Fan.

Det var allt.

Facebooksidor

Har hakat på den nya (harkel) trenden med facebook-sidor för allt möjligt. Till exempel min egen sida för svenskar I Byron Bay som dock verkar ha fått eget liv och förvandlats till en sida för backpackers som önskar byta tips samt hitta andra backpackers att supa med. Men dock.
Sen finns det en sida för svenskar I Australien. Eller det finns typ tre. En sida för svenskar I varje stad. Det bara kryllar av svenskar, överallt.
Träffade en norsk tjej som höll med om att det finns mycket svenskar I Australien. Och I Oslo. I Oslo finns det många. Party-svenskar kallas de.

Just nu vill alla svenskar diskutera hur man bäst bakar bullar på torrjäst och vad fan sirap heter på engelska. Hint; det heter inte "syrup". Så nu vet ni det. Folk vill också gärna veta vart man kan köpa skitäcklig korv. Såg just en bild på en korv som liknade en... glöm det förresten. Det finns gränser för vad jag kan publicera på bloggen.

Men vad fan liksom. Bli vegan för helsicke!

Julmat

Utan en massa krångel.

En vanlig dag...

... I Australien.
Min mamma tyckte det var en fin koala och en fin, ehem, kanin.

Bebis

Har haft hand om Bönans 5 mån gamla kusin lite I dagarna. Alla (lyriskt) åh är det underbart att hålla I en liten bebis igen? Jag (lyriskt) neeeej!

Annars knallar det väl på. Makens föräldrar har ju sett ljuset och planerar en vegansk jul-meny med oss.

Nu är det jul igen

Fattar inte att det är ETT ÅR SEN det var jul sist. Hur är det man säger... motherhood: the minutes feel like years and the years feel like minutes. Typ.

Vinkvällens förtsättning...

Glöm allt jag sa om mysig vinkväll med lite music och allt vad det var... hade precis tryckt på "Publicera" när jag hörde ett svagt men övertygande hulkande följt av gråt. Rusade in till Bönan, tände lampan, lyfte upp ungen ur en enorm och skrämmande spya mitt på nya lakanet på nya madrassen. Släpar ut ungen i badrummet - överväger en dusch men är smart nog att inse att mera kommer att komma. Torkar av med våtservetter. Ungen har spyor i hår samt ögon. Topp!

Bäddar om. Ungen tillbaka i sängen, vill sova men gnäller och håller sig om magen. Topp!

Rusar ner till tvättstugan och griper mig an lakanet. Sköljer av spyan och nästan spyr själv. Kvider lite. Undrar om andra kvinnor är bättre på sådant här än mig. Knölar in lakanet i maskinen efter att jag skölj det i vasken. Inser att vasken nu måste rengöras. Helvete. Nästan spyr, igen.

Kommer bli en lång natt.

Två Olika Kvällar

Igår:
Bönan trilskas, gnäller, är bångstyrig och vägrar sova. Sparkar mamma. Slår mamma. Slår mamma på mammas onda axel (en annan historia). Mamma förklarar tålmodigt att man inte ska sparkas och slåss, då kan den man sparkar och slår bli ledsen, vilket är ledsamt. Mamma är en exemplarisk moder med mycket stort tålamod. Tills... Bönan luras och verkar lugna sig. Sedan, helt plötsligt en oväntad backhand; Bönan kastar sig över mamma och drar en björnklö över mammas högra ansiktshalva. Såg ni fotot vet ni att Bönan i och med detta sannolikt rivit ut mammas nya näspiercing i en rörelse; orsakat blodflöde och en mamma helt utan pedagogiskt tålamod som flyger upp ur sängen och ylar AAAJJJJ, fan också den trillade uuuuur!!! Och därmed lämnade mamma över nattningen till maken.
Ni försår, en alldeles ny näspiercing är typ omöjlig att sätta i igen. Man måste då göra om piercingen. Men inget som en förbannad hippie; jag tryckte helt enkelt dit den igen. Kras, lät det. Så nu inväntar vi med spänning eventuell infektion.

Idag:
Bönan somnar som om hon aldrig gjort annat. Mamma sitter i vardagsrummet, lyssnar på Beth Orton och dricker rödvin. Och bloggar. Och näsan gör inte ens särskilt ont längre.

Så är det.

Anniversary

I call this "borderline alcoholic former metalchick meets hippie."

Parenting Method

Vad heter det på svenska? I alla fall så har vi läst om en som vi gillar och tänker försöka följa.

Den heter CTFD-metoden.

Calm The Fuck Down. 

Metoden kan brukas närhelst barnet till exempel;
-vägrar ha kläder på sig
-vägrar äta nåt annat än makaroner
-ligger i brygga på golvet och skriker varje gång man närmar sig spisen (för att koka makaroner)

Vad göra? Calm The Fuck Down.

Snart sommar

Jaha, nu börjar det hetta till här.

När luftfuktigheten stiger till 99% (ungefär) och sol blandas med åska som får fönsterna att skallra - när ett lager fukt ligger som en hinna över alla prylar, när man undrar varför mattorna är blöta och inser att det tamigfan inte är lönt att duscha; då är sommaren på ingång i Byron Bay.

Bönan har fått en dubbelsäng. Jag slängde ut spjälsängen, den sover hon ju ändå aldrig i - money well spent det där.

Hon somnar numera i sin säng, men vaknar alltid under natten - knatar fram till grinden vi har satt i hennes dörröppning och vrålar ilsket tills mamma eller pappa masat sig ner för trappen, ödmjukt bett om ursäkt för det oförskämda beteendet att sova mitt i blanka natten, försäkrat Bönan att mamma / pappa aldrig mera tänker göra om det, samt lagt sig brevid henne i sängen (därav dubbelsäng trots ung ålder).

Tappat nåt?

Som sagt så vägrar Bönan att sova I egen säng. Så hon brukar installera sig mellan oss. Det har funkat ok. Jag sover ju inte speciellt djupt. Typ aldrig. Det är liksom inte min grej. Men igår natt hände nåt. Jag sov som en DÖD. Hade ingen koll. Vaknade klockan 02.30 av ett ljud som närmast kan beskrivas som ett hårt plask. Följt av ett ylande som säkert väckte grannarna. Följt av mig som samlat (hysteriskt) sa (skrek) oh my god holy s*** fu*** he** wake up, wake uuuupppp I've dropped the baby on the floooor!!!

Så nu har det hänt också.

Tidig Trotsålder

Ni vet en sån där vän som är så perfekt hela tiden, som man låtsas att man gillar supermycket men man typ helst hade deletat från facebook? Eller är det bara jag som har sådana?

Men livet lever väl - Bönan börjar nog gå in i Terrible Two´s eller Trotsåldern. Brukar inträda nån gång runt 2, men som väntat verkar Bönan på G redan nu efter 18 månader. När man just pustat ut lite och diskret suckat nu är nog det värsta över.

Tjena. Välkommen till skrikfest, bebis i brygga, tårar som bokstavligen sprutar (trodde detta ej var möjligt) när mamma får för sig idiotiska saker som till exempel
-sitta i bilen
-klä på sig
-borsta tänderna
-lägga sig

Ja ni ser.

För några dagar sedan tog jag nämligen upp ämnet ska vi ha ett barn till med maken. Inledningsvis var maken chockad, förvirrad och lite osäker på om jag skojade. Tillslut bestämmde vi oss för att saken eventuellt kunde diskuteras, datum för diskussion ej fastställt. Det var helt klart detta som sporrade Bönan. Frågan ska vi ha ett barn till följs just nu av frågorna varför vill någon överhuvudtaget ha ett barn till och möjligtvis hur länge kan man isf vänta - nån som är up to date med de senaste teknologiska framstegen?

Snipp snapp snut

Så vad blev själva upplösningen på den där Internet-historien, undrar ni.

Jo... eller äh...

Det kom en sjuttonåring för att kolla över saker och ting. Han fixade det omtvistade bruset på telefonledningen (thank GOD liksom, hade just börjat undra hur jag skulle orka leva med den skiten längre... ehm...) Sedan kollade han på modemet i två sekunder, sa att modemet var trasigt - och så gick han.

Maken ringde omsider upp Telstra igen, de lovade att de raskt skulle skicka ett nytt modem. Om en vecka. Vilket de kanske gjort, vem vet.

Sedan samma dag började nämligen Internet funka igen. Så att, ja... så var det inte mer med det.

Hårborste

I ett svagt ögonblick sa jag till maken att han kan använda min hårborste. Typ ej lika äckligt som att dela tandborste?
Dock lämnar han alltid gott om hår I borsten.

Maken vill inte köpa en ny borste åt sig. Det skulle vara onödigt slöseri med pengar, då han redan har en borste.

Bara det att den skitborsten typ inte duger att kamma ens en bebis.

Bilden föreställer makens borste. 

Fortsättningen

Televerket skickar under morgonen ett sms att en tekniker kommer för att kolla på telefonledningen under onsdagen, och man gör bäst I att vara hemma mellan 8 och 17.

Maken får något panikslaget I blicken. Telefonledningen borde det ju inte stå. Det borde stå internet connection, eller wireless eller bigpond eller nåt sånt. Han ringer.

Det som hänt är typ följande: Maken spenderade tre timmar I telefon med dem I fredags. Upprepade gånger sa de att det brusade på linjen. Upprepade gånger sa maken att det har det alltid gjort, vi skiter I det, vi använder inte hemtelefon. Jag vill prata om vårt INTERNET. Fixa INTERNET. Tillslut hade två tekniker bokats. En för den förbannade telefonledningen som tydligen brusar och en för att kolla på internet anslutningen.

Fredag var dock mycket länge sen - sedan dess har nåt geni STÄLLT IN den andra teknikern, eftersom det räcker med en för att kolla på telefonledningen.

Vid detta laget har maken blivit omkopplad till nya personer fem gånger. Varje gång måste han presentera sig grundligt och repetera problemet. Jag hör från andra sidan huset hur makens röst går upp I falsett och han närmast piper fram - men internet då, när ska ni kolla på det???

U-land var det ja.

Jag brukar ju lite skämtsamt säga att Australien är ett jävla u-land. Ni vet, Internet på 1996-års-vis. Nu har vi just uppnått nya höjder. Utan förvarning upphör Internet med att alls fungera. Ringer televerket. Tre timmar senare erkänner man att man nog inte har en susning om varför. Man bläddrar lite i en pappersalmunacka (gissar jag) och fastlår storslaget att man ämnar skicka ut en tekniker; om en vecka.
Maken bad att få förtydligat, jo, en vecka. Vadådå?

Tyvärr köpte vi just nya högtalare som fungerar med hjälp av just Internet, wireless - askomplicerat men hur som helst så kan vi nu inte spela musik förrän problemet är fixat. Detta sound system är nog inte härifrån.

18 månader har I övrigt gått sedan Bönan karvades ur mig; oftast har vi det bra. Ibland är det jobbigt. Idag var det jobbigt. Ouch.

Ormvakt

Bönan ogillar att sova I den egna sängen I det egna rummet.

Tillbaka till vagnen. Idag stretade jag upp och ner för backen (vi bor högt uppe på ett berg har det visat sig) tre gånger innan hon slocknade. Jag lägger inte över henne, då vaknar hon. Jag sitter vid vagnen och har koll på läget in case of pytonormar. Typ.

Men hon håller kanske på att få tänder?

Måste även passa mig så jag inte stressar upp mig för mycket. Får panik på att samtliga delar av huset behöver städas ikl. fönster. Fan. Hur gör alla andra?

Och säg för guds skull inte att folk städar när barnet sover. Då sitter jag på ormvakt, nämligen.

Liten böna

Nu undrar Bönan vad som hände med farmor och farfar. Hon lider av separationsångest. Ju mer hon skriker desto mer irriterad blir jag. Ju mer irriterad jag blir, desto mer skriker hon.

Stackarn.

Detta vill jag minnas

Bönans första engelska ord: SPIDER.

Bönans andra engelska ord: APPLE.

Första på svenska... mamma, pappa, bil, mormor...

Middag ute

Premiär för middag ute med ettåring. Det var... intressant. Ibland lyckades jag ta en tugga mat eller en klunk öl när jag snabbt lubbade förbi bordet på jakt efter ettåringen. Denna hade helt nekat till pizza och pommes. Skitäckligt tydligen. Bättre med fimpar och sand.

Efter ett tag tog farfar ungen och gick en promenad medan övriga kastade I sig pizzan och betalade. Sedan åkte vi hem och matade barnet yogurt.

Lite stressat undrar jag om det vore ok att föreslå en hink vin?

Milstolpe

Enormt viktig milstolpe i Bönans (vet ej riktigt vad jag ska kalla henne nu när jag skriver på svenska) värld. Hon sover i sitt eget rum! Hon sover nån timme under dagen, och idag är det premiär för den egna sängen i det egna rummet. Ej enbart Bönans fel att det tagit sådan lång tid. Vi har liksom precis gjort klart hennes rum. Vi var ju av den åsikten att en nyfödd Böna inte behöver ett eget rum - och you know stuff and things, 18 månader senare har man i alla fall ordnat ett barnrum. Det blev helbra. Jag målade en vägg grön.

Annars är svärföräldrarna här nu så... borde kanske gå ner och vara social.

Dags för nåt nytt?

Tror jag ska skriva på svenska istället.

Så ungen tog datorn och drämde den I golvet. Perfekt! Den verkar iallafall tillfälligt ha återhämtat sig.

Tyvärr hade mamma lite ont I huvudet efter en särdeles överförfriskad kväll med grannskapet - då ungen blev bästis med en treåring. Så himla häftigt att se.

Dagen efter var det iallafall tur att man har en karl som ställer upp, och inte själv ligger för ankar en hel dag pga sjutton drinkar.

Bra där.

My Table

Bought $1500 table for $500. That kind of thing makes adult-Anna do a little happy dance. It also makes teenage-Anna very angry. I laugh in her face, mwahahaha. My table rocks.

Starting Something?

Am contemplating starting my own business. Last time I tried my hands at being a career-woman, was gigantic failure, nothing like imagined siting in bed with laptop on knee sipping cup of tea happily moaning over workload, that sort of thing; no, was just utter horrible enormous waste of time which made me feel depressed, fat and well... like I was wasting my time.

Therefore I am having doubts.

Will it work? Will there be enough time for bub, shopping, cooking, cleaning, exercise and... work? How do other people do this work-thing successfully?

Am I smart enough? Used to think of myself as quite intelligent indeed. Using the benchmark "other people." It's possible I was reasonably on top of things. At 18. Prior to nearly 20 years of bodily abuse mostly in the form of red wine (mostly).

Now I am not so sure.

Oh. Baby awake.

Tonsillitis

Bub is experiencing her very first case of tonsillitis. 

Am fearing the worst, naturally, thinking she'll be a real tonsill-bub like I was.Tonsillitis every few weeks between the ages of as-far-back-as-I-can-remember and bastards-got-removed-via-scalpel in 2000. 

I missed so much school I actually became convinced of the uselessness of main stream education. You do not need 12 years to learn how to read, write, do basic maths and talk your way out of gym-class. 

Different post. 

Unfortunately we'd just had bub vaccinated in the previous week. Jabs are due at 12 months here in Australia, but in Sweden the same ones are due at 18 months. In so far as I place any trust in authority at all, I'd take Sweden's advice over Australia's. Glass of fluoride, anyone? 

In the end we'd given in and booked the appointment even though our precious bundle is a mere 16 months. A week later 40 plus degree fever strikes with a vengeance, bub shaking and refusing to make eye contact with me. 

Was overcome with horror, convinced she may never bounce back (forgetting fact of it being middle of night, and bub probably wanted to get back to sleep - wondering why has mom suddenly gone mad insisting on cold shower, change of clothes and yucky tasting medicine when all I want to do is sleep..? 

One sleepless night later I drag bub to the medical centre, mad hair and stressed look - shouting about reactions to vaccines and not having an appointment and I need a doctor now -  when the most amazing thing happens. 

My doctor is standing right there in the reception area. She has her jacket and a coffee - on her break perhaps - but she ignores the reception lady who says I can wait an hour, says "No - I will see her now!" 

Five minutes later I am once again convinced of the relative safety and scientific benefits of vaccines; bub is not suffering a reaction to them - she has tonsillitis. I'm like... Ahaaaaaa... well, that explains it. 

How to give a 16 month old her medicine:

1. Figure out how to open the damn bottle

2. Figure out how to use the useless bloody measuring device

3. Get husband to hold down baby's extremities

4. Try to pry open baby's mouth whilst at the same time not spilling medicine

5. Hold baby's nose (whilst feeling like worst parent ever. EVER.)

6. Scrape as much of the medicine as possible from baby's neck, cheeks, arms - try to shove it back down her throat again 

7. Optimistically assume atleast some of the medicine has been swallowed

8. Comfort baby

9. Clean yourself, furniture and floor which are covered in sticky medicine

10. Just go to bed

Socially acceptable?

At playgroup the other day. Lots of mothers (a lot) younger than me sporting two, even three, kids. Someone throws in a "gee I love babies, wish I'd had like five!" I say, unable to slow down and reconsider - "You do?!?"

Had to run off at this exact moment to stop bub from getting kicked in the face for the second time in an hour.

I sense them looking at me. I get the feeling that whilst a child is your ticket into the club, your ticket into social acceptability - I still don't quite fool them.

They know.

I updated you.

I updated you, you silly blog. I expressed amazement at the fortunate arrival of both our long haul flights, I mentioned a week in Sydney and I mentioned spending a week driving north.
Bub thoroughly enjoyed both flying and driving, whole thing was enjoyable, serene experience.

I said we're in Byron now and harped on a little about sleep (bub 16 months old but allowing us approximately the same amount of rest as when she was 6 weeks, yay hurrah - blablabla.

I even updated some of my info and blog layout.

But what has happened to all this? Lost in cyberspace. Not even saved in drafts.

Thinking of forgetting about this blog and starting up another - it's going to be in swedish and it's going to become the most popular anonymous blog in Sweden.

Good luck finding it.

On the Road

On our way here for so long. Planned and packed. Waited. Traveled. Lived. Arrived at long last.

Now we're going back again.

Choices.

Final Days in Sweden!

It's been hot, hot, hot. Yuk. Is it like this in Byron all the time? Don't remember! If it is, perhaps we can consider moving to Iceland?

Positive Thinking

Hubby a little annoyed that I am once again obsessing over the relative safety of air-travel. Like he cannot fathom why I am still thinking about it. And I suppose he's right. Thinking about it will do nothing but cause more stress and anxiety, well before the threat of imminent death presents itself.

A good friend reminded me that we are all here for a limited time. We will not survive life. Just have to make the best of it while we are here. Less obsessing, then.

More embracing of the now. Handling life with calm and composure, not thinking the worst all the time but being positive.






Just one more thing before I start embracing the moment;

I would like to have "some die young" by Laleh playing at my memorial.

Fear

Filled with dread. Fighting off panic. Quietly, so nobody will feel uncomfortable.

Another passenger jet down. Another.

I simply do not care whether flying is still statistically safe. Nothing will happen, to us. The chance is so slim. Almost non-existent. Driving is more dangerous - and whilst I can believe that (hrm), if you're in a car crash you might be OK. If you're in a crashing plane you're toast. Done for. No two ways about it. I'm sure everyone on every plane says nothing will happen to them, flying is safe. Yet - two down in a few short months.

I live in Australia. My family lives in Sweden.

I really, really, don't care about statements from some airlines that they will avoid a certain space above eastern Ukraine. It means nothing. Less than nothing. Firstly, they are probably lying. Secondly, they all fly over Iran, Iraq, Afghanistan etcetera, anyway. And if someone in Ukraine has a weapon that can shoot down an airliner that high up - country borders do not matter.

Also, I don't want to hear crap like if it's your time it's your time. There is no such thing as fate, only chance. Cruel, bad luck or the opposite; luck. It's not written (sorry, but that's bullshit).

We leave Tuesday week.

I have no will (too morbid) but...

All I want is for everyone to be happy. If for some reason we don't make it, know that I wanted to sit on a verandah with you all in 30 years time; drink cheap wine and smoke illegal tobacco - looking back and laughing.
And my mother gets half the house. That is all.

Camping Out

Turns out I would have been better served by an umbrella whilst camping the other night.

Altogether an interesting experiment in which hubby and I were invited to a party in the middle of the bush cirka 100 kilometers from here. My friend omitted most details about the evening; such as who else was invited, the facilities available, exact location and so on. Looked at taking a bus and a couple of trains there (three hours each way) then realised it would be an hour to drive.

Hmm, I thought. If only I had a car, I thought. I could drive, I thought. I DO have a license. Well, not an actual license in my current name. They cut my old one in half because, apparently, in Australia you cannot have more than one license (you can, however, have more than one passport).

Then I thought, wait. They let you hire cars these days. At petrol stations. Said and done, went to the nearest petrol station and hired a car. They didn't ask to see my license. No, really. They didn't.

Hubby and I eventually got the car running and out on the road.

Did you know modern cars do not require keys..? Anyway.

Crammed it full of useful camping equipment such as doonas and pillows. And food. Lots of food.

My main points of concern were;
-Had not driven for very long time
-Had not driven on right hand side for an even longer amount of time
-Other drivers exist, unfortunately
-Did not know where was going
-Can, sometimes, be a little on the hysterical side

But with a little swearing and a few threats about divorce - we arrived.

It was a hilarious night, lots of laughs were had. Unfortunately it rained all night, causing hubby and myself to wake up from a foggy slumber at our usual time (around 5.30am) inside a slightly wet, cold tent. We hibernated and waited for the rain to subside - which it didn't. We exited the tent, I panicked about the drive home for a little while, then we left.

And we made it!

I am a confident, accomplished driver. Apart from missing a very obscure exit to the E4 (the main highway through southern Sweden - hardly visible) I did OK.

This was also our last adventure without bub - before we go back to Oz... Then no adventures without bub will be had for the foreseeable future (no support network in Byron - It's just us baby!)

Camping in the swedish summer

Bean Kisses

Quitting an Addiction

I'm considering quitting books.

I think I am addicted to reading. Probably have been for years. Only it hasn't really presented a problem before. Reading or watching telly? Reading or going out? Reading or sleeping? Reading or... you get the idea. But now I am finding that I simply don't have the time to read. I mean I DO... when bub is asleep.

Here is a list of a few of the things that should happen whilst bub is asleep;

• shopping
• cooking
• eating 
• washing bottles
• tidying
• laundry
• general cleaning
• grooming such as nail-clipping, hair-combing etcetera

And eventually when we get home;

• house renovating
• gardening (oh dear Lord)
• yoga 

(and yes I know some of these things can be done with bub, but that is another post)

Thus leaving just enough time to get into a book. And then thinking about it for the entire time I am doing the above. Sometimes, even - sadly (please don't judge me) whilst playing with and caring for bub. The thought will arrive - "Gee that book is great, I wonder when I'll have a moment to read it?!"
Occasionally with more urgency than is comfortable.

Some people possibly feel this way about their smartphones... based on their interactions with phones in public, including when caring for children. I don't want to be a mother like that - only with a book instead of a phone.

So what to do?

I can see only one way out of this.

Quitting...

Routine

As surprising as it may be, I'm not really the mothering type. Not the natural born earth-mother with one kid on each arm, making muffins with one foot and making a bed with the other. Or whatever it is these people do. 

It has been much more trial and error for me. Mostly error. 

I struggled with sleep deprivation, I struggled with chores, and I struggled with routine. I have never been able to deal with routine. 

Suddenly a small human is placed in your care; and it requires feeding on a regular schedule. It requires sleep on a regular schedule. Not, mind you, for 8 hours every night (that's a different chapter). And if you attempt to be "flexible" and "impulsive" the small human will be extremely pissed off and your day will be in ruins. Nothing will work. It only works if you stick to the dreaded routine.

And yet she is the most perfect little creature I have ever seen, and hands down the best thing we ever did. Love you, Beanie. 

A Traditional Midsummer

Bub has had a whopper of a midsummer's eve. Night spent vomiting, crying and vomiting some more. Was thinking it's perhaps teen preview, complete with worried and exhausted mother getting out of bed at 5.30 with sick bub - stepping in vomit - and spilling cold coffee on bub when undertaking first activity of the day (making coffee).

Bub is now napping. At 9.30. Grrrrreat.

Was so tired I actually forgot I'd had a shower already, and went to have another one.

Free Laptop

I've my hot little hands on a free lappie. Still have old lappie, but was so peeved with it that it actually got left behind in the land of Oz. As a consequence (indeed the consequences of anger are rarely good) have only had phones to use internet on the entire time we have been away - until now. Smart. Thought about buying new lappie, but hubby is not prone to impulsive purchases (only had two months to look around) so nothing came of it.

Spent a month in Amsterdam, in a small houseboat - passing the time between Bean Bed Time (7pm-ish) and our bedtime (totally a total secret) contemplating life, staring at our smartphones and reading an old copy of "the Beach" which found in mother-in-law's garage. Boring? you ask. Nah. Actually I have decided to redecorate when get home (to Byron Bay) - I'm chucking the TV. FUCK the TV. Mind-numbing, annoying piece of crap. Or well, at least it does not belong in the living-room. Might hide it elsewhere though, for those times one wishes to curl up with a cup of tea and an entire caramel slice; to watch the latest season of Game of Thrones. For example.

Another reason is, bub can't so much as lay eyes on a piece of technology (computer, phone, ipad etc) without going completely bonkers and wailing until she gets hold of it. What is that? No child of mine is watching telly 24-7, that's for sure. So the work of satan will be demoted to manland.

Now it is time for my 6th cup of coffee of the day, needless to say we are still in Sweden. It is Midsummer. I am awake a lot.

Sweden pics!

Awaiting a possible free laptop... :-)

Sweden

We are now in a wintery and cold Sweden!
Bub has turned 1, is eating better,  sleeping well and is down to two bottles a day. Wooo!

Now we just need some sun...

King's Day

Madness.

King's Night

King's Night on the Prinsengracht... this, and of course King's Day - tomorrow - are the biggest celebrations of the year in the Netherlands.

People appear to have gone certifiably mad. There is a loooot of noise. So far bub is asleep, but she is sure to wake up soon. Looking forward to another party with bub! Haha.

Mother in Town!

My own mother has arrived in the Dam! She is keen to play with bub. Woop! Met up this morning, bub spent entire morning howling as I attempted to wash, clean and tidy. But as soon as she was with grandma she was sweet as pie. Streetcred?

Went to the dutch beach yesterday so bub exhausted and full of undigested sand. Having two hour nap waiting for grandma to come visit the boat.

Dear Bub

It's wonderful how we learn lessons from our children. For instance, at the moment we are learning that "it could always be worse."

I'm sorry I complained about bub waking at 4-5am. At least she slept until then. Now, past few nights - awake most of the night. Crawling, sitting, crying, drinking milk, playing, scratching, pinching and kicking.
Patience wearing thin. Am perhaps not most maternal person in world?

Dear bub. Mom needs a full night of sleep. Soon. Please.

First Steps!

Finally! She's been on her way for ages, guessing going to the Dam and staying in a lovely but small houseboat, jet lag, and a new found hatred of food - caused the delay.

If any bits are present in the food - bub literally makes herself vomit. Frightening, I may never draw breath again-face, then cascade of vomit with everything we just cajoled into her. So I'm back to purees. Mixed with yogurt. The child refuses to even glance at a bit of pear or a piece of bread. Meanwhile a friend's much younger bub is allegedly already consuming vegemite sandwiches. Hmm.

Bub definitely not in any hurry to grow up.
As for myself, have managed Bikram yoga an impressive number of five times! Woo hoo! I fecking love it. But my waist has definitely seen better days. When bub is nearly one, is it still ok to say "just had a baby" by way of explaining lack of waist?

On the Canal

Staying at most decadent accommodation; literally on the Prinsengracht.

Having loads of fun placing bub in open window, holding her but hiding - then listening to hubby describe freaked out looks from tourists on boats. Bub sucks it all up, loving being centre of attention and the most special baby on the canal.

The Flight

We made it! A couple of dicey moments.

In Singapore bub set to work becoming the least popular individual in the waiting lounge. Feared for flight, well, feared for life itself; had mini breakdown and begged hubby to change flights and go to hotel instead of boarding another aircraft with 14 hour flight ahead of selves. Bub was red and blotchy by this stage, panicking with tiredness but unable to sleep for entire first leg.

Hubby explained flight could not be changed lest purchase tickets for completely different flight. And boarding in half an hour.

Bub continued screaming-fit after boarding, people sort of looking and cursing their luck at sitting next to the crying baby.

Then something magical happened. Right before take-off, bub fell asleep on my lap. She then slept through take-off, food and beverage service and the following FOUR hours. I was in all sorts of pain. Itches needed scratching, limbs screamed for blood, needed loo, etcetera etcetera. But kept just meditating all this away with the mantra "every minute asleep is a minute not awake."

Then she was awake most of the flight,  but relatively happy. Walking the aisles, making friends and smiling at people.

Am amazed and grateful. So far, bub is loving Amsterdam.

Amsterdam

Countdown

Hubby, in disbelief: "are you still following that bloody Malaysia air thing?"
Me: "get off my phone."

Must learn to delete search history...

But incidentally yes, I'm following it. Might get that valium still. Only might be a problem looking after bub when on valium?

One week left, stopping by Sydney again then destination Europe.

Bub usually wakes up between 4 and 5 am. Today she woke up at 6.30. 6.30! Was giddy with excitement. 6.30 is extreme sleep in these days.

Cot

We hatched this brilliant plan to pack our bags, our umbrella stroller, and our bub a few days before taking off to Europe - and staying with friends in Sydney.

Because obviously can't do four hour drive on same day as flight.

Have called friends and looked into train tickets. Suddenly realization. Hang on. What about cot? Cot for baby to sleep in? Baby? This baby? Oh yeah.

Travel undeniably harder with bub in tow.

But worth it!

Hijacked?

Hijacked? Er, ok. Would never have been my first guess but... I don't know, it somehow feels less frightening than the notion that a plane can simply disintegrate midair. Not, of course, if one were on plane when being hijacked.

In other news have managed to give self severe case of conjunctivitis. How, I kept asking myself, could this have happened?  Then it dawned on me. Forgot to change contacts this month. Buuuuuugger. First time in 17 years. Reward; red itchy eyes into which hubby now has to administer eye drops while I gratefully shout hurry the f... up ok!

Valium?

There has been a possible sighting of debris. And an attempt to deny previous information about plane having turned around for inexplicable reason. Because inexplicable. So... debris turns up exactly where it should be, after being missed for five days by entire rescue operation. And black box signal? Nah.

Oh.my.god.

Tearing my hair out. Wishing I had some organic bananas from Byron Bay.

Hubby thinks I should get over it and above all, stop talking about it. The plane, not the bananas.

Maybe need valium again?

Organic Produce

Cooking only organic for bub. Of course.

It's proving difficult at times. The "organic" shelf at woolies in Batemans Bay had mouldy corn, mushrooms on the verge of being inedible, and some... carrots. Bub doesn't have carrots.

Was fuming. Enough to forget about air disasters for five minutes.

What is going on here? People care nothing for their own health or that of their children, but shit like Kim Kardashian and who wins Big Brother - is important?

It's craaaazy I tells ya.

I'm sure going to appreciate the beautiful organic produce we have available to us in the northern rivers when we get back.

Unless our flight disappears on the way.

A Reasonable Explanation

When are conspiracy theories branded as such, and who says it sounds more reasonable to say something like;

"The plane is missing. We acknowledge that planes cannot disappear from radar. We acknowledge that planes simply do not disintegrate into smithereens (in much the same way skyscrapers don't?). We acknowledge the black box transmission has been lost, even though this is virtually impossible. We acknowledge most parts of a crashed plane would float."

Yet this plane has gone missing. No radar. No black box signal. No debris.

But we're sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation.

Worrying News

So when taking passport details, scanning passports and manually checking them at boarding- all they're really doing is ensuring they'll know who was on the plane if it goes down. No red flags, howling sirens or similar, in case of a, say, stolen passport!

But the information is retrieved within 5 minutes after the fact.

That is just soooo.... reassuring?

Mind you, that whole thing probably has nothing to do with what happened. But still.

Obviously recent aircraft disaster worrying me somewhat. Hubby is all like, yeah, it's way more dangerous to get into a car.

Depending on who's driving I mutter. The fact is, in a car you can always hit the breaks. You can, I don't know, be saved by your seat belt.

A plane crash is something very final. Very final indeed. Why do planes even HAVE seat belts?

Good day ladies and gentlemen, this is the captain speaking. It seems we are having some technical difficulties and unfortunately we are about to crash. Please fasten your seat belts. Or. Come to think of it. Don't. Whatever. That is all.

Uppehåll.

Jag är så förbannad. Så in I helvete förbannad. Därför uppehåll på el bloggo.

Ni ser, jag är ju lugn, sansad och hyfsat spirituell. Jag är till och med vegetarian.

Jag har åsikter men jag håller oftast mun. Mesar. Vill inte orsaka problem eller konflikt.

Men nu... nu räcker det. Nu har söta lilla flickan blivit riktigt arg. Alltså jag vet att jag brukar uttrycka mina åsikter här på bloggen, men in real life så är jag mera diplomatisk. Tills nu.

Nu kommer syndafloden.

Tyvärr är detta inte en anonym blogg. Annars hade ni fått höra en historia utan like.

Som typ slutar med att jag skriker.

Hur var det nu, man väljer sin familj?

Jag gör det I alla fall.

Och när jag ändå håller på:

JAG HATAR HUNDAR. DE ÄR IDIOTER. SKÄLLER HELA JÄVLA TIDEN UTAN ANNAT SYFTE ÄN ATT VÄCKA BEBISAR.

ATT ÄTA DJUR ÄR OMORALISKT OCH ÄCKLIGT. NEJ DET ÄR INTE EN ÅSIKT. DET ÄR FANIMIG ETT FAKTUM.

REGERINGEN LJUGER.

MAN VÄLJER SITT BETEENDE. MAN VÄLJER SINA ORD. MAN VÄLJER SIN FAMILJ. 

Beautiful South Coast NSW

So...

Now I can log in from my mobile. This actually makes me feel annoyed.

Out of Dodge

So I can log in via the laptop but not the phone. For inexplicable, inconceivable reason. Thus a plan has taken shape to convince hubby he needs a new laptop so I can have this one. So my writing career can finally take off. Hrm.

We have left the Big Smoke. I repeat, we have left Sydney. And not a moment too soon! Moving day traumatic as ever, running round like headless chickens chucking things randomly in bags, boxes and shopping bags - whilst trying to clean up. Bub proved to be a bigger obstruction than ever; demanding constant attention, even managing to develop teething symptoms, runny nose AND vomiting all at once.

Finally we were all packed. Sort of. A few things didn't fit. Car is just a Commodore after all.

The freedom of being out of the City is incredible. I can breathe again.

Bub has had a few whiny days, but seems to be eating and sleeping well - so there is hope. Just for the record, she is back to two naps per day...

New Routine

Again having issues logging in... maybe it's me.

My presence stuffs up technological things. Also breaks lightbulbs. Including ones that are supposedly lifetime guaranteed. Someone should do a study on me.

Update on exercise regime: Not going well.

Bub has changed routine. We appear to be on a new schedule. Thus far approximately:

- Wake up 7am.
- Be extremely tired and grumpy but not tired enough to nap, until 11am.
- Fall asleep on bottle, leave behind extremely stressed mother.
- Be awake all afternoon, whilst being tired and grumpy but not tired enough to nap.
- Be overtired and refuse to fall asleep, have 1-2 hour tantrum and pass out around 9pm, leave behind parents with a lack of will to live.

The End.

Skitstad

Brukade ju vara en citygirl, helt klart. Men inte nu. Stressen tar kål på mig. Skrev ett supergrinigt inlägg härimdagen om alla goings on på senaste tiden men fick sedan rådet från maken att hålla klaffen angående vissa saker. Olämpligt alltså att ha publicerat sakerna på en icke-anonym blogg. Kanske skulle starta en anonym blogg och bara GNÄLLA. Skulle säkert bli sveriges populäraste blogg.

Vi ska I alla fall inte flytta tillbaka till stan. Så mycket står jävligt klart.

Så blir jag så irriterad på maken. Han är så... klantig. I'm sorry men... jag skiter I allt vad zen heter och är så arg att jag springer I en halvtimme utan att bli anfådd.

Further more

There are many things to attend to during afternoon nap. I mean, it's not always possible to make it to the pool. There's facebook, for instance. And the blog.

Fitness

My sister started a fitness blog. Yeah I know, it's like we're not even related. It lists what I assume to be various exercises undertaken in a gym. Cannot be too sure though, as faith thus far has not placed a gym in my path.

You're thinking; "she's never been to a gym in 29 years!?"

Ok, 33. Whatever.

Nope. Thought about it once. Then left it at that.

So anyway; my sister has a fitness blog.

It's great for... you know. People who like fitness. 

In Swedish; here. 

This is the type of thing my sister does:

Raka marklyft

4 x 12 50kg

Cablekicks raka
3 x 10 20kg

Liggande bencurl baksida
2 x 8 41kg
2 x 8 34kg

This has inspired me to summarize MY efforts to get fit. You see, have gotten into a bit of a routine here!

Bub's first nap: 30 min. jog around block. Well ok, walk. And ok, 20 min.
Return home. Drink glass of water (try not to think about flouride). Stretch. Do 16 situps. Try to do 8 more. Give up. Do 16 push ups. Haha. Do 3 push ups. Lie down for 5 minutes. Bub wakes up.

Bub's second nap: 30 min (or thereabouts) swim in pool. Unless pool full of kids.
Get home. Have a coffee as very good for digestion. Bub wakes up.

Been meaning to eat better too. Unfortunately today's lunch was peanut butter toast. Since stopped breastfeeding have become obsessed with peanut butter. 

Also bub keeps changing things up, so... hard to stick to it and such. 

Valid reasons to cancel include:

• rain
• too much sun
• too late in the morning
• bub been awake since 3am 
• too hungry
• no clean socks

Homesick?

Still in Sydney. Watched a doco today about fresh produce and farmers markets in the northern rivers area. Byron Bay! I miss thee! How did we get it into our heads that this was a good idea? To let our beautiful home in favour of living out of a suitcase for almost a year?

Just having one of those days.

Doubting decisions. Feeling out of place. Feeling tired. Wanting to be home and not knowing where home is.

Is this good for bub? Does bub care?

She is refusing to go to sleep again without epic battle first. Hubby feeling defeated by bub. Bub keeps on "winning". That is to say, being picked up, carried, rocked, sung to, played with and bottle fed.

But is it really a competition..?

Is she secretly mad at us for not providing enough stability? Or is she bored and in need of more stimulation?

Where should I send that application for mother-of-the-year?

Mad Scales

It's not a secret that I have no understanding of anything operated by pressing of buttons and reading of screens. For example the telly, laptop, phone or alarm clock.

In fact as recently as this morning hubby yelled at me "learn how to use your phone!" He didn't say "fucking phone" - pardon my french - as then he would have lost 10 bucks to the swear jar.

Hubby and I are trying to stop swearing. Since a couple of days ago.

We each started with $100 in credit. I am now on -$180. MINUS.

Back to my point.

The scales. The mad high tech scales belonging to my sister-in-law. They display digital numbers and are operated by pressing buttons. Therefore impossible for me to use.

I did figure out, however, what my current weight is. I flew into a wild panic (I even went for a 30 minute swim in the local pool).

Scales had proceeded to tell me my bmi. I was obese. OBESE.

So I thought. Until hubby figured out that this, surely, was an impossibility. How on earth could scales know my height? I don't know, I sobbed in a obesity induced panic - they just, like, DO!

Hubby reckons that at some point in time my sis-in-law has typed her height into scales, as if scales were a computer. And this info is used to calculate bmi. HER bmi.

Very relieved. Very pleased to know that am in fact NOT obese. Sis-in-law is a good 20 centimeters shorter than me.

Nevertheless will try to do more exercise and stop eating so much. Got into bad habit when was breastfeeding and sleep deprived. Was looking beautifully emaciated there for a bit. Oh how quickly things can change!

She Sleeps

So when you stop breastfeeding, you should stop consuming 5000 calories a day, apparently. Wish someone told me.

Suddenly good work losing 20 kilos whilst doing nothing but sitting on couch, playing with bub and eating muffins seems undone. In the neighborhood of... don't even want to know! About to stand on sister-in-law's high tech scales which will tell me, not only weight, but bmi.

Afraid.

Had to stop breastfeeding as part of sleep training for bub. Also was desperate, sleep deprived, crying mess. Bub developed habit of staying awake most of night, leisurely feeding. Leisurely for some. After a couple of months of this, had to abandon hippie-style on demand approach in favour of scheduled meals and scheduled bottles.

And she sleeps. She sleeps. All night until 5-6am. She sleeeeeeps.