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.