An outgoing 30+ Canadian Wife, Mom and StepMom finding life's happiness in different countries (currently Sweden), surrounded by interesting characters and a loving family. I blog about parenting, married life, life's ups and downs and whatever tickles my fancy.
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 thepockets 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
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.
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...
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
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".
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.
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
A 30+ fake blonde currently calling Sweden "home". Married with a 3-year old and a 23-year old stepson. Love to write and after loads of encouragement from family and friends, I've decided to take whatever it is I have to say beyond Facebook Notes. I'll blog on being a parent, expat, wife, daughter, sister, colleague, neighbour and friend.
