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MY SO-CALLED LIFE
Boo hoo hoo, no tapas tonight. :( No delicately crunchy, perfectly cooked and straightened* shrimp scampi with pesto creme. No tender marinated sweetly fragrant artichoke hearts lovingly wrapped with prosciutto. No ooey gooey rich and creamy potato and cream souffle smothered in melted gouda cheese with mouthwatering chunks of bacon. *drool* sigh But it's just as well, since I can't really afford to go out to dinner AND pay a babysitter when I'm supposed to be trying to save money to go to the States this summer.

I'm starting to have a hard time with saying "going home" when I mean "going to the States" and it seems to bother Anders as well when I say it, so I'm consciously trying to stop. THIS is home. Sweden is home. It's not as if when we go to the States, we go to a place where we've even lived, since we go to my mom's house in Michigan (where I've never lived) and rarely even make it to Chicago, and it's been seven years and you'd think I'd be over this already. Is home where my mom is? Is home where I was born? Where I came from before I moved here? Or is it where my husband and house and children and life are? The latter, is my answer...but when referring to any vacation in the U.S. of A., my brain automatically translates it as "going home for the summer/Christmas/random holiday."

You'd think I would have figured this out by now, after a lifetime of moving around, but it's still just as confusing and weird to deal with it as it was when I was a teenager. Military brats always have a hard time answering the question, "So, where are you from?" I still mix up the definition of my family, even, as sometimes it means Anders/Martin/Karin and sometimes it means my FIRST family: Mom/Dad/Sarah/John. Is there ever a time when you finally make that mental switch?

This morning, Martin and I mixed it up properly. I had to get up a bit early and get the kids up and feed them breakfast, which all went off without a hitch, but then I got their clothes out and set them in the living room and told them they could watch TV while they got dressed, as long as they were done by the time I got out of the shower. 10 minutes later, Martin had only made it as far as his underwear, because he apparently didn't inherit the multi-tasking gene from me, or else he was caught in the slo-mo undertow, and anyway, he pitched a fit and fell in it when I turned off the TV because OBVIOUSLY he couldn't finish getting dressed on time if it was on. I was dumma mamma** several times, and he even threw something and hit out, until I threatened to remove TV privileges for tonight too, and then the dumma mammas were all internalized and the only outward sign was the laser eyes of 6-year-old deprivation and anger leveled at me over the toothbrush. The only reason that this is at all post-worthy is because the child in question was Martin.

courtesy Posts a Hilarious (but sadly, not real) Reply From the Smithsonian Regarding a Submission: Australopithecus spiff-arino

And You the Judges, Bear a Wary Eye: Alternative Ending for Hamlet Recently Discovered (thanks for the laugh, pegkerr!)

Good Writing Out There Right Now:*How do they DO that?!!
**Stupid Mama
 working
mood: working
music: Corr's—What Can I Do?


Comments

This home thing is a hard one. It really hurts Ibo's feelings when I call Canada home and when I say "my family" meaning those in Canada. I am conciously trying not to say it anymore but it is hard because they are my family and that is my home, even though I have a new home and family here in Sweden and they are just as important. One thing I have had to stop saying is "I could go home and get a good job right now, without having to go to school for two years", when I get frustrated with this whole swedish language thing. I had to stop because LL started patting me on the back and saying "we can go home soon mamma" every time I cried about anything. I realized it really is giving him mixed messages by referring to two places as home. :(

I laughed at the Martin story because we just had the same scenario here. I told LL to get dressed and then I went looking for his bike helmet. I looked in the upstairs storage room and then went to the cellar one, found the helmet, came back and made him lunch and when it was ready, he was sitting entranced in front of the tv in his underwear. So I said "tv off" and tears and yelling followed the directive. I have to give him credit though, he did turn off the tv and get dressed, then asked if it could go back on. So I escaped the "dumma mamma" title today (but only because I found his bike helmet so he likes me a lot at the moment *laugh*). I did a double take to make sure I read it right, I bet it felt like you were in the Twilight Zone when it was Martin instead of Karin. *grin*

cue Twilight Zone theme song: do-do-do-do, do-do-do-do! :D I wonder what kids these days (ha!) refer to since they probably don't even know what the Twilight Zone refers to!?

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