The Lunds In Lund

Enter Winter

2012-01-10T05:34:00.000-08:00

November was not the best month for me. My sons and I had played passed the virus for a few months, and then I lost a dear uncle. I felt so far from home. The weather was dreary, and my California brain thought that spring must be right around the corner even though in reality, winter hadn't even begun. And I never realized how important a holiday Thanksgiving was, until I was away and there was no mention of it. So I flew home for a quick visit, which was just the warm and fuzzy fill-up I needed before winter here.

When I returned it was December; I'd forgotten how beautiful Lund is when Christmas takes over and there are gingerbread decorations and electric candles everywhere. Walking around town feels like you're living in "It's a Wonderful Life" as the decorations hanging over the cobblestone streets are likely the same as they were 75 years ago.

After last year's snow storms, our boys have been disappointed with just a few "dustings" this year. The minute it started snowing, Lucas ran to get his sled. He didn't like hearing that he'd have to wait until there was more.

Candles, candles, and more candles. In the dark of December, light is very important. There are electric candles in almost all windows which gives a cozy feel as you walk around all bundled up. Each morning we would light the advent candles, which is just a part of December here. Along with practically every other Swede, my boys would watch the (non-religious) advent program on TV every morning or evening, and then open the accompanying calendar window. The kids would talk about it at school, and the adults would discuss whether or not this year's program is a good one. (It was.)

St. Lucia is celebrated on December 13th, and both boys' schools had celebrations where the kids dress up and sing Lucia and Christmas songs. (And then afterwards we all eat saffron buns, gingerbread cookies, clementine oranges, and drink hot cocoa, coffee and Swedish glögg.) Both boys chose to dress as gingerbread men.

Christmas is celebrated on the 24th, as it is in most of Europe, and Mats and I made our first turkey. Santa even visited, but the boys said, "That was Papa!"

For dessert, it was the traditional devouring of the gingerbread houses. (Hernik's was a home-made gluten-free gingerbread "present" as he'd requested.)

Each day it was important to get outside for some fresh air and to greet the sun (and a funny tree.)

And now it's January. The electric lights start to disappear from the windows, but the sunlight hours are longer. Today was the boys' first day back to school. I usually don't love January, but this year I look forward to my goals for the year, and greet 2012 with optimism.

Fall / Höst

2011-10-26T13:51:00.000-07:00

The leaves have started to turn colors and fall, making crunching noises under our tires as we ride to and from school and work. The first few weeks of fall gave us beautiful sunny weather, reminiscent of Northern California autumns, and inspired us to do some exploring.

We took a mini road trip across Southern Sweden to the east coast town of Kivik (pronounced Shee-vik), home of the annual apple festival in the fall, and to many beach-goers in the summer. The weather was beautiful as we snacked at the beach and then made our way to the giant apple mural. The mural is only up for a few weeks, or as long as the apples last, so I was really glad to be able to see it.

Afterwards we visited the Kiviks Musteri where they make apple juice, cider, jams, etc. At the end of the self-guided tour we were able to taste apple juice in a garden of apple trees. It reminded me of going wine tasting in the wine country, but instead we were juice tasting in the apple country! The Swedish apples are just becoming ripe now, and they're delicious. Fall is officially here.

Balloon Chasers

2011-10-06T02:45:00.000-07:00

Recently Lucas had a friend's birthday party on a late Saturday afternoon. Mats left to get a pizza for dinner, which left Henrik and I home alone. We had a mission: to make a gluten-free, yeast-free pizza. But before we could get started, Mats called and told us to look outside- a hot air balloon was going by.

Henrik and I rushed out to our back yard in time to see a rainbow-colored balloon floating peacefully over the tree tops. We could hear the whoosh of the fire as the balloon was refilled. As it continued its journey past our house, Henrik had the idea to follow it to see where it lands. In a few seconds we were on our bikes - we were balloon chasing!

We went to the main bike path and followed it towards the balloon. To our right, a second balloon floated over an open field. It had an "M" on it.

We continued on the path, trying to keep up with the balloons. At times they looked like they were going to land, only to rise up again and continue on.

Finally, we had to bid farewell to the balloons.

We returned home to our pizza project, but Henrik and I had to fuel up on a bit of cereal first, after our big adventure.

Sommarstängt (Closed for Summer)

2011-08-24T13:24:00.000-07:00

Well, it appears this blog closed for the summer. Which is fitting since it felt that Sweden (at least Lund) did the same. When almost the entire country has 5-6 weeks of vacation, they need to take it sometime. And that "sometime" seems to be July.

We went to the U.S. during this time for a wonderful visit, and even though we thought we had lots of time, we still didn't get to see everyone we'd hoped to. But we had a great visit, and the boys learned to swim in Nana's pool which was an amazing thing to witness. Henrik went from a floatie ring to jumping independently into the pool and swimming to us.

When we returned it was mid-July, and I thought, where did everyone go? I'd heard that Lund, a University town, was "sleepy" in the summers, but I'd never experienced a town fall asleep before. It felt like the little fairies from Sleeping Beauty had flown through the streets with their magic wands and put everyone to sleep. In general, everything shuts down, even summer camps, soccer, and swim lessons! And since no one is here, no one plans anything, and I think because of that, no one is here. The boys asked for play dates with their school friends, but everyone was on vacation.

There were a few people here and there, mostly tourists who I quickly discern now as they wear back packs and walk in couples or groups. I missed my friends and family from home, and being in an empty town didn't help. I needed to get re-grounded here, so I walked around quiet Lund, and took in her beauty. I noticed doorways I hadn't seen before, as I usually was rushing from one place to another.

And I loved the "Closed for Vacation" signs in the shop windows:

The University building sat quietly, waiting for her students to return:

And now, the students are returning. The bike racks are becoming full and the average age of the town is skewing closer to 19-23 or so. With everyone back I appreciate the quiet summer, but am glad the town is waking again.

Biker Mama

2011-06-21T20:35:00.000-07:00

One of the cool things about living in Lund is how bike-friendly the town is. It's often easier, and more fun of course, to ride your bike than to drive thanks to all the paths throughout town.

Here's a "parking lot" in downtown across from the Lund train station:

And another in Malmö:

My little legs are getting back in biking shape, just like they were 16 years ago or so, when I attended the University of Colorado at Boulder. Even so, everyone passes me here. A guy in flip-flops on a rusty bike with the chain half-on passes me. Ten year-old girls discussing the day's gossip pass me. Retired men and women with grandkids in the baby seat pass me. But I did have a moment of triumph the other day as I realized was about to pass someone. So what if she was about 80, and didn't seem to be in rush? (And it was down hill.)

Mats took a picture of me on the way back from dinner recently. My sister says I look like I'm in the Sound of Music, which made me laugh because that's what I think about everyone here.

Happy trails!

Can't Sleep

2011-06-15T20:14:00.000-07:00

I know what you're wondering - what does our backyard look like at 5 a.m.?

Well, wonder no further:

The sun rose a while ago, the birds are singing, and with an open window in the bedroom, it's impossible to sleep. Welcome to (almost) summer time in Southern Sweden!

I wish I could record the sound of the birds, because it's an amazing sound. Kind of like a rainforest, but with smaller birds. (Disclaimer: I've never actually been in a rainforest, but I did visit Rainforest Cafe once if that helps.)

The birds are quite busy here in Sweden, and don't seem to get much rest with all that chirping, flying, and whatever else it is they do in the daylight hours. Today, according to Google, the sun rose at 4:24 but I can attest that it was light earlier than that. The sun plans to set tonight around 10 p.m.

It's one of the best times to be in Sweden - the strawberries are out, the flowers are in full bloom, and the ice cream truck plays its melody through the streets at 8 p.m.

Welcome summer!

Anniversary

2011-05-02T03:17:00.000-07:00

Today marks my 14th anniversary of visiting Sweden for the first time. I remember as the plane descended towards Malmö, and I saw the southern coast of Sweden and the rectangular green fields that glowed under an intense sun, complemented by dark grey clouds in the background.

Right now I sit in my garden, and the journey from then until now feels unbelievable. Then, a 23-year-old graduate student searching and waiting for "real life" to begin. Now, a 37-year-old mother and wife, looking forward to cultivating her career, and asking for guidance to do her part in creating a happy, healthy, and peaceful family, community and world.

Although warm sunny days are wonderful and needed, my favorite weather is sunny with rain clouds approaching. Everything is so much more intense- the colors, smells, and light. And I love rain, especially when it comes in the evening and leaves by morning, just like it did last night.

Here Henrik practices his sprints while rain clouds approach.

Swedish Spring has Sprung

2011-05-01T04:35:00.000-07:00

I was beginning to wonder if the leaves would ever appear - I'd never gone so long without greenery. But the last three weeks we've had beautiful sun-filled days here, California weather I call it, though it's really a Swedish spring.

And just like that, there were leaves. And blossoms. And birds. People are smiling, coming out of hibernation, and queuing for ice cream. Or maybe that's just us.

Three weeks ago, our backyard looked like this:

And today:

Beautiful Vitsippa flowers carpet the forest near my in-laws' home, only to disappear after a week:

And here are some pictures from my neighbors' yards:

Happy Spring everyone!

Easter Witches

2011-04-24T22:55:00.000-07:00

Easter (Påsk) is a big deal here in Sweden. Good Friday and Easter Monday are national holidays, with many people taking a half-day off on Thursday as well. During lent, my mother-in-law gave me branches with bright feathers attached to them. I asked her if this was traditional, as I'd never seen anything like them before. They are common here during Easter, and I've now seen them outside stores, restaurants, and in people's homes.

Here are some for sale at Lund's Farmers' Market:

When a friend called and asked if my boys wanted to be Easter witches with her son, I had no idea what she was talking about. Legend has it that on the Thursday before Easter, all the witches fly to Blåkulla, a magical mountain somewhere, and have a party with the devil. My Swedish teacher spoke about the witch-burning days in Europe, but assured us that no witches (also known as female healers) have been burned in Sweden for 300 years.

Anyway, it's now a tradition that during the Easter week, kids dress as nice witches (scarves, rosy cheeks, and freckles) and ring people's doors and give them little hand-made Easter crafts. The people, in return, give a coin, candy, or fruit. In other words, it's similar to Halloween, but not as specific a time, and everyone dresses as the same thing. (Halloween is celebrated here also, but it's more a new thing, not traditional.)

So, our boys dressed as witches on Thursday and went around the neighborhood, which gave me an opportunity to say hello to some neighbors we hadn't met yet. The kids got mostly candy, but when a woman gave them an apple, Henrik said, "I guess she didn't have any candy, so she gave us fruit."

Snödroppar

2011-04-22T12:33:00.000-07:00

I find myself so much more tuned into nature here. In the south of Sweden, there are many trees, but most are deciduous. For months, the landscape shows only dark, barren branches awaiting spring.

When the first bulbs start to bloom, it's a big deal. The schools talk to the kids about the spring flowers, people smile and remark on the new blooms, and the newspaper reports on which flowers are coming next.

In February or March, the little white snödroppar (Snowdrops), said to cheat winter, are the first to bloom.

On the second day of spring, Henrik's preschool opened. His class is named "Snödroppen," which seems fitting as the school opened just as the flowers were appearing. Here he is, riding his bike to school with Mats on his first day:

He really likes school, and his teachers say that he's understanding Swedish well, but still speaks to them mostly in English. With the kids, however, I hear him starting, just like Lucas did, to speak Swedish. "Look here," "Stop it," and "Come here" seem to be some of the first phrases kids learn. This past week it seemed that some magical language piece clicked in, and now I hear him switching between the languages like Lucas does.

Along with the flowers and trees, I look forward to watching Henrik's Swedish bloom this spring.

Haircuts

2011-03-07T00:15:00.000-08:00

My boys' hair was getting shaggy - I'd put off finding a place to get haircuts long enough. One mom said her friend cut her kids' hair, but recommended a cheap place if I didn't mind it not being very fancy. I called, and Henrik's cut would have been $40 (280 crowns), and Lucas' $50 (340 crowns).

When I told people here, they all agreed: haircuts are expensive in Sweden. (Random side-note: college education, aside from books and lodging, is free.)

I asked another mom, and she said her mom cuts her son's hair. I was seeing why people had friends or family cut their kid's hair. But she said there was a cheap place ($20) by the train station. I Googled "hår tåg Lund" (hair, train, Lund), but couldn't find it - I'm not very good at searching the internet in Swedish yet. But I found a place that, when I called, said kids' haircuts were $30, so I made an appointment, same-day.

The place was nice, but seemed more oriented towards older women compared to the kid's haircut place back home with the plastic castle and toys everywhere. Neither boy wanted to go first, so I told them they'd have a treat at home.

Lucas finally went, but Henrik hid under the antique chair saying, "I don't want a haircut!" Eventually I persuaded him, and he sat on my lap. We shared the black cape that's supposed to catch the hair, so we looked like a two-headed blob.

The woman looked at me and said with an accent, "At last, we're done. That wasn't easy." I agreed. I realized I didn't know if I needed to tip. I asked, and she said it was included, no need to pay more. I appreciated her honesty, and then gave the boys five crowns (80 cents) each to give her, just in case.

I'd like to learn how to cut my boys' hair - it can't be that hard, right? But then again, I found out a woman's cut and highlight is cheaper here (by at least $50) than at home. So I guess it all equals out.

Swedish Tooth Fairy

2011-02-26T00:13:00.000-08:00

Lucas' tooth was so loose. Drove me nuts, I wouldn't be able to handle a floppy tooth in my mouth; but he let it get looser, and looser. It was the bottom right one, his second loose tooth.

He lost his first about a month before we moved here. It "just popped out" one day at school. He literally lost it for a few minutes, and then one of his friends found it on the floor under his desk. His teacher, used to her pupils' teeth falling out, had a cute little tooth-shaped necklace thing to hold the tooth.

When he woke up the next morning, there was a dollar bill under his pillow from the tooth fairy. Seemed to be the going rate. But she'd left his tooth, and this confused Lucas since she's taken his friends' teeth when they lost them. He looked at me and said, "Did the tooth fairy really come, or did you just put this under my pillow?" I asked him what he thought, and something on the TV distracted him, and that was the end of that conversation.

Two weeks ago he finally lost his second tooth. He had been crying earlier that day because every time he bit down, it hurt. With my urging, he tried to pull it out, and a few minutes later, he ran to tell me he'd lost his second tooth.

"Lucas, you're going to get a dollar!" Henrik said, evident that he wished his teeth were falling out.

"No, Henrik, we're in Sweden now, so it will be in crowns," Lucas replied. "Maybe I'll get 500 crowns! That's the biggest bill!" Then he started dancing and singing, "Money, Money, Money, must be funny, in a rich man's world!" (ABBA)

I laughed. "Lucas, 500 crowns is like $75, I don't think the tooth fairy gives that much."

"We'll see!" he said, still optimistic.

The tooth fairy came, and this time took his tooth. Lucas got a gold-colored coin - ten crowns. Seems to be the going rate. She wrote a little note in Swedish that said, "Welcome to Sweden Lucas!" (She used the plural vs. the singular form of "welcome" but that's OK, her job is collecting teeth, not writing after all.)

Happy Valentine's Day!

2011-02-14T23:09:00.000-08:00

Da Stuff Arrives

2011-02-14T23:08:00.000-08:00

Our stuff has arrived.

It felt like Christmas, but with two tall German Santas, maybe in their 40's, who came to the door 15 minutes earlier than the scheduled time to deliver the packages. One blond, the other dark, both wearing bright yellow reflective vests. I checked off the list of boxes as they came through the door, per their request. "26!" they'd say, and I'd check it off. "37!" and so forth.

After 68, or was it 70 boxes - there were more than I originally remembered - all were accounted for, and it had only taken 30 minutes. I asked them to open the wardrobe boxes, as I had to empty them before they left.

"I need to check if this is my husband's, or my clothes," I said, as the blond guy opened the top of one of the boxes. Out of the top of the box jumped a bright pink boa, a souvenir from my sister's bachelorette party. "I think this is mine," I laughed, "unless it's my husband's..." The guy laughed, and said with his German accent, "I hope not!"

I offered them coffee, but they had to go - they were next driving to Oslo, Norway.

The boys jumped up and down as we unpacked more, and more toys. I wondered what I'd been thinking, bringing that much stuff, but oh well.

Henrik got his Hobie and Shadow. Lucas got his LEGOs. I got my printer, label maker, Kitchen Aid, Trader Joe's crackers, and lots of other things. Mats got his big screen TV. I heard Lucas upstairs discovering his stuffed animal penguins, "Mrs. Schulz! Big Scratcher!" he yelled, as he greeted his old friends. (Mrs. Schulz is a penguin named after his kindergarten teacher.)

But, like Christmas, there is a come-down. We now need to unpack all these boxes and find places for everything. Henrik is looking for his small Curious George stuffed animal, which I have no idea if we packed. I try not to feel bad for him, he has a bed full of stuffed animals. With each box he asks me with sad eyes, "Did you find Curious George?"

With the unpacking of things from our previous home come memories of our friends and family who are still there. And I realize that they didn't come along with the physical things wrapped in brown paper.

But now I must go. Time to look for Curious George.

Waiting for Da Stuff

2011-02-13T05:39:00.000-08:00

Before we left for Sweden, we had a bunch of decisions to make, and all seemed to have their pros and cons. The biggest decision, to move to Sweden, had finally been made, after only two or three years of vacillating. Granted, we counted ourselves lucky to have these options, but that didn't make the process any easier.

Should we:

Rent or sell our house in Ca?
Sell or ship our cars to Sweden?
Ship our furniture (most of it IKEA), or just our personal belongings?
Sell our remaining furniture and stuff, or get a storage unit?

We did sell our house, though we loved it, because we didn't want the transcontinental responsibility of an older home. We shipped one car, sold the other. We craigslisted most of our furniture and packed our remaining favorites in a small storage unit. And finally, we shipped our STUFF. 61 boxes in total, 21 of which were books and magazines.

We shipped it all about a month before leaving, and now, 2 months and 2 days post-arrival, our boxes are going to be delivered tomorrow, a Valentine's gift.

(Our car arrived 2 weeks ago, and the few boxes we were allowed to put in it were a welcome care package, including the mix for gluten-free cornbread we made the first night to celebrate.) Though I'm still puzzled why we shipped a random box of unsorted desk junk.

We've had endless conversations about our stuff. I've since forgotten everything we packed, or didn't pack, so when my kids ask, "Did you ship the talking globe?" my answer is, "I don't know, we'll see when the shipment arrives." (Although I'm pretty sure the globe is in storage. We'll have to pick it up this summer.)

I remember reading Waiting for Godot in high school, and thought this wasn't that much different. Except I think Godot never arrived. We did wonder if our stuff ever would arrive, as the date kept being pushed out. Henrik said, "I think our shipment is stuck in another world." I think he meant another country, as he'd heard us saying it had been in Germany clearing customs since before New Year's.

Lucas can't wait for his box of LEGOs and stuffed animals, Henrik can't wait to see Hobie and Shadow, his golden and black stuffed animal Labradors that were named after my mom's dogs of the same breed and colors. I'm 99% sure those are in there. I'm looking forward to getting our paintings, holiday decorations, our favorite food coloring-free candies, and whatever else it is I packed. Mats is waiting for his tennis shoes and most of his clothes, as we hadn't fully realized how long it would take.

I'm not sure where it's all going to fit in our townhouse without a garage, but we'll figure it out. Lucas says tomorrow we'll have a house made out of toys. He may be right.

Dark Days, Too

2011-02-05T15:14:00.002-08:00

And then there was dark. And rain. And ice.

I thought it fitting to write about the dark since my last post was about light. It is dark here, especially when it's cloudy. And it's still mostly dark when I bring Lucas to school in the morning. Earlier this week we were on our way to school, and the wind was blowing. Henrik's bike slipped on the ice, and down he went, crying because the handlebar hit his side.

A Swedish woman walking by stopped to help, and by random coincidence, she'd been born in California. This didn't help Henrik, though, who refused to bike the remaining way to Lucas' school. Lucas couldn't go ahead because of the construction on Henrik's preschool. (They are building his preschool, right behind Lucas' school, and it should be ready in March. Not that I'm counting down, or anything.)

It reminded me of Alexander's No Good, Very Bad Day, a book I loved to listen to my mom read when I was young. In it, the little boy is having one of those days, and he keeps saying he wants to move to Australia. And his mom says, "They have bad days, even in Australia."

The day redeemed itself, though. On the way home, Henrik and I got to witness up-close the crane putting the last piece of the preschool pre-fab building together. That afternoon Henrik and I had a Mommy Preschool field trip downtown to buy some office supplies (my reward) and to visit the hot dog stand (Henrik's reward.)

And then the sun came out.

Northern Light

2011-01-31T05:27:00.000-08:00

Whenever I told people I was moving to Sweden in December, I'd hear, "Be prepared for the dark!" Before we moved, I'd only been here in summer or late spring, so I didn't know what to expect.

We live in the very south of Sweden, where, in the dark of winter, the sun comes up around 8:30 a.m., and sets around 4:00 p.m. In the north of Sweden (above the Arctic Circle) it's more extreme, as they may only see an hour or so of light in a winter's day.

So many people warned me of the dark, that I wasn't prepared for the beautiful LIGHT. The snow helps, of course, but the sun's light is intense, blue-hued, and magical. I love it.

Dreaming in Swedish

2011-01-25T13:55:00.000-08:00

I've had the book Dreaming in Hindi on my to-be-read list for a while.

I was reminded of it a few weeks ago when I was upstairs working, and I heard Lucas talking in his sleep. Usually I can't understand anything he says, it's more a jumble of words. But this night, what he said was very clear: "Titta här!" (Look here!)

I stood looking at him, and lay my hand on his head. He's dreaming in Swedish! I thought.

A Swedish Christmas - Dec. 24

2011-01-24T07:40:00.000-08:00

For the past 13 years, Mats has celebrated Christmas with my family in California. We always talked about going to Sweden for Christmas, or having his family out to us, but it's a hard time to travel, and it never happened.

This year was the first time his family was all together for Christmas since he moved to the U.S., and the first time they got to celebrate with the kids.

We even hosted, for the first time ever. I always had romantic thoughts of cooking the turkey for the first time, but 1) I'm not much of a cook, and 2) we'd just moved in a few weeks before and I didn't want to hunt down a turkey in snowy Sweden. So instead, we had halibut. I think I'm happy to have that as a new tradition.

God Jul to all. And to all, a good night!

A Gingerbread Story (Late Dec.)

2011-01-19T07:31:00.001-08:00

Nothing says a Swedish Christmas like a gingerbread house. And a warm mug of glögg, a sweet spiced drink.

Lucas and Mats engineered this year's creation. When I asked what the squiggly one was, Mats said it was the Christmas snake, of course. The boys loved this, and we've since had many discussions about the Christmas snake.

On Christmas Eve, we watched the traditional Kalle Anka (Donald Duck) program while viewing our nice gingerbread house. The Christmas snake, which broke into two, peeks out from the chimney. (As an aside, click here for a funny essay on Slate about the Swedish Kalle Anka tradition.)

After dinner, destruction and dessert.

We'll revisit this tradition next year.

Homesick (Dec. 20 - 23)

2011-01-18T13:47:00.000-08:00

First, I couldn’t figure out how to open our front door. Mats had rung the doorbell upon returning from an errand. Lucas and I tried unsuccessfully to open the door to let him in - turns out the lock must be turned right, the handle pushed down, and the door swings out, not in, like in our old house. Lucas and I laughed at ourselves, but I was feeling a little dumb.

Then I tried opening a window upstairs. Once open, it locked and I had to ask Mats for help closing it. I was starting to feel frustrated. And helpless.

It took us a few nights and referencing the manual to figure out how to run the dishwasher. And the washer and dryer. Then the dryer stopped working.

But the final banana peel that broke the camel's back was the garbage. Wanting to execute a simple domestic task independently, I donned three layers of clothing, gathered up the three bags, and headed to the little garbage shed which houses the bins for our complex. At first I couldn't open the door, but finally managed to clear the excess ice and get it open. Once inside I couldn’t understand the writing on the cans, or which ones were for what type of garbage (household trash, food scraps, etc.) One said something about toothbrushes, diapers and shoes. I didn’t understand.

I figured it out by opening each bin, but at this point, I lost it and went home to cry. I wanted to tap my shoes and head home - back where I could read the signs. And where I knew how to dispose our trash. And all our recycling went in the same bin.

It lasted a few days: feeling blue, missing friends and my old home. The day before Christmas Eve, Mats suggested I go to town. "I think it will be good for you," he said. I looked doubtful. "What about the snow storm?" I asked. He said it wasn't a storm, just snow. So off I trudged to the bus stop and rode 15 minutes into town, solo for the first time.

I browsed stores with glowing candles and gingerbread hearts hanging in the windows. Everyone was doing final holiday shopping, the excitement contagious. I bought halibut from the fish market for our Christmas dinner. I visited the Lund cathedral, one of my favorite places on earth, and watched the prayer candles burn in the globe-shaped candelabra.

Tired, but satisfied from my little adventure downtown, I was making my way to the bus station when I realized I’d forgotten lemons and limes. Looking for a store, I saw a 7-11 on the corner. I don’t know which was more surprising – the fact that they have corner 7-11s here, or its decent produce section.

I joked with the cashier that I was speaking Swenglish as I said, "tre lemons" and "fyra limes." He laughed, and switched effortlessly to English, just as all the other cashiers had done that day. I said God Jul and turned to leave, but an old woman in line blocked my path, grinning so I could see a missing front tooth. "Merry Christmas!" she gushed with a heavy accent, "Happy New Year!" She smiled at me, a foreigner in her country.

We never know how much something we say, or do, can affect another person. This woman, an angel for the day, made me feel welcomed. And glad to be here.

Week One in Sweden Dec 12 - 18

2011-01-10T12:44:00.000-08:00

After arriving and getting over jet lag, we enjoyed the snow that fell all week. The amount of snow is unbelievable, even to the Swedes who keep saying this isn't normal for the south of Sweden. The "worst winter in 100 years or more" is what we're hearing. Seeing as my boys have never lived in snow, they might argue it's the best winter in 100 years. Especially since they got to help Mats build this snow fort.

One morning after a snowy night, Henrik announced at the breakfast table that we wouldn't be able to leave the house because our door would be stuck. Mats and I smiled at each other, thinking, Where did he get that idea from? We assured him we'd be able to open the door.

Later, Mats tried to leave to go to the post office. The door wouldn't budge. Henrik was right- we were snowed in. Mats pushed the door enough to squeeze through and shovel us out. Mental note- listen to my boys when they come up with these random-seeming announcements!

Lucas and Henrik have enjoyed trying to make snow balls (the experts here say the snow is a bit too dry for this - who knew snow could be dry?)

We explained that snow angels can also be made with your face up.

And finally, good old-fashioned snow shoveling with hot chocolate afterward.

December 14 - Day 3, Still Jet-Lagged

2011-01-09T13:34:00.000-08:00

Lucas and Henrik's grandmother (Farmor) gave them a pocket advent calendar that was hanging in our house when we arrived. Each day, they open a new pocket to find a little gift. This is of course very exciting, but the problem is that Henrik has, for two days, woken me up in the middle of the night asking to open the calendar by saying "Number 13!" or "Number 14!" The first night, I let it slide because we were all jet lagged. This morning, I told him that the numbers don't get opened until morning time.

Today's prize - a mini pinball game.

Another prize - Mats had a second interview with a company here in Lund. Fingers crossed!

December 13 - Day 2 and St. Lucia

2011-01-01T14:43:00.000-08:00

St. Lucia is celebrated in Sweden, as well as many other countries. She is the patron saint of light, and Sweden celebrates by having processions with a girl that has been crowned as "Lucia." She has a wreath with candles on her head, and is followed by singing boys and girls. I loved this tradition so much, that for the last 4 years I've talked about it in my boys' U.S. preschool in December. I would dress up like Lucia, have the kids dress up too, and we would walk down a darkened hall so the other classes could see us. Since I was one of the few that knew the song, and my singing voice is not my best attribute, I would have an iPod with a speaker hanging around my neck, so it sounded like a beautiful choir was singing. This year was extra-special, knowing it would be my last time at the preschool.

But now, having just arrived here in Sweden, we'd been up since 2 a.m. with the boys, whose jet-lagged bodies were telling them it was time to eat, play, and roam. At 7 a.m., we turned on the TV and watched the Lucia procession. It was so wonderful to be here for this - our first Lucia day in Sweden.

Afterward, Henrik celebrated by taking a nap on the floor.

Next year, maybe we'll venture out to a concert performance. But this time, our first full day in Sweden, it was nice to stay in our warm house and look out at the snow.

Dec. 12: Arrival!

2010-12-16T16:49:00.000-08:00

Mats' brother and dad met us at the airport, waving the Swedish flag. When we walked outside the Copenhagen airport, the cold was shocking - twenty-something degrees. Henrik said, "It's so cold, I can't breathe."

A rented trailer to fit all our bags!

Seeing our house for the first time, snow and all! Mats' parents had made it a home for us- washed sheets on our newly-purchased Ikea beds, towels in the bathrooms, kitchen stocked, and even adorable lights in the windows. And the heat was on, so it was nice and warm. Couldn't have been a better welcome.

The first thing Henrik asked to do was take a bath. The first thing Lucas asked to do was shovel snow. I just walked around and looked at things in the house, and the views from the windows. It seemed unreal.

Dec 11 - 12 : Traveling to Sweden

2010-12-16T16:23:00.000-08:00

8 bags each weighing 50 pounds, plus carry-on.

Thankfully Lucas is old enough to push his own cart!

Kids slept pretty well on the plane.

Announcement from Copenhagen airport:
"Attention travelers - there will be a slight delay in luggage delivery as the luggage door is frozen shut."

The Day Before We Leave

2010-12-16T16:22:00.000-08:00

Wow, so much to pack, so limited time. The past two days had been spent driving around trying to find an open passport agency as we realized last-minute that Lucas' passport had expired (we'd forgotten that kids' passports are only good for 5 years vs. 10 for adults.) Luckily we had his Swedish passport to use for travel, but we wanted to renew his U.S. one before we left.

The final day had come, and we had a lot to pack. My mom, sister, and brother all came to help. Without them, it would not have gotten done (as well as help from other friends earlier that week!)

My mom arrived with Shadow to give us some pet therapy. She stayed with the kids in the hotel that night so we could finish packing.

Mats helping Henrik with a video game at the hotel, before bedtime.

Move Preparations

2010-12-16T15:29:00.000-08:00

Quick update: We've moved to Sweden! After 2 years of debating, we decided to go for it. Here are a few pictures from the past few months.

61 boxes packed and ready to be shipped by boat to Sweden. ETA: 10 - 12 weeks from early November.

Sale pending, phew!

Storage containers arrived:

We shipped the Prius. ETA: 10 - 12 weeks from early December.

Packing

Movie Review - Eat, Pray, Love

2010-08-14T19:02:00.000-07:00

OK, I’ll admit it up-front: I loved the book. Elizabeth Gilbert’s journey inspired me as she set off to Italy, India, and Bali to discover herself and God, while escaping from the life she’d willingly made with her husband in the box store-loving suburbs. My son was a few years old when I read it. Some days, while reading the book, the travel bug hit so hard I would find myself with my hand on my heart, nearly gasping for breath as I pushed my little guy on the swing in our fenced back yard. I just wanted to sell the house and travel the world with my family. And visit an ashram. In addition to traveling and eating the world’s best pizza, Gilbert was earnestly fumbling toward finding a sustainable connection to God. One of my favorite passages was when she finally broke through her inability to meditate, and basically experienced what it was like to be in the hand of God.

When the movie was announced with Julia Roberts playing Gilbert, I wondered how they could make such an internal journey - though admittedly with beautiful backdrops – into a movie. The answer is that they took the book, and made a movie trying to please the masses, a-la Sex in the City. When I entered the movie theater, the employees were wearing shirts with “Eat Pray Love” on the back, with quotes such as “I’m having an affair with my pizza” written on the front. A sticker on the ice cream window said, “You don’t need a man, you need a Champion! – Eat, Pray, Love.” And buy ice cream.

Though Roberts was great, and really got Gilbert’s personality and spirit, the movie felt long and incongruous as it tried to incorporate the different components of her journey. Perhaps expectedly, it ended up being a Cliff’s Notes version, without the depth of the book. Gilbert’s torment and depression pre-and post-divorce were barely touched on, save her mentioning she didn’t want to be married, and joking with her friend about Xanax. Instead of sobbing on the cold tile in the bathroom night after night, instead she can’t sleep and decides to kneel on the bathroom floor and say an introductory prayer to God. If you weren’t already there sobbing your soul out, why would you choose the bathroom floor to pray?

In Italy, the scenes of Roberts eating into a supposedly larger jean size were beautiful. I hadn’t eaten dinner yet, and that was a mistake. I could have tried every one of the dishes she ordered, along with the wine and gelato. My stomach rumbles just thinking about it. But again, the depth of her getting off anti-depressants, and the irony of declaring a year of celibacy and then hearing the nightly romps of her high-heeled upstairs neighbor, was lost. And, speaking of jeans, she and her Swedish friend Sofie decide to buy bigger jeans instead of worrying about their waistlines, but then are shown in a store trying to button some obviously too-small jeans onto their small bodies, and then cheering when they get them on. I thought the idea was to buy bigger jeans to avoid the muffin top and keep eating pasta. The movie got this part so wrong, I had to read to my husband, who came with me to the movie, the Naples and jeans-buying chapters just to set the record straight. What was missing here was Gilbert’s self-effacing humor and descriptions.

India and Bali, similar to Italy, had many of the components of the original story, but skimmed the surface. Her time in God’s palm, the highlight of her Ashram stay, was skipped. Richard from Texas had so many good lines to use in a short amount of time, that he seemed to be a walking one-liner. Ketut the medicine man was sweet, but the complications of trying to buy Wayan a house were omitted. Her meeting and falling in love with Felipe felt contrived, and all the wonderful sex they had was left to one’s imagination as they closed the swinging doors behind them on their way into the bedroom, and let the PG-13 rating stand.

Overall, I think it could have made a better mini-series than trying to fit it into a 133-minute film. I’m glad I saw it, but I could have waited for Netflix.

Penguin Projects, Continued

2010-03-20T23:01:00.000-07:00

It's funny the things we end up doing for our kids. Or more specifically, for their schools. The auction fundraiser was coming up, and I wanted to contribute something for the class auction item. So, inspired by the penguin theme, I painted a penguin platter. The kids signed their names on the back.

Guess how much it brought in?

$160!

My little prayer for the day: May the future hold less need for fundraising for public schools.

Happy Valentine's Day!

2010-02-14T22:47:00.000-08:00

My mom always made Valentine's Day special. Pastel conversation hearts decorated the table, and we each had a special Valentine card waiting for us at our place at the table. As a mom myself now, I carry on the tradition. This year, we had heart-shaped French toast for breakfast, and then spaghetti for dinner.

Love is all around. And in our tummies.

Will You Be My Penguin?

2010-02-03T22:42:00.000-08:00

My son's Kindergarten class' mascot is the penguin. Or penguins, plural, as they learn about all the different types of penguins (Chinstrap, Emperor, Macaroni...) and become penguin addicts. My son will only wear penguin attire if he has his way, and his friends are all penguin crazy too.

So for Valentine's Day, we are making little cards with a penguin stamp.

In general, I love making Valentine's. But when I realized my preschooler wanted the same as his older brother, that meant we needed to make about 50. That's a lot.

Next year, remind me to do store bought. Please.

Catching Up and Happy 2010!

2010-01-01T23:16:00.000-08:00

Oh my poor, poor blog. I’ve neglected you since my son started Kindergarten and my family became a Petri dish for all communicable flues and diseases. Good news- we’ve all been healthy the past month. (Knocking on particle board as I write.)

But I love deadlines, and to jump-start the year, I’m excited to be taking an online class with Lisa Romeo on writing creative non-fiction.

In case you’ve been wondering what I’ve been up to since fall, here are a few highlights:

August 20:

Cried the entire day my son went to Kindergarten. He thankfully did much better than me. My friend’s son just started college. “Just you wait,” she joked. I now feel guilty about “stealing” my husband away from his family in Sweden. My dear in-laws, please forgive me.

September:

A blur of flues, strep, coughs, and sleepless nights in our house. Thanks to all my family members who drove or walked my kids to school when I was too ill to do so. I was thankfully well enough to perform in the Mama Monologues with our guest author Ayelet Waldman, who wrote Bad Mother and The Mommy Track Mysteries. She was honest, funny, and touching. And I also got to get away for a wonderful weekend of writing and fun conversations in Lake Tahoe at the Write by the Lake Retreat with Jennifer Sander, author of The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Getting Published and some fifty other titles.

October:

I wrote an article in Bay Area Parent on Dr. Jennifer Gunter, an OB-Gyn and mother whose touching story includes the loss of one of her triplets. She’s turned pain into publication, and has a book coming out this year, titled The Preemie Primer.

November:

One of the highlights of my writing career, OK, my life, was this past November when I performed at the Mama Monologues fundraiser with Anne Lamott as our guest author. She was amazing, generous, inspiring, and hilarious. The San Francisco Chronicle wrote about it, and I was honored to have my piece mentioned!

December:

My Winter Solstice article was re-published in New York Spirit Magazine, and a personal essay on a roadside memorial was published in the Marin IJ.

Now it’s 2010, how did that happen?

Wishing you all a wonderful start to the new year!

Peace Day

2009-08-08T10:04:00.000-07:00

During the last semester of my master's at USC, one of the projects I worked on as a teacher's assistant was to set up a Roots and Shoots program at an elementary school in East Los Angeles, something the teacher continued afterward. Roots and Shoots is an organization started by Jane Goodall that focuses on teaching children to care for our earth, its people and its animals. At the end of the semester, Jane Goodall happened to visit L.A., and we traveled with the class to see her speak at the zoo, where she commended the L.A. zoo for their humane living area for the chimpanzees.

Fast forward 11 years, and I'm writing an article on the International Day of Peace for Whole Life Times. I was delighted to find out that Roots and Shoots has been having Peace Day celebrations in L.A. for years now, and this year they are expecting over 5,000 people!

Here is the link to the article:
http://www.sopdigitaledition.com/wholelifetimes/#/24/

I think I'm going to throw a Peace Day party for September 21st, something recommended by one of the people I interviewed. Anyone else have plans for that day?

Gluten Free Writing

2009-06-24T22:27:00.000-07:00

The great thing about writing is that you get to take life's challenges, and turn them into opportunities for assignments! My article "Gluten Free Dining in the Bay Area" in June's Parents' Press newspaper is an example of this. Having a son who is gluten free, I've become a reluctant expert on where to dine without wheat. But I also learned a lot about Celiac disease as I researched this article, so it added to my conversation today with my son's doctor at his yearly physical.

So now we get to decide if we want an official Celiac diagnosis, which would mean putting him back on gluten, having a blood test, and possibly an endoscopy, and if in fact he does have Celiac disease, or is just gluten intolerant, we would just end up back where we are now- avoiding gluten. I'm not sure if it's worth all that, but we'll see.

For now, I'm just grateful for all the food options we have that are gluten free.

Where the Hell is Matt?

2009-05-08T03:32:00.000-07:00

Last weekend my brother got married. I spent the night before at my parents' house. It was fun to just hang out with my family late at night like when we were all living together. But now it was my own kids sleeping upstairs, and I was the mom still awake downstairs like my mom always was (and still is.) The bummer was that my brother pulled his back out the day before his wedding, so seeing him in so much pain was hard for all of us. Thanks to some homeopathy, Reiki, and western medicine, he was able to stand at his wedding and didn't need to use the wheelchair my mom's friend found for us at 11pm the night before.

As we hung around in the kitchen that night, and my brother and his fiance packed for their honeymoon, my younger brothers (the ones who weren't getting married the next day) told me about a really cool YouTube video called "Where the Hell is Matt?"

They told me I HAD to see it, and they were right. It's amazingly simple, artistic, and moving. Basically a nerdy guy named Matt dances in different locations around the world. According to the FAQs on his website, the message of his videos are "Up to you. I'm just dancing."

I think it's about world peace. But that's just me. Watch the videos and let me know what you think!

I'm not making any promises, but maybe I'll make my own knock-off version in Sweden. And if Stride gum wants to pay me to travel around the world and dance too, hey, count me in!

Where The Hell is Matt? 2008

Where The Hell is Matt? 2006

Mama Monologues this Saturday

2009-05-06T02:16:00.000-07:00

I'll be doing a reading in this year's Mama Monologues. It will be a fun night of short essays and blogs being read by the Writing Mamas to help support Alanna DeSalvo, a Novato teen who had a pool accident and now is in a wheelchair.

Event information:
The Mama Monologues - "Mother's Day Night Out!"

Saturday, May 9, 2009

6 - 9 p.m.

Unity in Marin, 600 Palm Drive (Hamilton Center), Novato

$20 Per Person Donation ($30 per couple) includes yummy Writing Mamas-made food, savory and sweet, along with the best kind of whine -- wine, wine, wine!!!!!!

Mothers' Night Out! You're a goddess. A queen. This is your night to leave the kids at home, go out and enjoy some well-deserved laughs. The Writing Mamas will perform their popular "Mama Monologues," a high-energy, LOL performance of their blogs and essays about REAL MOTHERHOOD. Spouses and friends are welcome!

Profits from the event will help benefit the Alanna DeSalvo Recovery Project (www.alannadesalvo.org) to pay for rehabilitation bills not covered by insurance for this Novato teen who suffered a spinal cord injury and is now paralyzed.

Directions: Heading north on 101, take the Hamilton Field/Nave Dr. Exit, veering Right onto Nave Drive. Turn Right on Main Gate Road, continue Left on Palm Dr. Unity is on the left, with parking lots on either side.
Heading south on 101, take the Bel Marin Keyes Blvd/Hamilton Field exit onto Ignacio Blvd. toward Bel Marin Keys/Hamilton Field. Right on Nave Drive. Left on Main Gate Road, continue Left on Palm Dr. Unity is on the left.

The Writing Mamas Salon is a warm, encouraging and supportive place for members to talk about motherhood and writinghood and to have a neighborhood in which to do both. There is much laughter and friendship. It's the ultimate mothers' club, and this is the ultimate evening for mothers to come out, enjoy themselves and have fun. Mothers -- you deserve it!!! For further information go to www.writingmamas.com or contact Dawn Yun, 415.233.2483, or dawnyun@writingmamas.com.

Warming Up

2009-04-08T10:32:00.000-07:00

It’s time to write. To schedule interviews. To work on my book proposal. The kids are in preschool, though I’ll be picking them up early since Lucas is getting over a cold. But I still have 2 hours to work.

So I check my e-mail.

Nothing is urgent there, so I have no excuse to linger.

I decide I must check Facebook and become a fan of Seventh Generation and Oprah. I read others’ status updates. I update my own about how my son convinced me to buy fluorescent blue-colored Peeps. But even Facebook, which can usually suck hours only takes a few minutes today. What’s going on?

I call my husband. I’d spoken with his mom the day before, and I’d forgotten to tell him that they can’t see the Disneyland pictures on their digital picture frame, and something else that can’t wait until he gets home tonight. What was it? Oh yeah, LegoLand in Denmark is open all days of the week in May when we’ll be visiting.

My husband, the efficient engineer who rarely procrastinates is working, so he says “OK” as I share each piece of information. The whole conversation takes 50 seconds, timed by my phone.

I sigh, none of my normal stalling techniques are working today.

Maybe I’ll write a blog.

Author Kelly Corrigan

2009-03-14T23:04:00.000-07:00

My favorite authors are those that invite you into their lives to become one of their family members, friends, or loved ones for the duration of the book. Kelly Corrigan is one of these authors. I had the pleasure of hearing her speak at Book Passage today. She is even funnier, smarter, and wittier in person, with her book The Middle Place having already set a very high standard.

Because her book magically weaves tales of cancer, being a parent while also having parents, and lots of humor, she had us all crying and laughing. The majority female audience continued to grow as she spoke. At one point I counted ninety people or so, but more kept arriving (and staying.)

She asked those who have had or currently have cancer to stand so we could support them, and at least fifteen people stood. One was a woman, thirty years old or so, sitting in front of me with a knit black hat covering her bare head. All I had to do was see her wiping tears, and then I was done for.

When Kelly read, she kept interrupting herself to tell us back stories, or follow-ups, which were just as hilarious or touching as the material she was reading. It was like getting the director’s commentary on a movie.

But overall, from hearing her talk and reading her book, what I came away with is the optimism that she shares with her father. It’s contagious, and you come away wanting to be a better person. “I’m so lucky,” she says, and you can’t help but believe her.

I feel that anyone who is a parent, has parents, grew up Catholic (or Irish-American), has been touched by cancer, or even knows someone who is any of these things will find themselves relating to and laughing at her self-effacing stories. I limited myself to buying only three additional copies for friends.

To see her touching video that has become viral (in a good way) click here.

Taking Flight

2009-02-09T22:20:00.000-08:00

I had a vivid dream years ago in which I was able to fly in my fish tank. Technically this would be swimming, I know, but it was different- I could fly underwater.

According to a dream book I read years ago, flying symbolizes freedom from constraints. As for flying in airplanes, to me it means a new opportunity for travel and adventure. Of course, air transport is much different with two young sons. Gone are the days of watching a movie in its entirety, losing myself in a good book, or, one of my favorite past activities on a plane- sleeping.

There are advantages too- while you walk the aisles with your young ones, you get to meet all the child-friendly people on the plane, meanwhile finding out who would rather not have a toddler pat his lap to say hello. Actually, I'm always surprised how few in number the child-unfriendlies are.

In a few months we will board a plan to Sweden, where we'll do a house swap with a friend. Not only does this help out with the cost of traveling, but since we have kids around the same age, both families get to experience "new" toys! But just to be sure their favorite toys aren't left behind, my boys have already packed their mini backpacks for the trip. They get this planning ahead gene from their father, I'm pretty sure.

Speaking of Scandinavia, sons, and flying, a friend of mine recently sent me an e-mail titled, "The boy stuff us Moms go gray over." This video make me think back to my flying dream, and for a second, I wanted to join these dare-devil young guys jumping off cliffs in Norway and flying. Or at least I could go see them in action. But my next thought stopped me- I don't want my boys to see this. I'd rather them stick to jumpy houses with confined, padded floor and walls for now.

Here's the video, and happy flying:
http://vimeo.com/moogaloop.swf?clip_id=1778399&server=vimeo.com&amp

2009-02-03T22:56:00.000-08:00

I've been on a blogging strike lately. No lofty cause, I've just been busy with being a mom and work. (I can call writing work, right?)

I'm excited for the new year, a new president, and the fact that we have officially graduated out of diapers - at least during the day.

I've had two essays published the past month, so here they are!

"Hello, My Name Is..." February 2009 Common Ground/Whole Life Times Magazines

"Circus Tears and Triumphs" January 2009 Mothering.com

I wish you a wonderful start to February!

Extreme Christmas House

2008-12-23T22:16:00.000-08:00

Once a year we visit Edmundo Rombeiro’s Christmas house. The Griswald house doesn’t hold an electric light to this one. When we drove up to it this year, my son remarked, “Wow, that’s a lot of Christmas lights. Maybe too much!” Out of the mouths of four-year-olds…

Not only is Rombeiro’s house decorated on the outside, but all rooms, save one bedroom, are totally decked out inside as well! My neighbor is Rombeiro’s cousin and she and her husband are there almost every night in December. They need helpers to make sure people don’t touch, or in one case, attack, the decorations.

Early in December she said they had 660 visitors in one night, and that’s not even the rush time. Tour busses, often with seniors, stop by regularly. The family keeps track of the amount of people by how many candy canes they give out each night.

My favorite room is the angel room. Although there are way too many angels to focus on just one, it has a calm and peaceful feeling. My neighbor has seen people enter that room and just begin to weep.

My son’s favorite room, of course, is the train room which we visited twice.

By the end of the visit we are always on sensory overload, but officially in the Christmas spirit.

Happy Winter!

2008-12-22T00:09:00.000-08:00

(Photo courtesy of my four-year-old.)

I hope everyone is warm and snug this winter day. Last night my family and I lit candles and a fire for the winter solstice. After the kids went to bed, my husband Mats was a trooper and went along with my little ritual of writing down everything we each want to let go of on pieces of paper, and then burning them in the fire. I learned this from my friend Joyce at her solstice celebrations.

After the "write and burn," we lit new candles and spoke aloud our wishes, desires, and asked for blessings on all our family members. One thing I asked for was "writing miracles." Today, the next day, I got an e-mail from an editor wanting to publish an essay I sent her six months ago!

In other solstice-related news, Mama Donna, one of the people I interviewed for my Whole Life times piece on the solstice, was written about today by the New York Times for her winter solstice celebration in Brooklyn: http://www.nytimes.com/2008/12/22/nyregion/22solstice.html?_r=1

Happy winter to all, and to all, a bright life!

"P" Words

2008-12-06T00:10:00.000-08:00

I’m happy to share that an article I wrote, "Good Day Sunshine" is in this month’s Common Ground magazine. It's about celebrating the Winter Solstice and was a fun topic to research and write about.

When I was working on it though, the fates seemed to be playing with me.

I summarize with the following “P” words:

Procrastination- I was determined to not do this, I wanted to get it done early. My plan, another “P” word, was to submit it to the editor an impressive week ahead of the due date since I already had some of the interviews completed. Thankfully I started early because,

Pinkeye- took hold of our family two weeks before the article was due. That meant laundry, laundry, and more laundry to try to avoid its spread, though spread it did anyway. It also meant both boys were home from school, but on different days as my eldest got it first, then my youngest. So the precious time I had planned to write was suddenly lost. And then of course, I caught it as well!

Potty Training- my youngest decided he was suddenly ready to enter the world of big boy underwear. No more diapers, only colorful briefs with fire trucks or comic heroes would do. We praised him of course, and it worked out since he was home sick and we could run to the potty at any time. But did I mention laundry? I think we’re up to twelve loads (no joke) by this time. Of course other "P" words apply under this topic as well.

Panic- Since a solid stretch of writing wasn't happening during the day, I sat down at the computer at 10:30 p.m., my official muse time. No sooner had my fingers hit the keyboard to put the finishing touches on the article, when my youngest cried out in pain, “Mama, my ear hurts!” Of course he wanted me to be with him, and I wanted to be there. So there I lay, and ultimately slept, asking the gods to help me get my article done the next day.

Publication- in the end I did get it done. Not a week early as I’d planned, but on the contracted date nonetheless. Having a plan to finish early was probably the best thing I could have done.

It was certainly a humbling experience to not have time I could count on, and I'm grateful for my husband who helped during the evenings and weekends so I could escape. But having a challenging time to create this piece ultimately made the final product that much more dear. (Analogy to parenting and childbirth anyone?)

So, back to the topic, do you have plans to celebrate the Winter Solstice?

Trying Not to be Debbie Downer

2008-11-22T01:05:00.000-08:00

I’ve been feeling a bit down lately. Suddenly the states of our schools, health care, and the world’s economy have got me singing the blues.

It started when we were rear ended by an uninsured driver on the way to the kids’ school in September. Thankfully we are all OK, the car is fine, and the guy didn’t have to get a call from me (not that his phone was likely working, he said his friend was maybe going to pay the bill that week.)

After crying from the shock of getting hit with the kids in the car, I sat with the guy on the curb and had a good old fashioned "talk" with him about personal responsibility (he was probably ten years my senior.) People that passed us on the road later told me they thought it was a married couple having a disagreement.

Once I was done delivering my "mom" lecture though, it was clear he had little money, and a small mark on my bumper seemed trivial in the larger picture.

But it freaked me out that bad things can happen. I believe that there is a higher truth (I avoid using the word reason here) to life’s events, but find it annoying how the lessons are not apparent when they are happening. If I were the Divine Organizer, I would have little asterisks next to life's unpleasant events that you could click on, similar to the Kindle's dictionary function. It would contain a brief synopsis about how, in the long run, this would serve you on the path to becoming a better (or at least wiser) person.

In the first few days after the accident, I tortured myself with “it could have been worse” scenarios. Tip: Don't do this. You just end up feeling badly for others in those situations.

I also found myself unable to blog. I didn’t want to be Debbie Downer.

So, I figured if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. I watched a Debbie Downer episode that made me laugh until, well, I didn’t feel so down.

I hope you are feeling chipper today, but in case you are not, I recommend checking out this episode when Debbie meets Disney (and Lohan) and the SNL actors can’t keep a straight face: http://www.buzznet.com/tags/debbiedowner/video/

Happy viewing, and safe driving!

"Once" again...

2008-11-02T00:57:00.000-07:00

Two weeks ago I read at the Lit Crawl part of Litquake, San Francisco's literary festival. It was a fun and challenging experience as I had never performed in a bar before. The room was dark with little light for reading (luckily someone had brought a flashlight), the microphone had some issues, and the organizers were stressed because it had started late, and therefore the ones at the end (me included) were running over. But the audience of about 100 people were great, and clapped for us all. I feel I can read anywhere now!

Afterwards a bunch of us Writing Mamas went out for dinner and stayed until the restaurant closed. I rarely get to the city these days, so it was a fun night.

Below is what I read. It's the "Once" piece I posted earlier, but with some new material.

Happy November!

- Kristy

"Once"

My sister recommended the movie “Once.”

It took my husband and me about three months to see it, meanwhile paying Netflix for the privilege of having it sit atop our television. When we finally saw it, I was struck by the movie’s simplicity.

It’s about an aspiring musician with a broken heart trying to start a music career, and a Czech immigrant making her way in Ireland. What touched me were how these two people, who had so little monetarily, were truly living their lives and pursuing their dreams in a simple, yet profound way.

It made me think about how much I have, and how I should try to live life fully in the now, instead of waiting for more. I often think, mostly unconsciously,

ONCE my kids grow up;
ONCE we win the lottery;
ONCE I get paid for doing what I love;
ONCE I have a successful book published;
ONCE I appear on Oprah;
ONCE we live abroad for a year --

THEN, I’ll be happy.

Not so long ago, I wanted to graduate from college, travel, get a job, find love, get married, and have children. I have done all of these things, yet, the credits never rolled with a moving soundtrack in the background when I got what I thought I wanted most.

I always find new things to covet.

I think it’s part of the human experience to yearn for more. As I start to feel the hunger pains for a future different than my present, I pause.

I try to notice one thing that I’m enjoying now.

As I was trying to write the other day, my four year old called out to me from the bathroom. He needed me to wipe. Not necessarily my favorite activity of motherhood, but part of the occupation nonetheless. I was trying to finish my thought, but after his third call, I rushed into the bathroom, feeling a little guilty. He sat there, perched on the toilet with both arms supporting him so he wouldn’t fall in. He looked at me, and said out of the blue, “You’re going to be mine forever and ever.”

That was a nice moment. I try to take these times in, they disappear so quickly.

Perhaps one day I will find contentment in the present; aware that everything I have is already a gift.

THEN, I’ll be happy.

Lost in Translation

2008-10-20T22:27:00.000-07:00

My husband speaks Swedish with our boys, but when his parents visit, there are actual adult conversations going on. If what’s being said is one sentence like “Let’s change your diaper” or “Let’s build a train set,” I feel pretty good about my Swedish comprehension because I know what’s being said. When the discussion deviates to emotions, verbs, or anything above a two-year-old’s vocabulary, I become a bit lost.

I don’t like to tell people I attended adult ed night classes for five years to learn Swedish. They might expect something from me. Like being able to understand the language.

On a recent visit, my mother-in-law and eldest son Lucas were having a fun time playing hide and seek in our house. The noise of their laughter played in the background while I savored a rare moment of daytime book reading (The Italian Affair if you must know.) When Lucas jumped out and found my mother-in-law, she gasped and exclaimed, “Du hittade mej!” (My translation: “You hit me!”)

She seemed shocked.

I was also shocked, that was not something my son normally did. Now, I hadn’t seen it happen of course, but I heard what my mother-in-law had said. She didn’t seem to be reacting much, so I marched in there and told Lucas in a stern voice that it is not OK to hit Farmor.

Everyone stopped and looked at me as if I’d lost my mind.

It was then that I conveniently remembered that “hittade” means found, not hit. She had been feigning surprise saying, “You found me!”

I apologized to Lucas who looked more confused than anything else. In fact, I think he was amused that Mommy had made a minor fool of herself.

No major harm done, I humbly accepted my lesson: when translating on my own, it’s probably best to fact-check before reprimanding. Actually, that might be a good lesson regardless of the language being spoken.

Now when the kids get older and it come to Swedish curse words, well, I’ll be blissfully clueless.

Wanna Ride?

2008-10-12T21:58:00.000-07:00

After a local community meeting, a fellow member asked if I could give her a ride home. As we walked to the car, we spoke mama stats: she had two boys, five and eight years old. I belong to the boy club as well, ages two and four.

I always feel a bond with other mothers of boys. I asked how the five and eight-year-old stage is. The prognosis was good. I like it when people with kids older than mine say it gets better. I dislike those people that tell you it's still hard, just different. I don't mind if you lie to me, just tell me it gets better and easier, please!

As we get to my car, she says, "Cute!" as I have a butterfly pasted on the butt of the car. But as I look in the passenger seat, I realize there is a few days' worth accumulation of definitely not cute stuff. I know she's a mom, so I remind myself not to worry too much, but I tell her it's going to take a while to clear the seat so she can actually sit on it, hopefully finding a place for her feet as well.

I take off the first layer - everything we needed for a dinner at our favorite Thai food restaurant that night. A cooler-type bag of supplemental dinner options for the kids, two jackets of mine, one for each of the kids. I throw them into the back. The next layer was from my art class the day prior -- paper bags laid out to protect the seats from wet paint and a box of art supplies. They find their spot, sitting in the empty car seats in the back.

I'm finally down to the final layer. This was from three days prior when I got to my son's preschool in the morning and realized it was freezing cold and wet, and my son was in a short-sleeved shirt. This fact should have been noticed before we left the house, but somehow escaped my mommy radar until that moment. So I emptied the diaper bag, which had been recently organized, and pulled out all the extra clothes until I found a long-sleeved shirt for him to wear, pulling it over his head and finished dressing him in the parking lot.

As I tossed back the tighty whities (thankfully clean, these were from the spare clothes) of my four-year-old, along with unused diapers, jeans, shirts, and socks, she said honestly, "I guess you don't drive with other people very often."

I laughed. "Only my kids."

Top 10 Signs You Need to Attend Book-Buying Anonymous (BBA)

2008-10-01T21:02:00.000-07:00

10. Every time you see an author talk, you promise yourself you will not buy their book. Even if the book is about worm cultivation in Zimbabwe, you walk away with a signed book.

9. When life finds you down, you turn to book buying. (Note: this is different than book reading, which you have little time for.) But who can resist buying Money, and the Law of Attraction on a day when the stock market dips over 700 points?

8. You borrow books on CD from the library, but then buy the same books in print so you can highlight your favorite quotes. Example: Anne Lamott’s Plan B: Further Thoughts on Faith.

7. You promise yourself to use the library more, but can’t wait for others to get their fix before getting yours.

6. You spread out your book purchases between different stores so that there is not an obvious large charge on the credit card to alert your spouse.

5. Sometimes you pay cash to reduce the paper trail even further.

4. You confess your addiction to the people working at bookstores as you know their answer will be an enabling message of, “There could be worse addictions,” or “I have the same one, that’s why I work here!”

3. You refuse to do the math of how long it would take to actually read all the unread books you own. (In recovery terminology, this is called Denial with a capital “D.”)

2. When your mom comes to visit, she firmly tells you that you can’t buy any more books until you have more bookcases.

1. You buy more bookcases.

* Disclaimer: this blog was written hypothetically. This in no way resembles me, my family, or anyone I’ve ever known. The local chapter of BBA meets Sunday evenings in the multi-purpose room of the All Saints Lutheran Church. Bring cookies.

Lit Crawl 2008

2008-09-28T22:50:00.000-07:00

I'm happy to announce that I will be reading a piece of mine (an edited and spruced-up version of "Once") at the Lit Crawl portion of Litquake, San Francisco’s literary festival. You can visit the website here: http://www.litquake.org/the-festival/lit-crawl-2008/

Our talk is going to be at the Beauty Bar, 2299 Mission Street and is titled, “Mommies With Brains: Literary Mama and Writing Mamas.” Please note that is their title, I did not name it! My title may have been, “Mommies who have lost their brains, but are optimistic of someday finding them through writing…” But they didn’t ask me.

My piece will be 2 minutes, or as my father-in-law pointed out, 120 seconds. I like the latter.

So, if you are hanging out in the Mission (and who doesn’t on a Saturday night?) on October 11th and want to say hello, please do!

Shoot!

2008-09-25T00:32:00.000-07:00

The funny thing about motherhood is that there is no warning when some mommy challenge is on its way.

They just sneak up and surprise you, like one did to me when I picked up my son from preschool. It was 101 degrees outside and my head felt foggy as I noticed my sons’ red cheeks and wet hair from perspiration. I was trying to take a sip of water to cure my headache. It was then, with my two boys playing in a shaded spot we’d named the “magic tree” that my four-year-old used “the word” for the first time.

Gun.

He had broken a stick and said, “I’m going to shoot something with my gun, bang, bang!” My mind raced. What is the appropriate response to this? Before I could say anything, he turned the stick/gun towards me and said, “Now I’m shooting you!”

There was no malice or anger in his voice, just amusement with this new activity. I told him that we never aim guns, real or not, at people, only at non-living things. He asked if he could shoot the sky.

“No,” I replied, thinking back to the posters they have in L.A. bus stations around New Year’s urging people not to shoot their guns into the air as stray bullets can kill. I explained the physics of bullets and why we didn’t want to aim up.

Although I don’t like guns and think they are too numerous and easily accessible in our country, I loved shooting BB guns when I was young. My granddad would let us shoot them into the pillows in his living room. Maybe not the safest thing, but we had a great time doing it.

As my son got into the car, he said that he was going to shoot the seats. Not knowing what else to say, I told him, “I don’t like hearing about shooting. We can send each other love and energy instead.”

I am, after all, an energy practitioner. But I was aware that my words fell flat.

On the way home, he asked me to tell him stories about the magical train forest. He enjoys interjecting “train crises” – “Mom, look out, there’s a broken bridge!”

“Oh no,” I replied, “What are we going to do?” He sat for a moment and answered, “We’re going to shoot sticky balls from the gun!”

Shoot sticky balls at the bridge? Of course! They would fill in the gaps in the bridge, like glue, so the train could continue. At last, something I could agree to. Happily, I told him that it was a great idea.

Thankfully he hasn’t mentioned guns since. Maybe I should start preparing for questions about where babies come from. I'm hoping those questions will be easier.

Man On Wire

2008-09-10T22:53:00.000-07:00

When the French tightrope-walking Philippe Petit broke through security in the twin towers of the World Trade Center in 1974, it was to create an act of rebellion, and of beauty. Although extremely self-focused (and what artist- and I put myself in this category- isn't really?) he had a band of friends and acquaintances who helped him to pull off the unimaginable task of stringing a heavy tightrope wire across the two towers and securing it so that he could walk across or "dance" as a police officer later described it in awe.

I thought I would come away from the documentary about this event, "Man on Wire," inspired to create, but Petit's change after his success soured me a bit. What struck me, however, besides his drive to want to tightrope walk a quarter of a mile off the ground with no safety net, was the story of the World Trade Center's birth.

Petit knew he wanted to walk across the towers before they were even built.

It almost feels like a sacrilege to admit this, but before 9/11 I had no fondness for the towers. Yes, I knew they were tall, but aside from that I hadn't give them much thought. But to hear the story from Petit and his friends and to see the early footage of the buildings, I felt that I was part of the historic erecting of the towers. One scene, hauntingly familiar to the ground zero footage, was of the very beginning of the building. I suddenly missed the towers as if they were old friends.

Trying to digest the movie afterwards, part of me wondered, as if critiquing my own personal essay, "What was the point of the story?"

This was the same question everyone asked Petit after his tightrope walk- "Why did you do it? What was the point?"

He thought this was an amusingly American point of view.

There was no point, he just felt he had to do it.

That I could identify with.

Latte-Lovin' Mama

2008-09-03T21:59:00.000-07:00

As a sensitive person, I didn’t do caffeine.

The few times I drank coffee my rate of speech doubled, and I couldn’t sleep until a few days later.

(Maybe a slight exaggeration, but you get the point here.)

But now that Starbucks is in my local Safeway, I find myself indulging in a tall, one-pump chai latte.

They normally have three pumps.

The other day, sitting at the computer after drinking one, I shared in astonishment with my husband, “I really get inspired when I drink caffeine!”

He gave me his best “no, duh” look.

My husband often suffers the brunt of my health-conscious rants. No high fructose corn syrup, no food coloring, no soybean oil, and the list goes on. I’ve been on the anti-caffeine bandwagon since I met him. As a Swede, he began drinking coffee shortly after being weaned from his pacifier. Upon my ever-so-subtle suggestions, he eventually went off caffeine, surviving the withdrawal headaches for a weekend before they cleared.

But children-induced sleep deprivation changed that.

He’s back on.

And, apparently, so am I.

I’m finding it best not to be too “anti” anything these days. Any judgment or rigidity on my part seems to find me eventually eating my words.

Or in this case, drinking a latte.

Once

2008-08-27T23:48:00.000-07:00

My sister recommended the movie “Once.”

It took my husband and me about three months to see it, meanwhile paying Netflix for the privilege of having it sit atop our television. When we finally took the time to see it, I was struck by the movie’s simplicity.

It’s about an aspiring musician with a broken heart trying to start a music career, and a Czech immigrant making her way in Ireland. What touched me were how these two people, who had so little monetarily, were truly living their lives and pursuing their dreams in a simple, yet profound way.

It made me think about how much I have, and how I should try to live life fully in the now, instead of waiting for more. I often think, mostly unconsciously,

ONCE

My kids grow up;

We win the lottery;

I have a successful book published;

I appear on Oprah;

We live abroad for a year --

THEN,I’ll be happy.

I wait for these things today.

Not so long ago, I wanted to find love, get married, have children, and buy a house. I have all of that now, yet, the credits never rolled along with a moving soundtrack in the background when I got what I thought I wanted most.

I always find new things to covet.

I think it’s part of the human experience to yearn for more. As I start to feel the hunger pains for a future different than my present, I pause.

I try to notice one thing that I’m enjoying now. Today, it was my boys jumping and splashing in the little blow-up pool in our backyard. Yesterday, it was my youngest son “stealing” strawberries off the counter faster than I could cut them up.

I continue to have an insatiable craving for something new, different, more, than what I already have.

Perhaps one day I will find happiness and contentment in the present; aware that everything I have is already a gift.

New Olympic Sport

2008-08-19T22:49:00.000-07:00

I’m beginning early with the training of my boys. I believe in following their interests, and thus support starting a new sport: The Couch Jump*. These pictures document the new Swedish-American team (although their uniforms admittedly look Jamaican.)

In case you want to start a new league in your neck of the woods, the rules are:

1) No jumping when your fellow athlete is lying on the couch.
2) Performance-enhancing props such as pacifier and blankie are permitted for athletes under the age of three.
3) Spotting from the coach is permitted so the athletes don’t fall off the arm of the couch pre-jump.
4) Jumping on top of your fellow athlete is terms for disqualification.
5) Winners are awarded one marshmallow as their medal.

* Please play at your own risk. Many head bonks were barely avoided on this first night of the sport.

What future sport do you propose?

Writing Mama Dilemma

2008-08-18T13:00:00.000-07:00

It’s 10:30 p.m., and inspiration hits. Stories flow into my head, and I can see and hear how they are to be written. The dilemma: do I write when inspired, or do I go to sleep in an attempt to get eight hours like I’d promised myself I would try for one week. Yesterday I went to bed early and my day was definitely better because of it. My two Energizer bunny sons do not yet have snooze buttons, at least that I’ve been able to find.

I’ll choose sleep this time. Maybe I can train myself to be inspired during the day when I’m at home, ready to write.

(1 hour later…)

Scratch that. I tried to just write a few notes to remember what had inspired me, and an hour later I’m finishing up. Writing won out this time. I’m happy with what I wrote. It’s about my not-so-smooth (forgive the pun) introductions to love and sex. No more about that, gotta wait for my book for those words.

Or one and a half margaritas and a designated driver.

(Photo by Mats.)

Olympic Influence

2008-08-13T22:44:00.000-07:00

OK, it’s been 2 days without Häagen-Dazs ice cream. And I exercised again. Yep, that’s right, it’s the Olympics. Seeing these athletes who have worked so hard, and sacrificed so much seems to have subliminally inspired me to remove my butt from the seated position. So far the stories of the athletes’ workouts have not shown them sitting on a couch eating ice cream. Although I bet they’ll do that after the Olympics. I would.

But it seems I’m not the only one influenced. The pool that I take the kids to for swim lessons was packed on Tuesday. All the members (we’re visitors) were talking about how it was the busiest they’ve ever seen. I bet Michael Phelps is the reason.

So my journey to the prize continues. Some are working towards gold. I’m working towards my jeans not cutting off the circulation in my middle area. You gotta have goals…

P.S. This freelance writing thing isn’t easy. I keep sending stuff out, but sometimes it’s hard to keep motivated. Just thought I’d let you all know.

P.P.S. Due to the above sentence, I just treated myself to a few bites of Häagen-Dazs. I bet there are a lot of athletes out there that didn’t make it to the Olympics that are doing the same thing. This one’s for them.

Lose Weight the Jon Lovitz Way

2008-08-11T22:56:00.000-07:00

On the finale of Last Comic Standing, comedian Jon Lovitz explained, “I discovered the secret to losing weight…As you all know, muscle weighs more than fat. So if you really want to lose weight, you really have to get rid of all that muscle.”

I think I’ve been on that plan lately. With both kids in preschool for the past three weeks, my body is changing. Where I used to be constantly on my feet, wiping bottoms, cleaning up spills, and running after bikes during the morning, I’m now happily seated, sedentary, rarely moving, in front of the computer, writing.

I’m loving my time, don’t get me wrong, but my butt seems to be enjoying it as well seeing as it has grown a bit. I haven’t gained weight, but my pants don’t fit anymore (except for stretchy yoga pants thankfully.)

And no, I’m not pregnant.

I’m happy with my body as-is, but would like to be able to wear my non-sweat pants again. So I went for a run/walk today. It felt good to exercise again. And I’m going to yoga when I can.

Of course, my nightly Häagen-Dazs habit doesn’t help. But a girl has to have at least one vice in her life.

What is your exercise routine? (or) What’s your vice?

Impromptu Trip

2008-08-10T23:10:00.000-07:00

If there is something Mats and I have not been since having kids, it’s spontaneous.

We love to travel. Or loved to travel, I’m not sure which tense to use these days. Traveling with kids is different. The sleep and exhaustion factor are always there.

But on Friday night, for perhaps the first time in over four years, we decided to take a weekend trip with the kids at the last minute. We left at 9 p.m. and arrived at my parents’ property in Central California at midnight.

The boys had a blast. Lucas was Grandad’s little helper the whole weekend, a title he was quite proud of. He even got paid a quarter and wants to buy something with it. The second night we all slept well. Mats and I went for a hike at the Pinnacles National Park, sans kids.

It was a great trip.

Arriving home today we were all a bit out-of-sorts, but we survived. And we have more memories than if we had stayed home. Time to start traveling again!

Lucas says he wants to go down next Saturday. OK, maybe we’re not that ready.

Another Prius Lover

2008-08-07T22:58:00.000-07:00

After preschool today, I was loading both boys’ bikes into the back of our Prius. A man walking his two dogs stopped next to our car. He was a big guy with large biceps and a bald head. Normally I’m used to getting comments about the kids’ bikes, etc. from fellow parents, but he wasn’t looking at the bikes.

“How do you like your car?” he asked. I explained how much I love it. He asked how often I fill up the tank. I said every two weeks, but I actually have no idea. I fill it up when it’s close to empty. But I told him it gets about 45 miles a gallon. This I knew.

“Nice.” he responded, nodding approvingly like guys used to do when eyeing trucks on top of large wheels or some vintage Chevy. I’m not a car person, but I felt “cool” in that moment. It makes me happy that fuel-efficient cars are attracting attention.

Buddhism teaches that positives come from a negative. This is how I feel about gas prices right now. Yes, they suck. But they are making us look at gas consumption in a new way. I really wish my kids’ school was within biking distance. Maybe in the future.

As for the guy in the picture above, that’s my Swedish lover I sometimes hook up with. For more on that, click here. Just kidding, there isn’t more on that.

Gyno Gratitude

2008-08-05T23:14:00.000-07:00

Yesterday was my annual OB-GYN appointment.

I was filled with such gratitude for the doctor who brought my boys safely into this world.

Without her, the outcome of my first son’s birth may have been different. During the twenty-four hours prior to her entry into my son’s birth story, the other doctor and nurses were expecting me to make important decisions and lead the birthing process.

I didn’t know what I was doing -- this was my first time!

When they gave me medication for nausea, I couldn’t keep my eyes open so they let me sleep. The next doctor took her shift. I was awoken from my slumber with her shrill voice filling the room and demanding, “What? She’s ten centimeters! Why isn’t she pushing?”

I had never met this woman, but my people-pleasing desire kicked in and I started pushing.

She made a crucial decision in the last minutes of labor by calling the specialized neo-natal team "just in case." When Lucas was born in a bit of shock (and who wouldn't be, really?), they were there to help him in the first few minutes of life. How can you thank someone for such an impact?

I've told her many times that she’s intuitive, but she would never call herself that. She's about five feet tall, dresses in fun clothes with artsy glasses and is probably the most energetic person I've ever met.

Her office is bright with pinks, yellows, and greens throughout, and cool quotes painted on the walls. I was happy to hear that she has hired a midwife. Almost makes me want to have another baby.

Almost.

Save Shouka

2008-07-31T16:49:00.000-07:00

There we were- the four of us at Marine World. We’d gone on the Thomas the Train kiddie rides, and our next stop was to see the show starring Shouka the whale.

My husband got lunch, and we sat there while they entertained us with environmental trivia and advertisements. The male announcer was handsome in his polo shirt. The female trainers were cute and energetic in their wet suits. The music pounded.

And then Shouka came out. She is 13 years old and 16 feet long. She weighs in at a slim 4,000 pounds. She was wearing what’s “in” right now- black and white.

She did one swim around the stadium, and then went back to her private area in the back. Finally she emerged again and did what they wanted her to- waving to the crowd with her fin, splashing an unsuspecting visitor with her tale, and jumping high to reach the suspended balls.

All of a sudden I found myself crying. It totally took me by surprise. I hadn’t gone in there thinking, “Oh these poor animals…” I had been looking forward to seeing a beautiful whale. But seeing her do these forced human actions and realizing how small the aquarium is versus the ocean, I just felt so sad. I imagined being confined to a small area for my whole life. The feeling was suffocating.

The sadness seemed to have a life of its own. I wasn’t thinking about the whale, I was feeling. I held my two year old close to me as I donned my sunglasses. I wanted to run away, but I didn’t. Everyone else seemed to be happy and clapping to the nauseating music.

My husband later asked why I’d been sad. I told him I felt bad for the whale being cooped up and having to do these stupid tricks. “You aren’t going vegan are you?” he asked.

It was a fair question, but no, I’m not going vegan.

I want to believe that these animals are ombudsmen, teaching children and adults to care for the earth and its inhabitants and therefore their captivity is worth it. Or that if they are not born in wild they don’t know what they’re missing.

But I don’t buy it.

Injuries, Tears and Butterflies

2008-07-23T09:51:00.000-07:00

Monday afternoon my boys were begging to go outside. They didn’t want to go in the backyard where they can play independently, but in the front yard to ride their bikes.

I needed to unload the grocery bags first, and then empty the dishwasher. That doesn’t sound difficult, but with cleaning up accidental spills and refereeing the sharing of toys, it looked like it might take us three days before we’d get to see the sun.

Finally, I told them we would visit the bathroom and then go outside. When Henrik, my two-year-old, was standing by the bathtub, all of a sudden he fell straight down, hit his chin on the bathtub, ricocheted back to hit his head on the toilet, and then lay screaming on the floor. Lucas, my four-year-old, ran to his room to hide since he hates the sound of his brother crying.

I picked Henrik up and saw he’d split his chin. It was so sad to see that I started crying along with him. He calmed down and looked at me confused. "What’s that?" He asked, touching a tear rolling down my cheek. “Mommy’s crying,” I answered.

Lucas was listening from his room and yelled out worriedly, “Mama, are you crying too?” “Yes,” I called back, “but it’s OK. I’m just sad that your brother hurt himself.” Henrik then pointed at his tears. “Rerick cry too!” he said, making the connection.

Then we were all outside, the boys riding their bikes like nothing happened.

I called my mom for advice on making butterfly bandages to close the cut on his chin. With five kids, she has lots of experience.

Two days later, his chin has already healed. It’s amazing how quickly young bodies bounce back.

And I survived my first butterfly bandage application.

I hope we have many butterflies, but very few bandages, in our future.

(Photo by Mats.)

Guru Costner

2008-07-21T23:38:00.000-07:00

My good friend Kevin Costner came for breakfast Sunday morning. OK, not in real life, but via Parade in the SF Chronicle. I was having one of those days where I think the world is mad at me, and I wonder if I should even continue with writing since if everyone is mad at me, they won’t want to read me, etc.

Do I really want to put myself out there?

What if people don't like me (yes, to be read like a whiney 4th grader) or what if I fail? Blah, blah, blah.

Annoying, really, but these thoughts had taken residence in my brain.

While I tried to Zen these thoughts away, something in large print caught my eye on the kitchen table. It was a quote from Kevin Costner, "Don't Let Fear Hold You Back."

OK, sign noted, so I read the article. Truth be told, I'm not a big follower of movie stars, I’d take a run-in with Allende or Lamott any day.

But Costner was my guru for the day as he said, “We’re afraid of a lot of things in life. It’s part of the human condition. What do we fear? Love? Failure? Telling the truth about ourselves? I think we don’t show people all we truly are because we’re afraid that if they actually know everything about us, they won’t love us. I’m as guilty of that as anyone.”

His words comforted me.

We’re all in this together (not to be sung like High School Musical.)

Ugh, now that song's in my head. At least it’s not “Kumbaya.”

First Pubs in Print

2008-06-17T08:00:00.000-07:00

Check it out!

I'm grateful to announce my first 2 publications in print are out now. The June edition of Whole Life Times (Common Ground in the bay area) includes my essay "Breathing Room" about a mom searching for a sense of space, and the events that unfold when two boys are unsupervised for 5 minutes. You can read it here: http://wholelifetimes.com/2008/06/lue0806.html

And my piece "Real life snapped between all the Kodak moments" talks about the different perspectives of my family's photographers, and the moments that get captured when children are behind the camera. It is featured today in the "How it is" column of the Marin IJ newpaper: http://www.marinij.com/lifestyles/ci_9606904

Thanks to everyone for all your good thoughts and support, I couldn't have done it without you!

Love, Kristy

Welcome Note

2008-06-10T12:21:00.000-07:00

Welcome to my blog...

Well, it's been a long time coming, but similar to awaiting the birth of a child, here's my new baby blog! My intention is to share my (hopefully humorous) and sometimes spiritual journey of life and motherhood, while on the path to being a gainfully employed writer. Who am I kidding, I'd be happy to just pay for half my children's preschool tuition, but I won't limit myself...

Thanks for being part of my community.

Love, Kristy