A Blonde in Sweden

It's a New Year

2012-01-20T16:56:00.001+01:00

Did I read something about them switching the date for the end of the world?

Anyhow, apologies to those that check in every once and awhile in hopes of a new blog post from me. Truth be told, just haven't been inspired to write like I used to be :-(.

Change is in the air here in Sweden. A move back "home" to Canada is imminent, though not tangible...yet. Still, the thought of it fills me with a mixture of "yes!" and "no...". You see, after overcoming the year of "Get me outta here!", you start to acclimatize. People, places, food, friends...it all becomes familiar and wraps around you like a cozy blanket. Those initial struggles to make your way, they become distant and at times, laughable memories.

Life IS good in this country. There's a sense of security here but always the gentle pull at the heart strings from our family back home. The longing.

When we do leave, it will be with a heavy heart as we have made a life for ourselves here in this place so far from where we came from. We have been truly blessed. Over the past six years, we have done what many dream of doing and few will ever actually do. We have lived in two vastly different countries and experienced their cultures, the good and the not-so-good and the downright BAD. We will return back to Canada changed from this experience. I am thankful. Thankful especially for the wonderful start we have given our son. For the strength in our marriage. For the courage. For the knowledge that we can make it on our own.

And I thank you all for sharing our experiences with me. Now to take the little man off to his swimming lesson, my favourite part of the week.

Much love from Uppsala,


Little Man enjoying a Christmas morning tradition, Swedish porridge, grött. The one who finds the raisin gets a special prize!

Montenegro, Summer 2010, our visit back

(Swedish)Jenn xo

Tis the Season

2011-12-18T22:49:00.000+01:00

I love Christmasy time, don't you? We got all the decorations up the 2nd last weekend of November and have been enjoying bright lights and relaxing by the glow of the fake tree ever since. We've been to and had our share of parties and though I swore we were "done" until 2012, I managed to invite the neighbours over for some holiday cheer this Wednesday night. Well the families of the three little kiddies the little man enjoys playing with.

We will not be "home" for Christmas this year but I'm ok with it. After a month spent in Canada this summer, I'm still running on family steam and am just as happy to relax cozily here in our home away from home, Sweden. We'll spend Christmas Eve (which is the day they really celebrate here) with our Swedish "family" and then feast on our turkey Christmas Day.

Temps have been unseasonably mild the past few months with only two baby snowfalls. A request to Santa via Facebook status to please send us some snow for Christmas was met with snowfall #2, thanks Santa. And with sticky snow, my uber creative husband gets his hands wet. And voila! Most people build snowmen, hubby creates snowangels :-).

Hope you're all enjoying the very best of the season: family, friends and food!

xo

Two weeks with Mary Poppins!

2011-11-06T19:24:00.000+01:00

I've been silent over the past 2 weeks and for good reason:

On October 23rd, a special reunion took place between these two:

For two weeks, we all enjoyed her company, her love. She was Joseph's Nanny for the first two and a half years of his life in Montenegro. We were blessed. We are blessed. She celebrated my 35th with us.

She saw and experienced Sweden for the first time, and some Canadian traditions too!

We hosted a Halloween party here for little man's class..16 kids! Couldn't have done it without her.

There's a lot I couldn't have done without her.

Or my darling husband for that matter: Master Pumpkin Carver and Costume Maker.

From Uppsala to Stockholm to parties and The Butterfly House, we couldn't have asked for a more fun-filled 2 weeks with our dear Tanja.

Whether on-the-go or relaxing, she was what we all needed...a good dose of family.

And today we didn't say Goodbye, we said, "See you soon." Thank you Tanja for two wonderful weeks. xo

Joy Pockets in October

2011-10-21T16:15:00.002+02:00

Glad to be participating in Joy Pockets this week. Want to share your joy pockets? Head on over to Mon at Holistic Mama and join in the fun. We all need to find the joy in our lives, no matter how cleverly hidden at times.

Here are mine this week:

A little boy learning to read by sounding out the sounds

A diminishing cough (taken directly from Mon's pockets but also my Joy Pocket)

Montessori

2 more sleeps until this:

Grateful to have the power and desire to give someone the warmth and love they deserve.

Red leaves and crisp air

Share with me your Joy Pockets
Jenn xo

Snuffle...Sniffle...Hi!

2011-10-16T15:18:00.000+02:00

MIA due to combo of insanely busy with work and nastily ill with a dreaded head, chest cold. In between, been planning a Halloween party for the little guy's class (that kind of crazy must the result of this nasty cold), the arrival in 1 week of our dearest Tanja from Serbia and my 35th Birthday Party! Plus decorating for Halloween and wishing my niece Audrey a Happy 1st Birthday. She's awesome. Suck a beautiful little girl. Bro's stingy with the pics but generous lately with video. So here's one of Baby Girl eating peas for Thanksgiving Dinner (Canadian Thanksgiving, was last week). And a few pics of us enjoying our meal for 3 here at the house. Did I mention that our turkey kicked some serious butt this year? Hubby said it was the best he's ever had and he never enjoyed white meat until this meal. SCORE!

So there's a little recap of what's been goin' on here. Now excuse me now while I go blow my nose and collect my kid from the neighbours. Have a fab week readers (all 5 of you!) xo

And the little Birthday Girl!

Joy Pockets again

2011-10-07T14:42:00.001+02:00

Belly laughs shared over creme brulee with two special ladies.

Having my cappuccino unknowingly spiked with salt.

Enjoying the travels of friends.

Some long overdue Daddy & Little Man time involving a waterslide, with no Mommy in sight.

Working so hard my eyes close in sweet defeat, mere moments after my head hits the pillow.

Canadian Thanksgiving!

Finding the box of Halloween decorations.

Have a great week! xo

Baby Blues

2011-10-03T09:47:00.002+02:00

So we're sitting in McDonald's the other day...yes, we do go to the Evil Empire on occasion and make up for it during the week by my recent, step-by-step transition to organic and local foods (more on that in another post). Had to at least attempt to justify McDonald's ;-).

And Little Man, with his Happy Meal, is sitting directly across from a whispy blonde-haired baby boy, about 5 months old I'd say. And a cutie.

Little Man, assuming a very serious tone, states, loud enough for the parents of said cherub to hear: "Mommy, David (little boy the same age in his class) HATES babies."

Aghast and immediately on damage control, "Why does David hate babies?"

And to kick me when I'm down, the loud confession follows, "Actually, David AND I hate babies."

Snickering ensues from Mommy of the baby victim.

And words start pouring from my mouth simultaneously trying to figure out and quell the Baby Hate.

Mortified I am.

Turns out the "babies" (about 2 years old) at his school "chase us and we don't like it."

It was embarrassing and funny at the same time. But the other Mommy got it and so did I. He's newly five, at the age where he's questioning almost everything and sorting out his feelings on nearly everything. Hubby and I tried to explain that Little Man was once a baby and that babies don't know how to play with big boys but they want to and that's why they're chasing you around the park. etc. etc.

The next night at a party for a friend's older son, two babies (2 and 2.5) were present. And Little Man had a ball with them. About halfway through the evening, I found our Little Man in a corner crying. "The big kids are angry at me." My little baby was interrupting a video game session.

Sometimes you're the baby and sometimes you're the big boy.

Back to McDonald's. I was sitting directly across from Little Man (and right beside the Baby). "Mommy, why are you sitting THERE?"
"So I can see your gorgeous face."
Quite matter-of-factly he replies, "But you can see my gorgeous face if you sit beside me too."
You win.
I smiled, supressed a belly laugh and moved my hamburger and baby carrots to the empty seat next to my Baby/Boy.

Yay for small parenting victories

2011-09-25T12:40:00.002+02:00

Today we went to gympa. One of the local gyms has a Parent/Child class that we used to frequent last year. 1/2 hour of "exercises" with the kid and then the parents leave for half an hour or so to exercise themselves. The latter part is newish as before, you could stay and watch the kids. We started going on the recommendation of a few parents at the little man's school.

Today, none of his classmates were in attendance and Little Man was pretty upset about it. I proceeded to hop around by myself with a sullen faced son looking on, complaining and saying he wanted to go home. My initial reaction would have been to storm out of there, child in town, stewing and slightly angered. I stayed calm long enough to assess that a little distraction, some joking around and a huge smile could be enough turn him around. Ten minutes later and victory. He even asked me to leave once the parent part was over. I obliged, grabbed some fruit and spied from above.

The whole scenario may not seem like a big deal, but for me, it was. See this post for background. If I had truly believed we would have been better off leaving, I have faith that I would have been able to do it in a constructive way. In taking a step back and taking a few deep breaths, I was able to resist my knee-jerk reaction and try something new.

I'm proud of myself. One day at a time.

My little monkey swingin' on the rings

Crazy in Candyland

2011-09-24T14:11:00.002+02:00

Boy the Swedes take their candy seriously. Did you know Swedes eat the most loose candy in the world? Pretty sure I've posted about the Swedish Candy Obsession in one of my earlier posts but it bears repeating. If there's one thing that's relatively cheap here in this country, it's candy.

Every grocery store has a wall of candy bins. The idea is to take a bag and fill up on loose candy from said bins, everything from Swedish fish to chocolate, gummies and more. The stuff's delicious I gotta say. The germs, with so many hands reaching in and out, are overlooked. Especially on Saturdays. Known as "Lördagsgodis" (Candy Saturdays), it's the day of the week set aside for kids (and their parents) to indulge guilt-free.

Candy is typically priced at around 79 SEK / kg (Thanks to Thomas for the correction in measurement). I've seen it on sale for 49. Well, today, they were celebrating something at our local supermarket. On a neighbour's referral, we took a trip for some shopping, pony rides and face painting (though Little Man decided at the last minute the make-up wasn't for him). Cheap Saturday entertainment. Little did I know that as part of the celebration, candy was on sale for a record 29.20 SEK/ kg. This is big folks.

People were swarming the candy bins, multiple bags in hand. Shuffling quickly back and forth between the scale to ensure they weren't over the 5kg limit per household. Staff were trying to keep supply in line with demand. It was insanity. Ok, insanity as far as a candy sale is concerned. Certainly not on the riotous scale of the recent sale at Target for some brand name that I think begins with the letter "M". But it was chaos as far as orderly Sweden is concerned.

Karamell Kungen (Candy King) is the name of arguably the best loose candy company here in Sweden. Actually, looks like this phenomena isn't a Sweden-only thing. I see the company also operates in Ireland, the UK and other Scandinavian countries.

Well time to pick some more plastiky goodness out of my teeth.

Glad Godis Lordag!

Behave Yourself! Part 1 of 2

2011-09-13T21:49:00.001+02:00

If you're a perfect Mother, please raise your hand. Since no hands have gone up, happy to see I'm among friends.

I was raised by a mother whose love, I felt, was conditional upon how well I behaved. If I minded my Ps & Qs, respected my elders (always addressed as Mr. & Mrs. no matter what they told me to call them), made exemplary grades and well, was a continued source of pride, all was right with the world. If I really thought hard about it, I could likely count each and every instance she told me, "I love you." Though the frequency has increased as she ages, it still sounds like a foreign language on the rare occasions when she utters those three little words. And I always cringe a little. I love my mother dearly and have accepted who she is. That said, I told myself I did not want to raise a son whose primary concern in life was to please his parents. Somedays I feel like I'm failing him.

Not everyday. Not on the days when I take him in my arms at the most unexpected moments and shower him with kisses and "I love yous". Not on the days when we're just plain silly together. Not on the days when I indulge happily in his love of animal books or sing "Thriller" at the top of my lungs in the car.

But on the day he broke down in tears when he spilled his glass of milk on the table, I knew I had failed him. "Mommy, don't be angry with me." It took everything I had not to break down into tears of shame at that moment. My loving, inquisitive, beautiful little being was upset because his automatic reaction to the spilled milk was "Mommy will be mad." I did that. I created that reaction. I know I did. And it makes me sad and disappointed in myself.

The other day, when riled up by the antics of the not-so-well-behaved neighbour boy, he pitched a toy at a painting on the wall. I cracked and suddenly let the stern "J-o-s-e-p-h!!!" fly from my mouth complete with face-tightening. He cowered and was on the verge of tears, apologies flying from his mouth. I recovered, quickly, asking him to please calm down (while asking myself the same question) and "we don't throw toys like that do we (insert rationale)?". The damage, however, had been done. To be VERY clear, he was not anticipating any physical reaction from me, but the fear of verbal disapproval.

Here's the deal: Throwing toys at things (the way he did) is not acceptable in this house. In fact, there are many behaviours that are unacceptable, particularly those that pose safety hazards. Bolting out into the street, running into a neighbour's house without knocking first, throwing a tantrum if he doesn't get what he wants (though we've never really had that issue), hitting/punching/biting other children/people in anger. I could go on.

However, I need to learn to teach/model behavior so that my child does not make decisions solely from a fear of disapproval. I have created that. I need help undoing it. Can you help me?

I love the little man my son is becoming but I want him to be his own little man, not the little man Mommy expects him to be. Even if it means he's not "well behaved". I don't want his primary motivation in life to be "gaining acceptance/approval". Not the way mine was for so long. And still is, to a certain extent. How is he going to have confidence to break the rules and take risks when he's older if he's afraid to do it now? Where do we draw the line between teaching them right from wrong (developing some form of moral compass) and giving them some freedom to grow? Ultimately, I need him to know to the depths of his soul that his Mommy does and will love him unconditionally.

This is part 1. Best to take this topic in baby steps...
ps. I keep reading this over and over again and wondering if I'm even making any sense or if I'm asking the right questions.

Joy Pockets #2

2011-09-09T11:06:00.001+02:00

I really have to dig deep for Mon's Joy Pockets this week. It's been one of those hell weeks with the business and that usually translates to marriage strain as we work together to try and build up our little empire. But as usual, we always come through...that is a joy pocket itself!

The randomness and innocence of a 5-year old brain, "Why did God make Chinese people?" followed up immediately with, "Do hedgehogs live in Sweden?"

Pride (mine and his) in perfecting an Anteater drawing (with a sloth on his back!)

Great job little man!

Sitting through a two-hour parents meeting at preschool and understanding well over half of it!

Resisting the temptation of the junk shelf at home AND the apple pie and ice cream at the parents meeting.

My little boy's genuine excitement at new clothes, meticulously arranging them on the floor for display.

A friend's positive reaction to her family's sudden and severe financial loss.

The gift our dear Nanny T gave to herself (and to us!) by booking herself for a 2-week trip here.

Little Man pictured with his Montenegrin Nanny and her granddaughter, blowing out candles for her birthday, exactly 1 year and 2 days ago today :-)

Share your joy pockets this week with me. And sign-up to participate in Joy Pockets.

People of Sweden: Please Pick up your Sh*t

2011-09-06T23:07:00.003+02:00

Any dog owners out there? Any dog owners who pick up their dog's poop on a daily basis? What about those of you who don't and leave other dog owners to grumble about it? I see lots of virtual hands going up.

Luckily, in most urban cities in developed countries, popular walking paths have little poop stops and even free poop bags, making the smelly minefields of years gone by practically a thing of the past.

Practically...You see, there's a huge, growing stink here in Sweden. And it ain't comin' from our four-legged back archers. My friends, please take a few deep breaths while you let this ~~stink~~ sink in...

People of Sweden: Pick up your own poop. If you read that literally, you read that right. Apparently, walk just slightly off the beaten path here and you could quite easily step in the poop of "animals" that (supposedly) have been potty trained.

And as you sit there and shake your head at the screen in disbelief, you've automatically rationalized that "these poor homeless people..." WRONG.

(Cue Sesame Street tune) These are the people in your neighbourhood. The people that you meet when you're walking down the street. The people that you meet each day.

The guy whizzing by in his super awesome Nike jogging ensemble. The girl with the tight uh, abs, her long blonde pony-tail bouncing in step with her jiggle. That's right folks.

These people are pooping all over Sweden.

These are likely the same people that stoop and scoop their dog's logs but apparently don't brown bag their own.

"Honey, please make sure you use the potty before we go." This no longer only applies to those under 5. If you live here, you know how fit Swedes are. You see them biking, jogging, running and cross-country skiing. It's in their DNA. And apparently that DNA is forming fertilizer as I type.

I'm obviously not saying every health nut in Sweden has a newspaper and a wet wipe at the ready for their daily 10k. But enough of them do that it's a problem, so much so that signs have actually been posted in a certain park to remind people to "mind the dogs (who are eating and rolling around in it) and to please pick up their poop." Irony?

I heard about this phenomena from an old friend of mine over dinner this weekend. Not the kind of dinner conversation one hopes to be engaged in. Running can have that affect on people. Ok, I get it. When you gotta go, you gotta go. But for the love of all that is "normal", at least bring a bag! He said there was an article. He said he would send it to me. I'm waiting for it. When I get it, I will update this post. I could have waited. No, this was too juicy, to unbelievable to keep to myself.

Until then, the proof is in the pooping. And please, People of Sweden: Pick up your Sh*t. And People from countries where pooping is confined to porcelain, you're welcome for the public service announcement.

ps. If you know about this, please comment. I'm still in a state of disbelief until I get the brown envelope.

Joy Pockets: My Very First!

2011-09-02T11:07:00.001+02:00

I really enjoy reading Mon's Joy Pockets over at Bohemian Twilight.

To quote my favourite Guru Mon, "No matter what is going on in our lives finding the little moments that bring us some joy reminds us what we are here for...

to love life.

I find that on a tough week, reminding myself of the pockets of joy puts everything into perspective.
On the great weeks, it's worth doubling the joy with a look back."

So here are my first, coming at a great time after a rough week.

Pride, from preparing my husband's newly favourite meal for his 51st birthday

Realizing I'm relying less and less on Google Translate to read and write Swedish

The pitter patter of sleepy feet entering our room at 5 every morning

Fresh flowers delivered by happy eyes

Sweet cinnamon tea with a sweet friend

Saying No to an unnecessary expense

And finally, This:

Share your Joy Pockets!

Over the Hill

2011-09-01T22:24:00.000+02:00

In so many ways. Hubby turned 51. I told him he was officially over the hill and that we were gonna enjoy the ride "down" together :-). So far, it's been rather bumpy. I struggle to remember all of those motivational quotes that resonate with me lately. Try to figure out how I can apply them to our life. Don't get me wrong here. We have a great one. We're all healthy, we have what we need (and even some stuff we don't), a beautiful place to live, two great sons and a supportive extended family, and a job we're passionate about.

But sometimes it feels as though we're chasing that always elusive toy mouse. Just when we think we've caught up to him, he darts under the couch. How long will it take for that thing's battery to run out anyway? Because it seems like we're waiting for just that. For us, lately, it's been about the destination, not the journey. I need some perspective. I need a lightbulb or an Oprah-esque AHA! moment. Care to be the catalyst?

Not sure how much hard work has to do with "success" these days. No one I know works harder than my husband. Ok, I'm sure there are people but seriously, this man is a machine. Unfortunately, if he keeps going at this rate, the screws will loosen and the machine will malfunction. I feel helpless. No wisdom to impart, no real "help" to offer in the ways he really needs it (ok, I suppose I could be writing and editing some docs right now but I need my blog therapy).

My husband is passionate about what we're doing. He can get people excited and motivated. He will do whatever it takes. He's smart. He's charming. But he also can't do it all. He needs help and I feel lost as to how to help him. At the end of the day, I want the good guy to win. To get what he deserves. To be able to put his feet up (not fully, cuz he goes mad when he has nothing to do), to relax a little and to be able to say to himself, "I did it!" He has accomplished so much already and under crazy circumstances but he's not there yet. And I'm not referring to money.

Entrepreneurs are like Parents, the greatest satisfaction comes from seeing your baby grow up and blossom into a wonderful adult. You know that you were instrumental in its development, its success, its beauty. You nurtured it, spent countless sleepless nights worrying about it, you were there when it took its first baby steps, watched as it hit milestone after milestone.

I want my husband, the Dad, the Entrepreneur to see his baby graduate, to swell with emotion as he looks back with pride. To know all the sacrifices he made, the blood, sweat and tears were worth it. He has done it as the Dad, he will do it again and he WILL do it as the Entrepreneur.

Faith, Hope and Love, Jenn xo

Kraftskiva: Crayfish Party and Shit Fish

2011-08-22T21:39:00.000+02:00

Since my blog is titled "A Blonde in Sweden", thought I'd move past the blonde moments and focus a bit on the Swedish ones for this post.

Boy you Swedes sure have invented plenty of excuses to drink yourselves (and your foreign guests) into oblivion. From The King's Birthday to Midsummer, the summer itself of course, every weekend and now we have discovered The Chaos of Crayfish that descends upon Sweden just as everyone returns from the summer hiatus of July.

I still consider ourselves newbies here but this past weekend, we were invited to not one but TWO "kräftskiva's"...that's Crayfish for you non-Swedes. These parties involve a) Bringing and eating your own crayfish, pre-packaged and available at all the grocery stores b) Wearing funny hats and c) Singing Swedish drinking songs (for which lyrics are provided!) and shooting Swedish schnapps. d) Getting really drunk, and likely equally sick, which according to Swedes is due to the crayfish juice and whatever alcoholic beverage you're consuming not getting along in your tummy.

Me and the friend having a crayfish fight. Silly hats..check.

Optional: Cheese pie. But a special kind of cheese pie called Vasterbotten (sp?). It's yummy.

WARNING!!!!!! Please be advised that should you be attending a proper Kraftskiva, there will another "special" dish on the table. And it's not "special" in the nice way either. It's "special" in that other way. You'll know it. Not when you see it, but when you smell it. It's fermented herring "surströmming" and its scent is likely extracted from the EXCREMENT plant. "Eau de SHIT". As my hubby so lovingly commented, "The only good thing about this is that you can fart within a 50 meter radius and noone would know it was you." If someone says to you, "This is the shit." when referring to this traditional fish, they mean it literally.

One of these things is not like the other. I'll give you a hint. It's in the red can!!!!!!!!!

It was pouring rain during this first Kräftskiva and under normal circumstances I would consider the walled-in tent protecting us from the elements a welcome solution. Unfortunately, it was keeping the element in. Sorry, elementS as there were six cans of this whoop ass (again, take that literally) strategically placed on the long tables for all to uhmmm...enjoy?

Being the sports we are and no thanks to hubby's rationale of "There's no way it can taste as bad as it smells", we tried it. The idea is to grease up two pieces of flat brad, load some potatoes onto it and sandwich the fermented herring between them. Let's just say I will forever question hubby's rationalization skills from that moment forward. It.was.awful. So horrific that I had to spit it into my napkin, unapologetically I might add. I spent the next ten minutes flushing the taste sensation from my abused mouth with copious amounts of alcohol.

To be fair, according to Swedes, you either Love it or you Hate it. In my humble opinion, they need to bring back Fear Factor and put this on the menu in place of cockroaches and larvae. If I had the choice, bring on the bull testicles!

So, this was Crayfish Party #1. I refused to enter Crayfish Party #2 the next evening until I was absolutely certain red cans were nowhere in sight. I'm still having flashbacks...

You're welcome for the warning.

Bad Friend

2011-08-21T10:40:00.000+02:00

It's been called to my attention recently, and rightfully so, that I've been a bad friend. And that got me thinking about all of you. Granted, I really don't know how many of you are out there but this January, I disappeared. And those of you who know me personally, reached out to me via Facebook asking what was up. I can only imagine how that must have felt, you regular readers getting a nice little "Access Denied" when loading my blog page. I know my first thought would have been, "Have I done something wrong?" The answer is "Nothing, I'm the one that did something wrong." I know fellow bloggers who announce an absence. I did not.

I owe you all an explanation AND an apology. I panicked when I found out that my well-meaning husband shared my blog address with a group of people this blog was not intended for and well, I shut it down until the smoke cleared. And then kept it shut down for 8 long months with nary an explanation or thought to those friendships I had developed here in cyberspace. And I have realized, thanks to this dear friend, that just because I can't see or speak to you personally, does not mean that you haven't been actual friends to me since I started this blog two or so years ago.

Many of you have cried with me, laughed with me and been there for me. And I too, had attempted to do the same for many of you. And then, one day, I discarded you all. And I'm so sorry.

The friend who called attention to my bad friend status had been a friendship that blossomed in cyberspace but also a person I had a physical friendship with. We had met, shared a wonderful day together and then for almost a year, we had little contact. My initial reaction when I read her email was to say, "Well, you didn't reach out to me either!" but if the shoe were on the other foot, I likely would have had her same reaction. "Is it something I said/did?" The answer is an honest "No." But the truth is, I left a beautiful, blossoming friendship without the nurturing it deserved and then I had the nerve to wonder how it could have died. And worse, try to "explain it away."

I've been thinking long and hard about how I could have let this happen. "I've been busy with work/parenting, etc." "They never reached out to me." "Sometimes you just drift apart". "Real friends can go long periods of time without speaking but when they do, it's like no time has passed." Excuses, excuses.

Having lived in two different countries in the last five years, I've gone through periods of loneliness, complaining about my lack of flesh and blood friends. You've all read the posts. Well, after 2 and a half years here in Sweden, I have developed some dear physical friendships but have ignored those more "virtual ones", the ones that sustained me and held me up during those periods of loneliness. And that's wrong and makes me feel sad, guilty and shallow. But it's not about "me, me, me" and how I feel and I don't expect anyone to pat me on the back and say "there, there". Not after this long absence. I don't expect anything in return for this post. But it is an apology. And it's up to all of you if you accept it or not.

I am asking for your forgiveness but do not expect it. Today I will reach out to those bloggy friends individually, who have been there for me and apologize personally.

Thank you for reading and thank you for your friendship.
Sincerity, Honesty and Love, SwedishJenn

A letter to my son on his 5th Birthday

2011-08-17T22:25:00.000+02:00

It seems kind of fitting that after an 8th month absence, I'm opening my blog back up with this post. The past several months I have been contemplating dusting off my little shelf in cyberspace but just couldn't seem to bring myself to do it. Until today. I'll try to explain my absence in my next post but until then...

My baby turned 5 on July 30 and this time, we were surrounded by our family back "home" in Canada to celebrate. In fact, we had two parties. One with hubby's extended family of Aunts and cousins on my stepson's 25th where we co-celebrated and another with the small group of us and my Aunt and Uncle on his actual birthday. Both days were filled with cake, presents, photos and lots of laughter.

You're a whole hand now. 5 years old. The past year has featured so many highlights including our Summer 2010 trip to your homeland in Montenegro for 3 weeks, Christmas spent in Sweden, a visit from our Russian friends, a slew of birthday parties, a weekly music class, another move to a better neighbourhood with some friendly friends, your very first performance at your school's end of the year concert (ask me if I cried with pride) and a month-long holiday in Canada (from Ontario to Nova Scotia, PEI and back to Ontario). And just a day after our arrival back home, Daddy and I surprised you by taking you to a beautiful zoo, Kolmården, here in Sweden. We told you we were going to the library and when we arrived you proclaimed, "But this is not a LIBAWEE!!!"

You're so much taller, your hair is getting darker (well except in the summertime when it lightens up), you still love anything chocolate and your passion for animals is stronger than ever. Everybody who has the pleasure of knowing or meeting you says the same thing, "He's such a great little boy!"

This year you've developed your own little spirit. You will tell someone if what they're doing bothers you. You cry only when your little heart has been injured, if a favourite toy is broken or if a friend hurts your feelings. It's hard not to cry when you do because your tears come from genuine sadness.

You surprise me with your sincere and unexpected proclamations, "Mommy, I like you." and are constantly questioning the universe so that I'm running to Google at least a few times a day. "Why does the wind blow the clouds?"

In so many ways, you're fearless. After a long time out of the water, you jumped right in to Nanny and Papa's pool and let me teach you how to doggy paddle, flat out refusing a floating device. When we took you to Canada's Wonderland with Nana, you went on every thrill ride they'd let you on. While I was screaming, you were laughing and shouting, "I want to go AGAIN!" I hope this quality stays with you as you grow so that you're never afraid to try something new. And I also hope I can learn to watch without being that freaked out helicoper Mom.

Our little Picasso. You have developed a love for drawing. It started with depictions of stick people with big heads and has progressed to full-out monsters and now farm animals. You get your artistic ability from your Dad, trust me on that. A year ago, we couldn't get you to make a line on a piece of paper and now you're colouring is even better than mine!

You're loving and thoughtful, often insisting on stopping off at the store to buy flowers for Mommy and hiding them behind your back for a big unveiling. Daddy can count on the doorbell ringing at around 4:30 when you arrive home from school for a big hello hug when he opens the door.

I love playing outside with your new neighbourhood friends and you definitely take after both of us with your outgoing nature. And still, we can always count on your sleepy body making its way into our bedroom early every morning for a few hours of snuggly sleep.

It's like I'm trying to remember every small detail, gesture, facial expression or new skill you've picked up just so that I can hold onto these memories and maybe, somehow, keep your fleeting smallness in my pocket for a little while longer. Your the best little boy in the whole wide world and we're so privileged to be the two people you call "Mommy" and "Daddy".

Let's have a chat Nanny

2011-01-10T18:40:00.001+01:00

It struck me today after chatting with my mother and my Grandmother via Skype: I've never had a proper conversation with my Grandmother. And she likely won't be on this planet for much longer. She's not ill. She's just old. When my grandfather passed in 2005, she moved out East to be closer to my mother and truth be told, to give my Aunt & Uncle a much needed rest from years of looking after them.

I have scattered memories of her:
- Her standing by the stove stirring a pot of chilli in the duplex she and my Grandfather shared for years. She always made chilli for us when we came to visit.
- "Jenny, looks like you've gained some weight." Yup, she ALWAYS commented on weight gain or weight loss. I used to resent it. Now, I just look back and laugh. She always tells it like it is.
- Her sitting by silently and dutifully while my Grandfather "talked politics".
- Blatantly ignoring a lady friend at her home, an old teacher I used to have. In fact, in mid-conversation, she came over, interrupted us and said above her, "Jenny, why are you here talking to HER? The dining room's about to open for lunch." I was mortified.
- How she handed me a pair of tweezers and asked me to pluck her mustache because, "Jenny dear, your old Nanny doesn't see so well anymore"...on my wedding day.
- Hearing how she was telling everyone at my brother's wedding that I was gorgeous and should have gone to Hollywood.
- Sears. She used to work at Sears for years. The sound those crinkly blue Sears bags used to make.
- Her smell. A waft of floral perfume mixed with baby powder.
- The $25 cheques we'd get in the mail for our birthdays.
- Hip replacements.
- The confused look on her face when, on the day of my grandfather's funeral, Hubby announced to my family that I was pregnant. She didn't have her hearing aid turned up and missed the whole thing. I had to go over and tell her while everyone was jumping up and down screaming.
- She's funny. I'm trying with all my might to remember some good Nanny quotes but they're escaping me. She's witty that's for sure. Oh, here's one, to my mother: "You better put down that piece of fudge...your waist is bigger than mine."
- Basking in the glow of victory as home resident after home resident stopped by our lunch table to comment on how well-behaved my 2 and a half year old was.
- Cheap and generous. They both lived through the depression and scrimped and saved to the point where they'd recycle coffee grounds and miss out on trips to save pennies. When my grandfather died, he had left her a small fortune. She made sure each of her children and grandchildren got some cash.
- Some kind of nervous breakdown she had back when her three children were young. For a time, they lived with a friend. My mother doesn't talk about it. I found out from my cousin.

She lived a life of servitude, to her husband and her Church primarily. And she's still going. And as each day passes, I miss another chance to sit her down and have a talk. Ask her questions. Find out more about her childhood, her life. God willing, I'll see her again in July. And at that time, I will take her aside, away from the joyful chaos that will be our family reunion, and I will have a chat with my Grandmother. Because after 34 years, I'd like to get to know her a bit better.

Back at er'

2011-01-09T10:19:00.000+01:00

This is the last official day of the holiday season here in Sweden. The kids go back to school tomorrow and that means Mommy goes back to work full-throttle. I'm so behind, I don't think I'll know where to begin. Been thoroughly enjoying the sleep-ins till 9 every morning too. Waking up at 6:45 is gonna be murder on all of us tomorrow that's for sure. But truth be told, I'm actually looking forward to getting back to the grind. Too much lazy time. Too many carbs, not all of which I've enjoyed.

In 2011, I have a lot to look forward to. A potential visit from Joe's dear Nanny. Another visit from our dear Russian friends and a long overdue trip home to celebrate my parents' 40th wedding anniversary with the whole fam-damily, which I am praying will include my first meeting with my new niece. Living far away from the homestead has its challenges, especially when both families live in different parts of the country as is the case with both my bro and I. Add a family wedding in September to the mix (for them) and coming home in July for our 'rents poses a logistical issue and some family tensions. Praying for them on that one.

My Creative Hubby has been playing in the snow an awful lot, as evidenced by THIS:

and well, THIS:

And the dragon has since acquired wings and the castle, flags cuz Little Man wondered out loud why each had neither.

The TON of snow we've accumulated in these parts since November is in meltdown mode right now, signaling the Christmas meltdown.

All good things must come to an end, to make room for the start of other good things.
Happy 2011 everyone! xo

The one where I pat myself on the back and make some resolutions

2010-12-31T09:55:00.000+01:00

The holiday season sort of officially ends the day after tomorrow and not-so-coincidentally so does 2010. As much as we missed our families this Christmas, I amazed myself by giving our family a great Christmas. I did it! I threw a huge party, I baked some amazing holiday treats, I made us and some friends a traditional Christmas feast with all the trimmings and I was organized enough to get most of my shopping done well before Christmas Eve (thank you amazon). I'm not just patting myself on the back, I'm slapping myself! But I can't take all the credit..nope. Hubby was there through it all, mainly in the role of cleaning up after me and doing the ahem "manly" jobs like erecting the tree, stringing the lights and mopping up after the flash flood that occurred in our kitchen an hour before the big bash.

And now 2011 is looming. We're celebrating tonight at a house party with the little man in tow. I swear next year I'm gonna slap a TAXI sign on our VW for Christmas Eve. Trying to book a taxi (which you can apparently do here with a handful of cab companies) was a fruitless endeavor as I left that to the last minute. I even resorted to calling "companies" that I believe were fronts for other ahem businesses. Nobody wants to drive us. So I might be the only sober chick at the party. Meh...I'm telling myself I don't need to drink to have a good time...ha!

Poor Little Man has been asking to go to school nearly every day this past week. Being an only child, hubby and I are his only playmates on "off days" so feeling bad, I got out the school directory and invited some of his little girlfriends over for a playdate. They arrived with their lovely Mommy and we took to the hills with our sleds. A few lectures about sharing later and we were on our way back to the house for some fika. The 3. 4 and 5 year olds played well together. Little Man was obviously upset when they had to leave so asked for a parting hug..which he received twice. Like father like son: He went in for the kiss. The 5-year old wasn't so sure but the 3-year old came up to Little Man, pushed him up against the wall and planted a HUGE smacker right on his kisser. Careful what you wish for. Stunned for a moment, he then proceeded to do what most little boys do, he wiped it off. It was priceless.

So, 2011. I have resolved to make no resolutions. But maybe I will make a few, you know, to make some. But they will all revolve around Health & Happiness for 2011. Quitting bad habits and replacing them with good ones and one I know for damn sure....Getting back to learning Swedish. I slacked off the last half of 2010 and lately, I have realized just how important it is for me to have command of this language. So there's a concrete resolution: To learn Swedish, no matter what it takes.

What are your resolutions for 2011? How are you ringing in the New Year? My last post received no comments and I blame that on two things: 1) It's Christmas and bloggers are taking some much needed time away from their screens and 2) I've been one lazy blogger the last few months. Not that I will resolve to blog more often but I will resolve to blog when the urge hits. As it did this morning. Now off to scrub, launder and have a much-needed shower.

Love and Peace to you all! Jenn and fam.

Merry Christmas to you and yours

2010-12-27T09:39:00.000+01:00

Well hello there strangers. Yes, it's been forever, well since December 3rd actually. Truth be told: Been way too busy to blog: planning parties, hosting parties, going to parties, baking, eating, drinking and more eating. I have 2.5 extra kilos to show for it folks...but so worth every yummy bite. Here's a recap of what we've been up to, so we can catch up properly.
- We celebrated hubby's 2nd 50th Birthday party here at home. I stressed over it for weeks but a big pot of homemade chilli, some dips and a lot of good folks and it was a success.

- There was no "home for the holidays" this year. Instead, we opted to stay put in snowy Sweden and buy and bake Christmas. Yup, I baked. This is rather monumental for me. As many of our memories are wrapped up in food, I got busy baking the squares and shortbreads my Mom was famous for. They turned out great! We were invited to celebrate December 24th (Christmas Day here in Sweden) with our "foster family" and feasted on traditional Julbord (that's Christmas table). Pickled herring, Christmas ham, meatballs, Janssons (this yummy potatoe dish to die for), salads, etc. DELISH.

And then it was time to leave cookies, milk, carrots and sugar out for Santa and his reindeer. Noone told me that they make special reindeer food to sprinkle outside...we'll get some for next year.

Little man must have been really good this year cuz Santa left quite the haul for him. I tried something nouveau this year and did 80% of my shopping online and boy was that a bright idea. Not as much stressing around at the last minute, that's for sure and I was also able to buy a lot of English-language stuff. I guess the one thing I hadn't counted on was that because I was ordering from amazon.co.uk, that English-language stuff is actually "British English". So I'm sitting next to the 4-year old right now whose repeating words from his Little Einstein's DVD with the cutest accent, "Zehbras" vs. "Zeeeebras".

On Christmas Day, instead of slaving over a hot stove, we opted to spend the day chatting with our dear family on Skype. I'd like to thank whoever it was who invented it..we'd never have lasted as long as we have overseas without it.

And so, on the 26th, we invited some friends over to join us in celebrating Canadian Christmas: turkey, stuffing, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, carrots, salad and more. Pretty scary preparing it all myself but I did it! With a lot of help from the hubby.

The only thing missing this year was a visit to church but we kept Christ in Christmas in our hearts.

So that's the play-by-play on our Christmas month. Now we get ready to celebrate New Year's Eve and I try my darndest to work off these extra 5lbs by the time 2011 rings in.

Hope you're all enjoying your time with family and friends. I hope to get back into the swing of things come 2011. Thanks for being patient with me while on my hiatus. Oh and I'm feeling much better..digestive thing almost solved :-).

Lots of love to you all, Jenn xo

Winter's been here for awhile now

2010-12-03T09:37:00.000+01:00

Well friends. The other day, we woke up to a balmy -18 here in Uppsala. It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas! Well, except for those poor Australian kids. How they manage to get into the Christmas spirit with +25 and a Santa in a Hawaii shirt, I'll never know. In this season of giving, I'd like to propose an exchange program. I would begrudgingly, in the name of all that is good and right, force my teary-eyed boys onto an airplane this December to switch places with one of those poor, deprived Aussie families. It's the right thing to do. So please, if you know of a family in need, get in touch.

"Little Man, you're not supposed to hit Mommy." "I didn't do it, you did," he fires back with full confidence. Geez, maybe I did? No, wait. Hey...you little fibber! Have had to find a way to explain "lying" to a 4-year old. Still working on different analogies.

Been a busy season for us what with all the decorating, visiting, eating and turning up and down the heat. Oh and the online shopping of course. Yup, this year I decided to get all technical and stuff. Even had the fams send through some gift cards for amazon.co.uk. Amazing how much time you can spend sitting on your ass clicking around for Christmas prezzies (still half the time and stress involved running around with a zillion other shoppers). Because I couldn't very well leave online shopping to the last minute, I made sure I had everything ordered yesterday with a guarantee on the website that my parcels would arrive before Christmas. phewf.

And because I know my way around the site now, I made sure everything I ordered was both "in stock" and direct from Amazon (as opposed to some 3rd party merchant). So I get some emails last night to confirm that my orders had already been dispatched. They took my bulk order and split into two shipments. No matter, I was eligible for Free Super Saver Shipping, delivery between 7 and 10 working days. Hip, hip, hurray. And then...Only to sit in horror while processing the following line of text for one of my two shipments: "Expected delivery date: December 31st". WTF?????????????????? (the other one said December 20th...wtf?) Cue scathing email to amazon.co.uk customer service with words like "misleading" and "you better" and "asap" and "angry".

So I get a response back to the effect that yes, there was a mistake in the estimated delivery time and a guarantee that my parcel will arrive before December 31st... but no guarantee that it will arrive before Christmas. So I will now spend a significant portion of my already busy day yelling at some poor customer service professional.

Ahhh...the joys of the season. Speaking of such joys, we decided to throw a Christmas party/Hubby's 50th Birthday party here in Uppsala at the house on December 18th. The idea being to replace our disappointment in not getting home with festive cheer and presents! Well, we actually know a few more ppl. then we thought we did and with a guest list of 25 and ALL 25 CONFIRMED (and a few stragglers we feel so bad about not inviting that we may have to), we're sorta screwed. Especially if they bring their kids. Our 2-level townhouse will not fit that many revelers. So what now? It's Christmas. It's not like we have extra cash to hold it at some hall. So instead, we squish everyone together and pray no one notices their body is pressed up against some stranger's ass. Oh and the kids. You see in this country, if you have small children and you're invited to a house party, you usually bring said small children. I was worried about this so stated somewhere in the invite that the party is for big kids but if you want to bring your little kids, you can (as my little kid ain't goin' nowhere). What I should have said is: If you can't leave your kids at home, don't bother coming. Insert F-word.

And instead of having it catered, which costs a bloody fortune, I'll be sweatin' in the kitchen most of the time. And they don't have any of those wonderful little stores in Canada that sell frozen, boxed and yummy hors d'oeuvres so I have to make such things myself. Say hello to one freaked out Canadian woman.

If someone, anyone has even the tiniest suggestion for my party dilemma, please, please share it now. I'll owe you one.

I'll get it all figured out. Just breathe Jenn. Breathe.
Happy decorating and entertaining and gift purchasing and stressing Merry Ones! xoxo

It's been awhile...Merry Christmas!

2010-11-21T21:02:00.000+01:00

So we've decided we are not headed home for the holidays this year. Cue pity party. Instead, we went out and bought Christmas today. Thank you IKEA for the ornaments and Bauhaus for the fake tree. And 300 bucks later....Christmas! Yes, our tree is up and fully decorated along with the rest of the house. Well...almost.

We always start early but this year was the earliest. We usually wait until next weekend at least, American Thanksgiving. But maybe cuz' we're already sad about not flying home to be with our family we're placating ourselves with early Christmas cheer.

And we are likely the first family in Uppsala to have everything up, as confirmed by a few Facebook friends and the neighbour lady who I overheard exclaim in Swedish as I was taking the garbage out and she, bringing her groceries in, "Wow. Christmas!"

So I've been a bit absent lately cuz I've had some stuff on my mind. Not feeling the greatest health-wise these days, something with my esophagus but noone is sure exactly what. So the ENT specialist has me on some GERD medication which woke me up from a comfy slumber TWICE this morning with a raging case of the runs. TMI? You betcha.

So we'll see what happens in a month or so. Either I'll be close to death from dehydration and all better or the former and not the latter. So now you know why I've been MIA. And I've been avoiding exercising too because I'm afraid that the neck tightness I've been experiencing recently could be because I injured myself somehow. urghhh....

Back to Christmas. Well we've already been invited to spend the holidays with two sets of friends, so that will at least take the edge off. No sooner had I figured out what I'm getting hubby for Christmas and he announces today that he's getting himself a Christmas present and it's OF COURSE the exact thing I was all excited to get him...grrrr. I even checked in with all my expert friends and have it all picked out. So I think I'll order it anyway and when he proclaims he's on his way out to purchase it, I'll tell him it's too late.

Most of my holiday shopping will take place online this year. As it's so damn expensive to ship gifts from Canada, I've advised the grandparents to purchase gift certificates for amazon.co.uk and I'll shop there. What a modern holiday shopper I am.

It's getting dark early here now. Try 2:45pm. After the clocks went back I dealt with a very shoked and saddened Little Man, "Mommy, I don't want the sun to go down," he sobbed. Neither do any of us. It's depressing.

Not much else in the way of news. Little Man and I made a trip to the library yesterday to return and borrow some more books and were pleasantly surprised to run into a friend of his from daycare and her Mom. And then even more thrilled to discover there was a Children's Fun Hour scheduled. We joined in with about 20 other kids and sets of parents and shook our bodies to some Swedish kiddie tunes. I faked my way through the words by displaying some expert "So You Think You Can Dance"-style routine mastery. I discovered Little Man is quite the lady killer...dragging his betrothed along by the hand in between hugs. So cute. He really has become a little Swedish kid with friends proclaiming that he speaks with absolutely no accent. How proud am I? And a little sad at the thought of leaving this country, and the language, behind one day. But only a little...

Little Man Wednesdays

2010-11-10T20:43:00.000+01:00

The drive home from daycare just got 5 minutes longer (again), for a total of 20ish minutes. This is all thanks to the kiddies in town being back from a week off on Fall Break. Yes, they already had a week-long break...imagine. So how do we entertain ourselves in stop and go traffic? Endless loops of AC/DC..that's how.

And the only time I've ever wished for an iPhone to replace my 3-year old pink Samsung came as Little Man belted out the entire first verse to "Shook Me All Night Long". Ok so his version goes something like, "She was a fast machee. She kep her moto keen...." which made it the ultimate YouTube video. But alas, I wasn't able to capture the rare footage on "film"....just in my brain. And because Little Man is anything but a performing monkey, asking him to do it again will always result in him almost never doing it again.

It snowed. Actually it snowSTORMED here yesterday. 2 feet of the sticky white stuff. Someone was just a tad bit excited and ready to make a snowman. Unfortunately shopping for a snowsuit obviously took precedence. I would like to thank the Swedish Mothers Association for forgetting to send me the memo that says, "Shopping for children's snowsuits starts and ends in October." By the time we got to my two favourite stores, they had the wrong colours and the wrong sizes and no sign of new shipments until next year. So instead, we spent the same amount of money on an awesome faux fur lumberjack-inspired hat, gloves and a dicky at my most favouritest (and obviously most expensive) kids store in Sweden, Polarn o Pyret...ahhhhhhhhhhhh.........So, hand-me-down snowsuit until I find the one I want, which MUST be a red one.

And today Little Man and Dad were out the door to start building a snowman when 2 minutes later they were back inside, "My tummy hurts. I'm gonna throwed up." Great. He was pale but no fever and in an hour, just fine. And no barfing either. But that certainly didn't stop him from yelling it multiple times from upstairs, trying to get out of bedtime, "Mommy, I wanna throwed up." He got me once but I quickly caught onto his little game. Of course, I could very well be eating my words in an hour or two. Smart kid though.

Speaking of smart kid, he's baking bread at school and oh so proud of his little self. And apparently, he's been tracing his letters in Swedish too. And you should hear the kid speak. We actually have to work more proactively on his English cuz while his Swedish is unbelievable, he's a bit behind on the native tongue front.

And the new favourite movie, "How to train your dragon". He insists on watching it once a day. Actually, he insists on 3x a day, I insist on once, while I'm making dinner.

God grant me the strength to make choices

2010-11-03T21:30:00.000+01:00

A Wise Friend of mine once told me that life is all about choices. Sometimes we find ourselves saying, "But I don't have a choice." Like take for instance parents who say that phrase in relation to going out into the workforce as opposed to what they really want to do, which is stay at home with their kids. The argument could be that the extra income is needed to support the family. But you could choose to stay at home. You could cut back, move from your big house to an apartment, etc. But perhaps you value the big house and trips and well, food, so you make the choice to go to work. Ok, so getting an illness is NOT a choice but how we deal with it...is. Some choices are certainly much harder to make than others and I think this all depends on your reality. Am I making sense here?

Well lately we are questioning our choices as a family. We are being taken advantage of and we feel boxed into our current situation, like we really don't have a choice as we do what we do and sacrifice what we sacrifice in the name of long-term security. But I have come to realize, thanks to thinking back on the philosophizing (made that word up i think) of Wise Friend, that we do have a choice. We can stand up for Us, what We want as a family and make a choice. We can choose to take back control over our lives and deal with the consequences, whatever they may be. Or we can choose the "easier" path, the one where we do nothing and wait with our fingers crossed. Where every day that goes by, a little bit of our patience, compassion, innocence and confidence is stripped away.

I can choose to say NO to continuing down a path I am not comfortable walking down. We can choose to demand respect. We can decide to pack up and leave this country tomorrow. We can. But every choice comes with its risks and rewards and each of those must be carefully weighed. But at the end of the day, it's simply a choice that you make. I think making the choice and as Wise Friend says, shouting it out to the Universe, is just as hard as dealing with the aftermath. Because if your choice is a difficult one to make, you likely already know the consequences and are mentally/physically preparing yourselves to deal with them. To summon the courage to say, "That's it. This is what we're doing. End of story," is as intimidating as it is liberating.

If you're now living out your latest choice and it's making you feel a combination of stressed, guilty, overworked, undervalued, bitter, resentful, angry, lonely, sad, confused, lost, little, weak, demeaned, lied to, etc. well, I bet it's time you made a different choice. And now I hear this verse in my head, an appropriate anthem really: "We're not gonna take it. No, we ain't gonna take it. We're not gonna take it, anymore."

ps. I just found out from hubby that the song lyrics I referenced are from a song by Twisted Sister. I NEVER would have guessed that in a million years. So, how cosmic do you think it is that the Wise Friend I'm referring to has a blog called, "Spiral Sisters" and that her post today prompted this essay?! Cue that weird music that plays when something is just plain freaky.

Halloween in Sweden: Showin' em' how it's done!

2010-11-01T09:02:00.001+01:00

I am officially a heroine in my neighbourhood of young, hip Mommies. Just call me Martha Stewart.

Hubby and I decided on a whim that we were gonna throw a Halloween party for Little Man and the neighbourhood kiddies. I'll be honest: It was epic. Now if you were to transplant our Spooky Fest into Any Town, North America, it would have been mediocre at best. In fact there wasn't anything we did that hasn't already been done before...in North America that is.

You see here in Sweden, Halloween is a relatively new phenomenon, slowly growing in popularity over just the past 10 years or so. Pumpkin carvings a la cave man days, 30% of any given neighbourhood actually participating in trick or treating and the only costumes you'll find on the kiddies are of the scary variety. No Buzz Lightyears to be found. And how about going trick or treating and receiving a handful of loose chips or 1 piece of candy? Now that's a fright.

So when we announced to the street that we were having a Halloween party, well everyone was excited to come and discover "what exactly do you do at a Halloween party"? I spent the week collecting Halloween-inspired recipes from family, friends and the Net and just when I thought I'd have to break out the construction paper and pipe cleaners, I discovered the new Toys R Us in town had a whole entire aisle of Halloween decor...woohooo!

Hubby is the creative one in the family so before you knew it, we had a poor, stuffed dude being crushed by Little Man's ride-on tractor, a front lawn full of tombstones, a floating witches hat and other spooky bits and bobs.

See for yourself!

We almost lost a few little party animals, however. You see, it took a few of them a good 15 minutes to make it to our door they were so scared, having never seen anything like this before. And then there were the activities. Nothing too inventive about cupcake decorating, bobbing for apples or sticking your hand in peeled grapes right? Wrong. "Jennifer, where did you come up with the idea to decorate "muffins"? "This is so creative." "I just got so much inspiration." Yes, my ego expanded to the size of a hot-air balloon. But I had to fess up, "We just do these things back home."

The one comment posted on facebook that sent me shuddering in terror, "You have just set the standard for all future Halloween parties." F-word. How the hell are we gonna outdo ourselves next year?!

Happy Halloween All! Love Marta Stewartsson, Buzz Lightyear (he was in costume for a record 10 minutes) and The King of Creativity, my hubby.

Now to work off the 2 kilos gained in the span of 5 days...Thank you birthday cake and Halloween candy! Oh, I almost forgot Hubby's handcarved, no stencils involved, pumpkins:

Birthday Love

2010-10-30T09:33:00.001+02:00

My birthday unfolded just as I expected. At noon, I get a call from Little Man's school to tell me that his eyes are red, he's tired and is complaining that his "brain is broken". I rush over to pick him up, take one look at the pathetic little mess of tears and fatigue and with no fever, I'm worried. I rush him over to emergency, where, no word of a lie, I'm in and out in 30 minutes. Imagine THAT in North America...Kudos to the Swedish healthcare system on that one.

Check of his ears, nose, throat and a simple pinprick blood test and we're outta there with "It's just a virus." Thank God. But boy did I feel like a dolt. 30 minutes later and my son is back to normal. I figured out last night it was likely hayfever. dolt. But no girls over for cake as catching a virus was not on their to-do list.

And because I wanted to be around to field birthday calls, of which there were many and I'm so grateful, we made a quick trip to the mall for mall food and shopping for all the babies in my life. Came home to chocolate cake. And last night, we went out for sushi and topped the evening off with wine and a movie. Another birthday come and gone.

After returning home from the birthday trip to the ER, I noticed a bouquet of flowers all wrapped up on the kitchen table. They were sent from my dear friend in Russia. An unexpected surprise. I am humbled and grateful for my family and friends and that's the best thing about a birthday

34 Years on the Planet Tomorrow

2010-10-27T22:36:00.000+02:00

Yup, it's the most wonderful time of the year....my birthday tomorrow! Waaaahoooo! I'm full of it. I'm really not that excited. I'm 34, not 19! A time for reflection? Most likely. But meh, I'll wait to do that when I hit 40. What would I like to do for my birthday? Let's see. How about a nice dinner out, expensive food and wine and maybe something sinful for dessert? Yes! What will I actually be doing?

Well hubby declared today that he and Little Man would be baking a cake in my honour. So of course that meant I had to look up the easiest chocolate cake recipe I could find online and then head out to the grocery store to try and decipher the Swedish equivalents for all the English things on my list. Like bittersweet chocolate is obviously NOT called that here, or anywhere near that. Instead there are all these percentages of cocoa in the chocolate. And I never bake. And think I could find Vanilla extract, like in liquid form in a bottle? Nope. But lots of powdered vanilla extracts. weird. And after spending exactly 20 mins in the baking aisle reading and rereading packages and moaning and asking complete strangers for advice (which is SUCH a no-no here), I simultaneously want to jump for joy and kick myself when I see CAKE MIX! Just add water and butter. SCORE!

Then I rush to a meeting and rush to pick up the Little Man and throw together an ultra fast supper and then proceed to translate the simple cake baking directions into English for my simpletons, get the ingredients and measuring utensils together and let the men make the cake themselves. What a production! They had fun, especially the licking of the beaters part, while I vacuumed. Because a birthday isn't a birthday without someone, or in this case, my friend and her 3 daughters and two cousins, coming over to eat said cake, which by now is burning in the oven. And because I don't have a maid (now there's what I should have asked for) and have to work tomorrow, ie. field birthday calls all day, I need to clean my house for my impromptu party.

Yes, the birthday calls. Let's run down the list shall we?
1. My brother, wife and new baby Audrey
2. My parents
3. Hubby's Mom, sis-in-law and family
4. Hubby's Dad and wife
5. BFF Jody
6. DFF Diana
7. DFF Connie
8. "Nanny" Tanja
9. Our oldest son
10. An assortment of friends around here
11. Facebook. There's over 300 messages right there. But I love those, don't you? Feeling the love from family, friends and friends you never should have friended.
12. Oh and maybe my Godparents and their whole gaggle
13. Co-workers

And since time zones vary, I will literally be on the phone most of the day while trying to tidy up for the Birthday Troupe arrival while checking email halfhazardly. And because when you're a Mom, your birthday is no longer about you. The cheesecake or white chocolate cake or ice cream cake (they don't have those awesome Dairy Queen cakes here) I crave will instead be replaced by a slightly burnt chocolate boxed cake made lovingly by my two sweethearts and decorated with an insane amount of sprinkles. And my birthday meal will be at McDonald's. I've already started ingesting carbs in anticipation. So the day after my birthday, I get to stare at a not-so-pretty number on the scale and maybe get a few pimples too.

So I am writing this post the day before my birthday because tomorrow, I will literally have no me-time. And although the sarcasm dripping from this post might lead you to believe I am complaining about the Fiasco that will be my birthday tomorrow, I'm not. I love birthday love, even if it means having to move the stack of papers cluttering the kitchen table and dining at the golden arches. Oh and I think Little Man might be coming down with something. So Happy Birthday to Me!

Heard from the House

2010-10-21T20:37:00.000+02:00

Haven't been very active in the blogosphere lately. A little too much on the brain.

Little man's upstairs in bed. And I hear, "Daddy?" "Yes Little Man?" "I'm 4 years old. Not three years old. Four years old." "Ok, Little Man."

Since Daddy has been going into the office more frequently these days, he's picking Little Man up from school more frequently. On the odd occasion that he would pick him up before, I'd hear the annoying blast of our door buzzer around 4:20 and look through the fogged out window to see Little Red Man on tippy toes reaching for the blasted bell. I'd swing the door open wide to a smirking kid, "Mommy, I got a surprise for you! Taaadaaa!" And from behind his back, he'd produce a bouquet of flowers. Say it with me: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

This past Thursday, annoying door buzzer and beautiful flowers. A few days later, hubby had to go into the office again. Annoying door buzzer and beautiful flowers again. Problem was, the last bunch were still fresh! This was working out great before. Just when I was ready to throw out the flowers, a new bunch arrived. When I whispered this to hubby, he replied that driving home after their usual pit stop to pick up juice, Little Man exclaimed, "Daddy, we forgot Mommy's flowers!!" He tried in vain to explain that they had just got flowers a few days ago that were still good and Mommy didn't need flowers this time. There was no reasoning with him. The tears of a broken-hearted little man were enough for Daddy to pull into the nearest gas station. So "Taaadaa!", more flowers.

Lucky I was able to convince Little Man on our way home today that Daddy likes chocolate more than flowers. Not that I want to break this habit. I love that our Little Man enjoys the gift of giving.

I've crossed over to the dark side people. I am officially a Mac user. By force, not by choice. And I gotta say, it's growing on me.

Well time to strip down for some butt blasting and ab crunching. Happy Thursday!
xoxo

To my dearest little bro

2010-10-16T12:49:00.001+02:00

I mean, I knew for the last 7 months or so it was coming but when I got the call at 5:30 this morning, it really hit me.

My little brother is a Daddy to a little girl.

And I'm just so emotional about it all, in the proudest big sister way possible.

Because I remember what it felt like when I became a Mom.

And because I have that photo of us, you: 3, me: 6 or 7, snuggling in a bed against a backdrop of floral wallpaper on Logan Street.

And because I know you. And it makes me laugh. I chuckle to think that my anal retentive, color-coordinated sock drawer, organized-to-a-fault, sleep-coveting baby brother is going to have his world turned upside down.

That this new world will be filled with power washing the poop of cloth diapers. Losing sleep even when his days-old daughter is fast asleep, just checking to make sure that she is, in fact, breathing. Stumbling outside at 4am to take his two terribly confused dogs for a pee. Doing Balki's dance for joy after she finally falls asleep after countless trips around the living room in the stroller. Falling in love with his wife all over again as she nurses the precious life you created together. Baby-proofing the baby-proofing. Hovering like a lunatic when anyone dares to pick her up. Policing the phone lines so as not to disturb his best girls while they're resting (and cursing whoever it is who dares to call).

And that's just the beginning.

And I have some advice for you dear brother of mine. Take noone's advice. Do what YOU feel is best. You will pour over "the books", you will drive yourself mad trying to weigh conflicting advice from well-meaning grandparents/siblings/friends on everything from how often to breastfeed, when/if to start sleep training, the colour of her poo, how to dress her for X weather, etc.

But in the end, you will do what's right for your daughter and your family. Every time. And I know this because I've been there and I know this because I know you.

And I love you. And I'm just so proud of both of you. And I can't wait to meet my niece and cuddle her and make silly faces at her and buy an overabundance of pink, frilly things and be her ONLY and most favouritest Auntie Jenny.

And that's just the beginning.

I love you already baby doll Audrey xo

My baby brother is a Daddy...

2010-10-15T13:19:00.000+02:00

And it's a GIRL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Oh how excited am I to run out and buy pink, frilly, bow-laden dresses and skirts and hats and...PINK!

8lbs 14 oz and delivered completely naturally on October 14th 7:48pm in Terrace, BC. No drugs. Quite the contrast to MY birthing experience. You name the drug, it was in my system and then? c-section. But it's the end result that matters. can't say that I'm not super impressed and proud of my sis-in-law and her coach though.

WE HAVE NO NAME YET! This is driving all of us bonkers. Will it be a classic name, a crunchy name, a nouveau name, a stupid name? ha! Time will tell. Hurry up clock.

The bottom line is this: I have a niece. She will be beautiful. I will love her to pieces and my baby brother is now a Daddy and I am so proud of him and his wife. They will make THE best parents. And now to wait an agonizing 10 months to meet her. Thank God for Skype.

Welcome to the world Baby Girl and to a family who loves you. All my love, Auntie Jenn xo

Gonna be an Aunty!

2010-10-14T23:13:00.000+02:00

My brother and his wife are on their way into the hospital to welcome their 1st born. I am already an Aunty to my husband's sister's daughter but this is a bit different. My baby brother is having a baby. Well, his wife is but you get it. How excited am I? And we don't know the sex OR the name choices yet...triple the excitement. Praying for them and a safe delivery and a healthy baby. Love, Aunty Jenn

Little Man Mondays

2010-10-11T15:00:00.000+02:00

In case you haven't noticed, I've scrapped Weigh-In Wednesdays. #1: Because I've sorta reached my goal, hovering between 69ish and 70ish with weekly exercise and #2: Because I'm tired of focusing so much on my pant size. But that said, I may resurrect it one day ;-).

So to replace it, I'm launching Little Man Mondays! Just a way for me to more actively journal my four year-old's growth, my parenting, etc so I can look back in years to come. Wish I woulda thought about this sooner but since I'm not-so-good at the keeping his Baby Book up-to-date, this will be my little place.

He wanted to go to the library this weekend, so off we trotted to Literary Land, where the basement is reserved as a NO QUIET zone complete with toys, costumes, book reading nooks, tears, breastfeeding, snot, screaming and well, you get the picture.

Some little boys are into cars. Others into dolls. Mine LOVES animals. The front of the librarian's desk is actually a whole bunch of drawers. The minute we arrive, he's yanking them open to discover where the plastic animals (of which he has zillions at home already) are hiding. It always turns into a lesson of sharing as he hoardes them and polices their use when unfortunate toddlers come bounding around in hopes of snagging one or two.

"Mommy, what do anteaters do?" I can't count the number of Google searches I've done trying to figure out what X animal eats, where it lives and sometimes, what it looks like. We left armed with enough animal ammunition for a couple of weeks.

Lately I've noticed little man is "playing in Swedish". And to my surprise, when I joined in the other day, he didn't stop abruptly and scold me for speaking in his language. So we played along, me the Swedish camel, him the Swedish crocodile. He's the best teacher really. But that's really where it ends. And that's fine by me.

His English skills however, compared to native English speakers his age, are behind and understandably so. He has difficulty expressing himself fully in English and translating from his school environment to his home environment. When I ask him about his day, he finds it hard to respond. The words are all there but they're in Swedish. Though we had a little breakthrough the other day. As we were driving home, he said in a low voice, filled with pride, in Swenglish, "I bakad bröd today." Translation: I baked bread today. I think he was proud of both what he had done and that he was able to tell me. I was so excited for him on both counts.

They have a program in Sweden called "Home Speak" where he can meet once/week with other English-speaking children for a few hours of English play. I will be signing him up so am hoping this will help him.

I signed him up for a "sports academy" here in Uppsala. It sounded perfect: a club that introduces young children to a variety of sporting activities that meets once/week for an hour. He doesn't like it. Maybe it's because I signed him up for Mondays. After a relaxing weekend, Monday is the first day back to a full day at school and he's likely pretty tired to be rushed through supper and out the door for 6pm. Maybe it's because the kids spend more time standing around than actually doing anything. Maybe it's because the class is too big with only two "leaders". Maybe it's because the leaders spend most of their time shushing the kids. Maybe he's too young. It seems like waste of 798 SEK but I will drag him there again tonight and if he wants to leave, I'll take him home without a fuss.

Well off to pick up the little man soon and tell him we're headed to sports class tonight. Poor kid :-(.

Public Service Announcement: NEVER GIVE THE FINGER!

2010-10-10T17:01:00.000+02:00

Driving home from a lovely Fall afternoon feeding the ducks and hitting the library with the little man. Someone cut me off so I was forced to go up a street reserved for buses and taxis only. What i was doing was illegal. A man driving a white truck/van coming in the opposite direction started to gesture wildly at me, shaking his finger and likely screaming through is windshield.

In the interest of descriptive purposes, the man was of Arab decent. His little boy was sitting in the seat next to him. I thought: You fker. And I gave him the finger, made my left turn and proceeded to drive. Glancing back in my rearview mirror I noticed the man pull a fast U-turn and come speeding up behind me, inches from rear-ending me. Uh-Oh. He was right on my tail. He then proceeded to pull another illegal maneover, passed me and stopped his truck dead in my tracks. Now I had moved from irritation to fear. I went up over the sidewalk and into a parking lot. He hopped out of his truck and proceeded to come barrelling towards me on foot. I put the window down a crack just enough to yell out, "If you don't stop following me, I will call the police." I noticed him taking down my license plate and running back to his car.

I proceeded to drive and sure enough, he was on my tail again. Following closely and menacingly. No matter where I turned, he was right there waiting/daring me to stop. I was close to our friends' very big house wherein her very big and intimidating husband resides. As I pulled into the driveway and my pursuer pulled next to the curb, I called and told her to send her husband out immediately as I was being harassed. As he came out, I briefly explained what had happened and ran in with my son.

When he came back inside, he told me the man was upset because I gave him the finger in front of his child and had made a traffic violation. My friend said he told the man that didn't make it ok to harrass me.
So I guess it was ok for said man to scream like a raving lunatic at my mistake and then proceed to make countless traffic violations of his own and chase me down like a mad man in front of his son.

I am still shaking, wondering what a man who had just made numerous traffic violations himself, needs with my license plate. I can't imagine he would be calling the cops as he would get in just as much trouble. In my fear-striken and panicked state, I did not get his license plate number. I regret this.

One could assume that this man, after being disrespected by a woman, wanted to teach his son a lesson. Or perhaps he was having a really bad day and I was the icing on the cake.

I know one thing for sure, I will never again in my life give the finger to a stranger, no matter how justified I feel in doing so. You never know what kind of crazy people are capable of. And now, for a short while at least, I will leave in fear.

I'll be home for Christmas?

2010-10-10T09:40:00.000+02:00

Not sure sure about that. I checked the flight prices...almost $3000 for us to fly from Sweden to Toronto and I have serious doubts the prices are going down...if anything they'll go up. Considering I paid about half that amount this time last year to book our flights. And in further comparison, I spent less than this amount for all of us to fly to Montenegro AND pay for an apartment for 3 weeks.

We were really hoping to make it home for the holidays but this seems out of our reach right now. When we originally moved overseas, we were guaranteed 2 trips home/year...paid. But since we moved to Sweden, we've had to finance these trips ourselves. Besides selling a vital organ, I really don't know how we're going to swing it.

And it's a depressing reality. We're missing our families dearly and the thought of spending the holidays, here, alone, well....Yes, we have each other and we should be grateful for that. And we are. Especially this being Thanksgiving weekend in Canada.

On that note, Thank you. Thank you God for our continued good health, a roof over our heads, and all the usual. And thank you for showing me this weekend just how much we truly love our families and how much of a sacrifice we continue to make.

A tad busy

2010-10-08T14:20:00.000+02:00

Can't believe it's been this long since I've posted. Nope, not on vacation in some exotic land. Working my tail off is what I'm doing. Miss you all though but still reading your posts. Let's hope all this hard work and sacrifice pays off and soon. Sure, the joy should be in the process but it's not. And yes, that should tell you something. Though we have made some decisions lately that have resulted in us taking some control back over our lives. So here's to that!
Off to pick up the little man from daycare. Nana's parcel arrived today and someone will sure be excited about it! Will be forced to listen to "Back in Black" and "Highway to Hell" on the way home on repeat...thanks to his father. No more Gaga or Robyn for me for awhile. Not that I mind the rockn roll, love it! But my vocal chords are aching from trying to sound like Bon Scott or Brian Johnson.
Happy Friday!

Can one email change my world?

2010-09-29T13:36:00.000+02:00

I don't know but I gave it a shot today.
I emailed one of the wealthiest, most influential people not only in our industry, but in the world.
I pitched our company and our product in the most no-holds barred, vulnerable and honest way I could think of.
It was pretty raw but it came from the heart, from passion and from desperation and frustration.

First of all, I emailed his company cuz I know no one who would have the guy's actual email address. Actually, I sorta do, but I couldn't bring myself to ask.
Secondly, I am dead sure this company receives thousands of "please fund our venture" emails every.single.day.
Thirdly, I am sure one out of every 10 was worded in just the kind of way mine was...making it about as unique as a mosquito. There's nothing unique about those f'ers.

Sometimes you just have to take risks, no matter the consequences.
Like, what if the guy or one of his cronies writes me back with, "WTF is this? Are you serious? Did you actually just tell me that you're rambling and are tired of churning out BS?" Yes, Yes, I did.
Or what if they report me to my superiors (which would be my husband I guess).
Or maybe they think it's hilarious and make it public.
Or maybe they really don't find it funny at all and somehow, someway it intercepts a business deal. "Oh, yeah, I know that company. They're a buncho whack jobs over there. Look at this email some girl sent me."
But in that moment, I really didn't give a damn. In that moment, I felt compelled to reach out, take a risk and throw caution to the wind as they say.

What's the worst that could happen? See above. What's the best case scenario? We get a meeting...and more. What's my dream scenario? HE happens to be in the office that day. Cup of Joe in hand, he's bored and decides to peruse-on-through the email inquiries. He's in a good mood. He happens upon my email. He doesn't care that it's 3:30am my time, cuz why should he? You take a call from this guy if you're having a kidney removed. He calls. I answer. He tells me who he is. I say something predictable like, "Yeah right." He proceeds to prove to me that he is who he says he is. It doesn't take much really. He tells me he's sending his jet to pick me up in the morning and to be at the airport. And the rest is legendary.

What's the likely scenario? I get a form letter back or no letter at all. I already got a "Thank you for your submission. We get gazillions a day. If we like what we see, we'll get back to you." auto-response.
That could be all I ever get. But hey, I tried. And you can't fault a girl for trying.

Swedishness

2010-09-28T09:33:00.000+02:00

So they're shooting a number of scenes for the upcoming Hollywood blockbuster version of The Girl with the Dragon Tatoo by Stieg Larsson here in Uppsala. So exciting! In case you live in a hole, this book/movie is one of a trilogy and it's awesome. I discovered it a few years ago, before the Swedish version of the movies were made and now Hollywood. So that makes me cool, edgy and avant-garde. Unfortunately, at the time, they only had the first book translated so I had to wait rather impatiently over the course of two years for the remaining two to come out in English.

Kind of sad though because the poor author died after handing the trilogy to his publisher. He never lived to see the success it had become. Did I mention Daniel Craig is playing the lead, Mikael Blomqvist, and the leading lady was a role sought-after by a number of Hollywood starlets but secured by a relative new-comer? Good for her! Anyway, the buses all have signs on the back saying Drottninggatan (a street in the old town) will be closed between such and such a date for filming the movie. Cool. The other day I forgot and had to detour but seeing some 1930s cars parked along said street was reward enough for the extra 10 minutes it took me to get to little man's school. Waiting to run into Daniel Craig now. I have a feeling we're gonna be BFFs.

Went to a Swedish kid's birthday party the other day. Another low-key affair. Hot dogs, ice cream and cookies for five kiddies. Such a stark contrast to the excess in the Americas.

My desire to learn the language has waned. I definitely feel guilty for being here for almost two years and not having progressed much. I'm also consistently reminded of this character deficiency when groups of acquaintances no longer speak to me in English, figuring I MUST know the language by now. Geesh. And I should really. But I'm just not "into it". My mind and my heart are elsewhere. Kind of like I'm subconsciously checking off days on the calendar until I can leave.

You really need to check the labels on meat here when you're out grocery shopping. They leave dangerously-close-to-expiring meat on in the fridges. I dig to the bottom for the good stuff. And what's with Stina's Chicken anyway? Seasoned frozen chicken pieces in an oven-proof tray that make dinnertime a cinch and are pretty popular here. But to open it up and still find a few feather bits hanging off your meal? Not cool Stina, not cool.

If you believe election results and the media, apparently at least 300,000 Swedes are racist. Big election here a few weeks ago and "shockingly" enough, an openly racist (some may argue this point) political party called the Sweden Democrats got a little over 5% of the vote and now have a few seats in parliament (they needed a minimum of 4% I think). The government is unfortunately a minority government so the ruling party or the opposition actually need to cooperate with this other party if they want to get anything done over the next four years (which both have said they wouldn't). Anyway, there's been a huge uproar in Sweden over this, everyone "shocked" and "dismayed" that this could happen in Sweden. "Everyone" banding together to condemn this "horrific" result and many are very embarassed. Basically, this party wants to put an end to immigration or extremely tight sanctions on it claiming Sweden is no longer Swedish, immigrants are stealing jobs from Swedes, etc.

According to many, Sweden has had a very lax immigration policy. There are actually towns here where Middle Eastern immigrants outnumber Swedes by huge margins and people feel that integration within society is virtually non-existent as immigrants tend to reside in certain areas, areas that "Swedes" avoid. I will say that every time our company has posted a job opening, 95% of the applicants are of Middle Eastern decent. To me, that says they're having a tough time.

I've read a lot of blogs and English media coverage on this subject and have come to the following conclusion: 5% of your voting population actually voted for this party. It seems you have a problem with immigration and no other party is addressing it so those that have a problem with it are turning to this "openly racist" party as they have no other options. Maybe you could do something about it? To the benefit of Swedes and immigrants alike? I'm not smart enough to know what "it" is but smart enough to know that something needs to be done. In case you're interested, have a look at Hairy Swede's blog and read through the comments to see how heated this issue is: http://welcometosweden.blogspot.com/2010/09/swedish-elections-in-us.html

Now I remember what I wanted to focus on in this blog post, but gotta get to work, so next time: IKEA!

Honestly Speaking....

2010-09-25T08:43:00.000+02:00

Mild warning: The following content is filter-free and might contain some cringe-worthy passages and a whole lot of T.M.I.

Why do women have unwanted body hair? And by "unwanted" I mean, unwanted by ME. According to scholars, we've evolved from apes and well, I guess the body hair is supposed to protect us from the elements. And to credit evolution, we have a whole lot less of it now. But we also have clothes. Last I checked, my jeans did a great job of protecting my ass from frostbite. So what's with the hair there? Yes, I realize I just gave you a nasty visual of a hairy ass...my hairy ass. I am a white chick, a pale white chick. So therefore, by the grace of the Creator, my ass is not covered in hair. But still, there shouldn't be ANY there. Dear God: Do you own a laser? Of course you do, you own like everything. Cuz you doing the job would be a heckuva lot cheaper. And because it would be a miracle, the experience might involve a choir of singing angels. That would be nice.

In an attempt to expand my literary horizons, I'm reading this Erotica book. Some collection of "the best" erotic stories. I'm not sure a story about a girl who likes to masturbate against steel road signs is erotic to me. Nor is the one about the chick who lives in a cage waiting for a new master to collar her and take her home. How about the girl who can only get off to extreme pain and dies at the hands of some lunatic she paid to shoot her with steel arrows. Takes all kinds doesn't it?

I found out the other day that the reason my 4-year old will wait as many days as he possibly can to poop is because he believes a baby might come out of his bum. Never too early to start sex education.

A funny thing happened while I was dancing my heinie (sp?) off at a club in Montenegro: My boob fell out. Actually, it wasn't my boob. It was a piece of boob-shaped silicone I strategically place inside my dress to give the illusion of big boobs. I sat down with my dear friends for drinks that evening and K says to me, "Uhmmm Jenn, nice boobs. What's going on in there?" Guess it was pretty obvious. I divulged my dirty little secret and we chuckled. At one point, I was close to pulling one out for her to see as she had never seen one before. Turns out, I didn't need to. As I was hopping about in the club with Dear Friend #2, FLING! And to my utter horror, a chick next to me reached down to pick it up and hand it back to me. Pretty sure my hubby was more horrified than I was. We left shortly afterwards...boob in purse.

I had a mouth orgasm the other day. Definition: Something food-related hits your mouth and your mouth doesn't know what hit it. You cannot believe what you're tasting. It's.that.good. It came in the form of a new Greek co-worker (the food...THE FOOD!!!) who escaped for a few minutes to meet her Greek aunt and returned with a box filled with golf-ball sized packages wrapped in muted foil. My mouth was turned on immediately upon undressing it because the chocolate was WHITE. My fave. The Easter bunny always made sure to leave a big white chocolate bunny for my brother and I. I expected sickeningly sweet. I was oh-so pleasantly disappointed as my teeth melted in.

Tongue captured my most favouritest topping in the world....CARAMEL. fyi: I never go for the chocolate topping on my sundaes.I was so excited by this surprising taste sensation that I was almost angry. "What the heck is THIS? Oh my God this is so good. No, I mean, this is seriously really good. Have any of you tasted anything so good before? There's no way it could be THIS good. Oh.My.God" And yes, I was talking my way through this experience and with each sentence the pace picked up, my body tensed until finally, release. When I came to, three computer programmers, the new Web girl and hubby were gaping at me. And she said the only thing she could say to me in that moment, "Would you like some more?" No. I couldn't bring myself to cheapen the experience. I would never reach those heights again. Nothing beats the first time.

The End.
Ps. Arentcha glad you stopped by?

Inspired

2010-09-22T22:55:00.000+02:00

I have a confession to make: I'm not smart. I'm not stupid. But I'm not smart. I can't pull a quote out of the air to suit an occasion from "one of the greats". Heck, I have no idea who the greats even are. Put me on the spot. I dare ya. Ok, "What goes around, comes around." Have no idea who said it.

Please don't ask me for my stance on INSERT ANY GIVEN ISSUE. I may have one but you'll be able to slice up my rationale like one of those Japanese chefs at those restaurants who do all that fancy chopping while you sit there and watch, hungry as hell and waiting for the acrobatics to stop so you can freakn eat Gosh Darnit! Also, I do not sit and mull over a soul-delving question and research. and sleep on it. and talk about it and mull some more. My reactions are usually knee-jerk.

Protons and neutrons make up an atom, right? Is the nucleus the centre? What about a molecule..is that made up of atoms? The capital of Bolivia is...? Wait...or is Bolivia the capital of another country? I think it's in South America. But look Yugoslav parents, I do NOT believe that eating ice cream in the winter will cause a sore throat. So there.

My depth is limited. There's only so far I can go people. I cannot take a beautiful moment in my day and equate it to some profound truth in life. Or at least, I cannot express it eloquently in prose. I'm terrible with numbers. We are sworn enemies, me and numbers (or numbers and I). We've never gotten along. I thought words and I were BFFs but I'm not so sure anymore. When I read some of the beautiful (see? what an overused word), awe-inspiring (cliche alert), message-ridden (that sounds diseased) posts of yours, I want to cry. For two reasons. 1) I'm proud of y'all and sincerely joyful to read your works of art 2) I feel so unworthy and out of my league. To be sharing the blogosphere with some of you? I mean, seriously. Feel free to kick me out of this club anytime now. Membership expired.

Maybe if I smartened up? Started going ape-shit on Wikipedia. Memorized a quote each day. Took a few night classes in astrophysics, Women's Studies, Something Century Literature, "The Greats", I could catch up. But who am I kidding? I'm 34 and really don't have the desire to be smartened up in the schoolroom sense. Meh.

And no, this is not a "Fill my sails with wind" attempt at "You are the wind beneath my wings" sympathy plea. It's just me realizing how great you all are. And it WAS also a "how shit I am in comparison" revelation but now, it's not. Because hubby sent me an article titled, "Are you the next Steve Jobbs?" And for the record, the guy is an arse. He's a lucky, genius-in-many-ways arse but an arse just the same. And here's an excerpt from said article:

Virtually every ambitious business leader sees themselves as the next Steve Jobs -- and virtually all of them are dead wrong, writes Dan Pallotta. It's fine to try to channel Jobs' creativity and managerial prowess, Pallotta argues, but there's nothing to be gained from weighing your own skills against someone who's clearly out of your league. "Such comparisons spiral you into depression. They demotivate you, demoralize you, and generally suck every last bit of enthusiasm and aliveness out of you," Pallotta writes.

So, I may not be "one of you" (aka: my greats) but you all inspire me so much that I have the courage to keep puking all over this little, not-at-all-enlightening space. And maybe someday I won't be so cold in your shadow and have sunlight on my face.

Did you get that up there? That was going to be the end. And it was my attempt at a clever sign-off to this post. Maybe you'll get it if I point up higher to the "wind beneath my wings" reference??? I guess it doesn't work so well when the "writer" has to explain it...

So, after describing to hubby how great you all are and making a matter-of-fact declaration that "I'm not as good or good enough to be a 'writer'," he basically told me off. But in the "stop comparing yourself to Steve Jobbs" way. And then he offered me some advice in a warm and fuzzy, supportive husband kind of way. So now, I say to me and to you, I'm a gunna stick around and see what a 34-year old, not as "learned", rough-round-the-edges, cliche-lovin', shallow (cuz I said I wasn't "deep"), ADD (that's attention deficit disorder) person-who-likes-to-write can do with and for herself.

Somewhere over the rainbow there's a t-shirt slogan/bumper sticker that hasn't yet been written. I vow to you, on this day, that like Forrest Gump accidentally found the happy face t-shirt design by wiping his dirty face on someone's shirt while running across the country all hairy, I will find and write that slogan and they will shout it from the rooftops. Or, I'll just keep on keepin' on.

The End.
ps. Thanks honey. Love you. Oh and...You Complete Me xoxo
pps. You all ARE really great.

Life lately

2010-09-19T11:03:00.000+02:00

Movies meant 3D glasses with an unhealthy does of candy and popcorn. Toy Story 3 was great and worth the carb crash I experienced later that night. My favourite part of the movie was the preview of The Last Airbender...some kid who can bend air I guess and saves mankind? At the end of the trailer, my little man belts out in his loudest voice, "Mommy, I want to be like that boy." The move theater proceeded to erupt in laughter.

Little man has been uhmmm "discovering" his new uhmmm "best friend", uhmmm, you know...the one in his pants. Any advice here? Dad has been saying, "It's not a toy." But uhmmm, it is isn't it? How do we curb this behavior or do we? Advice from folks with older boys? Michelle?

Decided not to head out to the girls' weekend. My reason is purely finance-related to be perfectly honest. If we plan to head home for the holidays AND throw hubby a 50th Birthday Bash, me spending money on outfits both before and during said excurision (not to mention accomodations and meals and drinks), well, I know myself and so this weekend is better left until AFTER Christmas.

Been thinking about starting my own little business. More on that later. A hint: It has to do with Engrish. Yup, EngRish.

Still doing my exercises but with a nasty monthly visit, I've had to postpone to every other night.

Gotta run and figure out what to do today...crappy weather since we returned.

Different strokes for Different folks

2010-09-14T11:54:00.001+02:00

These aren't the friendships I'm referring to in my last post, Axing Friends. Here in Sweden, I've found that one of the reasons I haven't been able to cultivate good friendships is due to the lifestyle differences between me and my potential friend(s). And that's ok. I pride myself in surrounding myself with folks that are inherently different than myself. I take great joy in the learning, growth and excitement that comes from meeting and forming friendships with those that hold different beliefs, practice other religions, live completely different lives or even dress or eat differently than I do. Variety is the spice of life after all.

On the surface, many of the people I've met look just like me. We have the same age kids, both work outside the home, wear the same kind of clothes, drive the same cars (Volvo station wagons are all the rage in Sweden) and have many of the same "issues". But there's one fundamental difference that quickly puts the brakes on a budding friendship: The relationship she has with her spouse/partner/family vs. the one I have with mine.

"The girls and I are heading out to drink and dance tomorrow night. Wanna come with?"

1. My husband is a 50-year old Italian man. Perhaps that says something stereotypical to you. If not, let me spell it out. He's a tad bit of a jealous one. And again, I'm ok with that. I knew it when I married him and I married him just the same :-).
2. We have no family here to look after our little guy should WE wish to have a night on the town. Hubby does go out on occasion and I practically kick him out the door when he has an opportunity because he works too damn hard.

So here's the deal: I would much rather go out WITH my hubby than without. But when I am invited out, I carefully weigh the pros and cons. Cons are obviously dealing with a jealous hubby because even when he tells me to go and have a good time, he doesn't always really mean it. God love him.

Nobody here accepts or understands this. They look at me like I'm stuck in the 40s, sporting a poodle skirt and matching apron pulling a yummy roast out of the oven 5 minutes before hubby arrives home from his hard day at the office. It is sooo common for ladies my age to go out once a weekend, all dolled up and get plastered. The men too. They take turns. There's lots of bonding that goes on when you're holding your friend's hair back in a ponytail as she regurgitates a plate of tapas into a shitstained public toilet. And then there's the reminiscing over the course of the next week about how Linda slurred and dryhumped her way into a pack of sloshed college guys. Oh that Linda, she'll never learn. ok, so this is an extreme picture I'm painting.

No matter how much I try to convince hubby that we'll be sitting with our legs crossed in a quaint, female-only jazz bar quipping about laundry detergent brands and diaper rash, I just know I'll end up hopping in and out of taxis in increasing states of inebriation...or at least following those that are.

So I miss out on the bonding and the stories but frankly, I don't know that I need that kind of entertainment at the age of almost 34. A cup of coffee at the local indoor playpark is more my speed. And that's not to say that I never leave the house without the Italian in tow. In fact, I have gone back home to Canada without him for extended periods, twice. And I visit the gals for coffee and we take the kiddies places, etc. And not so long ago, I did take up a new friend on an offer for a ladies night out. We had a ball, laughing, chatting and drinking . And hubby picked me up just in the nick of time.

Back "home" in Monty, my dearest friend and I had plenty of chances to laugh, drink and bond...while our hubbies did their own kind, just feet away. You see, when I arrived, the first thing I did the next day was get my hair did. For 40 euro, I had it coloured, cut and styled. I get the same done here for 200. I digress. Well, when I showed up to my appointment, who was waiting for me outside to surprise me but said dear friend. She was by herself and I knew this was a big deal as her hubby is far more "protective" than mine. She sat with me while the hair stylist applied the foils and we gabbed incessantly while they were setting. Then she looked at her watch and I instinctively told her to run along and we'd catch up, the four of us, later that night.

We get each other her and I. We are cut from the same cloth in many ways. And that day, we talked a lot about our respective relationships and the special friendship we have because of the similarities in our hubbies.

All this is not to say that I don't respect the relationships Swedish women (yes, I'm generalizing) have with their hubbies. I just expect the same respect for mine. Because I don't live like they do, I understand that I won't be able to participate completely in the Swedish Friendship Building Process and that's ok.

And now I've been invited to a Spa Weekend in November with a new friend and her pack of friends. She sort of knows the deal between hubby and I but God Bless her for including me. I don't know that I can or want to leave little man and hubby behind for an entire weekend and I'm not quite sure how to explain this to her. Unlike a night of heavy drinking and debauchery, this weekend seems to be more about R&R so that sounds good. We all need a bit of pampering a massage or cold cucumbers can provide. So I'm trying to decide if the risk is worth the reward. I do like this friend very much. She's a real riot. And my last experience with her and her best friend was great. So we shall see.

But if I do decide not to go and she stops inviting me, I won't blame her or me. That's just the way it goes.

Axing Friends

2010-09-13T21:34:00.000+02:00

Being in Montenegro for three glorious weeks, we were surrounded by some true, blue friends. It felt good. It felt great. And it made me question my "friendships". A few in particular. I realized I don't have the time or patience to continue friendships with fairweather friends or friends where a jumble of strings are attached.

I refuse to pretend anymore or reach out to those that rarely reach back. I AM a good friend and I AM a good person. I will no longer be a doormat or let my spouse be one. The more you give, sometimes, the more people expect. And it sucks when all some people do is take...from your heart, your home and your life and yet, somehow, make you feel as though you owe them. But I accept responsibility here. We have let this happen.

And a lot of it has to do with both hubby and I's mutual need to be liked by everyone.

But I'm done. I know who my friends are and I know where they live. Some are across oceans but they're the best friends we'll ever have.

I will continue to live and work in this country where friendships are few and far between and that's ok by me. I no longer have a yearning to make friends nor will I complain about how hard it is to make friends. I have friends who fill me completely. My cup runneth over. For the most part, I have to hop on a plane to get a refill and that's a journey I'm willing to make until such time (when the time comes) that we're in the same country again.

Yes, I realize I've mixed "I" and "We" quite a bit here. Sometimes you're not only standing up for yourself but for someone else who doesn't have the energy to do it for themselves.

If Home is Where the Heart is...

2010-09-11T12:46:00.000+02:00

Mine is NOT in Sweden.

Welcome back to bloggyland...me! I've missed you all stopping in and missed reading your posts on a regular basis. And I've missed writing. But not as much as I miss what I left behind yesterday...

And you can't imagine the reunion between our son and his nanny. The way his face lit up when her beaming face appeared at the door to our apartment a mere 5 minutes after we arrived. Even without seeing his face, I know you can sense his sheer glee.

To be surrounded by love for a full 3 weeks. It reawakened, recharged and sustained us. It was the food our souls have been craving. My son's dearest Baka and her granddaughter, our truest friends C and N, our adopted family the B's and my long lost Russian sister D...The warmth and hospitality shown to us can never be repaid.

To be fulfilled in mind, body and spirit the way we have been for the past 3 weeks has been so uplifting and inspirational and motivational. Our dear friends, our 2nd family, not only opened their hearts to us but their kitchens. And there is NO kitchen on earth quite like the Montenegrin one, whether on a rooftop terrace, a secluded beach, a rustic mountaintop or a quaint apartment.

Surely there can't be more. Oh, but there is. Now add the backdrop. Where turquoise sea meets Tolkien-like mountains, ancient villages and rock-bottomed beaches lay together basking in 35 degrees and seemingly perpetual sunshine. That is Montenegro.

And all the lovely moments in between...

We don't know where the remainder of 2010 will take us but thanks to three weeks of bliss (I'm not counting the few days each of us battled the 24-hour stomach flu), we have the strength to continue and a newfound clarity and purpose.

Yes, I made it up to Mon's! We had a wonderful morning chit-chatting in her mountaintop retreat while the kiddies wrestled and the men walked around exploring IN the clouds. It was serene and heart-warming and just so easy watching her in her element, whipping up delicious food and emptying her mind. It was like a year and a half hadn't passed and we were just catching up. I felt genuine happiness in that home.

My one regret was not being able to visit Den and Steve up at Camp Full Monte :-(. With the illnesses plaguing us and them and the time eventually running short, our trip up to their labour of love for some good food, laughs and serenity was denied. But there is always a next time. And there WILL be.

Now for the moment some of you may have been waiting for. No, I did not forget the journey I was on leading up to this momentous trip. My weight loss journey. Well friends, I did it! I went from 73.5 to 70.5 and despite a little up and down throughout the trip (I couldn't deny myself EVERYTHING..you see the food!), I reached my goal and was so damn proud of myself. This is me on Day #5 of our trip. My hubby promises there was no photoshopping...LOL! But I do believe the lighting and the pose worked in my favour. And two days ago, I fit into my skinny jeans! Wahoooo! I have been a bit naughty the past few days but nothing felt as good as I did those few weeks so that will be my motivation to continue. Drum roll please....

So that's it and that's all. I hope to provide another few posts on some details of our trip but this should satiate your appetite and mine.

Lots of love, Jenn xoxo

Could I BE anymore excited?

2010-08-12T21:10:00.000+02:00

Uh...NO!
I can barely think straight, I'm so bloody excited for our trip to Little Man's homeland in t-minus 5 more sleeps!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! There seriously aren't enough exclamation marks to express my sheer glee.

In fact, I'm so damn excited, I'm down to 71.3........woot, woot! Actually fit into some old clothes today.

Some pending highlights:
1. The reunion between our son and his nanny. I am starting to tear up just thinking about it.
2. The reunion between hubby, me and our bestest couple friends in the world.
3. A cup of "chai" over at Mon's new home in the mountains.
4. Meeting our dear Russian friends again and of course, all of our expat friends.
5. A night of camping at Camp Full Monte. Hubby said he wants to take Joe camping. I was shocked. Though we'll likely be "suited up" ;-).
6. The stony beaches with clean waters.
7. The friends, the friends, THE FRIENDS!
8. My reunion with rakia.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!

72.2

2010-08-09T08:58:00.000+02:00

Yup...down a kilo. This despite being shoved into the throes of temptation on two, count them TWO, separate occasions in the past 72 hours. One, big ole' BBQ with friends including backyard games. Two, dinner for dear friends here last night.

And yet I resisted...alcohol AND dessert. I even threw out the rest of the cake after they left and didn't do the "1 scoop for you, 1 scoop for me" as I dolled out ice cream. I have 8 days to go before I board that plane and damn it, I want to reach my goal. Still not sharing what that is though as I don't want to jinx it.

Just eating like I'm on Induction, which I guess means that I am. Exercise pants are getting a little looser and despite a 2-day hiatus, I was butt and ab-blasting again after our company left last night.

On that note, it was the first time I was actually able to have a proper conversation with a friend that I've known for over 10 years. She speaks very little English you see. And yet, my husband and I are the Godparents for their 2nd born. We have a history of working with her husband and they actually flew from Sweden for our wedding 8 years ago. My Swedish is far less than steller but it was enough for me to understand what she was saying and take a long-ass time to respond :-)

So yay me this week!

My Random Summer

2010-08-05T22:39:00.000+02:00

T-minus 12 sleeps till Montenegro. I can't tell you how excited I am to be reunited with what I consider to be our little man's homeland. And the wonderful friends and the hopefully amazing weather.

Hubby and I celebrated 8 years together on the 3rd. We did nothing except to say that we're celebrating in Monty and uhmmm...other "stuff" ;-).

I've been a shopping fiend. This country is so freakin' expensive, except for now. Now, the sales are mind-blowing. 10 bucks for a summer dress? I'm in! Plus, we have hordes of gifts to buy for dear friends back home. Though I have been watching the spending carefully and not going overboard...need to have some money for our trip!

Our pending vacay is reminding me that summer is coming to a close here. All the kiddies go back to school the day before we leave and business starts booming again. Not necessarily the most ideal time to "get away from it all" but it is very much a necessity for hubby. The weather has been shit for the last 2 weeks but those first few weeks were amazing..well for Uppsala anyway. And I was so worried about having the little man home all this time but now I'm sad thinking about having to send him back to school. So sad, that I can't even think about it most of the time.

I got re-committed in the last short week and have been pretty strict about the carb intake and exercise. I actually saw the scale go down past 73 for the first time this morning. I won't say what I'm aiming for as I board the plane in 12 more sleeps as I don't want to jinx it ;-)

I really, really missed not seeing our family this summer, especially my parents. To think this will be the longest stretch they've gone without seeing their grandson in the flesh, 1 year come Christmas.

We've made some good friends here. Alleluia!

Hubby turns the big 5-0 on the 30th and we'll be in Montenegro. I know where he really wants to be is back home in Canada but he seriously needs the rest now so we've decided to postpone the celebration until we're, God willing, back in Canada for Christmas. Then we'll have a proper party, complete with embarassing photos, friends he hasn't seen in ages, etc.

I'm giddy with excitement, anticipation and a little bit of fear. Hooray for all three.

Hope you're all enjoying (have enjoyed) your summer wherever you may be in the world. I'll look forward to getting back to blogging once life has returned to "normal". xo

A Letter to my Son on his 4th Birthday

2010-07-30T18:00:00.000+02:00

A Letter to my Son on his 4th Birthday

Where is the you I knew? You're drifting. Away from me. Slowly. But you're shining even brighter so that I can see you so clearly. No longer an extension of me with baby rolls and loving gazes but your own little person who can say out loud, "Mommy, I love you." Always at the most unexpected times and oh-so sincerely. You just kind of look up and that loving gaze transforms into an eloquent phrase.

When did pooping become not-such-a-big-deal? Not so long ago we had to cart that special seat around everywhere we went Just.In.Case. Now I can sit here and type as you bellow, "Mommy, I pooped. Come and see how BIG it is (and wipe my butt of course)!"

It used to be that I was your everything. But our worlds are separating and it feels like a chainsaw through my heart. I miss sitting on a stool in the bathroom for 30 minutes reading the same books over and over again waiting for that tinkle to hit porcelain. I guess you don't need me to carry you around on my hip. And you sure don't fit into the baby carrier, or the stroller anymore. And that stepstool is history. What I wouldn't give to change another diaper or take a photo to capture your first spoon of cereal. But the stained bibs are tucked away and when you need to go, you do it all by yourself.

Now you're...

* instructing me NOT to speak Swedish (cuz it's your special language), while you babble away...leaving the natives in awe of your mad skills and your father and me shaking our heads.

* questioning, everything. "What do panthers do?" "What do sloths do?" What do sperm whales do?" "What do INSERT ANIMAL NAMEs do?"

* teaching your preschool friends Swen-glish. Everyday when you leave the park, instead of shouting "Hej do", they all call out, "BYE, DO Joe."

* pushing my hands away and finding your own path

* showing us we're not doing such a bad job, by comforting a hurt friend, using your Ps & Qs, sharing your toys (ok, we're still working a bit on that one) and just being the most pleasant little four year old there ever was.

* observing the world around you, rather loudly. "Mommy, that man has big muscles. I'm gonna show that man my muscles." "Mommy, that lady is crying. Does she have a boo-boo? Should we kiss it better?" "Mommy, that boy is crazy." "Mommy, I just farted (proclaimed loudly in the middle of the grocery store)".

* remembering after a year and a half the love you have for your nanny of two and a half years.

* wondering about your grandparents, aunts & uncles, cousin(s) and your big brother and "maybe he can come to my house tomorrow and play with my dinosaurs." And everytime you wonder, I have to hold back a tear, knowing they are all so far away...for now.

* sensing when I'm having a bad moment, "Mommy, you're not angry, are you?"

* having a bath all by yourself. Up until a few months ago, you and Dad were taking a bath together every night until you exclaimed, and much to your father's dismay, "I can have a bath by.my.self. Not with Daddy."

But when you're sleeping, Ahhhh, when you're sleeping. I can still see who you used to be. My baby. No big words like "Ankylosaurus", no long legs running, no questions like, "What do sea lions eat?" or laughing at a joke you're understanding in a movie. Just silence and that face. I now understand why your Daddy used to watch your older brother as he slept. Until he got caught and was told it was "creepy Dad!"

For some reason, this birthday is a bigger milestone than the 3 before it. You are a real, rough & tumble, beautiful little boy. I know it won't be too long from now that you'll be embarassed to wrap your arms around my neck and pucker up for a kiss. Instead of "Mommy, I want to whisper you.", you'll have secrets you don't want to share. And then a few girlfriends come and go...But that's a long time from now and for now, I'm still your favourite toy. And I'm gonna cherish it for as long as it lasts.

We are so proud of our little man because that's what you are July 30, 2010...four years after the epidural and the c-section, the outline of the man you will become. And we love you, for everything you are today and everything you will be tomorrow. Happy Birthday My Dearest Son. Sometimes I wish I could freeze this year of your life and play it on repeat forever but I wouldn't miss you growing up for the world, xoxo

A Day in the Life of a Stay-at-home-Mom...for the summer

2010-07-21T22:48:00.000+02:00

Presented in quotes from the little guy:

"Mommy, it's morning time."
"Mommy, it's time to wake up."
"Mommy, WAKE UP!"
"Mommy, can we go downstairs and play?"
"Mommy, are you getting dressed?"
"I don't want cereals/toasties."
"Can I have juice?"
"I don't want cereals/toasties."
"Can I have juice now?"
"Mommy, can we play upstairs?"
"Mommy, what do ants do?"
"Mommy, I love you."
"Daddy is working."
"That lady has a baby in her belly."
"You be the kid, I'll be the Mommy."
"You be the Mama T-Rex, I'll be the baby T-Rex."
"What do tarantulas do?"
"But i don't want lunch."
"Let's go on the slide."
"Again."
"I want to look at the fishies."
"But I don't want to eat lunch."
"Can I have ice cream instead?"
"What do hippos do?"
"Mommy, you're my very best friend."
"Where are the kids?"
"Is Fernando here yet?"
"I don't want to share."
"It stinks in here (any public restroom)."
"Mama, you don't speak Swedish. YOU speak English."
"We can go home and show daddy the shark and whale book."
"Look at me."
"Not the computer!"
"When is Big Brother coming to my house?"
"This is my house."
"I'm gonna be four soon."
"Bye Nana/Nanny."
"Can we read books outside?"
"That man has big muscles."
"That baby likes my Sharks & Whales book."
"I showed that man my muscles."
"I don't want supper."
"I want chicken."
"Can you sit here with me?"
"Can you play with me upstairs?"
"You be the Mama Whale, I'll be the Baby Whale."
"I don't want to have a bath."
"I don't want to get out of the bath."
"I want water."
"Where are INSERT NAME OF GRANDPARENT?"
"Mommy, you're crazy."
"I don't want these (pointing to his nipples)."
"Mommy, I have to make a poo."
"Mommy, come see my poo!"
"I am going on an airplane to Canada/Montenegro."
"Can you sleep with me?"
"Just one more book, ok?"
"Mommy, TALK to me."

Phewfffffffff.......

But I'm lovin' almost every minute of it.

Oh and it's Weigh-in Wednesday isn't it? Same, same..low 73s but have started getting back to basics so hoping to shed a few in the next 4 weeks. Still exercising :-).

Been super busy but plan to get back to blogging on a regular basis come September. Love to you all, Jenn

Weigh-in Wednesday (on Saturday?): Week 5 of 10

2010-07-17T08:33:00.000+02:00

Hi team. Sorry I've been MIA but this summer schedule is hectic to say the least. If you call hectic spending nearly everyday from 11ish till 4ish at the local pool drowining in chlorine and then house-wifing it for the remainder of the time while simultaneously trying to cram some actual work, work in. But it's been a blessing spending so much time with the little man. Speaking of time, I can't believe it's only 5 weeks until I get my toes back on Montenegrin soil!

Also sorry about throwing my WAJ commitment out the window but i seriously don't have the time (or haven't made the time). But I've been doing well. I am still hovering in low 73 territory with perhaps 1 day of cheating a week. I do need to break that number and will persevere with renewed energy this week. I am not feeling bad about this stalemate only because I have been regularly "doing my exercises" every night. Except for last night when I opted out and opted in to an ice cream bar instead...ha!

I smell like chlorine. I reek of it actually. I cannot imagine what it's doing to my skin and hair though I am trying to exfoliate and expensive shampoo myself from top to bottom to avoid any long term damage. Look at the chemical concoction I'll marinate myself in to keep the little man smiling. Am I a great Mom or what? ha!

Well that's all for now. I'm sure I'll be back to regular blogging once summer's officially over. In the meantime, I'm enjoying my time "off".

Hope you're all doing great and the sun is shining wherever you are. xo

Dear Poolers

2010-07-12T22:07:00.000+02:00

As you may have read, little man and I have been spending these hot summer days (in Uppsala? gasp!) at the local watering hole. Almost.every.single.day for over 2 weeks (or more). It's really made the days and weeks fly by, especially since we found Joe's daycare buddy and his Mom to chum around with.

And spending nearly all day, everyday at the same location, I obviously have some observations/notes/criticisms I'd like to share with y'all (or at least document for the hell of it).

1. There is one microwave for the hundreds or maybe thousands (was never good at crowd estimations) of bathers. This is likely to discourage folks from bringing their own food and instead, spending the small fortune on poolside cuisine. Fk that. Little man's gourmet lunch today consisted of canned ravioli. I may be cruel enough to serve it, but definitely not cruel enough to serve it cold. So off I go to queue in the microwave line. And who is ahead of me but the lady I refer to as "the big boobed blonde with more moles than I have freckles and no ass in a leopard print bikini, a something-month old baby and a flat stomach." I hate her. And now I hate her more. Laid out on the counter are 4, count them, FOUR, scrumptious looking quiches on individual plates lined up for the microwave.

Did I mention there is 1 microwave and a queue? And each of these tasty lunch treats takes 6 minutes to COOK in the only microwave at the facility. Note for you big-boobed flat bummed moley leopard lady: The only microwave for hundreds is for warming food, NOT for cooking it. Are you mental? Is your brain blonde too?

I stood there watching quiche #2 at 4:30 as I began to give off a little heat myself. Just stick quiches 3 & 4 on my head. Your food will cook. Trust me. There she was, not a care in the world chatting away with her friend while the line-up kept growing. I swore to myself that if she dared stick another one of those pastries in that micro, I was going to step in and save the day. Fortunately, when the timer went off, she had the good sense to turn to me, grunt something inaudible in Swedish (which I took for go-ahead lady with the baby belly, stick in your canned goods).

2. Watch your kids for crying out loud. I have a mild panic attack at least 3x/day watching toddlers in harm's way while parents fail to parent. I've actually had to save one myself. Your fun poolside gabfests are gonna be cut short real quick when someone sees your child floating upside down in the water. And I did not write that last sentence lightly. This is not a joke. It only takes a minute for your world to change dramatically. Being a former lifeguard, I've witnessed it.

On a related note, if your 3ish year old boy is screaming, crying and throwing a tantrum at the thought of going down a waterslide on an innertube with you, chances are it's not such a good idea to drag him up to the top. Especially if you can't swim. And it's also an even worse idea to actually go down said waterslide. With me and my kid behind you. Because when me and my kid arrive at the spot where you have to pull yourself on a rope along to the next small drop and see both of you have fallen off your innertube and you're losing your grip on your kid, who is partially drowning...I can't do much about it. Though I was in control of my kid and my innertube at the time (as much as you can be with gushing water) so I tried to help you. But in those few seconds, it was between my kid and yours. Mine will win. By the Grace of God, some man appeared along the side of the slide to save your kid and you...you stupid, stupid woman.

3. I've gotten a few sideways glances when my little man climbs up the hill to make a pee in the woods. How about saving your glances for the kids who warm the pool. I really do not want to think about the amount of urine I consume on a daily basis. Oh no. I just did.

Yesterday, we went to a wonderful place called SommarParken (Summer Park) near Dalarna (cottage country in Sweden and a 2.5 hour drive from Uppsala). It was soooooo much fun. Here's a not-so-flattering, (actually more flattering than me in that dress you all seemed to like) shot of me standing by the slide with little man at the bottom. I'm keepin' it real folks.

WAJ:
Yesterday was a total and complete write-off. It started with some pastry and ended with some candy. And in the middle there were hamburgers (no buns) but the fries made up for the bunlessness. No exercise either, unless you count the countless treks up and down hills at the waterpark with innertubes. Which is exercise, believe you me.
But today, GAME ON again. Brekky: Eggs Lunch: Sliced Ham, pickles, Cheese Supper: chicken, salad and a few carrots. Exercise: You know my drill by now. Maybe that's what there is some awkward definition in the abdominal area in the photo, which goes well with my uneven tan..ha!

Weigh-in Wednesday (on Thurs): Week 4 of 10

2010-07-08T23:00:00.000+02:00

Hi folks! Back down to a steady 73..that is, until last night....ooopsie daisy..ha! I finally got "let out of the cage" and went out with the girls! It was such a great time. A new friend of ours (the couple we spent Midsummer - drunk hubby crashing bike - with and celebrated her hubby's 40th - porcelain bus ride for me-) invited me out for drinks with her best girlfriend. We laughed, we drank, we laughed some more, we drank some more, we ate chili nuts, we watched Spain kick some German butt and I dismissed myself from their company at a respectable 10:30pm.

Boy did I need that. And I didn't feel bad about the rose wine, pear cider and rose mixed with Fanta? And today I was back at it. Back on the diet, back to the workouts. I even added 10 minutes of leg pilates! How proud of me are you guys? I plan on setbacks but I also plan to make up for them. Where before I would let a setback like this ruin the next 2-3 days, I now feel an increased sense of responsibility to myself and to you guys to grab the reins again.

I can't deny myself the plate of spaghetti I was served before we went out but I can choose to half the noodle portion and double up on the sauce! I didn't dare step on the scale again this morning though. Instead, I'll wait a few days if that's alright by you.

Been spending everyday (almost) at the local pool with the little man and this week we ran into one of his friends from school. Joy! Guess I should mention that this little friend of his is Portuguese and his mother barely speaks English or Swedish. So it's been fun having conversations that involve our invented breed of sign language. She really is sweet and I'll do just about anything to ensure the little man has a playmate :-). Day after day after day in a bikini. Should I be wearing one? Probably not. But neither should 85% of the women who are wearing them either. So I fit right in...LOL.

Alright a little uhmmm..treat...for you guys. Me, last night, before I went out. It's really not a flattering shot but gotta keep it real! Note to self: Soooo shoulda worn a bra.

Helicopter Parenting: My thoughts and yours

2010-07-06T22:45:00.000+02:00

I just finished reading a very timely and insighful post over at MckMama's, "Today's parent: Promoting a new kind of Nanny State". Here it is: http://mycharmingkids.net/2010/07/todays-parent-promoting-a-new-kind-of-nanny-state/

I have noticed that parents here in Sweden, generally speaking, are much more laid-back in their parenting styles than uptight, paranoid me. Or maybe they're too careless and I'm the SuperMom. Though somehow I doubt it. I think there's a happy medium here, one that I long to achieve.

There's this cute-as-a-button 2 and half year old, let's call her Dolly, who lives a few houses down from us. The first time I met her, she was with her Mom in the park area a couple of doors down from their house. Her Mom left the park. I thought maybe she had to go check on another one of her kids for a quick sec. She didn't say a word to me. She just left. And the time ticked away. And I became increasingly agitated as I watched this beautiful blonde bubbly babe start to scale the neighbour's fence. I ran over to make sure I was there in case she fell. She didn't. She made it to the other side (something my kid would never attempt) and came back over again. She ran, she climbed, she jumped on the trampoline and then she took off on her little tricycle towards the street as a huge bus was making its way down the road. I ran like a bat outta hell (along with her older brother) towards her. In the nick of time I might add. My heart was racing for the 15 minutes her mother left her alone, in the park with no supervision (except for mine, which was not solicited but came naturally). For the record, this is so not cool.

And then there's the two little boys, one a few weeks younger than mine whose parents let them run down to the pool (no lifejacket or floaties) while they chat out of sight, backs turned with friends. Water and kids and no supervision. Not cool.

And the many kids in the neighbourhood who run seemingly free, many around the same age as mine. Whose parents are perhaps looking out the kitchen window (or not) while their kids play in an unfenced yard.

Then there's me. I never let my kid outta my sight. Even when he's in our gated front yard, I'm there. Or hubby is. He's not allowed to run on the slippery pool deck or climb the rock mountain in the middle of the pool. Or run too far ahead of me. If I notice some questionable interaction with another child, I'm intervening on auto-pilot (protecting whichever kid needs it). Even at the indoor playpark, I'm usually right there beside him climbing to the top.

“If you take away the child’s ability to naturally explore jumping, climbing, space, their body’s response to impact and how to adjust the way their body needs to land on impact, then you are not promoting their natural development. In fact, you are hindering their innate physical development. The emotional component of development also needs the opportunity to explore how to take risks and gain confidence. Kids are made (and for natural development, required) to spin, jump, and most importantly fall…The more you restrict a child’s natural need to take risks, the more they will seek out even more risky behavior. For example, if all they hear is “no jumping off the couch”, “no jumping off the playground structure,” “no jumping off the table” etc., etc., they are only going to be forced to search out something they can jump off of when you aren’t looking and there to make sure they are safe.” From MckMama's post (a commenter)

Our natural instinct as parents is to protect our children. But I realize I am too much. It has become too much. I need to take steps back. But how far back is too far, is too close? What if I let him climb to the top of something by himself and he falls and hurts himself and I could have been there to catch him? Could have prevented it by not allowing him to climb to begin with? What if that fall could have taught him something valuable but I was too overprotective to allow it?

He comes home from his fabulous school all the time with bruises and scrapes. The same kind we got as kids. If something MAJOR happens, I always hear about it from the teachers. But otherwise, the war wounds are evidence of his being a kid. When I was a kid, I wandered around the neighbourhood devil-may-care and spent everyday of my summer at the local pool, without my Mom around (I was likely about 5 when that started).

Why can't I let go a little, loosen the apron strings? Why am I so afraid? Well obviously I have very good reason to be afraid: kidnappings, head injuries, bee stings, car accidents, etc. Is there a such thing as a balloon parent? One that rises steadily upwards without hovering like a chopper? I feel like I am stifling and smothering compared to many of the parents here who stand back or in some cases, dissapear.

I want my son to become his own little man. One who isn't afraid to take risks in life. Today's jungle gym represents tomorrow's corporate ladder.

Talk to me Moms.

Sunshine and Lollipops

2010-07-06T08:40:00.000+02:00

The sun has been shining here in Uppsala and we've been soaking up the rays with the rest of the stay-at-homes at Fyrishov, the local watering hole. We're taking picnic lunches everyday so as to save some coin and only spending on drinks, etc. I was looking forward to getting a bicycle to bike there and back but hubby pointed out something rather insightful: These people (in Sweden) are born with a bicycle seat attached to their rears and I am not. Wobbly enough on a bicycle without the added weight of a youngster, I'm not sure I'm willing to risk "it" to save some gas and the ozone. Sorry earth lovers. But I do compost!

I've been all over the map lately with emotions. One minute I'm bitter. The next I'm lonesome. Today while we were chatting with some friends over coffee, hubby was asked how he's feeling (about the direction of our business, the future, etc.) and hubby replied, "I'm thinking about Canada". Or something like that. But it kind of threw me a bit as I had never heard him say this out loud before. But in the next breath he spoke about this adventure being our future and how we were going to fight to make a go of it. I'm just not sure how much longer either of us can sacrifice to chase our rainbow...or what that rainbow even is anymore. Maybe it's not even a rainbow. It could be an ardvark (little man's fave animal these days).

And then I got to thinking. Gosh, we are always wanting what we don't have in life. I know, not that insightful. But it made me take stock of what we do have. I, for one, am able to stay home with my son all summer long...working when I feel like it. Taking off to the beach if the mood strikes. How many of you in North America are able to just pick up and go right now? How many of your kids are in childcare all year long, with the exception of your 2..maybe 3 weeks of vacation/year? This would be my life back home, of that I'm almost certain. Daycare drop-off 7amish. Pick-up 6pmish. And repeat. But then it need not be I guess. We are the architects of our lives.

We have made some friends here and I'm feeling more and more of a closeness develop with certain people and for that I'm grateful.

But we do miss "home'" very much. Why can't we just have it all?

WAJ:
I really gotta keep up with this. I find I'm busier now than I was when I was "working" full-time.
Yesterday:
Brekky: Egg Salad
Bad snack: Friends came over for coffee and brought a bagful of sinfully sweet pastries. I had half a weiner bread. Now it's not like it sounds. It's actually some kind of danish with amazing creamy filling..delish. No hot dog in there.
Lunch: Meatballs & salad
Dinner: Gaspatzcho (sp) and leftover hamburger pattie
Snack: Smoked peperroni stick.
Exercise: Been keeping up with my routine but I seriously gotta add another set of exercises for my legs. I'm no longer sweating through these...though they do remain challenging.
Comments: I don't seem to be losing any weight...low 73s. Gotta change up something to kick start the fat burning.

Beachin' it

2010-07-02T17:49:00.000+02:00

Sorry I've been MIA, both in writing and commenting on all your lovely posts. Well Week #1 with the little man home (for 8!) is complete. We were at the beach (local outdoor pool park) and made a trip to the library, downtown. I'm waterlogged as the little man could spend all day wet if I let him. And my hair WILL be green by the end of the summer. Time to buy me some expensive chlorine-combatting shampoo.

"I'm glad you're here Mommy." My favourite quote from the little man these days.

Change is imminent on the job front...people leaving and hopefully some coming in. Hubby is overworked and stressed out...not fun and it will only get worse until we leave for Montenegro. I should say "if" but I refuse to. We deserve this vacation and if the company falls apart while we're gone, well so be it. Not that I entirely mean that. This company is not only our livelihood but our future. So hoping the winds of change will come roaring in soon.

Still parading around in a (string no less) bikini that I wore a few summers and a few pounds ago in Montenegro. But meh. There are far larger bodies poured into bikinis so I'm not concerned.

With the exception of downing a huge tub of popcorn and a bag of candy at the movies the other night, I'm not doing too shabbily. Let me explain the carb fest: I was supposed to be joining my friend and her daughters for dinner before the Eclipse premiere (no I am not a Twi-hard but went with them for some laughs) but hubby was running late on his way back from Stockholm so I missed out. And the theaters here are NOT like the those back home, so I had no choice. I was famished. Sucks being on a carb-reduced diet when you're in a pinch. Especially in Sweden where bread, pasta and the like are such staples (mainly due to the high costs for meat).

But I'm back at it folks. WAJ: eggs, salads and cold meats/cheese/hotdogs for lunch and chicken fajitas/fried balogne/steak for dinners. Oh and Butt Blaster/Ab workout too. I'm packing our lunches for poolside so as not to be tempted by all the sugary/carby/expensive things at the canteens.

Not much else new. Gotta run and get hubby to fire up the grill.
Lots of summer love being sent your way!

Bathing Beauties & WAJ

2010-06-29T20:15:00.001+02:00

So I've spent the past two days at our local watering hole, the kind that has two outdoor pools and double that inside. My sanity for the summer is a summer pass for the fam. We're actually headed there soon so had better keep this post short.

For the past 2 days I've worn a one-piece I.could.be.training.for.the.Olympics Speedo-type suit in a sea of bikinis. I stick out and for all the wrong reasons. I just cannot bring myself to uhmm "blend in" with my I.had.a.baby.(4.years.ago) belly and other flabby parts. But in my very aware state these past few days, I've noticed something. I have not seen a perfect body there. And I've been looking. Wow, she's gorgeous...varicose veins. I wish I had her chest...washboard ASS. She had a baby 6 months ago?... Cellulite. It's been a fun flaw finding mission. Nice eh? Yes, the girl that looks like she might have broken some kind of world record...when she was young and fit of course and wearing a suit 3 sizes smaller...is judging you to make herself feel better for feeling bad.

So today, I bit the bullet and realizing that there are way fatter fatties than this fatty, I squeezed myself into a bikini and sauntered my pale jellybelly, sunburnt shoulders and nasty burn lines poolside without a care in the world. Seriously. Judging by many of those I'm judging, who are they to judge?

It's amazing how much another 1.5-2 day carb fest has set me back. Seems like weight piles on in equal proportions to the bad foods I'm consuming....urghhh. 1 step forward and 2 back. But at least I know now that I just plain can't cheat without suffering the consequences. But again, after 2 days off the exercise, a pancake here an ice cream bar there, I got back down on all fours and started reblasting that butt.

So WAJ
Yesterday: Can't remember but it was good.
Today
Brekky: 2 hard boiled eggs
Snack: Apple + a morsel of little man's ice cream. minor infraction in the grand scheme of things.
Lunch: Leftover hamburgers from the night before. Cold.
Dinner: Fried Baloney + salad! YUM.
Exercise: Butt blaster and Ab workout x 2. Gonna try to tack on some legs tonight too.

Ps. Dear Sweden: In North America, we have these barriers between the inside and outside world called S-C-R-E-E-N-S. They are made of some kind of light meshy metal full of teeny, tiny holes. They are meant to let the air in while keeping the bugs out. Look them up.

Dissapointed in the DITCH

2010-06-26T11:43:00.000+02:00

Yesterday was the highlight of the Swedish Calendar Year, Midsummer Eve. We were invited to spend it with the same friends we partied with just a week ago. Remember that 40th birthday party where I found my long lost porcelain BFF? Well the tables have turned folks.

A few families gathered with their kiddies to begin the drunk fest, feasting on traditional Swedish fare: Pickled Herring, Johnsson's Delight (a potato casserole to DIE FOR), hard bread, meatballs, little cocktail weiners and a host of carb-filled delights. And that was just lunch. Oh and in between mouthfuls of goodness, you flush it down with schnapps. I can't count the variety of alcoholic beverages I consumed between the hours of 12:30 and 9:30pm. And then the troupe of us intoxicates (new word alert) proceeded to walk/bike/stumble through the woods with kids in tow to the local May Pole to continue the party with the entire neighbourhood. 45 minutes later, we all arrived with mandatory cooler of assorted alcohol, coffee and cake.

Now I don't know who believes it's a good idea to hike while drunk. But I do know who believed it was a fantabulous idea to ride a bicycle after drinking at least 5 little bottles of schnapps with a few cans of beer (after having NOT ridden a bicycle in well over 30 years), while FILMING and chatting to passer-bys. I remarked to a friend after this idiot almost ran me over, "Now THAT is an accident waiting to happen." 5,4,3,2,1...
A scream followed by...
Bicycle with the father of our children in the ditch. Laughter mixed with shock followed by a quick sprint up to the site of the devastation to watch my stumbling man proceed to rise up and brush himself off. Taking stock, we quickly observed his white pants turn crimson. Investigation showed some severe knee scrapage bordering on stitches. Moms are not-so-surprisingly inventive and we proceeded to tie together baby wipes as a makeshit ~~turniquet~~ bandage. Despite the knee carnage, the source of the pain actually emanated from his arm where some horrible stinging weed had taken hold and was burning his skin. Yup, he managed to fall not-so-gracefully into a killer bush whose leaves are known to burn.

His excuse was a dead bird on the trail. "But there was a DEAD BIRD!" How about drinking and bicycling and videoing all at the same time?

Scarred but slightly sobered hubby rejoined the gang and was punished by being forced to walk another few kilometers to the site. Our brigade arrived just as the music and festivities stopped. All that for almost nothing. He moaned on endlessly: "Where are the pole dancers? You promised me POLE DANCERS!" We ate cake, we drank some more and we eventually got back up to make the long trek back.

Ahhhh....sweet justice. What goes around, come around. Now it was my turn to play DISSAPOINTED spouse. Though my version is a lot less nasty as I changed his dressing and took great pleasure in squeezing half a bottle of peroxide on the wound.

We ate more, we drank more and by 9 is was time to go. I was a little fuzzy headed but otherwise not anywhere near my state from the last weekend. After all, I am a Mom first...ha! And Dad was in bed and snoring by 10:30 as I updated my facebook status and surfed soberly before calling it a day.

Did I fail to mention there is a first-person video to go along with this story? A gift from me to you. Happy Midsummer: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ya0dqs6bQwE

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 3 of 10

2010-06-23T22:53:00.000+02:00

Well, I didn't manage to escape my 1 evening of excess alcohol consumption and 1-day Carb Fest unscathed. The scales have tipped to the low 73s again. F-word. But I was not and am not deterred. I picked myself up off the bathroom floor, wiped myself down and climbed back over to my makeshift exercise mat. No wallowing over here.

And tomorrow the Midsummer celebrations begin in full-force, culminating in an all-day drunk fest on Friday. Though I think based on my last experience, I may sit this one out. And in Sweden when you sit it out you REALLY sit it out. There's no such thing as even 1 drink with a zero-tolerance drinking and driving law. And on Midsummer? You are guaranteed to get stopped by the cops and always guaranteed a breathalyzer.

There was a birthday party today. I had a morsel of cake. But just a morsel. Apart from that, the past 2 days have seen good brekkies, lunches and dinners with some apples thrown in for good measure. And a lot of butt blasting and ab crunching. Dare I say it's working? Even with the scales trying to get me down..or maybe that's up, I feel a notable difference in my tight-waisted exercise pants. Not so tight around the waist.

So I'm winning some and losing some. Next week will see my chasing the little man around the local pool every morning for the next 6 weeks and hopefully, a daily bike ride to the watering hole. Need to get a bike is all.

So there you have it folks. How are you all doing? Talk to me. Thanking you all for your continued support and encouragement. Love you all! xo

Riding the Bus

2010-06-21T21:29:00.000+02:00

The PORCELAIN BUS that is...urghhhhhhh. If you're not familiar with that reference, Google it or read on.

Saturday night! Finally, after more than 6 long months, I get let out of the cage! Hubby and I are all set to attend a 40th birthday party celebration for a dear friend. And the care of our little guy is being entrusted to two cousins of a dear friend of ours. He couldn't be in better hands...well unless those hands were familial. So, no guilt!

We get there. We sit. I consume my first plastic glass of pink wine. Big party=Cheap wine (for the most part). From a box. But tasty cheap wine. We're meeting old friends. Making new friends. I'm hugging babies, charming grandparents, laughing at jokes. Telling jokes! I'm rocking my $200 black rocker studded tank top, black tights (yup, you read that right) and high-heeled black shoe boots. I have "Mommy, you have pretty black eyes" eyes, the hair is straight, the nails are fushia. I'm killin' it. Damn, I feel good (and I knew that I would). I'm still avoiding the chocolate cake after a plate of meat. You know when you're on your like 4th glass of cheap wine and the world is your oyster? Well at least you believe it is and you've convinced yourself everyone you meet believes you believe it and they, in turn, believe in you?

And then invincible, incredible YOU polishes off a gin mixed with some form of energy drink. And you're 33 years old. You don't MIX your drinks. But amazingly, because your rocker chick outfit is obviously hiding a tight spandex unitard with the letter "S" emblazoned on the front, you are still feeling awesome with a capital A. So you head on over to the drink table and discover a bottle of VODKA. Remember the drink you said you wanted to drink before you even got to the party cuz it was lower in carbs than the rest of the drinks? And it says "Absolut", which is not-so-code for "Absolutely!" Down the hatch she goes.

And from that point on, the rest of the evening gets fuzzier and slurier (new word alert). Auto pilot quickly turns to mayday and before you know it, Miss Energetic (which was what I was voted in high school) has her chin to her chest and is silently pleading for the party to stop bloody moving. At some point, you get escorted by your "dissapointed" husband to the back of a cab with some friends. You hear voices and people directing words at you. You.need.the.car.to.stop.moving. Relief. The friends have been dropped off somewhere and you're on your way home. Minutes now. Your hubby's phone rings. It's them. They left something in the cab. You have to turn around and GO BACK. You're dying. You want to raise any part of your body in protest but you've lost the ability to move and worse, you're afraid to open your mouth.

This is the time that can be likened to the time between asking for the epidural and when the nurse arrives with the epidural. If you know what that's like.

I managed to call the girls to let them know we would be there in 30 seconds, to be ready and to say that I was in bad shape. They left. We entered. I fell into the bathroom to hug my best inanimate object friend. I shared all of my drinks with her. Actually, I gave all of them to her. Every last drop and then some. Because I'm so nice.

I can't remember the last time her and I got together. But it was a LONG ass time ago.

So you can imagine my WAJ for Saturday night and all day Sunday, right?
Saturday night was a given.
Sunday was my pity party. Actually it was also a kid's birthday party that I managed to show up for with hubby and little man in tow. Pancakes for brekky, handfuls of candy, fruit and birthday cake for lunch and spaghetti for dinner. Exercise? ha!

But today I brushed myself off. It's all about the bounce back right?
Brekky: Egg salad
Lunch: Tuna salad + Green salad
Dinner: Weiners + Green salad
Exercise: A swift kick in the arse with the Butt Blaster and Ab work-out.

Comments: She may have been down for a day but she's back. And I feel like an idiot. 33 years old, married, mother, stepmother, pillar of the community (k, that's not true), and the next morning I wake up to find my clothes scattered around the house and a bathroom that needs cleaning and a "dissapointed husband" (like he's never been there...ha!) and spotted, somewhat embarassing, memories of my big evening out. LOL.

Some randomness and WAJ

2010-06-17T21:19:00.000+02:00

Hubby took little man swimming this weekend, some daddy and son time away from Mom. I got caught up on work and they splished and splashed. As hubby finished shimmying little man's head through his shirt hole, little man looked up at him and stated, "Daddy, you're a nice boy." Then he gave him a big hug. Hubby welled up recounting this heartwarming exchange to me later that day.

Little man and I were in the park the other day making sand shapes in the box when a neighbour boy the same age arrived with his Farmor (Father's Mother, a.k.a Grandma) and little sister. While he went to shoot hoops (his Dad happens to be the coach for the men's bball team here in Uppsala), little man went about his business of stomping on my sand critters. After a few minutes, I asked him, "Why don't you go over and see if Pontus wants to hop on the trampoline?" He looked over at him, then at me and replied, "Mommy, he doesn't like to talk." Alrighty then.

Evidence that I rarely wear make-up: "Mommy, your eyes are black and pretty." Thanks.

"Mommy, what's an iganimation?"

Hubby took the train to Gothenburg (Göteborg) Tuesday night as he had meetings there on Wednesday. As he made his way down the aisle to his seat on the train home, he noticed a woman was having a terrible time with her seat. He stopped to help her fix it and continued on his merry way, famished. After back to back meetings, he didn't have time for lunch so decided to pick up a sandwich, some wine and a chocolate bar in the food car. As he went to pay with his debit card, the cashier informed him that "Sorry sir, we only take Visa or cash" (of which he had neither). He pointed out that he could pay with a debit card on the train for a ticket if he wanted to but he realized there was nothing she could do about it so embarassed, he returned everything from where he got it and went back to his seat.

A few minutes later, a woman appeared next to his chair. It was the same woman who had been sitting next to the woman whose chair he helped fix. She handed him a cinnamon bun and a can of coke and said, "Please don't say anything. I felt bad for you. You seem like a gentleman. Please take this. I'm sorry it's not wine though." My husband, clearly humbled, said "Thank you." She left abruptly. He saved that can of coke. It's sitting on his desk upstairs.

About once every 6 months, I buy a baggie of hair ties. At the end of these 6 months, the only one left has expanded to the size of a saucer, eventually snaps under the weight of my hair mass and I end up with pencils in my head until I go searching through the house for an old one. Which I never find. Then I buy another baggie and start the over.

On a related note, I have big feet. Size 10 or 40 or however you're measuring. I do not dig ditches for a living or run 5k everyday. In fact, I spend the majority of my days on my ass. Yet, somehow, I'm sitting on said ass with my feet up and hubby exclaims, "How the hell is there a hole in your sock that stretches from your big toe to your ankle? And how the hell do you not notice it?"

On a related note, don't any of you wonder what it is I do for a living? Was thinking about this the other day. How I don't think I ever actually TOLD any of you. Well maybe I did, sorta. I'm not keeping it from you. It's not like I'm running a drug ring or a porn site. I'm "a writer". Not THAT kind of writer (cue a post from Mon on this subject). I'm a copywriter. Actually, I'm more than that. I'm a PR/Marketing guru. I just like the copywriting part best. I can't count the number of websites, press releases, brochures, business plans, ads, speeches, EMAILS, etc. I've written in these past 13 years. Mainly high-tech stuff but have dabbled in lots of other stuff. If you're selling it, I'm writing it.

On a completely UNRELATED note, 2 more sleeps till the big royal wedding here in Sweden. Crown Princess Victoria (she's beautiful, but did you expect anything less?) is marrying some Daniel dude. It's a HUGE deal. Can't wait to tune in on Saturday as I won't be making the trek to the big city for the mayhem.

Speaking of Swedes, I get such a kick out of them when it's Sunny and Warm. They will plunk themselves down by the river...river bed, hunk of concrete, park bench, and suntan away. Or they lean up against buildings with their faces to the sun. Or they grab a beach chair/blanket, find a field (proximity to water not important), strip down to their skivvies and bake. I guess it's because fine weather is a rare occurance in these parts. Not sure. But where I'm from, suntanning is reserved for the beach or poolside. And the water needs to be water one can safely swim in.

Wednesday/Thursday WAJ
Brekky: Egg salad/Apple
Lunch: Tuna salad/Some grocery store bought salad with garlic dressing and hardboiled egg
Dinner: The absolute worst store bought hamburgers EVER (I had to throw the last one out)/Kebab + salad
Exercise: None on Wednesday night because I had a conference call at 8:00pm and hubby arrived home from a night away in Gothenburg (but for the record, I knew I wouldn't be able to and I was bummed about it / Butt Blaster, Ab workout and OUCH!!!
Comments: 72.6.....c'mon ME!

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 2 of 10

2010-06-16T09:57:00.000+02:00

Can I get a "woo-hoo"? I did it. I stepped on the scale this morning and I cracked it. Not the scale but the 73...officially into 72 territory now. And "officially" means not 72.9 or 72.8 but 72.7. And I'll take it!

And I have the WAJs and all of you to thank! This week, my goal will be to crack the 72.5, inching closer to a steady 72. This exercise thing has been a pain in the ass. Literally. You try that Butt Blaster workout. I triple dog dare ya! With a total of about 20 minutes of ass and belly exercises a day for the past 8 days, I can see already that I'm less winded, less sweaty and a little less jiggly. So I need to add on some leg exercises and will be cruising sparkpeople.com for a short leg workout. These short burst workouts really work for me because I have a short attention span to begin with.

The upcoming weekend brings two things: 1. My first time out alone with hubby in God knows how long (well, since Christmas anyway) and 2. For a big birthday bash for a friend of ours turning the big 4-0. I am sooo excited (I know, kinda sad eh?) and equally petrified. There will lots of food and lots of booze. And when I start drinking, I start eating. I am going to program myself to only reach for MEAT but because this is a monumental occasion, I WILL be having some drinks. Need your help on this one though. Calling all Swedes: In Canada, they have low-carb coolers or at least they did five years ago. Do they have them here? And if not, what type of booze do you recommend for the low-carb committed me?

You'll notice we're at Week 2 of 10. Week 10 is August 11, exactly one week before I'm headed to Montenegro and the day I plan to pick up the season's first bikini. E-Gads! Will you see my hot bod plastered on a billboard near you at that time? But you will see my "she looks good for 33" body on this blog. The one with the little pouch at the front, a bit of cellulite at the back and two deflated balloons up top. Finished off with the white topping that is my skin. Nothing a little surgery won't fix. Kidding. Or not. ha!

Anyway, thanks again everyone for sharing your successes and struggles and for cheering me on. I know it's a little early to get THIS excited but damn it, I'm proud of me for the exercise part at least!

Mon/Tues WAJ

2010-06-15T21:15:00.000+02:00

Mood: Surviving
Food:
Brekky: Leftover meatballs/Egg salad
Lunch: Leftover meatballs/Tuna salad
Supper: Fried Baloney + green salad (my favourite, seriously and no I don't care how it's made and no, I don't spell it "balogna")/Greek salad with tuna (cuz I forgot to defrost some meat)
Snacks: Apple/Apple + 1/4 of a Dora the Explorer cookie + a teaspoon (ok a tablespoon) of Peanut Butter
Fitness:
Butt Blaster and 15-minute ab work-out x 2! Need to find a leg exercise session to round these out though. Get rid of the inner thigh flab...

Comments: Truth be told, it's been a week + 1 day since my commitment and I ain't feelin' much skinnier. I think the culprit might be the mystery meat I've been consuming + the sauces. But other than that, I've been pretty much stickin' to it. Wish me luck for weigh-in tomorrow. Please, please,please let me head into 72ish territory...P.L.E.A.S.E!

Weekend WAJs

2010-06-13T20:39:00.000+02:00

Mood: Overwhelmed but committed
Did not forget about you guys or my commitment to US. Just been a crazy, busy weekend trying to juggle little man with an obscene amount of work. I stuck to my diet, well sorta. See, I didn't cheat necessarily but I think I'm consuming more carbs than I should be. Just because I'm forgoing the flour wrap on the chicken fajitas, I'm still having a bit of taco sauce and sour cream (each with very few carbs) but throw in cheese, lettuce, tomato and fried peppers and it's likely a bit too much (for the early phase of Atkins anyway). And hot dogs for lunch...well that's about 6 grams of carbs or a bit more, so although I'm having no bun, if I have salmon with salad and some homemade sour cream/mayo kind sauce, well a bit too many carbs there too.

Seriously though, not a single morsel of the bad stuff...just need to pay more attention to the good stuff is all. I haven't weighed myself in awhile because even with the exercise, I'm not feeling any lighter. So I'd like to wait until this Wednesday to see if I need to make any changes to the regime.

Since I last checked in, I only skipped one night of exercise, which was last night. But I got back at the YouTube vids tonight. I'm feeling good folks. Though I will keep track every weekday, from Mon-Fri, I will only post WAJs twice/week (with all days) so as not to overwhelm my blog with them.

Love, Jenn xo

Babies and Birds

2010-06-12T14:50:00.000+02:00

We have a bird house nailed directly above our front door. We didn't put it there. It was just there. And sure enough a Mommy bird decided to move in. A week or so ago I heard the telltale chirpings of a nestful of babies. You can tell when Mommy leaves because the chirping starts abruptly and halts the moment she returns. These chirpings have gotten noticeably louder in the past few days. The babies are almost ready to take flight.

My baby bird got a haircut last night. It was about time. He was starting to look like a homeless kid or at least a kid with a lazy mother. So I took him in to some Tunisian man who came highly recommended by our Armenian Godfather. He said I'd get a deal. Well, I didn't. Fifteen minutes of fast-flying hands and 25 euro later, we emerged...with the cutest haircut ever! All blowdried up in the front and held in place with some styling gel. With that one haircut, my little baby was no more.

And the next day was his last day of preschool for the year. He didn't cry this time but didn't quite sing with the other kids either, instead opting to sit with Mom. Oh well. No biggie. Four 6-year olds were "graduating" and they had a special little ceremony for them. As I watched a few of their mothers' eyes well up, I couldn't control my own. I cried for the very same reason they were: Realizing my baby is growing up.

And when you're only planning to have one, that realization hits home even harder. I will miss the days of carrying him around on my hip, spoonfeeding him, cradling him in my arms, running right behind him and catching afternoon naps together. I miss the little baby he was. And as I saw a few older folks perched on little chairs in that classroom, another lump rose in my throat. His grandparents have missed it the most. Even writing that last phrase chokes me up.

Quicky WAJ for Thurs

2010-06-10T21:37:00.000+02:00

Mood: Excited (all booked for Montenegro 3 weeks end of August!)
Menu:
Brekky: The innards of a pathetically expensive sandwich on beautiful Ciabatta bread that I didn't eat.
Lunch: Some Asian buffet. I stayed away from the deep fried and the rice but all the meat and veg were sauteed in I'm hoping not as many carbs as I would have consumed if I had given into the carby options.
Dinner: Tacos...minus the taco part.
Fitness. My two work out videos! ouch...
Comments: So freakn' busy but so happy I made room for the fitness. My baby got a new haircut tonight. He looks so cute but so old :-(

Wednesday WAJ

2010-06-09T22:39:00.000+02:00

Mood: Hopeful

Menu:
Brekkie: Leftover hamburgers (sans buns of course) scarfed down by the kitchen sink with bernaise sauce residue cuz the hamburgers were steaming hot out of micro
Lunch: at like 4:30pm. Egg salad (1 M&M on the car ride home before egg salad)

Dinner: Low-carb meal at the Max hamburger franchise with half a side salad and 5 fries dipped in, you guessed it, bernaise sauce. And one and a half nuggets with the breading peeled off and 1 onion ring with the breading,cuz well, it was an onion ring!
Fitness: 40-minute power walk through mosquito infested woodland with walking buddy who told me the mosquitoes were biting because I wasn't walking fast enough!

Comments: I was teetering folks. I gotta be honest. After a long ass day in Stockholm and a shitload of rushing around this evening, I was ready to give my sore abs a rest tonight, ready for any excuse really. And then I saw Michelle's comment on my previous WAJ and suited up. Only to get a text from walking buddy. I.can't.feel.my.legs. Today was not a standard day in the life of "moi" but I managed. I did it. Golf claps please.

Tuesday WAJ

2010-06-08T20:51:00.000+02:00

Mood: Motivated

Menu:

Brekkie: Egg salad

Lunch: Tuna salad with cukes & red onion

Dinner: Three homemade burgers with bernaise sauce (sauce is super high in fat at 77ish grams/100 grams but surprisingly low in carbs at 2.5/100 grams). Swedes eat this sauce with their steak. Me, I'd eat it by the spoonful if it wasn't so rich.

Fitness:
Bust Blasting Work-Out (6 minutes): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YBnm2ZJNCM&NR=1

Ab Work-Out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YI0cxuNcq8&feature=channel

Comments: I was a bit worried about today when I got a call from my friend asking me to come and see her daughter's performace at 6:30pm. Not only would I miss putting the little guy down (I can't count on 1 hand how many times I've missed THAT) but it would throw my whole nightly routine outta whack and give me a good excuse to bypass the butt eliminating exercises. Well friends, I gave myself a pep talk and here I am...sweaty and in pain. You may have watched the videos and are thinking: Oh please..what on earth could she be complaining about...it's like a grand total of 20 minutes? Well, try it. I dare ya.

Weigh-in Accountability Journal

2010-06-07T20:38:00.000+02:00

Y'all were likely getting as frustrated with me as I was with me. Well after a shit weekend of indulging and feeling awful about it, I left the pity party and decided (again) to take action. Since I continue to be inspired by all of your successes and stories, I figured I owed ya one (or many) and have decided that I will hold myself more accountable.

So much can go wrong in a week...so why not check-in daily? I will not torture myself with daily weigh-ins but I WILL chronicle my food intake and exercise. These posts will be titled WAJ (for Weigh-In Accountability Journal) so feel free to dismiss them if you don't feel like a blow-by-blow of Jenn's Daily Regime. Here's my insightful intellectual reasoning behind this: I'm definitely gonna think twice before scarfing down the crust of the little man's toast in the morning if I know I have to tell you all about it later in the day. So here goes, Monday WAJ:

Mood: Motivated
Menu:
Brekkie: Egg salad
Lunch: Tuna salad with cukes
Dinner: Oven chicken with Greek salad and brocolli
Fitness: I found these Spark People Fitness Videos eons ago and decided to give them a go. Consider them dusted off and in full use for this week:
Bust Blasting Work-Out (6 minutes): http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3YBnm2ZJNCM&NR=1
Ab Work-Out: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-YI0cxuNcq8&feature=channel

Damn. Sweat was beading in every crack people. Shows how out of shape I really am. Butt Crack Sweat is like Sweet Honey when said sweat contains tiny molecules of fat dripping from my expanded ass.

The walks were great BUT I really need company for those and seeing as though my company has gone MIA (yeah, I'm talkin' bout you "T"...though I'm to blame for the last bail out), it's my living room, a mat and my new BFF Nicole from YouTube.

Today was a good day friends! One day at a time and one WAJ (pronounced like the slang word for our you-know-whats but the "V" is silent) every night.

Growing Pains

2010-06-07T09:27:00.000+02:00

This morning I was too lazy to reach for my usual mug, clean in the dishwasher, and opted for the Mickey Mouse variety from the cupboard directly above the machine.

I sat down next to the champ, slurping away on Honey Nut Cheerios and watching some crazy cartoon.
"Mama, that's Daddy's coffee."
"No, it's Mommy's. Daddy's still in bed."
"But that's Daddy's coffee."

Because Daddy always drinks his coffee from the Mickey Mouse mugs. And Mommy from the daintier variety. Gotta love how children always notice when something's out of its natural order.

Yesterday it was warm enough to set up the inflatable kiddie pool in the front yard. I realized as he ran around the yard in the buff that it's not as "cute" as it once was. Not that there's anything wrong with nudity. Just means he's growing up. His chubby little legs and arms aren't so chubby anymore. That and try to carry his dead weight at 10pm every night from his bed to the toilet for a pee.

Ask him to do anything, from brushing his teeth to putting on his socks to going outside and the first response is a stern, "NO! I said No." Funny how he sounds just like his Mom when he responds that way? Not really. Trying to use softer tones before I get a call from the school.

Saturday and Sunday afternoons are usually reserved for Skype calls with the grandfolk. They're all so far away and it's breaking hearts. "I don't want to talk to Nanny and Papa". "But I don't want to." He doesn't quite get the concept that they're missing him like crazy and this is their once-a-week window into his little world. And why would/should he? Though I have tried to explain the situation out of desperation. Helps if we introduce all of his toys.

This Friday is the last day of regular school for the little man. Then it's two weeks of summer school and then he's off for like 6 weeks...(this is me freaking out). So of course there is a little party planned (it's my turn to bring the coffee) and also a performance associated with this event. The last three party performances have been disasters for the little guy and for us. He is, like us, rather outgoing and friendly and bubbly. But when it comes to singing with the group, he gets a bad case of performance anxiety (soooo not like us). It goes something like this:

Parents come to the school at appointed time.
Parents get ushered into the classroom. while kids wait (im)patiently in their hallway cubbies.
Parents wait anxiously perched on tiny chairs or cross-legged on the floor, cameras at the ready, for the procession of kids.
Kids file in.
And...there's my kid at the end of the pack sobbing and holding onto a teacher's hand.
He comes straight to me, snot dripping from his nose.
Kids proceed to sing their Swedish songs (which our little man sings freely at home) while I try to reason/motivate/push him back into the circle.
Hubby takes video of the class, minus our sobber.

Now, I wrote about this before. How at the Christmas concert, I sort of "lost it". I became angry. It was not a nice scene. I resolved to never, EVER do that again, EVER, EVER. The last time, even after trying to prep him for the event, it dissolved into a puddle of tears again. Although dissapointed, I didn't let on and I refused to let those toxic feelings enter my soul.

I started the week off by talking to him about the upcoming party and how much fun it will be when he sings with the kids. I think the problem might be that he doesn't like to see us go into the classroom while he has to wait outside. Any suggestions that could ensure we get to see him sing with the others AND more importantly, he gets to feel great about being a part of it?

Weigh-in Wednesday (on Thurs.): Week 1 of many...

2010-06-03T09:08:00.000+02:00

urghhhhhhhhhhhh........Can I get a swift kick in the ass please? Pretty please? Actually hovering near 74, when not so long ago I had broken down into 72ish territory. The kick in the ass should be applied to my entire life actually. Where I had written a week or so ago about a big change being imminent, said change is slowly fading into the background as living to work returns to our household. Am I an emotional eater? Likely. And a binger too.

I feel a bit vacant lately and whistful and nostalgic. I want to do something about our lives but am not quite sure how to go about it. I know many people that have made conscious decisions to improve their lives, their quality of life, have made a plan, stuck to the plan and succeeded. My problem is that I don't really know what it is that I want. Though I do know what I don't want: Chasing a carrot.

My dear Russian friend gave me some good advice recently, to continue on as before but to work toward the moment of change, which would take place on a set date, during our visit in Montenegro. Here we would be free from the daily humdrum and struggles, with a mind open to change and in an environment that envelops us in love. I like it. She also recommended a book that she was reading: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert. Oh, I also came across this book called something like, From Couch to 10k. Ever heard of it?

But I don't know that I can continue on for another month in this state of absentmindedness (is that a word?), on "hold", stuck in my self-created purgatory. Send me your recommendations on life-changing reading material. I'm all ears. Maybe I need to crack open my dusty Bible too...

Sorry, this post was meant to be inspirational! Ok, here's some inspiration: An old friend and blog reader has recently hit the 50 pound mark in weight loss. Way to go Mel! Another friend Michelle is also doing well. Though she doesn't have as much weight to lose, it's the lifestyle change I believe she's after...a healthier, better balanced her. Well if these stories aren't enough to get me going, what is?

In the meantime, somebody needs to get off her ass. That's me.

Rain, Rain and Rude..Get the f outta here...

2010-05-29T20:39:00.000+02:00

Or...Go Away...but I prefer to REALLY tell it off. Stupid me, forgot to take in the big blanket from the clothesline last night and it must weigh at least 20 kilos now, drip drying in the rain.

We had a playdate today, little man and me. A cute little boy about a year younger than mine. I was flabergasted to see the Mom show up with flowers for me and some candies for the kiddies. Though Swedes are notorious for bringing flowers when they're invited somewhere, I didn't think a playdate counted. Better revise my "Etiquette according to Jenn" list. I'm so easily touched by the smallest gesture of thoughtfulness.

And that to me is what Etiquette really boils down to. Since you asked, here's my list, well a portion of it.Feel free to follow, ignore or give it the finger. My blog. My list (sticks tongue out).

1. Never, EVER under any circumstances show up to someone's home for dinner without a "gift".
What could this gift be? Well I defer to culture/country. For example, in Sweden, flowers are most appropriate. In Russia, flowers must be given in odd numbers and there are a few varieties to stay away from. In Spain, you also bring small gifts for any kids. Whether's it's a nice bunch of flowers, a bottle of wine, a box of chocolate, a handmade something or other, or a nice gift for the home, never show up empty-handed.

You can even look at it this way: It's a meal you didn't have to prepare/purchase, It's a house you didn't have to spend all day scrubbing and tidying, loads of dishes and clean up you don't need to worry about. So, why not show some thanks/appreciation? Trust me, unless your hosts are serving spaghetti with store bought sauce, your gift will cost you way less than the meal.
Exception to Rule#1: You're homeless or destitute.

2. Never, EVER show up to stay overnight at someone's home without a "gift". The value of said gift should increase with the number of nights you plan to stay. Staying for a week or heaven-forbid, more than that? Carve out some time to treat your hosts to a dinner out. You can be sure they have prepared for your arrival, have adjusted schedules, etc. You are, in fact, "putting them out". You are, in fact, saving loads of money on a hotel, meals, etc. I'm sorry but the pleasure of your company is NOT gift enough. Help out with dishes, keep your living quarters clean, etc. Do not expect to be waited on hand and foot. I think anything after 3 days, you cross over from guest to flatmate.
Exception to Rule #2: You're homeless, destitute, need some kind of "saving".
Soft Exception to Rule #2: Family. But be careful here. It's not necessarily an exception. Family should still be treated with the same level of respect as friends.

So those are the most basic Etiquette According to Jenn rules. How about a little test...

Please read through the following scenario:

You get a call from an old friend who is going through a divorce. She is actually divorcing your husband's best friend. Though you were ALL friends for a few years, the primary friendship is between your husband and her ex. This friend tells you she is going on a world tour and would like to stop by your country and stay with you and your family for over 10 days. You remember she is a vegetarian and make sure your fridge and cupboards are stocked with veggie-friendly food.

She arrives for her 10-day stay. And what does she bring you and your family? Does dirty laundry count? You drive and pick her up from bus stops and train stations on countless occasions and even take a bit of time off to ensure she gets a feel for the place. You and your family drive her into the big city for a tour. You stop for lunch. She orders a couple of beer. You and your hubby order soda. The minute the waiter arrives with the bill, she excuses herself to use the washroom. You pay the bill. She reappears, ready to hit the streets. She doesn't ask about the bill. She doesn't offer to pay. She manages to find a few gifts for herself in some nice boutiques.

Your realize you are out of wine. The lush has pounded back a bottle a night over the past several nights. You head into the liquor store, with her in tow. You pick a bottle and a box and she says, "Oh, I can pay for that bottle." You pay for the box.

You are going out for groceries, for the upteenth time since her arrival. You ask her if she would like to come along, in case there's anything she needs. You pick out the five items you need. She picks out her five. You arrive at the cash. You put your stuff down. She puts hers down but remembers she'd like some ice cream. She goes to get it. She comes back. You begin to pull out your card. She stands there motionless. You grab the plastic grocery separator thing and slam it down (a little too forcefully) at the end of your stuff. She is now obliged to take out her card. It was clear she wouldn't have.

She leaves for 3 days to visit a friend in another part of the country. She is coming back on your birthday and she knows that you'll be going out with a few friends that night to celebrate. She arrives with birthday hugs and shows you the nice things she bought for herself. You order the taxi. You pay for the taxi. Your friends pass you your birthday gifts. They're lovely. You thank them. Half an hour later she says, "X, I didn't get you a birthday present." (oh really? I hadn't noticed!) You state, flatly: "Oh. Don't worry about it." Another half hour goes by, "I feel bad that I didn't get you a birthday present." You say in the same expressionless montone, "Don't worry about it." It's the end of the night and it's time to pay the bill. Your other friends had ordered a bit of food. She didn't. Your friends say, "It's on us X. It's your birthday." She says, "Oh...uhmmm...yeah, how much do I owe? Oh, let me help to pay for this, after all it's X's birthday!" Then she really gets going, "Oh and X, don't even try to take out your wallet, it's on US...Just take the food off my portion." Another family friend who just happened to be there swoops in and covers the entire bill. Your guest didn't have to pay for anything.

She offers to split the taxi ride home.She is packing up to leave a few days later. She comes to you and says, "I don't have enough room in my suitcase for this (ratty, old, gray) sweater. I was going to get rid of it anyway but I thought maybe you would like to have it." She also hands you a small notebook that she points out was a gift to her from a friend but she has no use for it and it's taking up room in her carefully packed bag.

You take her to the airport, a 40-minute drive away.
If, after reading this scenario, you don't want to kick guest in the ass to knock her out of the car and onto the curb while simultaneously hurling her precious rucksack at her head, all while the vehicle is still moving, you FAIL this test.

a) In 200 words or less, please explain the error of the guest's ways according to Jenn's Rules of Etiquette.
b) Assuming the host was hurt and insulted by the guest's behaviour, should the host have expressed her feelings to the guest? And if so, how?

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 5 of 5

2010-05-26T08:52:00.000+02:00

Hello there from cold again Uppsala. We had a lovely week last week, temps as high as 26. And now we're back to 9 this morning.

I've broken the 73 barrier, hovering dangerously at 72.8. Feels good but would have felt even better if I'd have refused some yummy food and alcohol this past weekend. It's that initial taste of something forbidden that usually drives me into a downward spiral. I need to program myself so that when I do indulge in a bite, it doesn't lead to the whole damn slice, or 3. Workin' on it. Also managed to get in a walk, with another planned for tomorrow morning.

Hubby's away in Madrid this week so evening walks are outta the question.

Could be some big changes coming our way soon...I'll keep y'all posted.

So it's officially the last week of the extra weeks but I'm voting to keep going. We're planning to head to Montenegro in the middle of August (fingers crossed) so that gives me another...let's count...10 weeks or so to lose another 3 kilos and keep it off. I've made the decision not to send the little man to another school over the summer, which means I'll be freakn' busy for at least 8 weeks keeping him entertained while trying to work. I'm gonna buy a summer pass at the local swimming pool for the two of us, planning to go every morning, coming back around lunchtime. That'll be a constant reminder as I'll be sporting a swimsuit all summer long.

Then I can sit him in front of the tube guilt-free while I tend to business for a little while. Plus, I'm gonna recruit hubby to take him to the park every odd day for an hour.

I think it should all work out fine so long as we get a routine going. Little man, like most other children, thrive on routines. He likes to know what's coming next, as do I.

These days I've been really missing our family. Likely because I have no idea when we'll see any of them next. I come from a rather large family. Dad has 15 brothers and sisters. Every summer there's a wedding, reunion or some big family event and for the past four years, we've missed almost everything. I really want our son to grow up knowing and looking forward to these celebrations so it's killing me that a close cousin is getting married in August and we likely won't be making it. We can't do it all. Maybe someday...

Lots of love to all of you!

Over the Rainbow

2010-05-24T08:56:00.000+02:00

Took the little man to a birthday party for a classmate on Saturday. It was a beautiful day and the party was held at a local 4H Club set on a farm, complete with pony rides for the kiddies. His entire class was there, which was really nice. Got to chat with a few parents while the little man discovered pigs, cows and other barnyard animals.

The only problem I had was that I couldn't figure out for the life of me who the Mom was. I wanted to compliment whoever she was on her choice for the party location. Was it the short brunette welcoming everyone or the tall blonde coralling the kiddies for the pony rides? I finally gave up and, blushing a wee bit, asked a fellow Mom, "Which one is Teddy's Mom?". She pointed her out, "Over there by the barn." And then she pointed her out again, "Over there by the pony."

"Well which one is she?"

"Both," she stated rather matter-of-factly.

"Oh!" Sorry, wasn't that good at hiding my shock.

"Yes, we have a few rainbow families here."

The other one has two kids with a third one on the way. See, she goes to another Scandinavian country to get artificially inseminated each time. She's a single Mom and gay.

Though Swedes might not be the friendliest of folk, they sure are accepting and tolerant. Little man has been going to this school for almost a year and this is the first time I hear about this. It's a non-issue so why would I have been actively told about this? And I certainly never would have guessed either.

This sort of brings up the whole How-to-explain-this-stuff to the almost 4-year old. But he's never asked. Not sure that he's at that stage yet...the stage of thinking to ask or understanding the response. Any advice for when that day comes? I guess it would be pretty easy:
Teddy has two Mommies. You have a Mommy and a Daddy. Every family is different.

Just another day in Sweden.

No English Speakers Allowed

2010-05-21T22:55:00.000+02:00

Been feeling a little like the high school geek these days. And since I wasn't a "loser" in high school, this is a foreign emotion. You'd never find me skulking in a corner, holding up a wall or dissapearing into a background. Nope, not me. Not ever. I'm usually the one in the center of the room, shouting into a virtual megaphone, "Hey everybody, Look at ME!" I'm loud, high energy and bordering on obnoxious.

Now, I attract the attention but am just as quickly dismissed because to paraphrase Chris Tucker in that movie with Jackie Chan, they don't understand the words that are comin' outta my mouth. Well, they do but because the words are in English, Mr. Fredericksson turns down his hearing aid to stop Russell's annoying voice from slaughtering his ear drums (have you seen the animated Pixar movie UP!?)

It was all well and good when I was that funny Canadian guest that showed up once a year. But my free pass has long expired and unless I wake up tomorrow speaking fluent Swedish, I'm screwed.

And my biggest obstacle isn't the neighbours, the general public, my co-workers or "friends". The role of The Gatekeeper flashing the Access Denied sign is my almost 4-year old son.

Hubby and I left work early today to partake in the Parents Coffee at the little man's school today. We sat our large butts on those little chairs as he proceeded to put on a show-and-tell of all his favourite school activities. We ooo'd and awww'd and asked him questions about the puzzles, pictures and books, surrounded by other parents engaging in the same activities with their children. We nibbled on homemade, by the kids, bread and sipped instant coffee while lovingly doting on our pride and joy.

And when Mommy decided to comment on the butterfly, "Det är en jette fint fjaril!", she got "the hand".
"Mommy, you speak English."
"Men Mama kan prata svenska också..."
Attempt #2 thwarted: "No, you don't speak Swedish. You speak English."
Uh...sorry?
I let it go.
A friendly, no, a stern reminder from my son that even though I might know how to say a few things in Swedish, I'm clearly not cool enough to enter the clubhouse. Not sure that I'll ever be. And I really don't think I'm ok with that. Why can't Alicia Silverstone and her BFF give me the (RIP) Brittany Murphy make-over? This pounding on the door thing sucks.

Weigh-in Wednesday (on Thurs.): Week 4 of 5

2010-05-19T19:10:00.000+02:00

Oh God. I really need to step up my game. Still at 73.1 and desperately hoping to crack that ugly 3 and high tail it into 2 territory this week.

Did I tell you about my new love affair with apples? Yup, I allow myself an apple a day, I guess to keep the doctor away. Let's forget the 5 M&Ms I just inhaled, they don't count. Nothing to see here...So, Fiji apples from Australia! They're uber expensive (as far as apples go) and they're wrapped in some kind of non-enviro friendly styrofoam netting...but damn, they're tasty. And another apple splurge...some kind of Israeli apple...delish.

Exercise is still my enemy. It doesn't help that instead of power-walking last night, Neighbour Friend and I decided to hit the newest grocery store in town...I know Hy...I promised you 6 walks. Let's make tomorrow morning #1,shall we?

Been a little stressed lately:
- Trying to figure out if/when/where vacation in Montenegro will happen this summer.
- Trying to figure out what to do with the little man/work when he's off daycare for 6 weeks this summer.
- Trying to figure out why it is I'm putting my foot in my mouth lately.
- Trying to figure out...bills...
- Trying to figure out what our future holds in the midst of too much hard work and not enough play and if it's even worth it anymore...
And really, REALLY missing our family back home lately, especially not knowing when we'll be seeing any of them again.

So...a little on the sad side these days. But besides those 5 M&Ms, I gotta say, been doing good with the food. Have been following Michelle's advice and forcing myself to eat breakfast, which I think has helped immensely.

Lots of love to all of you, Jenn

Welcome to the Neighbourhood!

2010-05-16T09:00:00.000+02:00

Spring, or better yet, Summer, has arrived in Uppsala. Yesterday, it must have been 25 and I have the sunburn to prove it. No, I didn't venture out in a bikini (not THAT brave yet with 10 more pounds to go) but I was wearing a tank top and am still wearing it judging by the burn lines.

A few doors down from our townhouse, there's an opening and the neighbours have set up a pseudo-park with a swing set, trampoline and sand box. Little man loves it!

We've been spending a lot of time there with the neighbourhood kids and it's made me realize just how important it is for both of us to have some friends outside of school and work.

The neighbours have been rather kind and welcoming of us English-speakers. Regardless of the fact that everyone here speaks English, I'm feeling more like the "odd one out" than when I lived in Montenegro, where English-speakers were few and far between.

My desperation is growing to learn the language but the kids are my best teachers because I'm forced to speak to them in Swedish. Little Man's having none of it though, "Mama, you speak English!" Guess he likes keeping his special little club all to himself...ha!

Oh, I think I promised y'all some Moscow pics eh? Next post. Hubby finally finished them all up and we've proudly posted them to Facebook. Now to select a few to share with you.

Hope the weather is warming up wherever you are!

Weigh-in Wednesday (on Thurs.): Week 3 of 5

2010-05-13T08:45:00.000+02:00

Two weeks? Is that all I have left? 73.1! I'm creeping closer ladies! Been pretty strict about the eating habits as of late though only one powerwalk this week...but an effective one. I told neighbour friend that she should really stop lying to me. These are NOT powerwalks. They are powerHIKES. You wouldn't believe the inclines she has us tackling. Crazy woman! She's cruisin' on up and I'm ready to pass out with each painful step. As I can't seem to get it together without her, the plan is for a YouTube video on the off nights from now on.

Time is ticking and I have 4 more kilos to go, that's 8 lbs or so.

Or maybe I'll just give this little blog weekly the finger and make an appointment for lypo...ha!

Nah, I'm not a quitter. At least that's what the lady who owns the apartment I want to rent this summer told me. I.cannot.stop.haggling. Which is weird because I'm not cheap in any other area of my life. But there's something about driving a stranger to give me a deal (actually in most cases it's driving a stranger to not rip me off). Though I did promise to bring her Swedish salmon if this all works out.

Summer is coming and my bikini is calling from its hibernation in the black hole that is my closet. The bikinis on the H&M models on bus stop billboards around town are also screaming. Why do these girls always have no boobs?

I hear Den is doing really great these past couple of weeks. She lost 2 of something but not sure if that's metric, imperial or what, so share Den!

Mothers Day or whatever it was

2010-05-11T19:50:00.000+02:00

Mother's Day has come and gone. I spent the day talking to the Moms on Skype, getting groceries and making meals. See, it wasn't Mother's Day here in Sweden so apparently we'll wait for that one for: breakfast in bed, presents, a meal out, a hand drawn card from the little man. Wait, I did get flowers, the day after. Apparently they took a detour through North America on their way from Planet Idiot. Seriously though, I had mother's day in Moscow. I stayed at a luxury hotel, never had to make a meal and got treated like a queen. It was the best Mother's Day EVER and it lasted 5 days!

Speaking of Mothers. I find myself turning into mine with each passing day. I used to laugh at my Mom and her vanity full of facial creams. From Avon to Clinique, Estee Lauder, some jungle tonic, cow manure, dead sea extract..you name it, she had it. And swore by it.

"What are you using on your face?" she'd ask.
I'd laugh.
I think, at the time, 10 years ago, I had the same bottle of yellow Clinique Dramatically Different Moisturizing Lotion for at least the past 2 years. And it was half full.
I'm not laughing anymore.
I see the "fine lines". I have dreams of Botox. I went through one container of L'Oreal in two months and rushed out for a new one. "Make way fresh-face 20 somethings, the wrinkles are coming and I need to send them a one-way ticket back and STAT."
My mother used to say (and still does), "You need to take care of your skin Jennifer. You have your father's skin and that's NOT a good thing." Hubby jokes that I'll end up looking like one of those shrunken head dolls in 10 years.
F-word.
Now I'm a face cream machine. I'm always slathering something on my face and nearly veering off the road everytime I get stuck behind that bus with the ad promoting restilyn (sp?) at the local spa. Even though it's in Swedish, I'm desperately trying to read what it says. Cuz I'm hoping it says something like: "Get rid of those unsightly wrinkles forever with just one payment of $9.99."
Sigh.
Next will be the gray hair...cue designer shampoos to line the bathtub ledge.

Holy MosCOW! Part 1

2010-05-07T21:28:00.000+02:00

My husband and I are fortunate to have some of the best friends in the world. And when I say "world", I mean it. From all parts of Canada to Montenegro, Sweden, Russia, Serbia, UK, the US and more. I'm not sure why we've been so incredibly blessed with such dear friends (and family!), but everyday I see how positively these friendships impact our lives.

Photo courtesy of www.national.ru, our 5-star accomodations

It was a friend who introduced my husband to the greatest opportunity of our lives, who gave us the key that opened the door to our great family adventure. And that's just one friend.

We nurture our friendships and we give as much as we receive.

One of the greatest examples of friendship this year was our invitation to a friend's birthday party in Moscow. How many times have we all said to our friends, "You're more than welcome. Come anytime. We'd love to have you." and REALLY meant it? Often times, it's just one of those things you say. Well our Moscow friends, who I met on a beach in Herceg Novi in 2007, have been asking us to come and visit. But it was one email in particular, sent to my husband, that sincerely expressed their desire to host us, honestly wishing the pleasure of our company, that sealed the deal.

"Let's do it. If we don't do it now, we may never do it," said hubby.

From the time we said, "We're coming." until the day after we left, we felt the sincerity of their invitation and we were humbled.

It might be easier to bullet point their thoughtfulness, kindness, generosity and love, because, well, there was just sooooo much of it:
- Arranging for our visas, upgrading our room at a 5-star hotel in the dead center of Moscow so that our room overlooked the one thing hubby was dying to explore, The Kremlin.

photo courtesy of hubby, view from our room

- Picking us up at the airport. May not seem like such a big deal but D's hubby is a deputy mayor of Moscow and is extremely busy. I did not expect to see him there or as much as we did.
- Taking little man to Gorky Park to climb all over the tanks before heading out to a Georgian restaurant for a first class meal.
- Hiring the best tour guide in all of Moscow to take us on a private tour of The Kremlin and Red Square.
- Downloading some Russian cartoons on a USB for little man to watch during any downtime.
- Ensuring we had enough time between the tour and D's birthday party to freshen up before D's hubby and his driver picked us up to take us to the party location.
- The party. She told me in advance she had a surprise for us, even though it was her birthday. I couldn't imagine what she had planned. Forget the gorgeous and luxurious party location, the exquisite food, the clown she hired to entertain the children, the open bar, the fountain outside...She hired a troupe of multiple award-winning Khazak dancers that perform for the Prime Minister and visiting dignitaries to sing and dance, completely outfitted in traditional costume. No words can accurately describe that experience. And then later on in the evening, the bartender put on an impressively skillful show, much to everyone's delight. When it was my turn to give a toast to the birthday girl, I choked up at the end. It was all just too much.
- The messages on what to do and see in Moscow. From checking to make sure the Darwin museum was open for the little man to ensuring we had a reasonably-priced car to drive us to the airport.
Unfortunately, her youngest son was ill while we were there and so she shuffled him back and forth between his grandparents and his nanny, afraid our little man might catch what he had.
- The gifts. I am so thankful I spent the time and energy I did to ensure we came with our hands full of thoughtful gifts for their family. One of hubby's most prized gifts is a gorgeous coffee table book they brought for him on one of their trips to Montenegro. They added to his collection, gifted us with lovely Russian dolls, a prize jewelry box, a gold lapel pin with the Russian coat of arms and thoughtful prezzies for little man. I was flabergasted...as if only ONE of the above-mentioned kindnesses wouldn't have been enough?

photo courtesy of hubby, Moscow at night

I know, I'm prattling on with incessant detail here but this post is more for me than it is for you. I have to remember everything, every single detail of one of the greatest trips of my life. I have to be able to come back and look at the gift of friendship bestowed upon us.

And no, this is NOT about the money. I can't even begin to fathom what our visit cost them. I think it's obvious to you that they don't live in squalor ;-). Even after repeatedly assuring her that we were low-maintenance, just-happy-to-see-them kind of people, THIS was the reception we received. I really should have worn my crown. Of course we were blown away by the lavishness of it all (who wouldn't be?).

But it was all the little things; their genuine affection towards our family, the cartoons, the fretting about having her home "presentable" (I'll save "her home" for part 2), the constant checking to make sure we were ok, chatting over a cup of Starbucks coffee in her kitchen, introducing us to their friends and family, making sure our little man was always a priority, D's hubby's availability when we know he is always so busy, putting their day-to-day lives on hold to be with us, the smiles (no matter how stressed they must have been). These are the things I will cherish the most. You know, I have a few draft posts about "hospitality" that I have never published. Mainly because I didn't want to offend anyone. But they go something like this, "Never, EVER show up to someone's home empty-handed", etc. I have been inspired to publish them and I will.

I feel grateful, humbled and above all, blessed. I am not sure what we did to deserve such friends, such an experience. I am honoured to call them our friends and am already planning for their visit to Sweden, whenever that may be. And when I extend that invitation to them, it will be a sincere request to enjoy the pleasure of their company.

This was Part 1, the most important part of our journey. Part 2 will have loads more photos, once hubby finishes editing all 700 of them...oy.

Thank you D, A, M and E for the experience of a lifetime. xoxo

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 2 of 5

2010-05-05T21:48:00.002+02:00

Welcome back ME! So...Moscow. In one word: amazing. In two words: Unbelievably Amazing. In three words: well, you get the picture.

Let's tally up scoring in the food vs. Jenn 5-day battle, shall we? Please note, scoring makes no sense whatsoever and is not to scale.

Saturday: Low-carb plane food, I win! Could I have been any more excited to see cold chicken breast, ham slices, onions, CHEDDAR cheese and cherry tomatoes being served? There WAS bread, but I gave it the middle finger.
Jenn: 1, Food: 0
Saturday night: Night out at beautiful Georgian restaurant featuring all kinds of tasty pate type dishes and handfuls of fresh herbs and the main course? Meat. Then there was that sweet red wine...
Jenn: 1, Food: 1

Sunday: Breakfast buffet at five-star hotel with more eggs and greasy meat than an Atkins girl could ask for. Steered clear of the fresh pastry table. Had a few licks of the little man's ice cream cone but all and all, not bad.
Jenn: 2, Food: 1
Sunday night: Elegant birthday party with selection of equally appealing foods. Not bad Jenn. But wait, open bar with amazing selection of fruity drinks AND the.most.amazing.birthday.cake.ever?
Jenn:-10, Food: 10

Monday: Breakfast buffet! Hello little sausages, how I need thee to coat my upset stomach with your thin veil of greasy goodness. Moscow McD's for lunch (minus buns, add fries).
Jenn: 2, Food: 2
Monday night: Birthday party leftovers...with champagne.
Jenn: 1, Food: 3

Tuesday: Hi BB! Salty bacon dipped in scrambled eggs...yum. Chips and chocolate for lunch?
Jenn: -5, Food: 5
Tuesday night: 5-star Russian restaurant with my Official Last Meal if I'm ever sent to death row: Borscht, add Russian dumplings and pies and wine.
Jenn: -5, Food: 5

You do the math. It ain't pretty. Ok, so it's not a TOTAL disaster. I did manage to maintain some semblance of control. sorta, kinda. But I am officially declaring the scale broken this week as I FAST, DETOX and cram as many eggs into my body as humanly possible until next week. I can do it. It's my blog. Let's just assume 75. I feel about 75.

Oh but loads of exercise this week! Walking through The Kremlin, Red Square, swimming in the hotel swimming pool. Yay!

Now that was my Weigh-In Wednesday version of our Adventure in Moscow. Tune in tomorrow for the non-food version, some pics and well, who am I kidding, I gotta talk a little about the FOOD.

How'd y'all do? Do special occasions get in the way of your diet/fitness regime? Talk to me. I'll listen but only after a good night's sleep. Nighty night.
ps. Missed you guys. I wasn't deliberately ignoring you. Just alternating between on-the-go, snoring, drinking (and eating), and dancing!

Weigh-in Thursday: Week 1 of 5

2010-04-29T09:14:00.000+02:00

Hello lady friends and the few gentlemen who are following along silently. Yup, I'm a day late again and no, it's not because I need an extra day with my scale. Or maybe it is. But no, it isn't. Just been super busy preparing for our trip to Moscow in 2 more sleeps! We're headed to one of the most expensive cities in the world and we've already spent a small fortune getting ready.

In over a year, I've barely shopped for myself. Mainly because who wants to buy clothes that are a size (or two) bigger than they should be? urghhh. And the other reasons? Well I work from home so my wardrobe consists of jogging pants and old t-shirts. And we barely go out, so who needs high heels and high class? But I finally bit the bullet and hubby splurged on me. In fact, just yesterday he came home with the absolute best shirt in the world. I promise to post a photo of me in it at the fancy schmancy birthday party we're attending Saturday night.

Oh and I should also mention that along with the awesome lilacky pouffy shirt, hubby laid something very sinful on my keyboard when I wasn't looking. I opened the bag and there it was. A small "Sicilian Rocket", aka, the Canoli. I was determined to walk that phalic-inspired delicacy straight over to the compost bin. But then I thought to myself, "Self, hubby knows you're struggling with your weight and he never would have put this here if he didn't think it was worth it." So self ate it. And let me tell you Hyacynth, that DID taste as good as healthy feels. Now normally that taste of sugar would have sent me into a downward spiral. But I held it together and did NOT run for the cupboard. So yay me!

Now my main worry is how many kilos I'm going to gain while there. I mean, how best to show hospitality but with FOOD? And vodka of course. And then I'll be forced to eat carby food because I need to soak up the vodka. Damn. So I'm going in at 73.5. Now let's just see what I come back with for next week's Weigh-In Wednesday. Maybe I should get on Den's detox stat...you know, to cleanse the pipes before they get clogged up again.

The walking has been sporadic due to the weather and the fact that my walking buddy has made the leap to jogging. Yay for her! I promised her I would hit the pavement and high speeds once I can actually keep up with her in slow motion. Wish me luck.

Oh, I almost forgot. I bought a pair of leggings. I succombed to Swedish Style. Now I just need the short leather jacket, a pair of Converse sneakers and I'm all set. The leggings. Why do overweight girls insist on wearing them? Yes, there was a time, a week ago, when I judged them for taking such a bold fashion risk. I admit, I snickered silently. But they're so damn comfy. Like wearing jogging pants or no pants at all. I'm on the edge. You look. You look again. You wonder, "should she really be wearing those?" Leggings aren't really for big-legged girls. But if I pair them with heels and an ass-covering shirt, I sorta, kinda can get away from that 2nd look of almost disaproval.

When I post the pic of the awesome shirt hubby bought me, you'll notice that it will be paired with black leggings and you can judge me (as punishment for me judging others). Sorry God, you're the only One allowed to judge.

The other day we're in the packed grocery store and Little Man blurts out rather suddenly and very loudly, "Mama, I gotta make a POOOOOOOOO."

Have a great week everyone. I'll try to check in from my fabulously expensive hotel ;-)

The Social Butterflies

2010-04-26T22:16:00.000+02:00

Went to pick up Little Man from school today but he wasn't quite ready, "Mama, I say goodbye to alla barnen (all the kids) first." So I stood outside the door while he hustled back inside, all business. He stood in front of each kid's cubby (where they wait for their parents to pick them up) to address each of them with a proper farewell, careful not leave anyone out:
"Bye Do: Yara/Gustav/Emilia/Jasmin/Halle/etc.."

Now "Goodbye" in Swedish is "Hej Do". But our Little Man flexes his bilinguality (made that word up) and says, "Bye Do".

When I drop him off at the park every morning, there's usually a fan club there to greet him, mainly consisting of females. No surprise there, especially if you know his father.

And the past two weeks, he has received handmade gifts from two female admirers. A painting of his name and a bead bracelet.

Yup, our little man is Mr. Popularity...ha!

And tomorrow we find out if we're headed to Moscow this Saturday for five days. You might remember me mentioning some great friends we met on a beach in Montenegro. There I was on said beach running around after my little 1+ year old, likely hollering something in English when a blonde approaches me to ask me something "touristy".

She's Russian and like most Russians in Montenegro, has just bought a vacation home. She has two sons, one now 3 and the other 6.

We started talking and well, we haven't stopped.

They've been asking us to come and visit for the past several years and as hubby turns the big 5-0 this year, he said of her latest invitation, "We're going. If we don't go now, we may never go." And if the Visa Gods are smiling, we'll get our passports back "approved" tomorrow and be on our merry way.

I've been very blessed to have travelled a lot these past ten years but I'm nervous as hell about this trip. Genuinely excited to spend time with dear friends and stay in the posh-est hotel in all of Moscow with a view overlooking The Kremlin but...

What do I wear? (Already spent a small fortune and still freaking out)
How do I speak? (Apparently Moscownians find Americans/Canadians speak too loudly and it's considered rude. We're loud talkers!)
How do I eat? (Fork in the left, knife in the right)
What do I wear? (Still freaking out about this)
What do I give? (Remember: Never yellow flowers and always in odd numbers)
How do I behave?(Moscownians will think you're crazy if you smile too much. We're a smiling people!)
How do I repay such kindness? These dear friends have already pulled out all the stops and we haven't even arrived yet!

Yup, I have a case of the social butterflies!

I.hate.Swedish.TV.Companies

2010-04-24T22:17:00.000+02:00

My blood is boiling and this is why:

1. Hi, we're moving and I need to transfer our Internet/TV to a new address please.
2. Sorry, we don't deliver our service in your new area so we can't. Oh and you still have to pay for 3 months.
3. Hi new company, I need Internet/TV.
4. We can give you Internet but we have to a test to see if we can deliver TV. It will take 5 days.
5. Five days later, "yes, you can have TV too."
6. Yes, we said you could have TV but unfortunately you can't have TV now for 3 more months because we're changing our service.
7. Hello 3rd company, can you give me TV? Oh and I also need to make sure the TV you give me includes Stanley Cup play-off games.
8. Well that will mean you have to purchase our sports package (almost as much as our regular package a month) but you can cancel it after 1 month with no penalty.
9. I calll back to order the channels.
10. Sorry, I realize some lady told you could do that but we don't have that package. You have to call another company for that.
11. Oh and Please don't forget to pay the annual $100 to the government for the privilege of having a TV set in your house.

When two worlds smash together: The Aftermath

2010-04-23T11:50:00.001+02:00

Sometimes I make some pretty darn good decisions, if I do say so myself. I took a chance, I threw my "image" to the wind and in case you haven't been following, here is what happened. I did it. I sent it to her and here is her response (buried at the bottom of the original post's comment section and given its own special post because, well, after all THAT, she deserves it). I think you'll all agree, she's a hoot in any language. Introducing the neighbour friend (gasp!) in the virtual flesh:

The neighbour friend said...
Hello stalker & friends of Jen!

This is Ms. Uppsala, the "tiny little ball of blonde fun" writing...!

First of all - Jen, you're great! It struck me that I haven't seen you since our last "suicidewalk" and now I know why... You've been avoiding me!!! You can now stop the praying - I'm staying!

I'm not running away screeming... The only one who is going to run around screeming in the nearest future is you Jen! I believe (after reading your blog) that the best way of punishing you (for even thinking that I would think less of you or that I would be upset) is to take the suicidewalks to a HIGHER level - starting tonight =)Bahahaha!

I love having you next door! When you get to know me even better you will learn that it takes more than a blog to scare me away...

After sending me the adress and the readinginstructions I was expecting the worse... I started to read and then I started to laugh, and laugh, and laugh! You're a great writer and I'm taking it as I compliment that you (sooooooooooo badly) want to be my friend!

If it had been the other way around, if I would have moved in next to you in Canada, I know that you would have given me the same chance...

So, keep on bringing your smiling face, your crazy talk and more cakes over to my place!

Love
"The peppy Swedish blonde"
PS. Bikini body, beach 2010 - we'll get there DS

Weigh-in Thursday: Week 10 of 10

2010-04-22T23:28:00.000+02:00

So sorry fellow weigh-in Wednesdayers. I got so caught up with my crisis yesterday, not to mention some other criseses (made that word up), that I completely forgot!

Ok, so, 73.5...wooopeee! Nowhere near the beautiful 69 but down to pre-Christmas weight so yay for me! Walking or newly termed, Suicide Walking, has been intense but sporadic. This is ONLY due to the crap weather. Yup, snowing today. Cold, windy and (insert swear word) SNOWING. My walking buddy said the Weather Gods were telling us to take it easy tonight and I agreed. Truth be told, don't think my butt will ever UNspasm from the death march of two nights ago.

But still committed and I only ate like half of the fries in the little guy's Happy Meal at McD's tonight. Normally, that would have been IT. I woulda come home and raided the cupboards on a Carb Crusade. Not tonight though. Tonight, I drank like 3 cups of coffee and polished off a Granny Smith. "Nothing tastes as good as healthy feels", right Hyacynth?

Ok, off to bed, it's late here in Sverige. Nighty night! Ps. Remember we ARE starting all over again next week, 5 intense weeks to reach whatever our goals may be. Mine is bikini body.

A cry for help: When two worlds smash together

2010-04-21T09:35:00.000+02:00

The word is "collide" but that word sooooo ain't strong enough for this cataclysmic event. Kinda like, I would like to use the F-word right now to really cement the severity of this situation but instead, I'll just say: I'm screwed.

F-WORD!!!!!

So remember my new neighbour friend? The one I blogged about? The peppy Swedish blonde that I was dying to snag as a friend? I think I might have used the word "prey". Oh God...

Well we're on one of our, as hubby terms them, "Suicide Walks", the other night and as usual, I'm clearly showing signs of distress and as usual she looks over with concern, "Are you ok Jenn?" And my usual response, "I'll live." She's a killer. Meaning she will either a) Kill me or b) Beat me into shape. Anyway, I'm reminiscing in my mind and idiotly (new word, you're welcome) blurt out: "Yeah, I've been writing about these torture session On. My. Blog." And the instant it came out I wanted to trap those flying words and stuff them back into my pie hole.

F-Word.

"Oh, you'll have to send it to me!"
"Uh...yeah."
"What do you write about?"
(I wrote a post about you, actually a few of them. Though they clearly don't paint you in an embarassing light, they'll make me look just a tad desperate, needy and maybe stalkery? >>new word alert) "You know, about Sweden and urhmmmm...stuff."
"Oh I should check to see if you wrote about me." She jokes.
But it's not funny. "Uhhh...yeah..(insert stilted laughter)."

Meh...I didn't take it seriously. She's probably just being her sweet self. She won't remember. Worst case scenario, I can hold her off. I'll think of something.

And then last night.
Suicide walk. Chatting.
"Hey, you didn't send me your blog yet!"
NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!This.is.so.not.happening.right.now." Quick, think fast Jenn:
"No, I didn't..." I said this matter-of-factly and let the last word trail. C'mon Jenn! You could've done better than that. Nope, I let it fall flat.

Now I've really gone and done it. Now she thinks I don't want to send her my blog and now she's probably wondering why and probably, definitely thinking I wrote something nasty about her.

F-Word.

Here are my options, as I see them:
a) Send her the link and pray she doesn't scroll down to read THAT POST or THIS ONE!
b) Send her THAT POST with a funny little note, "Ok, you can read my blog but better read this first". Full disclosure right? Show her my warts and hope she doesn't lock her front door and pull her blinds when she sees me walking towards her house. Will she get my humour? Remember, there is a cultural barrier here, though not that high cuz she's worked with us Americanites.
c) Delete THAT POST and THIS POST and send her the link.
d) Keep ignoring her.
e)"Damn that blogspot. Can you believe they lost my blog? I'm suing!"

Let's put this collision course into perspective. It's like having an STD right? No, I DO NOT have an STD. But say you did. You've found your soulmate. It's love at first sight. But you just KNOW you have to tell her the ugly truth about what's going on "down there". Ok, bad parallel. But maybe not.

Ok, so here's the thing. You guys know me! We have our own little private club, you guys and me. I can tell you stuff. You can tell me stuff. But it's like the sign on the clubhouse, only instead of it reading, "No Boys Allowed" it says, "No Real People Allowed", or "No People I Write About Without Them Knowing About It Allowed"

F-Word.

And now there's a girl at the door and she wants in. And this is the kind of girl all the boys would want to let in (and girls too!) but she could discover the porn collection hidden under the old filthy mattress.

I am soooo screwed. Help me (uttered in the same voice I utter "I'll live." in, which I won't).

Sorry, but you are a Big Boy

2010-04-20T20:12:00.000+02:00

I am currently listening to a whiny soundtrack spiraling its way down the stairs, "But I'm NOT a Big Boy!" It's on repeat as I sit at my dining room table/office typing away.

The little man doesn't seem to want to accept my reasoning as to why I won't sleep with him. See, I made a "mistake" a couple of weeks ago. The little man was so sick and stuffy and I, not feeling much better, decided to cuddle with him until he fell asleep. At the time, it wasn't a mistake. In fact, it was just what the dr. and the patient had ordered. Little man has been great at putting himself to sleep for at least a year now. And no, there were never any "let him cry himself to sleep" methods used. Nightly prayers, a kiss, a hug and a Goodnight. But these recent bedtime cuddles soon turned into habit and someone isn't so willing to give up Mommy Blankie because, he's a big boy now. So his solution, "But I'm NOT a Big Boy!" Ah, if only that were true...

I have evidence. Forget the expanding vocabulary, height and waistline for a moment. Let's take you back to this time last week when Daddy wasn't home for your ritual nightly bathtime together. In you went alone. It certainly wasn't a first as Daddy travels frequently. The next night as I signalled it was time for you to haul all 46 of your dinosaurs into the bathtub and splash puddles all over my bathroom floor, you kept repeating, "But I want to play by myself."

"No, playtime is over. It's time for a bath."
More forcefully now, "But I want to play by MYSELF."
Huh?
(She tries it in Swedish)
Still the same thing.
In comes Daddy while simultaneously pulling off his socks.
"But I want to play IN THE BATH by myself."

Oh?
"You don't want Daddy to go in the bathtub with you?" Asks my hurt husband.
"No, I want to play BY MYSELF."

And there you have it. You are growing up. An almost nightly tradition since early 2007 has vanished. Just like that. Suddenly hubby's moans about getting soapy for the second time the same day cease and are replaced with a few sighs, and I swear, a bit of a quivering voice.

You can't fool me kiddo. You ARE a big boy and there's nothing daddy or I can do about it.

Cue Boys 2 Men song: "It's so hard to say goodbye to yesterdayyyy...yeeee."

Bloggy Buddies

2010-04-17T20:33:00.000+02:00

Blogging has been a great creative outlet for me, a good place to vent, a means to cement friendships and a great place to meet people, even if I'll never really meet said people in real life.

So many cool things have happened since I've shuttled into the blogosphere:
- I bitched about a pair of boots and within 24 hours the manufacturers of said boots offered me a new pair!
- I got stopped by the cops (ok, not here, but in real life), blogged about how I couldn't figure out what I did wrong because the coppers couldn't speak English (which is apparently what got me out of the ticket in the first place) and a few weeks later some random person explained it to me!
- A friend and bloggy friend dedicated a piece of art to me
- I saw how cruel people can be under the guise of anonymity (namely poor MckMama). Ok so that's not "cool" but still worthy of note.
- I get all kinds of good advice from fitness experts, words of encouragement from other expats and people opening up about their weight loss challenges.
- I've been really inspired by some great writers (there are too many of you to name).

I love finding new blogs through y'all, though I try to keep the list short or i just know I'll get swallowed up in the vortex. I try to comment on all the blogs I follow and I do have my favourites.

This one blog in particular is pretty awesome, both with its content and the author's mad writing skills. But here's the thing. For the many discussions I've joined on this blog and the many responses I've received from my comments, this person has never ONCE commented on my blog. Not once. And this person's blog isn't HUGE a la MckMama or Perez Hilton. This person has a strong following and averages about 20 comments per post. I'm kinda bummed about it really.

But that's just it isn't it? Though this person can surely relate to some of what I write about, this person might not like what I write, feels they don't need to reciprocate or just plain doesn't wanna. Who knows? It's another "cool" thing about bloggyland. You put it out there, for whatever reason, and you just never know what you'll get back. A post you wrote in 10 minutes for fun while BBQ'ing up some steaks could turn into 50 comments. A post you thought would go viral gets 1 comment from someone in China with a cure for loneliness, hot Asian chicks. An innocent post on global warming gets infiltrated by a dozen right-wingers telling you and everyone else it's a farce. Well you see where I'm going.

It's Saturday morning. Little Man is watching the new Dora videos he got from his Nana and I hear the water running upstairs, meaning hubby is up. Enjoy your weekend!

Ps. Yes, a lot of name dropping in this post. Thank me later when my 19 followers all head over to discover the awesomness of your blogs and the traffic crashes your servers.

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 9 of 10 or 9 of 15?

2010-04-14T10:11:00.000+02:00

Can't believe we're a week away and I'm at 74 (down .6 from my usual, despite a long weekend of wine consumption and a bowl of pasta). But I'm happy because the past 2 weeks have seen me enter the world of exercise thanks to the new neighbour friend.

She is relentless. A walk with her is 1 hour of torture. And if I didn't have her to spur me on? I'd be out for 30 minutes at half pace and wondering why my butt didn't feel tighter. So Thank God for Peppy her!

I am shaping up and it's forcing me to be all the more regimented with my eating habits so yay! Ok, except when we have company and I am forced to make the one thing I'm really good at making, pasta sauce, and am then forced to eat actual pasta with the sauce cuz I didn't make enough meatballs and I would look stupid eating just a bowl of tomato sauce.

We received a request from Den to prolong Weigh-In Wednesday. To be fair to the sanctity of this weekly blog carnival-type thingy and to be fair to those of us who want more time, I have decided in my infinite wisdom to be fair and extend Weigh-In Wednesday by an additional 5 weeks. See? Fair is 50/50. An additional 10 weeks would be unfair to the sanctity. But 5 weeks? 5 weeks is fair to sanctity and to us losers ("losers" referring to weight loss, not the kids that get relentlessly picked on in school, poor kids).

Oh and 5 weeks is perfectly timed for bikini season!

So, next week will be Week 10 of 10 and the following week we'll start at Week 1 of 5. OR, we could make this Week 9 of 15? Nah....

Let's ROCK IT Ladies.

Teaching Swedish Men to be Gentlemen?

2010-04-11T23:01:00.000+02:00

Yup, apparently there is such an evening here in Uppsala dedicated to just that.

The girls and their boys dress up in their fanciest and head out to a 3-course meal serenaded by a trio. The boy is expected to open doors, pull out chairs and treat their girl like a lady on this Gentlemen's evening.

Where I come from, or how I was raised, I'm always a lady. There need be no special evening of training. That training was instilled in my husband from an early age. Women don't pay. Doors are opened, chairs pulled out, flowers given...the works. I don't/didn't feel obliged to give up something precious in return. This kind of "lady treatment" was expected and is expected.

Well except after the butterflies die. Then it's me in sweatpants and no make-up, screaming at him to close the damn door when he goes for his constitutional. Or screaming at him for failing, yet again, to replace the toilet paper roll (as I sit there helplessly). Or screaming at him to "could you at least move your pile of dirty clothes from the end of the bed to oh, I don't know, let's say the LAUNDRY room?!"

But when we do get that rare opportunity to venture out in public, it's back to the basics of chivalry.

Chivalry is apparently dead in this country, except for on this one magical evening. And I do gotta give credit to whoever went this far to revive it. I've read dozens of articles on this very subject, some on the "the emasculation of Swedish men". I just can't wrap my head around all this "equality". Don't get me wrong, I'm all for: Paternity leave, equal pay for equal work, the sharing of domestic responsibilities, etc.

That said, I loathe:
- having a man walk through a door without at least leaving it open for me.
- Standing uncomfortably on a shaky bus while a man chillaxes in his comfy seat groovin' to his iPod.
- The thought of being single and having to pay for dinner on a date.
- Having to break out the Phillips screwdriver (which one is that again?)to fix a loose door hinge.
- Not getting jewelry, flowers, chocolates, purses, INSERT AWESOME GIFT.

Spare me: I realize some women see these gestures as "stripping away their independence". I respect that. Just like I respect your right to practice Scientology or put ketchup on your pizza or pray Sarah Palin (probably didn't even spell her name right) becomes the next President of the United States.

No, I am not about to put on my best housewife dress and apron, mix hubby a cocktail and gently remove his slippers while simultaneously handing him the evening paper after his long, hard day at the office. No, I am no Anna Anka, thank you very much.
But I want my dozen roses and I want to smell them too.

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 8 of 10

2010-04-07T21:23:00.000+02:00

I am notorious for leaving things till the last minute so I guess you won't be surprised that the same thing goes for the weight-loss.

Oh, hello again 74.6, how I was missing your square numbers on my rainbow striped digital bathroom scale. Actually, I was sure your chunky brothers 75.6 or 76.6 were sure to make an appearance this week, after the few days of candy overdose and that bottle of Spanish wine. Damn Easter Bunny.

But here you are again, an old friend who never fails to be there for me. Even if I'd much rather get close to your much hotter sister. Look, since we've spent so much time together; 7 weeks to be exact (on & off), I feel we can be honest with each other. We need to talk. So here's the thing: I will drop you like a hot potato the minute your hot sister 69 or better yet, her tight-assed, sculpted armed 68.5 BFF get anywhere near me.

"Oh sure," you say, "that relationship didn't last the first time. You'll come crawling back on your padded knees." You're wondering how I can keep things going with her, aren't you? We both know she's high maintenance.

This time, I have a plan!

So that's what the voices in my severly congested head have been talking about since last night. Last night, so glad you asked, I was invited out by the neighbour friend for "a walk". Cool! Some girl bonding time, a nice leisurely stroll, 20 minutes of gabbing and gossip. I can handle that. Even though I was sick. Yup, sick. Runny nose, chest full of gunk...the works. All thanks to the hubby and son. But I was NOT passing up the chance for a) exercise and b) face-to-face (or side of face to side of face) friendship.

And because I was sick, I was hot (as in internal-temperature-hot, nobody is sexy-hot when they're sick). So I thought, better not dress too warm. And I didn't.

"Oh, by the way, we're actually walking somewhere specific. I need to go to my work and sign some papers."

Sure, I like having a destination.

And we started. And we might as well have been running.

All I kept thinking was, how many miles/km an hour are we cruising at here? 35 minutes later, my butt and arms were frozen, my chest was screaming and I was just waiting to collapse. But somehow, I managed to keep chatting through it all. And those of you who know me personally, well, it's no big shocker.

And then we had to go BACK!!! I made it on pure adrenaline. I know, it's not like I climbed Kilimanjaro. But for no-exercise me, I might as well have been scaling a neverending incline.

Today, I discovered a muscle in my stomach simply because any movement whatsoever triggers painful spasms. But it's there. I have proof. Under that Mommy Roll, there's a muscle reminding me to save it from near-drowning.

I will save you muscle! But not tonight. Tonight, I have to listen to my body and it's telling me to stop or I'm headed straight to the ER. Tomorrow and the day after that (walk buddy or no walk buddy), I will push through.

To commemorate my new ode to fitness, I even splurged on a pair of fitness pants. Cuz this butt was meant for walkin'

Checking in

2010-04-05T21:56:00.000+02:00

I've missed you blogosphere and bloggy friends. Last week, sick hubby and sick little boy. Remember I was all haughty and cocky and said I would have no problem avoiding the Easter treats? Yup, well, I suck...sucked them back that is. My 73.6 of last Tuesday has definitely been padded with squishy candy.

This week? I am getting sick. Little Man home for another week cuz the school is closed. Trying desperately to balance work, child entertaining, being sick and housework. Failing miserably on all counts.

Sorry for not commenting or writing. Still here. But just the "here" that means I have no time for anything except to wipe my snotty nose while I suffer through the chaos.

But it's not all thorns. A rose is blooming. It's called Moscow and we're going! More on that next time we meet...Jenn

The Gatekeepers of the Swedish Healthcare System

2010-04-02T23:32:00.000+02:00

I grew up "going to the doctor". Throwing up, doctor. Fever, doctor. Bad cold, doctor. Annual physical, doctor. Left ear lobe ache, doctor.

Well no freakn' wonder we have to wait like 2 hours past our appointment times to get in to see "the doctor".

Here, it's different. Much different.

Gotta problem, any or all of the above? Call the local clinic, enter your number followed by the pound sign at the sound of the beep. "We will call you back before X time." And they do.

It's a nurse or a doctor, not sure. Describe your problem. All the symptoms. Then answer questions about said symptoms. And if it's your kid you're calling about, do your best to provide your own diagnosis. "I'm really worried here. His snot isn't quite green and more clogged than runny and he didn't even want to watch his favourite tv program this morning. He hugged me for twice as long as he normally does and I'm pretty sure his left eye is twitching. He needs antibiotics. I need to see a doctor."

And the hand goes up, so that I slam forehead-first into the virtual doorway. Access denied. The Gatekeeper has spoken. "It sounds just like a viral infection. There is no medication we can provide for this. He has to wait it out. Lots of fluids and blah-dee-blah."

"Ok, so what's the difference between a bacterial infection requiring antibiotics and a viral infection?" In other words, I can always change the symptoms to match the bad one!

Very detailed explanation ensues.

Damn it. This doctorish person of a gatekeeper has one over on me. I try a few more lame attempts at sneaking through the yellow tape but to no avail.

Wait it out. Call us back if anything changes.

Thanks. Damn.

On a serious and more objective note, this screening works quite well. Whenever I have made it past the gatekeeper (like twice), I'm kept waiting for a maximum of 10 minutes.

It's awesome.

But when explaining my conundrum to fellow Swedes, or expats who are in the know, I get the following answer: "Lie." If you're really worried, lie through your teeth.

I wonder how well this sytem of diagnosis-over-the-phone would work in North America. Heaven forbid the doctorish person was wrong. Hello Lawsuit!

"Antibiotics for everything" was the only solution in my uhmmm, day. And even though I realize that was due to paranoia and general ignorance and we are so much smarter now, it's still pretty heavily engrained in my psyche. I miss those pieces of yellow paper that confirmed everything was going to be alright.

I also miss waiting with a bunch of coughers and hackers in a too-full waiting room with years-old magazines to pass the hours and germy, used for decades kids toys. NOT.

Wanna buy a... toothbrush?

2010-04-01T21:26:00.001+02:00

I am a sucker for a telemarketer, mainly because I did it once (in French) and I hated the rejection and I feel bad for those poor people. And of course, heaven forbid a virtual stranger thinks "ill" of me.

But lately, I've been fortunate. Because I live in Sweden and the telemarkers are Swedish and when I hear that quick silence on the other end before the speaking starts (a tell-tale sign of a telemarketer, where it's all auto-dial), I can simply reply, "I'm sorry, I don't speaka dee Swedish" and they get all flustered, mutter something in Swedish and promptly hang up. And back to the kitchen I go (cuz they always call around dinner time).

But not yesterday. Yesterday, I answered, I rolled my eyes while repeating my get-out-of-jail-free line and just as I was about to hang up, "Oh, you speak English? Great. Well I'm calling from Dentablah and would like to ask you a few questions about your dental hygiene habits."

Now I'm the one who's all flustered. Say what? Did you, Swedish boy, just speak in almost perfect English to me while simultaneously puncturing my balloon of impenetrability? And then I thought, meh, it's just a survey, no biggie.

From "How many times do you brush your teeth a day?": 2 to "Electric or Manual Scrub?": Both, I answered the questions with honesty, integrity and a pinch of humour. He laughed at all my jokes. I was puffed up sufficiently. So thanks for the ego-boost buddy, gotta run.

Not so fast. "As a thank you for completing this questionnaire, we would like to send you a free electric toothbrush at no charge with an extra replacement head. You are still at INSERT address?"

Wow! You mean all I had to do was talk about my oral hygiene for like 2 minutes and I get a free toothbrush? SOLD!

And here it comes: "You know, dentists recommend you change the head of your electric toothbrush every 3 months to avoid bacteria buildup." Well DUH. "We will send you a replacement head for your free electric toothbrush every 3 months."

Well GOLLY! Is it my lucky day or what? "Great, sign me up," I say while counting all the money I'll be saving on toothbrushes and wondering if I can get one in pink.

"For the low cost of 399 SEK (like 40 euro), you'll get these replacement heads shipped to your address free 3 times."

Stop. You lost me at the words "low cost".

"Great deal isn't it? So I will now start the voice recording to confirm that you have actually agreed to this....blah, blah, blah"

Mind spinning...no time to object.

Did I do it? Did I buy in? Was I duped?

You better believe it! Buddy deserved it. That company deserved it. That was some smooth talking and clever sales tactics. I mean, who backs out after all that? That company is betting on very few. I am in the majority.

He sold me. I was sold. But here's the thing: Had I not been so cleverly blindsided, I could have easily turned the tables. Actually, if I had been quicker on my feet, I could have flipped him. "I get your game. You won. But there are two adults in this house with teeth that need brushing with your revolutionary spinning toothbrush. So how about sending two toothbrushes, we go with the same deal at 400 SEK and we call er' even? Now start that recording with my amendment."

Counting the days until my one toothbrush arrives, along with the invoice, and planning to change my force field to:

"I can't hear you. Sorry, can you repeat that? What was that? You're breaking up. Where are you calling from? Bob, is that you? You lying son-of-a-B, I knew you were seeing her behind my back all along!" Click, and back to the kitchen.

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 7 of 10

2010-03-31T20:38:00.000+02:00

Shit. It's Week 7. And I'm up a kilo. How's that for inspiration all you Weigh-In Wednesday participants? F-word.

Wanna hear my "the dog ate my homework" excuses? Here goes, heavy drinking and eating one night last week really killed me. And then the stress of the BIG CONFRONTATION. And I've had the little man home from school all week. Just when I thought it might have been safe to send him today, barforama last night. Poor kid. But you know, what a trooper. All smiles and giggles, even whilst all congested and feverish.

Thank God I made a new friend because I had a place to get rid of the chocolate cake I bought for the company we were supposed to have over for dinner tonight. Disaster averted.

And now it's Easter Weekend. Thankfully, I'm not a choco-holic so should be able to stave off most of the temptation. The snow is melting around me and my sneakers are just waiting by the front door. Not that I couldn't/shouldn't be finding "other" ways to exercise but when you're covered in germs and the fragrant musk of "eau de vomit", exercise is the last thing on your mind. But it won't be, for long. I have a master plan (evil laugh).

How are you gonna tell off the Easter Bunny this weekend?
ps. Remind me to tell you about the "elder abuse" I witnessed at the grocery store yesterday...so sad...

You're Jennifer. You have long arms.

2010-03-29T20:31:00.000+02:00

According to my son, I'm Jennifer because I have long arms. Not sure what's up with him pointing out how long my arms are and how short his are in comparison, or the fact that I am who I am because of my arm length but it's noteworthy.

I realized he, along with the rest of Uppsala's kids, are off school all next week (Easter break). Didn't they just have a week off like 2 months ago? Ahhh..Sweden, land of the Red Day, where every other day is a holiday it seems.

All of a sudden, I have friends. Last week, I invited some of my dearest chicks over for a long overdue girl's night. Perfect timing as hubby was away on business. Now, I don't really consider these girls "friends". More like family. We ate, we drank, we laughed, we drank, we ate. The evening ended with my loopy 35-year old friend convincing her likewise loopy 24 and 26-year old pseudo-family chicks to hit the town. Some partying and a lot of post-night barfing ensued. Apparently my "parties" are now epic.

And then, we got invited over to one of those acquaintances-we-met-at-a- mutual-friend's-party-but-where-things-never-go-past-the party-location's house for dinner last night. Just so happens they have a son a couple week's shy of our son's age. And the hubby is American. And the wife is cool and also a dear friend of the new/old neighbour friends's. I know. Too much information. But just for the record. My record.

And then...I got a text from the new/old neighbour friend asking me over for coffee today. But I got it too late and the little man is home with a fever so, it was a No Go. But still...Holy "Friends" Batman!

Could I BE ANYMORE POPULAR? Bahahaha. See what happens when you stand up for yourself? No, none of them knew about that. But maybe I'm exuding some other-worldly eau de "don't f with me" that makes everyone think I could be the schoolyard bully so they all want me on their good side. Bahahaha.

Work has piled up. I am somewhere under it. And of course, the little man is sick. But thankfully not SICK, sick. Still his happy go lucky, you-be-the-Mama-Brachiosaurus-I'll-be-the-baby-TRex-and-I-will-try-to-eat-you, self with a fever and a runny nose. I dreaded calling the school this morning. Cuz I'm scared of The School. Cuz they will ask me, "Does he have a fever?" and I will want to lie because if he does have a fever, he will need to stay home until it's gone and then one EXTRA day on top of it for good measure. And I will want to lie. But I won't. And I didn't.

So I have two press releases to write, some stupid document to serve as a foundation for all other documents, a bunch of leads to Google and a dozen other tasks. Plus, I have just been made the Master of Hubby's crazy schedule. But right now, the main task is playing hide-and-go-seek with a Spider Man costume wearing kid who only has two hiding places: under the covers of our bed or under the covers of his bed.

Facing a Fear, Notebook in Hand

2010-03-26T20:58:00.002+01:00

As you've likely gathered by now, I'm not a controversial kinda gal. My blog posts don't fan the fiery flames of heated debate nor do they take on taboo subjects or express my "stand" on "the issues". Some of this is due to the fact that I'm pretty simple..ha! The other part of it is: I fear conflict of any sort.

I would much rather bitch about my gripes, or gripe about my bitches, to my hubby or anyone other than the person it's actually directed at. I am so awesome at telling someone off, just so long as I'm not actually telling the someone. But today, I had to face down my fear. I had to openly confront someone about an issue that's been plaguing myself and our family for far too long. I had to take a stand. I had to be honest, even if it meant an argument. Even if it meant the person not liking me (gasp).

It was one of the hardest things I have ever had to do in my life. I knew this day was coming and when I was finally "called out", there was no backing down. I agonized, I lost sleep, I wrote about it and I even wrote out my "speech".

I thought to myself, "Self, you need some notes. Go in prepared. You won't get a second chance." And I went searching for a notebook, some paper, anything I could take in with me as the rifle for my ammunition, or the other way around. Or maybe it's the bag that holds the rifle that's loaded with ammunition. Meh...

Do you remember my post about The Notebook? Well, back in October, hubby bought me a beautiful bright fushia, leather-bound notebook at an exclusive shop in London. It's so beautiful both physically and as the symbol of his support of my writing. It has sat, carefully wrapped in its original packaging, untouched. I couldn't bring myself to soil its gilded pages.

Nothing I could ever write seemed good enough for this notebook.

Until today. Today, I didn't hesitate. The fact that I couldn't for the life of me find anything to write on was a sign. Finally, I had something worth writing and committing for all eternity to those featherweight pages.

The Notebook came in with me. It sat next to me. And although I barely glanced at it, it gave me courage and strength to say what needed to be said and to do what needed to be done, regardless of the consequences.

And I didn't cry. I came close but I didn't cry.

I managed to express myself clearly and I think, I might have won this battle. But even if time proves that I didn't, I conquered my fear of confrontation and my fear of The Notebook.

Today was a good day. Last night was a haze of red wine and excess carbs. More on that later..

Weigh-in Wednesday: Week 6 of 10

2010-03-24T10:49:00.000+01:00

The time is flying and my weight is at a virtual standstill. Knocked off one more pound though...so down 5lbs, around 2.5 kilos at 74. I haven't really been cheating, just haven't been eating breakfast or exercising much. I blame this on my life recently.

Change is imminent. It's on the horizon. I can feel it, I'm yearning for it but at the same time, I'm procrastinating and avoiding it. I need a heavy dose of self-help books is what I need. Or some zen-like guru to tell me exactly how to initiate the change me and my family need right now. Or some inspired bloggy friend. Any takers?

My husband has been working hard and that's saying a lot cuz he's a hard worker to begin with. He has been putting almost every ounce of his being into this little company of ours, as have I recently, and it's taking its toll. If hard work and sacrifice equaled success, we'd be living in some tropical paradise with a Pina Colada slave watching the little one frolick in the waves until his tutor came around for his daily lessons. And by success, I mean some measure of financial freedom.

We are caught up in a vicious "living to work" cyclone, working and waiting and praying for "the big break". But chasing this rainbow (bad analogy, it's not as impossible as a rainbow), has cast a dark cloud over our lives. Luckily, we're a team so lightning hasn't struck the ground between us. But still, it's decision time. It's time to change our lives for the better. I know it needs to be done. I just have no idea how to do it. Or what that first step should be. Or if I have the courage.

Sorry, it's Weight Loss Wednesday and I'm griping about a shit storm and rainbows.

Sigh...

What's holding you back, if anything? And how have you changed your lifestyle or LIFE for the better? Please share. I need that one kernel of wisdom that will give me what Oprah calls an "AHAAA moment".
SJ

Toddlerisms Volume 1

2010-03-22T13:34:00.000+01:00

I was inspired by Hyacynth's recent post with her favourite toddlerisms from vacay. I really did LOL. And I found myself LOLing at our little boy an awful lot this week and thinking, "I gotta write that down." Here are a few special ones:

Mommy says something to the man in Swedish. Little man responds matter-of-factly in a DUH-tone, "Mamma, you're a Mamma, not a kid!" In other words, don't speak my language.

Said when I do something funny: "Mamma, you're crazy." That's pretty accurate.

"Mamma, are you happy?" Now that's deep.

"The chasm of dead." It's the chasm of death actually. Quote from Ice Age 3.

"Mamma, be a pig please." Oh, well, if you insist. Wanting my hand to assume the Pig hand puppet and proceed talking out of the corner of my mouth in my best Pig voice.

"Dada, do you want my new iPhone?" Translation: I want to play with your new iPhone, get my snotty hands all over the screen and get you sick right before your business trip this week.

"Mamma, LOOK! It's a BIG one." Pointing at whatever he just evacuated into the toilet bowl. I know...ewwwwww, but still funny.

"Mamma FARTED!" Uhmmmm...no, I most certainly did NOT fart. That was you/the washing machine/INSERT appliance/lay blame.

I just know I'm forgetting some killer quotes but will save them for Volume 2.