A Letter to my son on his 3rd Birthday

Today you turned “fweee yeez ohd”. It seems yesterday you were but a wide-eyed pink pooping machine I had no idea what to do with. But today you are three. And Mummy is so proud of you.

Of course I’m proud that by the miracle of humanity, in the past year, you learned to run, sing, find new ways of expressing yourself and have almost mastered peeing and pooping in the potty. But I’m most proud of the little person you’re growing to become and am privileged to be your steadfast guide and comfort through this wallop of an adventure that is our life.

You’re resilient. I want to apologize to you my son. For all the change you’ve had to endure this past year. Plucked from your life with loving Mary Poppins to a school full of foreign kids and too few teachers. From daily strolls along the seashore to daily drives around town. From the warm Adriatic waters to a backyard pool. From a language planted in you from 3 months old to having to start all over again with new sounds and words. From the comfort of a loving, supportive circle of friends— who became family to, luckily, a new, smaller circle.

But I want to Thank God for your wonderful ability to adapt and thrive, lay down your roots somewhere new while still cherishing the faces from your infancy. I admire this quality most in you baby boy. So perhaps I won’t apologize fully. Your Dad and I brought you to this new country for opportunity and the way you’ve blossomed will ensure you’re that much stronger on your journey to manhood.

You’re happy. I often wonder how many parents can say their toddlers are really happy. But you truly smile from the time you jolt me out of dreams with “Mama, wake up!” to the time we say goodnight after prayers (and you continue screaming “Goodnight” “See you soon!” as I’m on my way down the stairs). You cry when “Mama, I huht maseff (I hurt myself)” or when you know you’re in deep doodoo. But God that smile...I’m thankful for it every day.

You’re smart. I had no idea you could speak Swedish until you surprised me by singing along with your little Swedish troup at your daycare performance. There you were, in the front row, covered completely in muck, in the rain, singing your little heart out. I had no idea what you were saying, but I cried anyway. You know your colours and the alphabet, your shapes and have even memorized the words to your favourite books. You’re a little parrot, repeating everything your teachers say to learn to speak their language.

You’re loving. From stopping to chase and pet the “KAT-TEN” on our nightly walks to those big open-mouthed kisses to asking where your brother is if he’s not sitting in his usual spot when you come home. You may not be an entertainer when the family Skype Shows begin, but your grandparents and far-away family should know that you ask about them at the oddest times: On the car ride to and from daycare, in the grocery store with a mouthful of ice cream cone or usually five minutes after a Skype call has ended. People are drawn to your spirit little one. I saw it today. The two high school helpers assigned to your school were waiting for YOU to arrive. You’re a little charmer, just like your Dad.

You’re beautiful. My favourite part of everyday happens sometime around 5am. I open my eyes instinctively to see your sleepy eyes hovering by my pillow. I don’t always remember the part where I pick you up and lay you next to me but I wake up every morning to you snuggled in between your Dad and I. Your hair has gone from black at birth to white blonde to a now darker shade, marking the moments of change in your life. I miss your face during the day and enjoy that very instant you see me, stop play and run with arms wide open. We could never make another one like you.
So today your father, brother and I will trek over to your school at 2:30 with a lactose, strawberry, kiwi and plum FREE “Lightning McQueen” cake and we’ll join your class in singing Happy Birthday. We won’t have your grandparents, aunts & uncles or cousin with us to celebrate, but we will have each other and best of all, we have you.
Happy 3rd Birthday my son.
Love, your Proud Mummy xoxo
July 30, 2009

From East to West Part 1: Healthcare

We moved to Sweden in January, after a 2.5 year adventure in the Adriatic Beauty that is Montenegro. Bordering the jewel of the Adriatic, Croatia, Montenegro really is the best kept secret of the former Yugloslavia and in 2007 was named the fastest growing tourist destination in the world by the World Travel & Tourism Council.

Snow-capped mountains, blue waters and lush green vegetation abound. We packed up our life in Canada at the request of our dear Swedish property developer friend and headed to a country we knew virtually nothing about, excluding compulsory Internet searches of course. I was 7 months pregnant at the time but had sense and opportunity enough to fly back to Canada to give birth to the little guy.

I digress. I'll save the long story of our life in the Wild Beauty (cue Montenegro tourism commercial as seen on CNN) for another post. But after spending almost six months as a resident of Sweden, I thought it was about time to compare life in this Eastern European country (freshly independent from Serbia circa 2006) to life in one of the richest Western European countries. This will be a weekly series I believe, because there's too much to say and I don't know when to stop typing. So here goes,

From East to West Part 1: Healthcare
Montenegro
Highlights:
- If your employer will pay for it, you have access to free healthcare, though some specialists have private practices if you can afford it
-For 30 euro (well it was 20, then went up when she figured we were rich), we got a private pediatrician to make home visits for Joseph. Perfect. No waiting around in archaic waiting rooms with dozens of other sick and screaming kids. And when we were forced to go into the local health center for vaccinations, we were always first in line!

Lowlights:
-7 months pregnant and must undergo (and pass) full physical in order to get work permit. After running around all over the health center and various places in town to receive paperwork and stamps on said paperwork, we're ushered into the doc with the final say. We take our seats, look up to see this Santa Claus of a doctor lighting a fresh cigarette. In front of me. 7 months pregnant me. In a hospital. -When it was time to renew our work permits and undergo another physical, we each slipped $20 into our passports and voila! Clean bill of health. No tests necessary (maybe that's also a highlight?)
-Pediatrician once strongly urged us to use our vacuum cleaner to clean out kid's snotty nose.
The bottom line: If you have money, you get the treatment for better or worse.

Sweden
Highlights:
- Modern, state-of-the-art facilities and highly trained doctors. THE place to get sick.
- Free healthcare to every citizen (paid for by ginormous taxes). Though you do have to pay a "processing fee" of about 70 SEK up front for appointments.
- Short wait times: Caveat: Apparently, there's a lot of disussion in Sweden about long wait times but I personally have waited no more than 10 minutes, which could be explained by one of the lowlights (keep reading)or luck.
- When I've managed to get my son in to see a doctor (a rare occassion, keep reading), the doctor greets us BOTH with a handshake. Seriously..even my two+-year old. So cute and respectful.

Lowlights:
-Gestapo-like checkpoints are set up to prevent mostly everybody from getting an actual doctor's appointment. It's called 1177 and it's a number you call if you're sick. You explain your symptoms and the call usually ends with, "Oh, you don't have to see a doctor. It's just the flu. It's just a cold. If there's blood coming out of his ears, call us back." I come from a culture where we go to the doctor at the least sign of trouble, which likely contributes to the long wait times. "Take him to the doctor". But I can't. Oh I've begged and pleaded but the few times I've actually passed through the gates have been because I've blatantly exagerrated. And sure enough, nothing ends up being wrong. Go figure.
-I've gotten some MAJOR shit from Swedish friends over taking my son to the doctor too. "Jenn, he doesn't NEED to see a doctor!" Geez, Let the damn DOCTOR tell me that ok?!
Bottom line: They don't care who you are or who you know or how much money you have. We're all the same and receive the same.

Shine a little light on me...please!

So I have a confession to make. I have this "thing" with indoor lighting. Ok, so it's more of a compulsion. Not the kind of compulsion where I have a house of lamps and strategically placed smelly candles. Just an obsession with certain lights in the house always needing to be "on".

The light above the stove and the light above the sink must be on at all times. Joe's former Nanny experienced this anal attribute when I finally confronted her about her perpetual need to turn OFF the light above the stove. She turned it off. I turned it on. We went on like this for awhile until I finally explained, "Look. I just NEED this light on, ok?" Must have been the deadpan tone and the urgent delivery as she never turned it off again. Though I'm sure she likely turned around and rolled her eyes. Can't say I blame her.

Why this oddball quirk with lighting? Was I imprisoned in a dark cellar as a child? Not that I can recall. Am I afraid of the dark? No more than anyone else. Maybe some brilliant psychiatrist can shine some light on the situation. Even if he/she offered a free comfy couch session, I wouldn't take it. It's my thing. I'm not looking to be cured. Just telling you all how it is.

So today...I stumbled down to the kitchen to notice the light above the sink OFF. Not sure who in this house would have the nerve to screw with my lighting. Turns out it's gone...poof...the big burn out. I'm in panic mode. It's thrown my whole day off. Back up of dirty dishes in the sink. Dishwasher turned on at the wrong time, throwing the whole dish cleaning schedule off. Ended up surfing the blogosphere all day cuz I couldn't focus. To top it all off, I left for the grocery store without the damn bulb. Another dim day ahead tomorrow...

Doohickey Mondays

“Swedish for Common Sense”. We all know where to attribute that slogan, don’t we? The birthplace, of IKEA (cool, build-it-yourself shit), Volvo (economical, fuel-efficient, last-a-lifetime cars) and of course ABBA (music everyone can shake a leg to), it’s no wonder Sweden is full of practical gadgets and gizmos. The “ooohs” and “aaaahs” followed by “That is the coolest thing.” “How come we don’t have these in Canada?” have become a regular part of my vocabulary since I started coming here almost 10 years ago.

Seriously, they have the coolest, “How come we never thought of that?” stuff in this country. So I decided every week, I’d share one of these doohickeys with the world. Alright, so maybe you’ve seen these things before outside of Sweden and I’ve been living under a rock my entire life, but that doesn’t make them any less practical and in my mind, revolutionary!

1. The Sink Peel Cleaner:

How many times have you peeled potatoes over the trash bin to end up peeling the peelings from the side after you’re done? Or maybe you peel your veggies in the sink only to be scraping leftovers up with soppy paper towel?

Introducing The Sink Peel Cleaner. Grab this flexible plastic doohickey , scoop up the peels, seeds and pits and dump into the trash bin. Even has built-in drainage holes. Ok, so it is made of plastic but look at all the trees you’re saving!

I haven’t seen a Swedish kitchen without one of these. I got so excited about it on one trip, I bought a bunch to take home and dispense to friends and family. You’d think I was giving each of them a Volvo by the way I prattled on about its functionality, design and efficiency. Judging by the artificial smiles, they weren’t as excited by the piece of plastic as I was.

No revolution happening in Canadian kitchens. In fact, I’m sure they’ve all been stuffed in junk drawers . But where they should be is occupying some coveted counter space behind the dish soap.

Carefree Swedish Kids

I noticed something since moving here when it comes to the wee ones. Not only are they everywhere it seems but judging by the number of pregnant bellies I saw at the local lake this past Saturday, there's another army on its way. This can likely be attributed to the amazing amount of maternity AND paternity leave parents get in this country...

So not only am I noticing the sheer number of kiddies but the lack of parental supervision of said kiddies.

We live in a very kid-friendly neighbourhood...perfect for the little guy. It's a semi-private community of "radhuses"/rowhouses/townhouses with little playgrounds in each block of housing, a larger playground nestled in trees and the whole thing backs onto a forest. We're surrounded by nature.

And the kids run free, run wild...And now that I think of it, kinda like we used to run the roads when we were their age. With our parents calling out after us, "Be home before dark." "Be home for lunch." "J O H N!!!!! S U PP ER!!!!!!!!!"

Remember those days? When words like "kidnapping", "sexual predator" and "stranger danger" were virtually unheard of?

Well that's what it's like here. Kids as young as 3 climbing trees without a parent in sight. GASP! And around dinnertime you hear names like "Rasmus, Johan, Jakob and Louisa" bouncing off the windows.

So it's freaking me out.

I keep wanting to run up to these "abandoned" children to ask them, "Where are your parents?" "Where do you live?" "Do they know you're having a tea party in the woods?" But then I might just be one of those strangers their parents may (or may not) have warned them about.

Yes, I realize some day my child will walk himself to playdates and run around the neighbourhood tearing up the pavement. He'll be 3 in a week and I cannot imagine the day when I won't be keeping a watchful eye out for him.

I'm going to be that Paranoid Parent, aren't I? The one all the Swedes mutter to themselves about, "Oh, she's from North America." The parent that embarrasses her kid on a daily basis: lurking in the bushes, peeking out the window, insisting on accompanying him to his buddy's house two doors down. "Mom, would you just go home already? I'm fine."

Is it really that safe here? Who's off their rocker? Me or them?

The Daycare Dilemna

Oy...sad heart this morning folks. The little guy started daycare here in Sweden in January. We were blessed enough to have a modern day Montenegrin Mary Poppins as the little guy's Nanny for the first two and a half years of his life. It was heart-wrenching to part with her, to say the least but really the timing was good. He was getting older and in need of the stimulation only fellow toddlers can provide.

Background Break: The first few weeks of daycare were just as challenging as everyone said they would be. Me crying, him crying. My heart breaking everyday for two weeks. Even as his tears stopped and he began to eagerly await hopping out the front door to join his newfound friends and teacher, I would sob on the short walk home. His daycare was an ok place, the teachers wonderful but the facility not quite suited to house 30 active kiddies. Long story short, they announced the daycare would like close and despite vehement protests from parents, it looks like it just might. Since I wasn't too happy with it anyway (for a variety of reasons I won't get into), I started looking for alternatives and found a Montessori school which he'll start mid-August.

Before I go on, I should likely explain the daycare system here a bit. First of all, the entire system is run by the municipality with the exception of a few daycares (like his Montessori school) which are run by parents cooperatives. But regardless of where you send your child, the price is the same and low. I pay 1260 SEK (about 170 CDN) a month for 35 hours.

In the meantime, most daycares close their doors for a minimum of 1 month for summer vacation and those kids still requiring care are herded into feeder schools. Lucky for him, his "new school" (his words) is a brand new and beautiful facility with sprawling grounds, cool playground equipment and a spacious, naturally bright interior filled with all sorts of toys and stimulation. A couple of teachers from his "old school" followed him and 1 other boy to the new school for a week or so, to ease the transition.

The problem? Today is the second day in the past week that he's told me "no go to school". And when I proceed to drop him off, he cries his little heart out and I have to turn and walk away. Like living those first two weeks all over again.

I am one of the fortunate parents in this world. My son is a happy camper. He's almost always in great spirits. No public temper tantrums or constant whining. We really lucked out. So when he cries, there's a reason (Watch, I'm about to jinx it all by committing these thoughts publicly).

So what do I think the reason could be? Well, naturally the teachers from his old school left for their summer vacations and since then, every week it seems there's a new batch of teachers (and typically a new group of students). It's unsettling to me so I can't imagine what he must be going through. Well, I don't have to imagine. I'm experiencing it.

So let me amend my last post on Swedish Vacations. Let me change my mind slightly. Is there no way at least one teacher from each school could work for four consecutive weeks during the summer? They still have a whole month off to enjoy! Maybe that's asking too much. How about two teachers from each school working at least 2 consecutive weeks? Alright, let me make further "cuts". How about two teachers from ANY school working those 4 weeks OR 2 weeks each?

The idea is to provide some stability to the children whose parents don't have the luxury of taking 4-6 weeks off. Imagine being a 3 year old who spends the majority of his week with strangers. Now imagine those strangers being replaced with new strangers every other week. So just when you start getting used to these strangers, they leave you.

Ok, I'm rambling but you get my point. I think I'll be making a call to the Municipality to voice my concerns. And when I do, I'll be told that So & So is on vacation and so is the other So & So who typically takes her place.

Off for 6 weeks...

I wish! Seems everyone else in this country is though. Inspired by a fellow Swedish expat blogger, A Swedish American in Sweden (sorry but it won't let me link for some reason), I decided to post on this "issue". For all those unfamiliar, every Swedish citizen is entitled to between 5 and 8 weeks paid vacation per year. GASP! You read it right. And it gets better. You're also entitled to take 3 consecutive weeks during the summer months. It doesn't matter if you're working at the local supermarket or leading the country.

Now for us North Americans, unless you're fortunate enough to work for the federal government, expecting or taking that kind of vacation time will leave you with a pretty pink slip on your desk.

So one wonders...how on earth does the country survive and business thrive with so many empty desks during the months of July and August? Beats me. The birthplace of Sony Ericsson, Skype, Volvo, Scania and so many of the world's leading brands and inventors, Sweden somehow manages and manages well.

So what am I doing with my 3 consecutive weeks of vacation this summer? Well, not only did we just arrive here in January but we work for a small start-up and leaving for 3 weeks would likely kill the company. Not being naive or egotistical, just stating a fact. And here I sit blogging and green with envy as I watch the middle class jet off to country homes, hot European destinations and even expensive trips to North America.

To add insult to injury, Sweden also has 13 public holidays per year, called "red days" (by comparison Canada has 5 national holidays). Oh and the day before each of these public holidays is either treated with a "defacto" extra half or full day off.

So some say the Swedes are lazy. But I think these naysayers are jealous (I sure am!). In my humble opinion, Swedes know something we don't know. They work to live. They turn off their phones, take their vacation and enjoy their time away, guilt-free. They know their jobs will be waiting for them when they return and that the next holiday is just around the corner.

Nice eh?

image credit: swedish-flag.com