Letters & laughter: One year after Grandma

One year ago tomorrow became Grandma's last day on Earth, after 101.5 years. Thinking about this makes me mad actually. Even starting to write this makes me mad. But it also makes me sad. Sad, mad, sad, mad... these are of course natural feelings that people have when they lose someone who was close to them. But tonight I am not going to attempt to write an article on grief. Rather, I just want to sit and write a rambling letter as scattered as my own thoughts appear in my mind.

One year has passed without Grandma. This thought makes me mostly sad. Several times during the year I have caught myself thinking of wanting to do something for Grandma. I caught myself looking forward to sending our Christmas card to Grandma; same thing happened last Mother's Day, now Easter... I loved sending cards and letters to Grandma--probably because she was the one person who I knew truly appreciated it. That made it so much more fun. I actually did not know this, but she has probably kept every card and letter we have ever sent her in a box. Going through all of them after the funeral, it was a trip down memory lane for me as well. Cards and letters were a way to keep in touch with Grandma, even though I have been living in Sweden and China for the past 12 years. Of course we called as well sometimes, but cards felt more special. Grandma herself was a master of letters and correspondence in general. Even when she was nearly blind, she kept writing letters to people including in Sweden, in Swedish, a language she could write in although I am not sure how she did it.

The thing is, right now what I wish more than anything is that I could write another letter to Grandma. It would start like this, "Dear Grandma, we haven't talked for a whole year now and there is so much I want to tell you!" and then, first, I would tell her all about Yaminah, because she absolutely loved hearing about her and loved hearing all of the funny stories we would share. Then she would laugh and laugh.

But since I cannot write another letter to Grandma, and since I am getting tired of feeling mad that she died, I think it would be better to think back to her life. In reality, this could instead be a letter to Yaminah. If I had chosen to write a letter to Yaminah, it could begin like: "Dear Yaminah, do you want to hear again about your name? Yaminah Hildur Elisabeth...let me tell you about your Great Grandma Hildur. We talk about her every time you light a candle for her in church, but now I want to tell you what she was really like."

Then I would write about all kinds of random memories that pop up, like about the time when I was perhaps in high school (I am not the one with the good memory here; sorry folks--Grandma had the best memory!) and we were all sitting together for a nice dinner (can't remember the occasion; sorry--see my point?) Anyways, it was a nice dinner and I remember that I was trying to be nice and help Grandma, so I offered to get the gravy and pour it over her food for her, which I did. A little later Mom asked something like "Where is the butterscotch pudding?" and it turns out, that is what I had poured all over Grandma's nice dinner... and if my memory serves me right, all she said was "I thought it was a little sweet!" and then she laughed and laughed.

But most of my memories of Grandma and actually not so easy to put a finger on. They are more a long movie, with some individual scenes, but mainly the movie just keeps playing in my mind of all kinds of images. Playing outside at Grandma's old house when I was a kid; Grandma's delicious homemade cinnamon toast (have never tasted better); watching sports and Golden Girls at Grandma's; Grandma staying up way too late to sit up and visit with us when we came; Grandma's laughter when all of the people around her, Floyd & Marge, grandkids, other people... would tell stories... she never tired of visiting with people.

Always witty, you never could be sure of what Grandma's response would be. Right around the time of the China earthquake in 2008, just before I think, Grandma was very sick and in the hospital after a fall. Feeling emotional, I remember I called her from China. I said something like "I am just calling to say Happy Mother's Day, Grandma!" to which immediately responded, "I wish I could say the same to you!"

And in fact, when the time did (finally, she could say...) come for Tomas and I to have a baby, I called to tell her the news. I said something like "You're going to become a great grandmother!" to which she sort of mumbled, "It's about time!"

I will forever be grateful for the time that Yaminah and Grandma had. Grandma loved watching Yaminah sit, then crawl, then run; she thought it was hilarious to watch. (Here are a few moments on video). Grandma thought it was great that Yaminah used the potty when she was only a few months old, and I think on the third visit to Grandma with Yaminah, I had understood the hints about her clothes. Then Grandma said, "NOW you look like a girl!" when I finally dressed her in a very flowery summer dress.

I wish I could remember some of the great stories Grandma told us all about when she was young. Since she lived over a century and had such a great memory, everyone around her was able to experience her experiences through her stories. She told us about hearing the bells when World War I ended, and she ran out into the street. Luckily for everyone, she has summarized her life history in a document that we have, but can a life be summed up in just a few pages? No, but family history and details are documented.

I am afraid that if I would have been able to write a letter to Grandma, that it would have been very, very long. And if this would have been a letter to Yaminah, it would have been even longer. For how can one describe someone through a piece of paper?

Recently I have been thinking about the importance of memories, people, and time. Ten, fifty, two hundred years from now, will any of this matter? Is it important to remember our loved ones, the ones who have gone before us? Because one generation later, will they continue to be remembered? Of course some people will be documented in history more than others; some people will hold public office, will make great contributions to society that will enable them to be remembered, etc. Grandma did not make any gigantic contributions to society in the sense that the history books would require. She was a great lady, one that deserves to be remembered. But after thinking about this for quite a while, I do of course think that we should remember individuals in the past as much as we can. We all want to be remembered. But I think the most important thing is that we are who we are because of the individuals who have touched us in our past. We become changed, formed, from those who have touched us. And we will continue to influence all the others that we meet, whether they be our own kids, or our colleagues, strangers on the street...

If I would have been writing a letter now the old-fashioned way, like Grandma would have done it, my hand would have been cramping long ago and if it were Grandma who would have written, she would have ended with "I hope you can read this chicken scratching!"

So I think I won't write a letter after all. I think I will just take another stroll down memory lane.

Finally spring! Easter, and decorating ideas

Spring is finally here!
Living in a country that is as dark as Sweden is in the winter, I think the arrival of spring--and light--is even more welcome here. And every year when spring comes I begin to look forward to Easter.

I love Easter! Ever since I was a kid and remember making a pact with my best friend, Kacey, to give something delicious up for Lent (notice the word trying)...Easter has always been an important time. For many people in Sweden these days, Easter means family time; many try to spend a week on the ski slopes. (Schools through high school have a week's Easter vacation). In the latest issue of a recipe magazine from our grocery store chain, Coop, there was an article about Easter with recipes. Loosly translated, the article, with an interview with Jonas Engman from Nordiska museet, says "Today Easter is more associated with food than religion....[For Easter] we eat a lot of extra things we normally do not eat. Now that religion has come to play a much smaller role, food is important for our holidays." (Coop's Mer smak tidning nr 3 2012). The article also mentions little tidbits about why certain foods are traditionally eaten for Easter, such as eggs; it also describes some religious history behind the holiday. Personally, I think this little article says a lot about Swedish society. Food is becoming even more important, since people need to create meaning surrounding a holiday that previously had a deeper meaning. What does this say about society as a whole? Or is this also a direct result of consumerism, more advertising from stores and people being more willing and able to spend more on occasions such as Easter food?

Personally, I want to make sure that Easter is an important time for our family. I also hope to enjoy some extra-special food, but it is also important to remember the reason behind the season.

In order to get ready for Easter, I have prepared a few Easter decorations that I thought I would share with you. We will color Easter eggs closer to Easter and do a few other things, but for now, I have worked on displaying my Easter egg collection. (On our travels, I have not been able to resist buying different kinds of lovely eggs, so now I have one small white plate with my dark eggs from Malaysia, one pot of eggs from Germany, etc...Along with teapots, eggs are something I love to collect...)

I frequently find that decorations that are to be hung, like bulbs at Christmastime, can actually become even more lovely if they are displayed in a group. Here I made a simple centerpiece for the table, using a glass cake stand, for displaying these glass eggs from the US.

I also wanted Yaminah to be involved in decorating, so she helped make a traditional Swedish Easter decoration. This is an old milk jug I found at a second-hand store, which I filled with branches and decorated with colorful (faux) leaves and my small German Easter eggs.

The final result is almost a little over the top, but Yaminah loved it. I also think it is bright and cheerful, almost like a little Easter tree. :) Large pots with branches and feathers are all over town now as well, as decorations outside of little shops.

There are a few weeks to go until Easter, so for now...Happy Spring!

What's your favorite day of the week?

What is your favorite day of the week?

Posing that question to myself, I couldn't help but think of a great scene from Seinfeld. 1-minute Seinfeld clip

In Sweden, people are crazy for Friday nights. Although I think most people love Friday nights, here in Sweden it seems the television channels and snack companies have paired together to create "Fredagsmys", which means "Friday night cozy." I have read some articles about the importance of this evening in Sweden, where an Ethnologist described Friday evening cozy family time as a modern ritual, marking the time between a work week and the weekend. http://www.aftonbladet.se/matvin/article11864648.ab (Article in Swedish). Lots of our friends tell us that the family plans ahead for Friday evenings, to spend together usually watching TV and eating snacks together. I think the key, however, is sitting down together to family time (although like I said, I do tend to wonder if the TV and snacks companies' advertising has greatly influenced this modern ritual...)

I think the idea of a relaxing evening at home sounds great. However, today I realized that I really want Sundays to be our family days. Too often we have things we have to do on Sundays, just like every day, whether Tomas has to correct papers or I am behind on homework due to illness. But we have started to get into a good routine on Sundays and today we decided to try to make Sundays even better. After relaxing in the morning at home together (well, except for the inevitable rush around to try to beat the clock when we are heading out the door, a lot on my part), first we go to church together. Yaminah has started to love Sunday School, so she goes to that (so far with Tomas but we hope she can go by herself when she is a little older). Our church has a gymnasium, so after church, "fika" (coffee and sandwiches & cookies), Yaminah runs around in the gym for a while until she is tired. Then we load her up in the stroller and walk into town. Today the sky was a bright blue, the sun was warm, and lots of people were out walking in the afternoon. Then while Yaminah takes her nap in her stroller, Tomas and I enjoy a lunch out in a restaurant. Today we tried Basilika--pasta & pizza. Yum!

I hope that we can expand our Sunday routine a bit more in the future, however, to also include going home and either walking together outside, or going to the playground, or a picnic in the park... I have decided that we should prepare a dessert in the morning. That way, when we return home from our lunch, "fika" is ready; all we have to do is brew a pot of tea.

It is so easy to get caught up in rushing around every single day of the week, and to be overwhelmed by stress. We have these problems too--a week begins and ends, another begins and ends--time flies and before we know it, we have just gone through the motions and hardly spent any quality time together at all. Now I want to reserve Sundays, at least from morning to afternoon, for family time, without working, or studying; for reflection and the indulging of sweets. :)

What is your family's favorite day? What "rituals" do you keep?

Whatever day of the week is your favorite, I hope that it will include some time set aside for family. Wishing you and your family a good week!

All's well that ends well--i.e., a normal Sunday with a two-year-old

All's well that ends well.

It feels great to think that to myself now, with the house mostly picked up again and relaxing alone on Sunday evening, with my little angel sleeping peacefully in her bed.

Yet another day has passed, another day in the life of raising a wonderful, adorable, strong-willed, and oh-so-stubborn (good thing she gets something from her father) two-year-old. As I cast a satisifed glance around my orderly living room, I inhale the grapefruit scent of my candle and then remember the day as it was.

This morning, being Sunday, we had planned to go to church. We haven't been able to go for several weeks in a row due to all of Yaminah's colds/fevers/general health problems. So today she was looking forward to going and I had placed her outfit for the day so her dad could easily get her dressed before church (he always dresses her since I seem to need all the time I can to get myself dressed. Plus, this week she has started saying "No, Mommy. Daddy do it!" for most such tasks). This was to be the first time Yaminah wore her new clothes, her adorable new clothes that I finally managed to find on closeout sale from my dream clothing store, Danish brand Noa Noa. As a student, the only way I could afford these dreamy clothes was for them to be on sale big-time. Recently when they were 70 % off, I finally bought three items for Yaminah. And the last time we nearly went to church, about a month ago, Yaminah had wanted to wear them, until we discovered she had a fever and we had to stay home that day too. So today, with great anticipation on my part, Tomas got her dressed. All was well for a few moments, until she decided she wanted to change into her Pippi Longstocking dress. Background information: Yaminah loves everything to do with Swedish cartoon figure Pippi Longstocking right now, and we have bought her several t-shirts and such. These are fine for daycare and day-to-day wear, but once in a while, I like to indulge my adorable-daughter fantasy. You know the one: it is when Yaminah and I are running in a wildflower meadow, holding hands, or the one where Yaminah and I are on a tropical beach, in matching straw hats, picking seashells. Now, Tomas has pointed out that I have a tendency to get my hopes up a lot in life, and sometimes reality is a bit different.

How different? Once Yaminah was dressed in her lovely dress and hand-stitched handwash only wool sweater from Noa Noa, she promptly threw herself down to the ground and in full-down meltdown crisis mode, with tears, mucous, screaming, writhing--the works. But then the clock started ticking so I had to jump into the shower anyways. "It's Sunday, it's okay, relax, showers are relaxing..." I kept repeating to myself, as I turned up the water pressure to max and tried to lather in a relaxing body wash, to ignore Yaminah's screams outside the bathroom door. Relax, relax...

After a difficult struggle of calming the two-year-old, cleaning her up and packing all kinds of bags, backpack, snacks, outerwear, etc, to bring with us to church (one would think we were moving every time we attempt to go anywhere!), we dashed out the door and made it. We were even five minutes early. Yaminah was back to her happy self again then, and we actually held hands walking into the church. In her lovely dress and my skirt, holding hands, for just a few moments my perfect angel fantasy was not far off.

Yaminah did great in church. She listened, went to Sunday school with Tomas, ate three hot dogs afterwards, and played in the gym. Then we walked into town and enjoyed a lunch out at a restaurant while she slept peacefully in her stroller. After church we returned home and my friend, Maria, came over for a tea party and playtime with her two daughters. The girls had a great time together. Here they are enjoying raisins, orange slices, chocolate chip cookies, pretend cupcakes, and tea.

After they all left and Yaminah adorably kissed the girls goodbye, we were back to exhausted-meltdown mode, brought on by me saying it was time for supper (which she had just previously said she wanted). After doing everything I could to coaxe her to the table, including trying to gently drag her to her chair, I gave in. I brought her little table and chair into the living room, dried her tears, and let her eat supper in front of her beloved Pippi movie. Not a Mother-of-the-Year choice, I know, but she ate all of her supper, and we both sat and ate in peace.

Then after a 45-minute bath, potty time, bedtime routine, evening prayers, potty again, back to bed, and a sliced pear in bed for a last-minute snack later...here we are. Mommy is relaxing in alone with my uplifting grapefruit candle for company. Tomorrow is Monday--but one day at a time with a two-year-old.