Day 318: Toddler Slobber

There is something that parents rately talk about, and even more rarely mention to their childless friends and family.  That thing is baby, and more specifically toddler, slobber.

When they are babies it’s cute and harmless, after all the little bundles can’t have any germs if they are just laying there, right?  But then they start eating solids, crawling, and then walking, and the slobber increases.

When I talk about slobber, I’m referring to the general wetness in the mouth/neck area that toddlers have.  It increases when they are teething and sick, and can also catch you off-guard when playing, cuddling, etc.

The little guy has recently decided he wants me to share with him.  So he “feeds me” portions of his food, which I can normally simply act like I’m eating and that is sufficient – but I can’t escape the slobber that is on it and his fingers.

The same thing applies to the kisses the little guy has so lovingly decided I deserve. These are some wet kisses, and they are cutely applied all over my face.

I caught myself today to realize that I don’t even think twice about this slobber.  I’ll eat the food if he puts it in my mouth, I’ll let my face get totally slobbered on, and I don’t think it’s gross, weird, or disturbing.  I don’t get bothered by it because I love my son, I love that he wants to kiss me, and I love that he thinks sharing is fun.  If he drools all over me when we are playing, I see that as a sign of some good play being had, and keep on going.  

Although it doesn’t bother me, it’s handy to keep a pack of tissues in my pocket – just because it doesn’t bother me, it does not mean I don’t wipe it off πŸ˜‰

Day 317: the love of a thrillΒ 

The little guy and I had our first day alone together in quite a while as my wife officially went back to work today after the holidays. It was nice to be together as a family, but of course it is also nice to fall back into our “positions” again too.

One thing that is different is that when the little guy and I are together, he rarely whines.  But when mom’s around, it’s abundant – at the dinner table, when playing, and so on.  And playing is also of a different style when it is just me and him.

I have always enjoyed playing with my son – he has a good personality and sense of humor, so it makes playing a joy.  Today I was reminded of that while we played outside in the snow, and played around the house with a ball (he can play with a ball for hours), and when we read countless books (also one he can do for hours).  I was reminded of one key “play” thing that me and him have that really only comes out when we are alone together: he likes to be scared/thrilled/surprised.

Today while we played with the ball, it eventually became a game of “keep away”, where he tried to run away from me with the ball before I could catch him.  He would go to the table and run around it, and then I would catch him at the end and yell noisily, and he would jump and squeal with fear and pleasure, and then it would start again as he went in the other direction.  Making matters humorous for me was his crazy laughter and the lack of balance while running, especially while he was in a hurry to “get away.”  Then at the end of our play time in that game, he ran up to me and gave me a huge kiss and hug.  That’s a special thrill of its own πŸ™‚

Day 316: a walk in the snow

As I wrote yesterday, it has been really cold in Sweden lately.  Snow normally does not come when it is so cold, but when it starts to warm up a little (between -10 and -5 c), the chances of snow increase.  So it was amazing to wake up today to the freshly fallen snow.

As the day wore on, the snowfall continued.  We went for a morning walk, which was short as the snow was really falling.  And as the little guy got tired in the afternoon I took him for another walk so he could take a nap.

I have written about he fact that in Sweden it is super common to have your child sleeping outside in the winter (in amazing sheepskin-lined sleeping bags called Γ₯kpΓ₯se).  So today as I went for a walk pushing the little guy thru the snow, people were not surprised to see me.

As we ventured out, I realized with chagrin that the sidewalk along the road had not been cleared.  And as I walked on, I also noticed how difficult it is to push a stroller thru the snow.  My legs began to burn, as if I had cross-country ski’d 40 miles.  

I walked and walked, pushed and struggled, and I suddenly regretted the layers of wool I was wearing, and the incredibly warm down parka seemed like it must be the place that the sun gets its heat from.  My new mittens with the wool inserts came off, and I somehow found it a relief to be walking bare-handed in the cold air.  I returned to the house sweating, beat, and ready for a glass of water.  The things you do for your child to have a good nap πŸ˜‰ 

the amazing rain cover proves useful in the snow, too

Day 315: cold weather

We have been back in Sweden for about a week now, and the weather here has been cold since we arrived.  Cold as in -22 degrees c one day (-8 f).  

This weather is nice to be around in the sense that it is “fresh” (important word in Sweden).  It is also very cozy, as the temperature prevents you from going outside from too long, so you stay inside and get to feel nice and warm while the cold temperatures put ice on the windows and the snow flurries outside.

What adds to the coziness is that our heat pump that we normally use to keep the house warm is not working when it is colder than -10c, so we have to use the wood burning fireplace.  We have a big pile of wood that came with the house so every day I bring in at least 2 large loads of wood so that we can burn it to keep the house warm.

Outside it really is beautiful, and as the snow keeps falling, the romantic image of our little home grows.  

view out the back window
  
cozy hideaway
   
sunrise down the road
 
 

Day 314: bedtime freak

Up until now, we have had a good nighttime routine with the little guy with few complications.  We put him to bed, and if he woke up maybe he was hungry so we gave him a bottle, and then all was covered.

Since we got back to Sweden, it has literally been a nightmare.  He goes to bed, sleeps for a few hours, and then he wakes up screaming like crazy; completely inconsolable.  Then we calm him down, and after he falls asleep in our arms or next to us we try to move him to his bed.  And boom, he wakes up and screams some more.  It could last for hours it seems, and so we go into his bedroom and pick him up, and then the cycle continues.  The only way to stop the madness is to let him fall asleep and stay asleep next to us in our bed.  Since we want him to sleep in his own bed, this doesn’t really nice for us.  

So now we are on our 5th night dealing with a tired toddler and tired partner regretting the bad habits he must have picked up on our trip to the USA when we were sleeping in the same room.

Day 313: my own national identity crisis

I once taught a class at one of the University of California campuses that involved the various elements that contribute to how we construct our identity.  These include things like sexuality, race, gender, ethnicity, nationality, and so on.

Upon returning from our visit to the USA, which is where I am from and where I lived for the vast majority of my life, I find myself in a bit of a low place.  It is normal to feel “down” after the holidays, and maybe that is part of it.  But for me, it was actually being in America, and my identity as an American that causes these feelings.

Although I am American, I am not your “typical American” that is so easily stereotyped and depicted.  My wife points out that I never have been one that fit into the standard American mold.  I think this is due to traveling a lot when I was younger, and that I lived abroad for a while in my early 20’s.  My parents also taught me to think for myself and to embrace learning and evolving as a person.  So if I wrap all that together, it made it so I consciously rejected many things that I didn’t like or didn’t want to identify with.  Not rejection in an overt way, like dying my hair and getting piercings all over my body (which is cool for those who do it).  But rejection in the more subtle way; keeping it to myself and saying, “ok, I don’t agree with XX, so I will just avoid it / not go to those places where people like that hang out / etc.”

This didn’t make me an outsider in the US, I still had friends there and everything.  But it probably made it easier for me to move when I left for Sweden 4 years ago.  And after I got here, I made the conscious decision not to get any American friends here.  I didn’t want to talk about the homeland and romanticize where we are from; I didn’t want to make myself miss the USA.  I wanted to “buy in” to Sweden, to own my decision to move here and to integrate into the culture here by learning to understand the way of the people without hinderance.  I am still not fluent in Swedish, but I am fairly aware of the cultural norms and the overall “Swedish mindset” (“lagom” and “jantelagen” are just the tip of the iceberg).

So when I went back to America this time, it had been 2 years since my last visit.  2 years of the country moving in one direction while I moved in another.  2 years of terrorism, politics, media blowing things out of proportion, fear building up of anyone outside of America.  2 years of me experiencing one thing while the citizens of the US experienced another.

I felt for the first time that I was a visitor to my country.  I felt like it did not feel like my home country, and I had a hard time feeling connected to the people there.  The news channels were screaming at me to be afraid, the newspapers with bold print headlines were trying to catch my attention by being louder than the tv news.  The people were all wearing workout clothes (ok, not everyone), as if they had just been to the gym, but it was clear they hadn’t been.  Sports logos and brands were everywhere.  And on and on.  I just didn’t know where to begin, and did not care to anyway.

So there is a bit of a “national identity crisis” happening for me right now.  The national identity I have is grey.  I should technically find my national identity in the USA, and as an immigrant to Sweden I am not connected to the national identity of a Swede.  We have a different “insider’s view” into our countries that only a person with history will have.  I know the history of the American story for the last 36 years, so I have insider views into American culture that helps me understand the logic of what happens in America and to explain it to others, and this insight can only be learned thru experience.  The same goes for natives of the Swedish culture – it will be years before I can have that history.  

So I guess it will be a long road of feeling “in-between,” and I must rely on my identity as a father, husband, good person, and even as an immigrant.  It’s kind of a lonely place to be, but I guess it’s one of those hurdles you go thru if you move from your native country.

Day 312: First Time Sledding

Today my son got to do one of the greatest things I can remember doing as a child: go sledding.  In the midst of the snowy days of the cold winters growing up, it was always a welcome distraction to go running up a hill, then sit on a sled and ride down it, then repeat until we were wet, frozen, and exhausted.

We have a large back yard, with a part at the edge that goes gradually down hill.  It is perfect for young children, who don’t need too much of an incline to be thrilled, and for the parents who don’t need too much of an incline either ;). 

Bundled up like the younger brother from “A Christmas Story,” we went out this morning.  Pulling the little guy up and down the hill was a real treat.  He liked it and squealed with joy, althewhile seeming to be amazed and confused about what he was experiencing.  I have a feeling this is just the beginning of many days out sledding with him, and that’s just fine with me πŸ™‚ 

our sledding hill

Day 311: standing tall

As the little guy gets more comfortable walking around, he also falls more.  And along with those calls comes getting up so that he can walk and fall again.  He is venturing out further and further away from things he can use to help him get up, so he has had to learn to stand up on his own.

His first attempts came just a few days ago, and it was the most physically difficult way possible to stand up: “the weightlifter.”  He would get to both knees, then step up with one foot. Then, step up with the other one, all while keeping your balance.  Basically he looked like those huge guys in the Olympics who put massive amounts of weight above their heads.  When he was doing this we cheered him on and congratulated him for standing up, but you could see in his head that this standing method would be short-lived.

Next up was the “butt-in-the -air.”  He used to love to do the downward dog pose back when he was learning to crawl, so maybe there was some muscle memory.  Basically he would go all the way up on all fours while sticking his butt in the air, and the higher it got, the closer he got to standing – but most often it led to just crawling awkwardly, so he did not keep this one.

Finally after a few short stints on other methods, he has landed on the current one: “crouch-and-up.”  With this one he basically sits on his knees or on his feet (crouching), and he pushes up with his hands. So, this allows him to fall a lot, get up after it quickly and efficiently, and to be ready to walk off again – to fall some more. πŸ˜‰

Day 310: there’s no place like home

After a long but good journey, we found our way back to our vacation home that we stay at while we are in Sweden.  It’s a nice little red house that looks like a dream when it has freshly snowed, like it did yesterday.

Tonight when I put the little guy to bed, it was hard not to feel like we were in a movie or a fairy tale.  It was dark in the room, but cozy and warm.  Outside it was snowing huge snowflakes that I could see through the window being lit up by the streetlight.  In the foreground was the Christmas star in the window and a few toys.  For those moments after my son fell asleep, I could only think:  there’s no place like home. 

 

Day 309: walking man

Under 2 weeks ago when we arrived in the US for Christmas, the little guy had just started walking.  Wobbly, a few steps here, a few steps there, and falling.

Now, the little guy has had plenty of practice and inspiration seeing his older cousins walking around, so as we head home to Sweden, he is walking around wherever we let him; for example the airport.  He walks up to people, unsteadily with his arms up like a chimpanzee, proudly staring at them until they look up and force a smile on their unhappy holiday-stressed faces.  He doesn’t care, he’s got a new skill to show off, and show it off he is πŸ˜‰