Kids are good for the ego

Laney saw a picture of an actress in a Renaissance-style dress that pushed her breasts into her throat.

She says to me, "Her these (referring to the actress' breasts) are up there. Your these (referring to my breasts) are down there."

Hey, kiddo. Watch your mouth. They haven't sunk that low yet! Have they? Have they?! Oh, no! I've gotta run and check! Oh, good lord! Am I a dwarf with sagging boobs?!

Strawberry Fields Forever

If you'd ask me ten, no, five, even two, years ago to compile a list of "100 Things I Will Never Be Interested In Doing," then I am pretty sure "Gardening" and "Picking Berries" would have been on that list. The local Safeway has a lovely selection of fruits and berries, so why on Earth would one bother to go to the trouble of growing one's own? Worse, why would one spend one's precious free time out in the woods looking for berries?

Now, I'm learning to enjoy both. This has everything to do with kids, of course. I still think I'd prefer buying to growing if it were just me to think about. Seven? He's a good man, but if it were just the two of us, and he wanted fresh berries, he'd be out there picking them himself.

We have wild raspberries that grow out on the back of our land here. Last year, the four of us would tramp through the mile-high weeds to find the raspberry trees and pick the berries. The kids didn't necessarily enjoy the picking of the berries, but they definitely loved the eating of the berries.

As for me, it felt good to see the kids eat something straight from the earth. There were no pesticides. There was nothing artificial put into the ground to produce larger berries. There were just the berries Mother Nature saw fit to plant there. Fresh. Pure. I felt so close to nature. I also felt the kids got a better appreciation of the miracles that the land can produce. Never mind that I'll most certainly come across an article about all the fresh, pure bacteria that thrive on wild berries. . .

I decided we should try to grow strawberries. The kids LOVE strawberries. We live in the country with wide open spaces, so this year we planted our first plants.

The blurry thing in front is a blossoming strawberry plant.

The same plant with strawberries.

The taste test.

It was a bit of work to plant the patch and tend to it. It's taken some time, research on my part, since I didn't know a damn thing about growing plants. I even dealt in a little cow poo fertilizer. (Yuck! This is just to get them started. After this, the plants are on their own. They'll have to suck the nutrients out of that ground!) It hasn't felt like work at all, though. It's just been. . .fun. Fun to watch the plants grow. Fun to see the first strawberries blossom. Fun to watch how protective Laney is of 'her' little patch. The birds ate the first of the strawberries, so she and Nicky were insistent that I cover the plants to keep the birds off of them. Laney loves to go down and check on the strawberries. "The birds CANNOT eat my strawberries!" Next year, I plan to plant her and Nicky each their own little strawberry patch to tend.

The kids also love blueberries. Blueberries abound in the hills around here. It is very common for Norwegian grandmothers to take to the hills in the late summer to pick blueberries. It's less common among the younger generations, but a lot of people still do it. You can come back with pounds of blueberries, if you're good. I prefer to eat the berries freshly picked. However, you can get so much from one trip, you can also make your own jam or jelly. Tomorrow, we're making blueberry muffins. Yum.

Picking berries.

Raspberries are late this year, but we'll be out gathering what we can when they're ripe. The longer I live in the country, the more "country-fied" I become, and I love it.

I draw the line at caring for farm animals, though. If I start blogging about milking my own cows, then there's no turning back.


I've become someone else.

War of Santa

Ooops, sorry. We return to posting, um, Tuesday!

Apparently, there is a little battle between the Norwegians and the Finns as to who is the rightful 'owner' of Santa. Is he Norwegian? Is he Finnish? Each country stakes their own claim.

It makes sense to me that he would be Norwegian as the northernmost part of Norway is quite a bit closer to the North Pole than the northernmost part of Finland. Click here for a map as verification. However, I think the Finns have won the battle. They simply 'do' the Santa-thing better. There is a town called Rovaniemi, which lies just south of the where the Arctic Circle intersects Finland. The Finns claim that Santa has set up his headquarters just on the Arctic Circle and Rovaniemi is the place to go to be if you want to be seen with the real Santa.

I'd read online about the Santa Village in Rovaniemi and hoped we'd be able to take the kids one day (since it's closer than Santa's headquarters in Canada, or Colorado, or Minnesota, or whatever other wintery place he's set up shop!) Turned out, we could do it this year, since it was on the way (sort of) to our final destination. I love the story of how Santa's home is near an ear-shaped fell so that he can hear all of the children around the world. I was pretty excited about the stop.

As we drove north of Rovaniemi, we saw big signs for the Santa Park coming up, so we turned in. Santa Park is a cavernous enclosure with an Elf School where you learn to speak Elvish, a ride through Santa's workshop, a post office, a workshop for making your own Santa decoration, ice sculputres, and a musical show. It was really well-done and we took our time to see all of the sights. My pictures don't really do the day justice. . .I could have sworn I took more photos. Hmmm.

The kids by Santa's Sleigh. Don't tell Laney, but she's sitting on a reindeer pelt. The people of the Arctic use reindeer fur as a way of keeping warm -- as seat cushions, in clothes and footwear, whatnot. It's a little morbid, however, if you think that your in Santa's Village and one makes a big deal of his reindeer friends . . .Dasher and Dancer still pull the sleigh. Blitzen? Don't ask.

The kids watching the Elf Musical, which was really fun. Note that they are also eating a very healthy Santa diet.

Santa's Workshop. I only took two pictures (both bad), but it was pretty incredible. It was very much like a Christmas version of those Disney rides at Disneyland. You sit in a little cart that carries through the Christmas world.

We also got a photo with Santa. He also looked unbelievably realistic. We couldn't take a picture though. You know, we had to BUY their picture, which we did, of course. I just don't have a scanner to scan it in. I also forgot to take a picture of the kids learning to speak Elf. It includes making funny sounds with various hand movements to call up the 'magic.'

A great day all around. I was a little confused though. It didn't quite seem the same as the website described. I don't remember the site saying anything about walking though a cavern or the Elf School. When I asked about the letter from Santa, they said that was a different 'company.' Oh, I thought. I'd just have to check the website again, maybe you could only order the letter online.

As we drove out of Rovaniemi the next day, past Santa Park, and a few kilometers further north, we passed Santa's VILLAGE. We had spent the whole day in the wrong place! We were here. Turns out that the folks at EuroDisney had come up to design this new Santa Park, the one we were in, which also explains the Disney 'feel' to the place. You can also see the difference in the website design when Disney's money is behind it.

We'd still had a fun time, even if we weren't where I thought we were. We have an excuse to pass by Rovaniemi again. I really enjoyed it there.

Now, I'm thinking that the Finns will have to begin battling amongst themselves to figure out which is the real Santa Headquarters.

As for the Norwegians, the only real effort I've seen at capturing the spirit of Santa is a giant, faded, air-blown Santa figure wobbling in the breeze. It was attached to a restaurant somplace I don't remember. No contest.

Without further ado. . .

Family Vacation Photos! The thing about blogging is that you feel bad when you don't post. And since I've said for over a week now that I would post some pics from our road trip, I've felt the the weight of not having posted them rest heavily on my shoulders ever since. I NEED to get those pictures up, I would remind myself, as if people were waiting with bated breath.

It's a little ridiculous, actually. If you think about it, I'm a little like that obnoxious uncle when you were growing up who thought that other people really WANTED to see his family vacation slideshow. Slides. Remember those? Anyway, if he didn't subject innocent visiting family members to his slideshow, their lives would somehow be incomplete.

Here's the world's biggest ball of twine.

Here's me in front of the world's biggest ball of twine.

Now here's one of Aunt Mae in front of the big ball of twine.

And Cousin Lulu. . .

Twenty minutes later.

That big blur is little Juniper running after pigeons. See the pigeons, there? Those smudges. So hard to get those moving pictures! Harhar. You may have noticed after the tenth blurry image or so.

And look! There's a side-view of the big ball of twine.

So while I'm sure the world outside my little bubble has continued to move along despite my not having posted my pictures, here for your viewing pleasure. . .a trip through northern Scandanavia!

Because I said I would.

First Stop: Overkalix, Sweden

Overkalix is a quaint little village on the banks of the Kalix River. Many of the houses are painted red with white trim and the lawns are beautifully manicured. However, the only reason we stopped here is because the hotel had a big pool. You know you live north in the world when you drive down to SWEDEN to lounge by a pool. Oh, and the weather was better earlier in the day.

Bathing Suits Optional -- Laney was so excited to take a dip that she put on her floaty things before I could get her bathing suit on.

The kids in the pool

And that was about it. We really had a lovely time, but I don't think there is much blog-worthy to write about. . .except that I really wish some parents would keep their very loud, splashy children out of the baby pool -- especially if they're, like, 12 years old.

Stay tuned for the exciting next segment, in which we visit Santa in Rovaniemi, Finland.

I apologize in advance to my beautiful, loyal readers for my erratic posting in the past two weeks or so. We'll returned to regularly (ha!) scheduled posting on Monday.

Take only what you need to survive. . .

The day we left for our trip, Buzz Lightyear (aka Nicky in a Buzz costume) insisted that Nicky wanted his Spiderman suitcase and that he, Buzz, knew exactly what to pack.

Advised to pack wisely as there was limited space in the suitcase, Buzz and Laney went to work packing the suitcase with the bare travel necessities.

Unwashed black Spiderman costume
Unwashed red Spiderman costume
(Really! What does Mommy do all day long that these essentials weren't handwashed before the trip?!?)
Tigger book
Piglet book
Pink plastic cup, one
Baby Doll
Christmas stockings for Baby Doll
Fingerpaints (OF COURSE, Mommy will let us fingerpaint in the car!)
Crumpled Spiderman magazine
Spiderman figure (not included in photo, because Mommy didn't see him)

Adventures in Bathing Suit Buying

A friend of mine sent me her humorous tale of bathing suit shopping with a three-year-old. It's too funny not to share, so with her permission, here you go.

As if buying a bathing suit at my size isn't humiliating enough, my lovely daughter has to make the shopping experience even worse! Seriously, never take your kids bathing suit shopping with you!

Last weekend, I decided that I needed a new bathing suit. We have several upcoming pool parties and a weekend beach trip, so I figured I'd go and look around. So off we went to the mall, and my daughter insisted on coming with me.

OK, fine. Not in the plan, but whatever.

We go to Macy's and as I pass the really cute, tiny, two-piece things, my daughter announces for the whole store to hear, "We have to look for a BIG bathing suit for you, right, Mama?" I think she meant adult-sized, as opposed to kid-sized, but it sounded so bad!

As I'm going through racks of depressing, modestly cut one-piece numbers that scream "middle-aged and cellulite," she adds, "Yeah, you need to find another bathing suit because yours is TOO SMALL, right?" This comment is bad enough if it were true, but it's NOT true! I'm still the same size, but the suit is just getting old and faded! Whatever, let it go, let it go...

As I'm trying the suits on, she starts cracking up and yells, "I can see your boobies and belly button!" I heard some stifled laughter from several rooms!

Then she asks, "How come you're taking off ALL your clothes?" Again, not true -just the bra, I always keep my panties on when trying on swim suits! Anyway, I couldn't find anything that looked decent so I think I'll do what I should've done in the first place and order something online.

I think this is the beginning of many situations like this one...

Yeah, shopping ain't as fun as it used to be!

New Baby

We were in the grocery store when a woman passed us with her newborn.

"Mommy, can we have that baby," Laney asked me.

"You want that baby?"

"Noooooooooo, not THAT baby. We can't take baby away from her. We can buy a new baby!"

Later, I heard a baby wailing loudly. We passed the same mother again as she tried to wrestle her older child's hands out of the candy dispensers, while baby screeched her protest at being left in the carrier. From the look on the frazzled mother's face, my guess is that we might have been able to buy THAT baby at that moment. Her brother would have been thrown in for free.

No, kiddo. If this mommy's going to be buying anything, it's first-class tickets to an expensive Caribbean resort, so she can lounge around in a big straw hat with a good book in one hand and a daiquiri in the other.

Friends

I was changing her for the morning when Laney says to me in her cute voice, "We are friends."

I melted inside.

"We ARE friends," I said and gave her a hug.

May it will always be that way, baby, even when you're sixteen.

Here's the thing

I really am here. I have lots of pictures. I'm dying to bore you with all my pictures. I just have to learn to download them into the computer since we bought a new camera, which comes with new software, new software that threatens to destroy my already overburdened computer.

So in the meantime, here's a forwarded email that I rediscovered in my cluttered email box. It's obviously dated. Checks? SOOOOOOOOOOOO 1999. It's all about online banking these days. And obviously I care nothing for the writer's integrity and plagiarize freely here.

Child Activated Attention Deficit Disorder

This is how it manifests:I decide to do the laundry. As I start toward the basement, I notice that there are cheerios all over the floor and my house keys are in the cereal bowl.I decide to pick up the cheerios before I do the laundry. I lay my keys down on the counter, put the cheerios in the trashcan under the counter, and notice that the trashcan is full. So, I decide to take out the trash.But then I think, since I'm going to be near themailbox when I take out the trash I may as well pay the bills first. I take my check book off the table, and see that there is only one check left, my extra checks are in my desk in the office, so I go to my desk where I find a sippy cup full of juice.I'm going to look for my checks, but first I decide I should put the sippy cup in the refrigerator to keep it cold. As I head toward the kitchen with the sippy cup a plant on the counter catches my eye--it needs to be watered. I set the sippy cup on the counter, and I discover baby wipes that I've been searching for all morning. I decide I better put them back in the bathroom, but first I'm going to water the plants. I set the wipes back down, fill a container with water and suddenly I spot the TV remote, left on the kitchen table.I realize that when I go to watch TV, I will be looking for the remote, but I won't remember that it's on the kitchen table, so I decide to put it back in the den where it belongs, but first I'll water the plants. I splash some water on the plant, but most of it spills on the floor. So, I set the remote back down, get somepaper towels and wipe up the spill. Then I head down the hall trying to remember what I was planning to do.

At the end of the day: the laundry isn't washed, the bills aren't paid, there is a warm cup of juice sitting on the counter, the plants aren't watered, there is still only one check in my check book, I can't find the remote, I can't find the wipes, and I don't remember what I did with my keys. Then when I try to figure out why nothing got done today. I'm really baffled because I know I was busy all day long, andI'm really tired. I realize this is a serious problem, and I'll try to get some help for it, but first I'll check my e-mail. Do me a favor, will you? Forward this message, because I don't remember to whom it has been sent. Don't laugh--if this isn't you yet, your day is coming!

Sad, sad, sad thing is. . .I was kind of like this before I had my kids to blame!

We're BAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

Did you miss me? You -- one of the three people that reads this blog.

I will soon post the obligatory photos and the exciting tales from our journey -- romance, suspense and adventures on the high seas. . .

Or day at the hotel pool and visiting the wrong Santa Park. Same thing, really.