems to be the only person I know who can hiccup in his sleep and not even rouse from that.

Your impending arrival is getting us all excited -- not just Dad and I, but Grandmama, Nek Nek, Uncle Jo, Aunty Cui and all other interested friends and relatives around us.

Uncle Jo is a son, a brother, a cousin, a nephew and quite recently, a brother-in-law. But you are going to make him an uncle very soon -- a new role he appears to be very thrilled about. In fact, he is planning to make two trips all the way to Switzerland from the US during his upcoming school vacation, just to see how his new and only niece (for now) is doing. Uncle Jo, I hear, is very good with babies and children. He is also a very good cook. He has a good brain and is studying very hard now to be a doctor or professor one day.

Aunty Cui is also excited about your coming. You are going to be her new experiment. She is now passionately studying Speech Therapy in Brisbane and she learns all about the development of speech in children. But Aunty Cui is also a very practical person -- like all us Chens/Lims are. She knows everyone is going to be thrilled with the novelty of having a new baby in the family and how they are getting you all sorts of 0-6 months clothes and accessories. Aunty Cui has told me she'd hence get you stuff that you can grow into when you're way past 1 year old and those gifts start dwindling.

Nek Nek is Daddy's mummy. She has already bought you some 5kg worth of clothes and baby necessities in Singapore. Grandmama will bring it up to Zurich when she comes in early October -- hopefully comfortably before your arrival. Nek Nek didn't look so excited when we told her you were starting your journey into the world some seven months ago. However, the realisation has grown onto her and the last I spoke to her on the phone, she was really really excited. She teaches primary school children in her home several times a week. She is not going to take on any more students soon in anticipation of the new little "rabbits" (as she calls all of you born this year) she will take under her wings in four years to come. Nek Nek loves teaching children and takes great pride in it. You will be spending a lot of time with her when we return to Singapore and Mummy has to go back to work.

Grandmama is Mummy's mummy. Grandmama had Mummy when she was much much older than I am now. She gave birth to me when she was 37. Because she was an older parent, experienced in life and established in her career, she brought Aunty Cui and I up with all the wisdom of her age. Grandmama is a really cool mummy herself, bringing us to the theatre and musicals even before we were in primary school, and never quite telling us what to do. She did get her message across, but never in a top down way. Aunty Cui and I have great mother-daughter relationships with her, and we talk to her like a friend. (I hope you and I will have that as well.)

While Grandmama didn't let Mummy do many what she considered high-risk activities (like roller-blading, skiiing, ice-skating, or scuba-diving), she actually let me go to Primary 1 without knowing how to read. I am afraid I don't have the same confidence in going so easy on you though. And even if I did, Nek Nek will push you hard to make sure you are reading and doing your times table by the age of 5, just as how she did with her two now very academically successful sons. I am certain that Nek Nek will also be the one who is going to teach you Chinese since Daddy speaks or recognises none of it, and Mummy is probably better at German now than she has ever been with the Chinese language.

Daddy is the nicest man in the world -- that's why I married him. OK, of course, you'd know a thing or two about opinions, exaggerations and perspectives in time to come. So Daddy may not be the only nicest man in the world, but I am sure, as he is to me, he will be to you. I can imagine you being one of those lucky girls who are not ashamed to tell your friends that your Daddy's a really nice man. He will definitely make you Daddy's girl -- but you are not to bully him, promise?

Daddy is a very patient man -- but he can be very impatient in some areas. He likes to get some things done really fast. Do you know Daddy got his Masters before he turned 24? And barely had I outgrown my wedding hair highlights did I find myself pregnant with you. Even now, before you're out, Daddy's planning for no. 2 already and when to increase my insurance coverage here so that we could deliver no. 2 here by water birth. Well, dear Gaby, not that I am complaining. Setting up our family is a priority both Daddy and I share.

In the past month, Daddy's been busy setting up your room for you. We've got you a basic but decent cot with a good mattress, a luxurious pram and a comfortable car seat for our occasional trips when Daddy feels in the mood to rent a car and drive up somewhere. Daddy becomes an advertiser's dream when we go baby shopping. He wants to get you so many things that you probably won't be able to use till you are at least six months old. I tell him to wait so we can bring you and you can show us what you are interested in.

Mummy, at the age of 25 now, doesn't have the benefit of all the years and experience of Grandmama. However, I do have the energy that a young Nek Nek had when she had Daddy 27 years ago. And because Daddy is doing his PhD here in Zurich, I am by these circumstances, removed from Singapore and my very busy teaching job. That equation comes up to you getting a full-time Mummy for the first four years of your life in quite a nice city with four pleasant and not-so-pleasant seasons.

You will realise how much a privilege this is for us, given that most graduate women automatically feel obligated by societal norms to go all out in the work force and be financially independent. I am sure, by your time, you would feel this pressure even more. Mummy is still getting used to not earning and saving her own money, after doing so for the past 9 years giving lots of tuition and teaching. However, I think that life, especially work-life, is getting longer these days with active ageing and delayed retirements. Yet even with medical advancements, reproductive years have not increased by the same proportion. Therefore, Mummy thinks it ok to take a hiatus early in my career to bring you, and Toby and whoever comes along, up well first. If life goes well, we'll have many years ahead to enjoy one another's company.

Many of Daddy and Mummy's contemporaries put off having children (or even getting married) any time soon, because they feel they aren't quite ready financially or emotionally. However, I don't think anyone is ever ready to be a parent. The ironic thing is that you have to be a parent itself to get you any closer to that elusive Masters in Parenting. And even then, as you will discover in your teenage years, parents are never perfect.

What a long first letter to you, my baby. Mummy's in this writing mood now because it is close to 11am here in Zurich and Daddy's still sleeping -- a luxury he will most likely be willing to sacrifice from the point you come crying into this world.

Love,

Your Mummy