Monday, November 30, 2009
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Thursday, November 26, 2009
First of Advent is only three days away, the countdown will begin. And I love this season. I think about what's to come. I daydream and plan and ponder. I anticipate. It's always been this way. I remember being a child and enjoying the waiting for Christmas more than Christmas itself. In Advent there was always the promise of that Perfect Night. When my presents would be wonderful, the snow thick and white and the magic surrounding us.
I like to think that I'm wiser now (dear Lord, I know that I'm older). That what I dream about today is simpler and therefore easier to accomplish. Family, good food, going to church, being together. I'm not into perfection these days (well, I try not to be – and at least my definition of perfection has changed a lot these last five years).
But then I listen to my son and realize that he's just like me. Like I was. He has a vision of Christmas that is very clear and very perfect. And I find myself struggling with wanting to give him everything and wanting to tell him that no, there probably won't be any snow on the 24th and no, he can't possibly get everything he wishes for and does he realize how lucky he is and there are children starving in the world and can't we all just share an orange in front of the fireplace and be happy with that?
There's a part of me that would very much like to celebrate Christmas Little House On The Praire style. And there's a part of me who want to wrap every present possible, buy snow and fifteen reindeers and build a lifesize gingerbread house with helipad for my son to sleep in.
So there. Total anticipation angst and a tad confused. How about you?
Have you seen this? If you're anything like me or new web acquaintance (damn, that's some difficult spelling) Jennie you're going to be very happy spending your day with this. Turns out I have a lot in common with the Governor of California. Who would have thunk it?
Monday, November 23, 2009
We finally framed it! And we love it. Sorry about the passepartout being a little tight, though. And don't be fooled by the really awful pictures, it actually looks very much at home in our living room. Thank you!
More of Angela Duncan to be found on Etsy or here.
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Friday, November 20, 2009
It seemed for a while like you would never come.
But you did. And for this I am grateful, thankful, joyful.
Full of good things.
I want to go home now.
To chicken pox and itchy legs and tired eyes and MommyMommyMommy.
To Friday night popcorn and spaghetti and how was school and come here and kiss me.
I want this working week to be over and done with.
And it is.
Thank you Friday.
Tomorrow is Saturday. A whole different scenario. Another me.
Slippers and French toast. Friends and family.
But first. Thank you Friday.
You are good to me.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Eggsalad tartine, small café au lait, Elderflower Bubbly at Le Pain Quotidien.
Chili garlic edamame, prawn and potato dumpling, miso soup at Yo!Sushi.
Earl Grey, orange juice, pumpkin seed flapjack at the Country Living Christmas Fair.
Coffee, smoothie, more elderflower at Prèt A Manger, Heathrow, after missing our flight home.
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
But until Sunday night I will be in London with all the Elizabeth Bennet I can muster. Thank you so very much for thinking about us and wishing us well. It worked! And with that I lift my bonnet and bid you a fair evening.
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
So a visit to the doctor's office confirmed that we quite possibly have (or in Jesper's and my case have had) the swineflu, or H1N1 as I believe it's called in the big world. But don't be alarmed, we're all in pretty good shape. Well, at least better than we were Friday. We haven't slept in a while and we still have the weird aches and the whiny voices (sorry about that), but so far it hasn't been worse than any other the-whole-family-sick-at-the-same-time-and-Jesper-hurt-his-back-and-I-have-a-deadline-ordeal that we've survived before. For this I'm very grateful. I'm not a worrier, but this time I've been more chicken than pig.
Tomorrow my parents will come to town and yet again save the day, so that hopefully – if all goes well and everybody's ok and I meet my deadline and all is well and Wilhelm's temperature goes down and all is well – me and Mom can go to London together on Thursday.
Yup. That's the kind of mother I am. The leaving-home-and-sick-children-in-arms-of-sick-father to have tea at Liberty's.
So if you felt sorry for me at first, don't. I'm just your regular pig.
Sunday, November 8, 2009
We forgot Father's Day today. I blame the flu. It does things to my brain. And also the fact that if I give my husband any more airtime, his humble self will torment me until Christmas. See, he doesn't like to be the center of attention. But he's as vain as the next guy. Kyss, min älskling.
Saturday, November 7, 2009
This picture is a year old, but could just as well be from today. Wilhelm's taller and that cardigan now fits his sister, but otherwise the look is the same. Complete with in-case-you-throw-up-hairdo and the falling asleep in strange places. We've got the flu. Three quarters of this family is officially under the weather. We have crazy temperatures and weird aches and try to stay clear of the swineflu reporting on the news. I will go to bed now. But I have to say this first: Thank you, sisters-in-law for taking care of Blanka today. You are heroes.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
He doesn't like to be the center of attention. He likes his mornings to be just so. He used to be a mean hockey player and speaks Spanish like a Madrileño. He bakes all the bread we eat. He doesn't like to snuggle. He's ambidextrous. He's ambitious. He loves his mother. He shaved his head this month and cried with joy when a co-worker told him he looked like an ex-con. He takes care of his sisters. He throws me over his shoulder and spins me around until I scream. He has the biggest crush on Jay-Z. He's saved lifes. He's the funniest person I know. He baked our son a chocolate cake at 11 o'clock the night before his birthday. He has Bleecker Street on repeat. He cries at The American President and love all things Sorkin. He's big on loyalty. He was asked twice if he was a doctor at the birth of our son and considers that the height of his career. He is not a doctor. He is my love. He's all the things I dreamed about and more. He's really into football. He can eat more cake than anyone in the world. He's my guy.