I’ve loaded the dishwasher, cleaned the litterboxes, and packed my suitcase.  Now all that’s left to do is shower and wait a couple of hours, then I’ll be winging my way to Stockholm.  My little baby is lying on the couch behind me, fast asleep and unsuspecting.  This will be the first time I’ve left… Read More Barnfri*

In Swedish, Mickey Mouse is called Musse Pigg, “Musse” being a diminutive of the word “mus,” or “mouse,” and “Pigg” an adjective that means something like “lively” or “eager.”  Whatever you call him, he’s become a special favorite of Petra’s over the past several weeks, and what she calls him is, simply, “Pigg.” (To the… Read More They grow up too fast.

I stumbled across a bizarre site the other day, and the pictures there have had me laughing nearly non-stop. I know it might not be everyone’s cup of tea, but Cats that Look Like Hitler is exactly the kind of off-the-wall humor I like best. And, even better, I actually know a “Kitler,” so I… Read More Politically Incorrect

Today I was up way too early for a Sunday morning so I could take Lydia and her best friend to see the goings-on at the Skellefteå auditions for the upcoming season of Idol. There wasn’t much to see–they must do some serious editing to make the whole affair look as exciting as it does… Read More Aspiration

Last night, after we finished watching CSI here at our house, Helena left to walk back over to her place. No sooner had the door shut than I heard it open again and Helena rushed into the bathroom where I was folding laundry. “There’s a frog out here!” she exclaimed. “Come look at it!” Not… Read More Froggy went a-courtin’

Today was meant to mark my deliverance from the long, long Easter break–school has been out since April 5, and I’ve felt every day, believe you me–but instead I’ve got two sick kids at home and am nursing a doozy of a sore throat myself. Lydia has the same sore throat I have, and Tage… Read More Monday, Monday

Petra snoring, peek-a-booing, and counting The counting is a mixture of English and Swedish; after Lydia says, “One,” Petra continues, “two, three, åtta (8), nio (9), elva (11), tolv (12) … elva, elva, tolv … elva, tolv … elva, elva, tolv … elva, tolv.” When we go up the stairs together, she counts every step,… Read More Playing the Ham

Dyeing and hunting Easter eggs is one of my favorite of the Old-Country tradtions I’ve passed on to my children. On Friday afternoon, we colored four-dozen hard-boiled eggs, and those that made it to Saturday without being dropped or eaten became the booty in the big hunt. Yesterday was by far the most beautiful weather… Read More Glad Påsk!

I have poor impulse control and I love bright, shiny things. It’s a given, then, that I’m a retailer’s dream. I have come home many, many times–from the store or from the postbox; mail-order is my friend–loaded down with merchandise that I certainly didn’t need, and in many cases didn’t even really want. All too… Read More On Buyer’s Remorse