We're in...random look at my life

I told my husband that this is the LAST TIME we're renting. Seriously.
So tired of being forced to move and having nothing "permanent". Don't care where it is in the world...just a "home" that's mine. Yeah, yeah, I know "home is where the heart is" but still...MINE, MINE!!!

Oh Canada! We beat the Russians. We're happy. Sweden lost to Slovakia. Kinda sad. I mean, I do live here so I do cheer for them. And they're doing GREAT this Olympics!
They're dominating any event that involves cross-country skiing! NO surprise. My kid cross-country skies at his school. Pick any random winter day and everyone is skiing everywhere. Nevermind winter. In the summer, people walk with the assistance of their poles. Swedes have a habit of doing that, taking a season's activities and transferring them to seemingly inappropriate seasons. Take bicycling for example. How many of you can look out your window in the run of a day and see someone bicycling through the snow? These people are freakn' crazy! A friend whose Dad is a doctor said there are loads of bicycle-related injuries in the winter. No kidding. For every 10 cyclists I see braving the elements, one is always wiping out.

I ate bread today. Pizza crust. I had no choice. It was that or die from starvation. Ok, that was extreme. Let's go with headache and spins.

Oh and I'm down 2 more pounds...so that's four! woot, woot.

Our little guy is such a trooper. He just rolls with the punches on the surface. He does feel stress though, with change, it manifests in his bowels. Poor guy hasn't pooed in I don't know how long. Time for an intervention.

I was blown away today. Took the little man for a long overdue visit to his international Godmother's house where his "sisters" live. He was chatting away to them...in Swedish. He was answering questions perfectly, questions I have been asking him in English that he couldn't answer. He couldn't answer them because they made use of vocabulary he uses in school...in Swedish (not in English). They were amazed. I was flabergasted. Who knew he was such a chatter box? Not me. Fire.under.ass.to.get.serious.about.learning.Swedish.

He woke up when I came home from my upteenth trip to the old house (and hopefully my last). He just wanted me to lay down with him. So I did. And he wrapped his arms around my neck and he fell asleep while we embraced.I loved it. In those moments, I thought about how much I loved him. I remembered the baby I nurtured. I admired the little boy he is becoming. I realzed these moments will soon be replaced by him pushing me away, embarassed....So I was reminded to cherish this.

I LOVE MAXs...suck it McDonald's

So every Thursday night after the little man's swimming lesson with Dad, we hit McDonald's. I loathe McDonald's but it's always fun for the little guy so we go. I loathe it because here in Sweden (not the case back home), they have a real crappy salad selection. Feels like I'm eating plastic.

Well a few weeks ago we decided to stop-in to Sweden's own hamburger joint called Max. I ordered a salad with chicken. It was freakn' delicious. Plus, they have a little playpark for Joe, which he gets to enjoy AFTER he eats.

I noticed, a little too late, that they had a low-carb option on their menu. Meh. I bet it's a hamburger pattie with some cut up veggies. I was happy with my salad. But last night hubby returned from a 3-day trip to Barcelona for a conference and so we decided to go to Max's for a quick bite. I decided to give the low-carb menu option a try. And buddy says, "Would you like fries with that?" Oh yes, please. Can you give me like 100 grams of carbs with my low-carb meal. Idiot. Though I imagine some ppl do this anyway.

It was indeed a hamburger pattie but wrapped up in a huge leaf of lettuce and dressed exactly as a hamburger should be!!!!!!! I was over the moon! It was freakn' delicious and the portion size was large enough that I didn't even do my usual, eat most of the little man's fries and steal half the onion rings. Ok, I had 1 onion ring and then peeled the breadedness of the rest and just ate the onion.

I love you Max, whoever you are. You made my day. Your low-carb hamburger made me feel like I was eating an actual hamburger. You fooled me. I love you.

Oh and fyi...already down 2 pounds..woot, woot.
Keep it up ME! Challenges ahead include: having to go the grocery store today and likely get a few treats for the little guy, moving over the next 5 days, etc.

Oh and we managed to win against Switzerland last night in a shoot-out..thank you Sydney Crosby!

The Farmer's Almanac of Hockey

Well can't say we didn't try.

I think I might have written a post about how punctual Swedes are, to a fault. More on that later.

Well we showed up at the rink. And when I say rink, I mean the rinks of the olden days. The ones with no heaters for the bleachers, no real bleachers except for wooden benches and no canteen, except for the free stand that was set up offering traditional Swedish gingerbread cookies, juice for the kiddies and the warm Christmas drink called Glögg, that you spoon nuts and raisins into. Which was all very nice and free but I had visions of sitting underneath some fake heat with a cup of warm coffee in hand.

We're in Sweden, land of modern everything, land of IKEA. I had expected a North American type rink and I dressed for one. So instantly my feet were going into the early stages of frostbite.

But it wasn't about me.

Hubby started to dress the kid in overpriced hockey gear (btw, they actually had skates and sticks there for the kiddies). He was fussy. "No helmet Dada". So after hubby's excrutiating but expert application of said hockey gear, they were ready to hit the ice. Well save for hubby who was waiting for his colleague to arrive with a pair of skates for him.

We had miraculously shown up on time at the designated hour of 8:30am on a Sunday morning. And it was truly a Christmas miracle because my husband, God Love Him, is perpetually late. Late for everything. And me being an "on time" kinda gal, it drives me bananas. But this rare occurance of on-timeness had me hopeful that the morning would see my son doing pirouettes while Daddy looked on proudly.

Yes, WE were on time. WE were dressed and ready to go. But the colleague was late. And man was I irked. Here's a good natured 3-year old all geared up but being told he had to wait. Not good.

As the minutes ticked by, a gentleman stopped by our little corner of the wooden bench to say hello. Obviously wondering why we had such a small little potential Gretzky with us when the ages were between 5 and 9. Hubby quickly explained who our friend was and this gentleman (who used to be a professional NHL player, think I can remember his name?) proceeded to complain about the serial tardiness of hubby's colleague. Because it is a mortal sin in Sweden.

I was livid.

Finally 30 minutes later, after constant attempts to keep the expensive hockey gear ON our son, who was growing increasingly upset and agitated, the guy shows up.

Hubby straps his borrowed skates on and drags protesting 3-year old onto the ice. It was the longest 30 seconds of my life. Here I am snapping photos of a son who refuses to stand and a husband who is about to wrench his back trying to hold son up. And then the tears start. And no sooner had they hit the ice, then they were off again and we were removing brand new hockey gear.

I bit my tongue and supressed the urge to look at hubby and say, "I told you so."

What's the moral of the story? We try again next weekend...

Hockey starts tomorrow

Yup, he's 3 and tomorrow he will be ingratiated (sp?) into the world of hockey and me into the world of Hockey Moms. Hubby hooked up with a fellow co-worker who runs the Uppsala Young Hockey Club and even though the age for entry is 5 the men convinced themselves that our son could possibly participate. How, I'm not sure. I mean, seriously, he's 3!

So last night we got skates and a helmet and tonight hubby is taking us out for elbow and knee pads. He's 3!

I tried to warn hubby not to expect much. Did I mention he's only 3?! But he's excited for this bonding time on the ice and since hockey blood courses through his veins, why shouldn't the little man hit the ice as early as possible?

And then the little man picks up a stick and ball at the store last night and starts chasing the ball around with said stick. To hubby, this was a proud moment and sure sign we have a young Gretzy in the making. Uhmmmm...So here we go...

Maybe he'll be #3?