Hello, world! I love living here. My favorite things are the trees with their rustling leaves, the lamp above the dining table, the hot-air balloons hanging above my bed, and the rattling teddy bear. My favorite people are my dad, because he is tall and strong, and being with him always feels like I’m sitting on top of a fortress, right at the top of the world. My sibling, because he always makes me laugh, shows me good music that often gets me dancing, and gives me lots of kisses. My mom, because she gives me wonderful warm, creamy milk 🙂 Mami and Papi, because even though we don’t meet…

Life with Wolfie is beautiful — but it doesn’t stop! And one of the spring weekend rituals is always about the plants. That’s how it worked out last weekend: we combined balcony naps with a bit of gardening, which with this amount of plants would normally be a four- to five-hour job. But repotting, fertilizing, swapping flowerpots and, above all, a mother’s hands up to the wrists in potting soil are not compatible with a baby who sometimes wakes up. So, taking into account the cuddling breaks, nursing breaks, nappy-change breaks (and the other family members’ needs directed at me), this fun stretched from Friday through Sunday! To be fair,…

My latest obsession, which I just couldn’t suppress, is making the little hangings above the crib with my own two hands. And I’m sure there are prettier and better ones out there, but in every stitch I can see that cheeky baby smile from when I was lying on the couch, looking sideways as I made the pattern, which was drawn on the inside of Rú’s cereal box. I can also picture sleepy Wolfie while I cut out the pieces, and I hear us singing together while sewing and trying to stretch things out as long as possible until feeding time, because we never get around to finishing the hangings…

No, I don’t find birthdays even a little bit sad after 30 🙂 I’m actually absolutely thrilled that I’ve found my place in the world, in a beautiful place with a wonderful man and two incredible boys. Every day brings something interesting, or something that makes me happy (if nothing else, a half-hour afternoon nap with a baby on my chest). And what was my wish when I blew out the candles…? That everything would stay exactly the way I feel right now.

Since I’ve started reliving the baby years, and alongside that, spending my days with teenage Ruben, I’ve discovered such unfathomable consonances that nostalgia inevitably takes hold of me. In another life, in a small town, Rú was still newborn-sized 14 years ago and made me the happiest woman alive. The days, weeks, months, and years we spent together are among the most beautiful moments of my life. I owe him moments that can never be brought back again: shared laughter, the sound of little feet toddling along at dawn, the scent of warm hugs, and the wishes and dreams we made come true. And I can feel how quickly these 14 years…

This incredible little baby joined our family two months ago, and since then we’ve been grateful for a million happy moments with him. He may not know it yet, but he’s doing a fantastic job as a sibling, and as a baby he’s already proved my worries wrong. He’s been sleeping through the night for weeks (!!), and even feeds himself in his sleep. And the best part is that, as a mini version of his dad, he still inherited a few things from me too. What we’ve learned so far: he loves water just like I do, and he can giggle with half-open eyes while sleeping (which is pretty…

Oh no, this post is not about politics. It’s about my own feelings. Here I am, with dark circles under my eyes after yesterday’s all-day and evening scrolling, because it didn’t even occur to me to take a nap after all those nights up with my few-week-old baby. And yet I’m smiling from ear to ear, filled with an euphoric feeling that I can only be happy because I am Hungarian. I don’t feel the helpless knot of anger in my throat, but a peaceful, calm, liberated feeling, because I was part of something historic, and I no longer see possibilities only out there in the big world, but in…

This year it happened that Ruben’s name day fell right on Easter Monday, which gave us a perfect excuse for a lavish brunch and some burger-feasting as per the guest of honor’s wish—a proper afternoon belly-filling disguised as lunch. In recent years, it’s become a tradition to celebrate Rú’s name day breakfast somewhere really special, like at Budapest’s Gerbeaud in 2024 (or an unconventional name day at grandma’s during COVID on my original blog). But this year, for Easter, we opted for a home breakfast… with our expanded bunny family! We still managed a little stroll in the Prater, where after our Sunday meetup we stumbled upon the groundhogs again, and we didn’t…

Finally, air above 20 degrees, sunshine, and all my boys in one place at the same time! I couldn’t have wished for more than that for Easter Sunday. Maybe the wider family around us too, but unfortunately that will have to wait a little longer this year.

Wolfie is 6 weeks old today, and these six weeks have given me enough time to physically, mentally, and spiritually process the journey of his birth. I don’t want to turn this post into a horror story or scare any expectant readers. Instead, I’d like to capture that phenomenon that transformed a challenging birth process—with all its extreme physical pain and emotional strain—into the positive birth experience it became for me. My hospital wasn’t in Vienna; we chose a small university teaching hospital in Tulln, which is a public institution. And this phenomenon consists of a few simple things: Care. From the very first step into the hospital until leaving the…