Snow

We got at least 4 inches over night. Wet and heavy. I told Lou go look out the window and was like "so it's going to take us longer than usual to get to school today so we have to hurry"
She looked at our completely buried bikes and said "Mom, I don't think we should bike, let's walk to school"
Which would have maybe been the safest and smartest way to get there. But we would also have been lucky to get there by lunch time. So I complemented her for thinking about safety first, then assured her biking on unplowed roads was perfectly fine, and took off on my frozen bike. 

Bassinet booked, baby!

You've ever seen those little flower basket looking things that you can put your infant in on long flights? They're called carrier cots, or in-flight bassinets.
I just reserved one for Ellie.
Disco!
I'm so excited for me and my arms.
Also, person sitting next to us... you are welcome.

We're doing crafts dammit!

I just googled ideas for paper turkey crafts stuff... Since we're hosing Thanksgiving I'd like to decorate just a little, but since Thanksgiving is not a thing here (the pilgrims never went to Sweden) it's not like the kid who is officially old enough to bring home crappy crafts from preschool will contribute to this holiday.

So, we're on our own. After I pick her up from preschool in exactly 1,5 hours we are going to buy orange, brown and yellow paper, little eyes, a glue stick, and then it's on. I hope she'll be into it.

It's very obvious, and toddlers are like bloodhounds, when it comes to faking excitedness. Like if I tell her Hey! we're doing a fun project with thread and needles and yarn.... she's bored after two seconds, because I am. On the other hand she knows like five different yoga poses and can spontaneously drop down and do push-ups in the middle of dinner.

So crafts isn't exactly something we do regularly, kind of like eating fish.... I just tell myself she gets that taken care of at school. But today we're doing it, dammit! 

One month till departure

We leave for Idaho in one month. Dylan and I both feel pretty stressed out about it, considering what all we have to get done before we leave. Move, finish classes, work, etc.
Louisa on the other hand packs her bags for Idaho every morning and then cries about not being able to go today either.
Could be a long month.

Next Saturday we are doing Friendsgiving at our place, back by popular demand. Same crew as last year, mostly. Plus kids. Last year we got rid of them and had fun. This year there's just too many of them so we'll let them in on the festivities and it will be a different kind of fun.

We haven't found a turkey yet. Also our freezer is too small to hold one so we either have to get a real small one, like chicken size, or buy it like the day of.... I'll let Dylan worry about that. All I really care about is the green bean casserole. 

Because real life just makes for such shitty Instagram posts

You know?
I propped my piping hot coffee up on the window sill to get a shot of hot coffee, frosty grass outside and was going to caption that with something about fall and temperatures dropping and whatever... but the guy blowing leaves outside the window kept ruining the shot and our window sills are kinda dirty, so never mind.

Besides, I already feel like there's been enough false advertising. Yesterday I posted pics from our scenic walk home. And we did have a very nice 30 minutes along the river. But only after being 86d from the library, dealing with meltdowns in the coatroom and arguing about whether or not to use gloves all afternoon. Oh, and baby puke. Of course.

But who wants to see that?

Maybe I should take a picture of our overflowing sink, the nasty kitchen floor, or the pile of trash bags on the back patio we haven't taken to the garbage room yet...

No props or backdrops needed. Can't ruin that shot.

Seriously....

You know what's fun about moving every six months or so?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
The people we are currently subletting from told us yesterday that they'd be willing to sublet for another six months and we could start the paper work.
Today they said they decided to terminate their lease instead. So we're out.
Fun.

Lou has an eye infection
Ellie produces buggers the size of rat turds (it's an estimation but they're big)
Dylan, who is no germophobe and usually not amazing at washing his hands and such, treats both kids and what yellowy guck come out of their faces like it's a new extra dangerous strand of Ebola.

It's amazing

How quickly the days to by and how busy I feel even though I rarely have to do much more than keep two kids alive, fed, somewhat clean and take the older one to preschool three days a week for 5 hours each day.
Ellie has started to smile. Not just the inward smile with eyes closed, but she actually looks at you, and if you poke her in the dimple, she smiles. It's kind of fun. Other than that.... babies don't provide too much in terms of interaction. But you still love 'em a whole lot.
Lou is still adjusting and gets really pouty and frustrated when we tell her NO! and You can't poke/pull/grab/lift you sister that way! but I think it's getting a little better.
I'm glad I don't have to go back to work in 5 weeks. But I'm also really glad I have a job to go back to. The stay at home mom thingy isn't a career meant for me. 

And then there was 4

She didn't look like a Joline, whatever they look like.... eyes of emerald green and auburn hair apparently, so we named her Elenore.
It's been the name we've kept coming back to, over and over, and so finally it was like... why are we trying so hard to think of something else? We all like Elenore, we already call her Ellie... so there it is.
She's not even three weeks old and I can hardly remember what it was like before.

It's so different the second time around. Lou made me a mother. I was all hers and she was all I cared about. Ellie was born to a toddler mom.

But luckily I am the second daughter too. I grew up with my "Baby's first year" album still in its plastic case next to my sister's all filled in album, complete with foot prints and hair locks. Who has time for that stuff when you got to keep a toddler from climbing on the stove, explain why we can't ride our bikes to Pennsylvania, and cut the potato patties into exactly six pieces?

And I turned out fine. So Ellie Belly, Smelly Ellie, little sister, you will too. You'll find your way out of your sister's shadow and we will be there for you every step of the way.

Joline

Lou is obsessed with the song Joline. Dylan recently bought a record that has it on it, and it's been going on repeat.

It started with a girl at her preschool named Joline, then she named one of her dolls Joline. It's not her favorite doll, I mean Joline is no Irma Gerd.... Irma Gerd sleeps in her bed and goes in the car and gets her pants changed every day. But baby Joline is all plastic and can take a bath and go in the shower, unlike IG who has a soft body with cotton stuffing and can't participate in bath time.

Anyways, she loves loves loves the song and wants to hear it always. And even though I'm getting a little sick of Dolly Parton begging not to take her man, the name Joline is really starting to grow on me...

Mixed nuts

My bag of mixed nuts just blew out my 7th floor office window.
So I littered AND lost my snacks.
Awesome.

Killer instincts

All cafes and cafeterias on campus are closed, and have been all summer. All vending machines are in the US, we don't do those here apparently. (At least not on campus, there is one at my gym for sports drinks and energy bars.... )

Anyways, point being that in order to get anything eatable you have to walk at least half a mile. Which means you want to plan you caloric intake and /or daily excursions to the world outside prior to plopping your butt down in the office chair.

This typically wouldn't be that big of a deal. But typically I'm not a million weeks pregnant and have a hard time with estimations and such. So some days I bring more food than I need. Other days I get so hungry in the afternoon the thought of walking anywhere past the office bathroom feels like climbing Everest (doable maybe, but not for me).

During these times (not my finest moments) I've been hangerly answering emails, stealing stale and questionable snacks from the break room (seriously hoping nobody will come back looking for those cause I have eaten them all. gone, no more. finito) and contemplating eating bugs. It's supposed to be a thing anyway, isn't it? All nutritious and chock full of protein?

Also thinking about what a spoiled modern human I am. If I'm hungry I should probably go kill something, or pick it, or grow it. But whatever.
My toddler thinks hens buy eggs at the store for their chickens.... we're modern. 

whatever dude

Dylan: I can't believe the ungodly amounts Swedish people have in student loan debt. In a country where higher education is free, how is it that most everyone you talk to have crazy high student loans and some of them didn't even finish a degree! Unbelievable. Un-be-liev-able!

Also Dylan: I can't believe the low interest on student loans here. I mean... If I'm going to take classes, and I could qualify... why wouldn't I take some of the loans...? I mean, why wouldn't I?

 

So so sweaty

I'm a big, hot mess of a human. So sweaty all the time, it's disgusting. I wear only what human decency and good manners require.
I'd rather go naked, armed with spray bottles of ice water. 
Last week in the office I overheard the sharp dresser tell someone over the phone how the office was "quite cool and very comfortable" while I was fanning myself with wads of recycled budgets.
Yesterday I complained about the hot apartment to Dylan and suddenly realized he was wearing a t-shirt and pants.....
Are you not hot? I asked
No, not really. He replied, cementing that it's not actually that hot.
It's just me.

That'll put hair on your chest

After a few consecutive mornings of me making a pot of coffee for me and my one office mate (the sharp dresser) that's been just a little wimpy.
Too weak.
Not quite enough to kick in.
I decided not to take any risks on this (TGI)Friday.
So right now I'm sipping on a cup that reminds me of that expression "it'll put hair on your chest"

The first time I ever heard it was on a road trip gas station break, Dylan and I were coming back from Seattle I think. It was early on, we've might only have been dating for a few months.
Anyways, it's late and I go in to get coffee to keep us awake for the rest of the drive. The lady working apologizes for not having any freshly brewed, I say that's ok and pour two cups of what's sitting out.
"A'ight honey, but that'll put hair on your chest" she mutters as she rings me up.

Then I thought about it for at least 20 miles before finally asking Dylan what the heck that meant.

It's all relative

The weather has been really nice these last few days. It actually feels like summer. This morning I didn't even have a light jacket on riding my bike to preschool+work. Neither did Lou. We've been swimming, bbq-ing, applying and re-applying sunscreen... you know, just doing summery stuff.

But while Dylan and I certainly enjoying these sunny days in the mid 70's, people around us and the local media are crying heat wave. The midwife asked me yesterday how I was tolerating the incredible heat.
I didn't laugh in her face, that would have been rude.
And in all fairness, I do get uncomfortable and sweaty, not gonna lie there.
But considering I've been driving vehicles without AC in 80-90 degree temps for the last few summers.... I'm doing alright.

And I wouldn't call this a heat wave. It might be a wave, but it's not that hot.

What vacation?

It's July and Sweden is on vacation. Everybody. Pretty much. Not me of course, the ridiculously long vacations I moved here for (sorta kidding) won't happen this year. Dylan is working, so am I, and Lou is going to preschool.

It's by choice though, mostly, so I'm not complaining too hard. And I am taking a week off at the end of the month.

The office is empty. Just me and the sharp dresser, who still dresses very sharply but has managed to relax his attitude enough to where we can actually have somewhat pleasant conversations over our lunchboxes. 

I miss CdA summers though. So much. More than I thought I would.
Oh the cake. I want to eat it and have it and wrap it and save it and chew on it.

Yes I know how this sounds...

.. but I'm going to say it anyway. (Here, not on facebook where people might actually see it. I'm very comfortable confronting people behind their back, you see.)

I'd be way more likely to try Keto, The Whole 30, Paleo, or any of those (fad) diets if any of the people relentlessly promoting them on my newsfeed actually looked in shape.

Sorry.

Could we all just chill the F out?

We're going out to eat with work tomorrow. A nice way to great the summer and bid farewell to the Russian accountant who is leaving us for another job.

But what sounds like an easy enough affair to plan, has turned into this ginourmous ordeal. The German wants to go fancy. And late. Like if my asparagus is not laying crisscross on top of something I can't pronounce and we wait till at least 7 pm to dine.... I'm not into it.
The Russian and I who have kids who go to bed, and also tend to leave work no later than 5, argued we go straight from work... that way you don't have to go home and kill a couple of hours before heading out again. Plus we give two shits about crosscross asparagus and would be just as happy with pub food or a buffet.

Buffets are out. German veto. Then the boss vetoed her absolute favorite restaurant. (That was hilarious). I threw in the fact that I have to leave by 6:45 to make a parent-teacher meeting at the pre-school. The German has a minor meltdown and finally decides on a semi-classy restaurant/pub where we are to meet at 4pm.

The Russian decides she doesn't want to go, too much hassle.
A contractor who is coming along says the food at this particular restaurant is disgusting. 
I say we don't have to meet at 4, we can wait till 5 when the fine dining places open and that way we can maybe have crisscross asparagus after all.

The German goes German on us all and yells that there was an email last week with detailed instructions on when and where to meet. NOTHING IS CHANGING!

Ok. Roger that. Should be a fun night.

Yes, NO! NO?, ok yes

Lou is Dylan's clone. Have I said that before? It's because it's true.
She now crawls into our bed around 4 am every morning, demands a bottle of milk and goes back to sleep. Or, she'll toss and turn and drive me nuts. When she can't settle down, she'll take my hand, place it on her own back and make me rub it.
Just. Like. Dylan. Does.
It's crazy, that move used to drive me nuts about him. He does it awake and in his sleep. Like he'll take my hand and scratch his own back with it. Doesn't is seem way more efficient to scratch your own back?
But now she does it too. And somehow that makes me realize it's not something he does to bug me, it's just what he (and she) does.

She is also displaying alarming signs of a love for arguing. Dylan much?
Example:
- Ok we can go play in the water but then you have to take a shower when we get home
- No!
- Yes
- No!
- No...
- Yes!
This can go on forever, and she loves it. Seriously what is so fun about arguing?

But speaking of arguing, it's easy to complain but sometimes hard to look beyond the arguments. I usually like to tell myself that Dylan is the nomad and I'm the settler who was more or less dragged into this life of moving house, apartment, city every year at least.
But as soon as he starts showing signs of wanting to buy a home and get all nesty, I get restless. Like shouldn't we move somewhere else? Why are we living here?
When he is googling homes and cars and mortgage rates, I get antsy. When he looks at job-boards in different cities and countries, I feel at peace.     

Cool

You know what's cool?
Swedish summer, like bring a jacket cool.

You know what's not cool?
Passive aggressive comments in track changes.
Seriously.
Somebody needs to go on vacation asap, and it's not going to be me. 

Oh Idaho

I miss it a lot right now. Our house. The lake. The river. The beach. The simplicity and complexity. I don't regret moving home, but for one it taught me that I don't just have one home anymore.
It's hard to be the one champion a move and then feeling like you can't question it.
If we move again, I don't think I would miss Umeå very much.

I was told to fix a cake

This morning, my boss tells me
"We just got awarded to large projects for the fall. This calls for a celebration this afternoon. Cake! Can you fix that?"
So since I was heading downtown for an errand over lunch anyway, I stopped by one of the fanciest bakeries in town and picked out a strawberry cream cake, which looked pretty and delicate, yet sturdy enough to probably tolerate a bike ride without sliding apart.

It didn't. It slid apart. I tried to fix it. Like I try to fix Lou's toast after she demands it cut in half only to change her mind two seconds later and decide she wants one big toast. I was equally unsuccessful. Cake and toast are hard to fix.

All we do is move

I realized that next time we move, which will probably be pretty soon, it will be Louisa's fourth home. Sixth if you count the intermediate months we've spent with grandparents.
I could, but don't want to, figure out how many places Dylan and I have lived together... it's a lot.
All we do is move.

It's so good though

Dylan's parents treated us to an all-you-can-eat Asian buffet last night for mother's day. I ate stir-fried noodles like a mo-fo and spent the rest of the evening with heartburn from hell, trying to decide if it was worth it.
Still not sure.

good thing

My right hip is bothering me and my belly is really starting to get in the way of my 6 mile bike commute.... good thing I only have all summer left to be a fatso. 

Rotary

Last time I presented at a Rotary breakfast club meeting, it was on the Affordable Care Act, in Rathdrum, Idaho and a good majority, if not all, of the crowd was anti-Obama republican.
It still went fine, nobody booed or anything, but it was definitely an uphill presentation. Not preaching to the choir but whatever the exact opposite of that would be. Trying to get the choir to do mime...?

Anyways.

This morning it was a rather different topic and a rather different group of Rotarians. The breakfast was better too.

Both times I've started out thinking, this is nice.... maybe I'd like to join one of these organizations one day? And then the president grabs the gavel and the ceremony begins and you wonder if they're about to break out the wigs and the powder and go all Louis XV.
And I think... maybe not.

my daughter is my husband....shit!

I love Dylan, dearly. I just want to state that for the record before I start slinging shit at him.
But, like all people, he as some personality traits that don't quite mesh with my personality. The most annoying one?
He loves to push buttons, test limits and look back at lines he shouldn't have crossed.
Little things can become really big because of his inability to let things be, and my inability to ignore his obsessive questioning of everything.

This is nothing new. We've lived this way for well over a decade. What is new, is that Lou is clearly starting to display signs of being her dad's most loyal disciple.
She pushes my buttons. My buttons, not her dad's.

And I know, I know. She is two years old. She's supposed to be stubborn and difficult and test limits and blah blah... I get it. And it's not like I thought my child would be special in anyway and not go though the terrible twos or anything like that.

It's just that I feel outnumbered. They are two against one now.   

Shiny happy people

I had the best weekend.
One of the best.
My heart is full of love and friendship.

Also. Lou slept till 8 on Sunday. As if she knew her mom had been partying like a 16-year old, dancing till Macarena and Så Klart! till 12:30 in the morning.

So all is well.

I don't know.. I don't like you

We have a new cleaning lady at work, and I don't like her.
She looks at me like I got my office floor muddy on purpose.
Lady! It's not my fault and you're not my mom.
It's raining, my shoes are wet, we all wear shoes inside around this office. You get paid to clean, it's not like I'm stomping around on your heirloom rugs with dirty paws.
I could be overreacting.
But she rubs me the wrong way.

Thoughts I think as I scroll through Instagram

-       How often do you take a bath and do you use a bath bomb every single time?

-       Do you ever not take a picture of your breakfast?

-       Do you ever go for a run without posting distance, speed, calories burned, etc. on social media?

-       You are soooo slow. If I were that slow, I would not share it

-       Your kid is not very cute

-       I’m sorry, of course all kids are cute

-       Your food looks good

-       Maybe I do want a dog after all

-       It’s very obvious you just take selfies to show off your boobs

-       That looks fun

-       I miss you guys

Taco half full today

You know it's not the worst of days when you drop your sandwich and it lands butter up.
That just happened.
Yesterday was a pretty shitty day, all in all.
Today feels better.

We're not planning on having tacos tonight, but man... everyone else is. I know I said it before, but Swedes are seriously obsessed with Friday night tacos.
No Taco Tuesday here.
Tuesday is not Friday.
It struck me again this morning when the host of the kid's morning show Lou always watches while we get ready, announced that it was "tacos for dinner because it's Friday!"
So at the 9:30 coffee break I casually asked my co-workers, who's all having tacos tonight?
2 out of 5. 

After that unofficial poll I went and picked up the key to the apartment where Dylan's parents will be staying when they get here next week. The owner reminded me of a retired ballerina and the apartment smelled like cigarettes and expensive soap. She was very sweet. I think it will work out just fine.

Over and out. Happy weekend.

Not my finest moment- and don't study too hard

I wrote an email to a Dropbox support person today that was not very nice. I feel a little bad about that, but in my defense, in the original email to support, I quoted the instructions I had on hand (for how to end my free 30-day trial) and explained why they were not helpful.
Pheobe from support replied with the exact same instructions. 
I mean I know the whole point of a free trial is to get you hooked, or at least have you forget to cancel the subscription so you're charged for a month or two before you notice.
But canceling the Dropbox subscription was harder than the math section of the GREs. And I don't think that's reasonable.

In other news, my Russian co-worker has invited everyone to a housewarming party next Sunday. It's a late lunch, and the following Monday is a holiday so don't worry, we can have all the vodka with lunch. Should be fun. 
During coffee this morning she also casually shared how the girl with the best grades in her class growing up (straight As, rich parents, silver spoon, the works) was found murdered (stabbed) at age 17. So what's the point of having good grades? I mean, when you still might get stabbed.

Office Space

I don't have a case of the Mondays.
And why should I have to change when he's the one who sucks?

So true today.

I love my kid and all... but kids in general?!?

Although, maybe it's the parents? It's impossible not to make comparisons and it's not a competition, but just like life in general.... of course it is.
It's stressful.
Family close by is a blessing and a support and a huge help. It's also judgement and non-solicited advice.

Dylan is off on guy's weekend, which he totally deserves and it's also nice for me to (for once) be the one who stands on the inside, with the kiddo, as the door shuts behind the person leaving with all the guilt.
So Lou and I headed downtown and bought ice-cream and returned our library books and also spent some time in the library's children section, which is equipped with soft rugs, cozy furniture, reading nooks, toys and puzzles.
I ended up having to make good on my promise we were "leaving right this second if you don't pick up those books you threw across the room!"
And all the other kids were just super well behaved, and there was this couple there who had like a 5-month old and I kept wondering why the hell you bring a tiny baby to a library reading nook (no older siblings as far as I could tell) but I think they just did it to show off how perfect and loving and cuddly they were. Gross.
Lou also wiped a bogger on a book and I just ignored it.

Don't talk yourself out of a job

I'm thinking about that guy in Office Space, the people person, who was making a mat where you could jump to conclusions.... and the Bobs didn't understand just what he was really doing at work. (I'm talking to the customers so the engineers don't have to!)

Whatever, anyway.... my boss asked me yesterday if I thought my position (theoretically) could be split in two? Divided into more practical part and one more philosophical and planning part. My answer? Why not.

I mean, of course it could. Would it be the best solution for the institution? I don't know. Would it affect me in a way that would be ideal for me personally and professionally? I don't know that either. But those were not the questions. 

When I was working at Heritage Health, what seems like a really long time ago, and our team was being more or less made into a group of useless puppets, I remember being told, "don't say that!". And "don't talk yourself out of a job"

Maybe it's because I've never been terrified of loosing my dream job (cause I've never really had it, I came very close with my last position though) but I've never felt like there was any point in making yourself seem more valuable than you feel, at work.

So we'll see. I'm not worried. I'm glad I'm not the boss.

The future is female

This post might not make much sense, but

Michelle Obama is on TV.
I just love her.

About a month ago, March 8th. International Women's Day. A guy I hardly know, but Dylan's sort of friends with him, got into it with a girl I do know, about a post she shared on Facebook saying something along the lines of We're gonna run this shit.
We being women.
This shit being the world.
And he got all "if you're saying you're going to take over and "run this shit" how is that equality and why isn't there an International Men's Day (oh my god seriously, people who say that should get a hard punch to the testicles, cause they definitely have some)" and lots of other arguments, simultaneously showing off his large vocabulary and pettiness.

If you're a coach, or a parent, or a f-ing nice person, and you support somebody else to improve and grow and take a step forward, you grow too. You're not forced to take a step back.

When (white, straight) men are afraid of walking home alone late at night because a woman might jump them, or get creeped out when a woman sits too close to them on the subway, or feel a female co-worker is making more money only because she is female, then let's talk again. Then let's see if this We're gonna run this shit, went too far.

But until then, calm the f**k down.

Anyways, like I said, Michelle Obama is on TV and Lou is running around being 2 years old, which means adorable and super annoying at the same time, and I just want the world for her.... whatever she wants, if she wants to run it, I want her to be able to.

coping mechanisms

We're not going to talk about how it snowed all night. Not going to talk about how whoever is in charge of snow removal in this city seems to think nobody lives past the little stream that marks our neighborhood. And why shovel where nobody lives?

Whatever. Not relevant. It's all good. Because:
- It's Friday
- We're making home made pizza tonight and Lou is already all jazzed up for it
- Dylan found a potential part-time job and a soccer team
- (Most) everyone we know is healthy, reasonably happy, an doing ok

So snow... yeah, but my coffee is hot and strong.

Perspectives

Bitching about the snow and ever lacking signs of spring to my Russian co-worker. She is hilarious in a very serious way. So I complain about the weather and she looks me dead in the eye and tells me:
-You're weak. You've been made weak by living in warm places. That's why you can't handle this. You have forgotten reality and now you have to deal.
She has a point I guess. And special way to make small talk.

and speaking of which... why don't I tell you how I really feel?

A salesman from the university's official supplier of swag called me up today and started the conversation with a polite (but with a hint of trying to be funny) question about the spring weather we've been enjoying lately, and who doesn't like sub zero temps at the end of March?

Well, I don't. And he asked so I told him. Probably more in depth than he had anticipated.
But then we talked about pens and note pads and he seemed a lot more comfortable.

Another day and a half left of this work week and then we're off for an Easter adventure. Further north.

For the love of sanity... stop snowing!

It dropped another inch and a half or so overnight. Woke up to daylight savings in a slight blizzard. And since it's Sunday and I have nowhere I have to be and could just stay in and cozy up with coffee and a slow breakfast.... I decided to head out for a run in the snow instead.
To feed the anger.
It's ridiculous, all this snow.
I'm starting to seriously question the mental health of everyone living here, including myself.

My future's so bright I gotta wear shades

Maybe not quite.
But what is bright is the sun shining right smack in my face the whole way to work.
Pair that with lots of icy spots, and yeah... shades might not be a bad idea.
Maybe my future will be all the brighter for it.

First world problems

I ride my bike to work. I recycle. I try to bring my own bags to the grocery store. I don't eat a lot of single wrapped foods.
But hairspray in an aerosol can is just better than the pump stuff.
Can someone fix that, please?

Tears, guilt and gratitude

Yesterday when I picked up Lou after work (right at five even though I insist on putting down 4:45 in the scheduling system, like that makes me a better parent... I don't work till 5, c'mon, I totally balance my work/family life) there was a dad, trying to get his daughter dressed to go home.

He was failing miserably. The little girl, older than Lou, probably four-ish, was bawling and didn't want anything to do with mittens, hats, socks.... or her dad.
He didn't look like he wanted anything to do with the whole deal either, but that's the deal with being a parent... you don't get to choose. Meltdowns are reserved for the kiddos, you just ball it up inside and save it for the heart attack.

Lou tried to help, picked the mittens up off the floor several times and tried to put them on the girl's hands, without luck. Partly because the girl didn't want the mittens, but also because Lou honestly didn't do a very stellar job.

Anyways, the whole situation was just special because
A) Lou tried really hard to help out, and even though she's a sweet kid she's definitely no saint so that made me surprised and proud.
B) the dad working up to a heart attack made me feel all sorts of sympathy for him. Because I've been there, it could have been me and this day it just happened to be him instead. But he also made me feel kind of grateful for making my kid look good and also turning my feeling of"godammit I'm always fifteen minutes late" into "ha, well at least I'm not that guy!"

What tears?

Never once have I dropped her off and she's been upset to see me go. Getting her ready in the morning sucks, she doesn't want to get out the door and will do anything to stall...  I don't blame her. Even though it's not far, sitting on the back of a bike in -11 with windchill, doesn't sound like fun to me either. 
But once we get there, and she sees all her friends and teachers, I have to force her to come give me a hug and say good bye.
It's nice.
I always thought the drop off was a given tear jerker.
But no.

office manners

When you make a little bit of coffee. Don't.
Make a full pot. Obviously.

Duh.

Another week another lunch

A German, a Russian, another Swede and I went to eat Indian food.
I’ve never had deep fried eggs before and would be alright with never having them again.

During lunch we covered happy subjects like dying of stress, drowning, and financial reports. Not dying from financial reports…. obviously. Just writing them.

I believe that’s all. Happy Friday.

the last meal, except not really

I just finished lunch with friends I probably won't see in a long time.
They make my heart happy and I'm so glad I know them. So it's sad to say goodbye, but we do it so often it's okay. And it's always just until next time.

Now let's talk about the sandwich I ate.
It's basically thanksgiving on a bun minus the pie.
Turkey, not slimy deli style. Not a solid piece that feels like chewing a steak. But flaky wonderness. And then stuffing (on.a.sandwich.I.know) and cranberry sauce and mayonnaise and celery and I don't even know but man.... 

That's all.

What's the problem?

Facetime with the nugget.

Me: I miss you!
Lou: *looks confused* Mamma komma dörren, hitta Louisa!

(Mommy come door, find Louisa!)

Like, what's the problem?
If you miss me, come find me.
I'm on the other side of the door.

Every goddam time

Massage therapist: is there any area in particular you’d like me to focus on?

Me: Yes. Neck, shoulders and back. Please.

Massage therapist: you got it!

I proceed to lay on the table and the massage therapist does his/her regular routine.
Back, arm, other arm, leg, other leg, little on the feet, flip over, more leg, other leg, shoulders neck.

Like a dance they could do in their sleep.
Some do a little on the hands, the guy today pulled my fingers (in a professional way) some avoid the glutes, some work them.

But you can tell, they do their thing. Asking about my particular areas of preferred focus is really just part of the routine.
They’re still going to do their thing.

I’d so gladly trade the calf work for more shoulder work. But that's not part of the deal. 

Last week

We got one more week. And since we haven't gotten everything done, it looks like I'll have to keep flying back and forth like some kind of rock star. Which sucks cause I don't have rock star money.

But it'll be good to come back to normal. Now that everything is negotiable, Lou tries to negotiate everything. Spoiled by grandma and grandpa is great, but being pushed around by other kids is also really important.

For me it'll be good to finally get back into my own office. Working from home, or your friend's ski town office, is great cause you don't have to shower or get dressed (right now I'm long underwear and fleece) to get to work. But the time difference and not being able to see or talk to anyone you work with is getting old.

Anyways, this last week I'm going to eat a lot of ranch dressing, huckleberry everything, bagels, pretzels and coffee creamer. Then I'll be ready for real coffee, cheese in a tube and bread that's not actually cake.

Still here

It's like half vacation, half work, half business as usual.
Like we never left.
And also like we definitely left.

Enjoying cheap eats, skiing, super bowl Sunday is this weekend.
Missing the routine we'd finally established.

It's nice to have a car. We went from three cars, to none, to one. The old Subaru. Lou hates it. Any chance to jump in another rig, she takes.
Grandma's car!
Farfar's truck!
Don't make me go in daddy's rusty old thing...

I feel ya kiddo. I don't like it either. But it gets us around.

I'm working out of the Wallace coffee shop. Which means I have to get good coffee and a bagel since I'm using their premises. Or, you know. I have to buy something and then I might as well buy something I want. Since it's Wallace you have the option of spiking your coffee anyway you feel appropriate. But since it's 7:30 am I feel only vanilla syrup is appropriate.

In order to plug my computer into the power outlet, I have to sit so that my screen faces the door. So when people who don't give two shits about me or what's on my screen walk in to get their coffee, they could potentially see that I have facebook open. This bothers me a little bit since I am really trying to pull off the professional look, but the music is loud and I can't hear when people walk in so while I'm looking super focused, they could see that I'm on social media.

If they wanted to.

I wish I was writing a novel instead of a project newsletter. 

That's all I guess.

cause I'm a sucker for compliments and such

So fine. English. Whatever.

When people say they read the blog I feel like I just spend 4 hours getting ready to go out (I actually have no clue what that feels like) and when people notice I say "oh this old thing, I just threw something on"

It's raining. Which totally sucks for skiing. But works good for working good. So I'm decked out in long underwear and snow boots, working from my office away from the office. Hoping the rain will turn to snow in the afternoon.

Tonight is Trivia Night at the pub. I love trivia like a fat kid loves ballet. I shouldn't, cause I'm no good at it, but I love it all the same.

För det första och förresten

För det första är vi ju i staterna nu.
Och förresten så är det min blogg och jag gör som jag vill.
Alltså, svenska. Det var väl en sak när vi reste och hade någorlunda intressant tillvaro.
Men att sitta i Schweden och blogga auf English för några få berörda som jag ändå håller kontakt med via mail och Facebook.... näe. jag switchar tillbaka.

Nu har vi varit här drygt en vecka. Jetlaggen har lagt sig. Den var inte speciellt jobbig för nån av oss faktiskt. Louisa somnar tryggt var vi än lägger henne på kvällarna, men har lagt till sig med att vilja komma och sova hos oss nångång vid tresnåret. Och det låter vi ju henne göra utan att bråka eftersom vem orkar hålla på med rutiner när allt ändå står lite på ända?

Idag ska jag köpa solglasögon. Solen skiner här. Och vi är ju som lite ovana vid det vid det här laget.

Here they come, the perfect ones

I just love parents who stone faced tell you ”I don’t manipulate my child” after I might have let on that I appreciate the fact that my 2 year old doesn’t remember at night that I promised her ice cream in the morning.

Or, “my child never watches television”. Well, good for you. My child hardly ever watches television either. Netflix on the other hand…

Or say, “we make it a special and fun time together” about getting dressed in fourteen layers of wool and fleece before leaving for preschool on a bike at 7am in the freezing cold. If that’s your idea of fun you need to explore life a little.

Ah, the perfect parents. F them.