Fun in so many ways

Weeks and months and not a word from me... But that is all changing today... Aren't you lucky?!

These past few weeks have been filled with memorable, cozy moments. One weekend we spent with Bedstemor, who came for a visit. She and Nicholas did a craft project....

And we took her to Stockholm to attend the annual Licorice Festival. If anyone loves licorice, it's Bedstemor. 

I think we were all impressed with the variety of licorice types that we could taste. Everything from licorice ice cream to licorice covered in dark chocolate to licorice parfaits -- if you could put licorice in it, you could taste it (and buy it) here.

Some of us preferred plain old cotton candy to the licorice, though....

A black balloon dress in honor of black licorice, of course!

Nicholas was sure this was a maze he was meant to figure out.

This past Saturday, Lucas took part in a trampoline competition. This is his last year on the "regular" level, as his coaches have said that next year he will be moved up to "advanced", which will bring many more competitions. I don't think he minds.

Here he's waiting for permission from the judges to begin his routine...

While here he is receiving his silver medal.

All in all, we've had two terrific weekends! Here's to many more!!!

TGIF!

In the interest of enhancing your feeling of "It's nearly closing time on a Friday", I am pleased to bring you herewith the latest music video from Nico, taped just yesterday (despite the fact that it's a Swedish Christmas song).

He's a born performer, don't you think?

Enjoy! Happy Friday!

And if you're one of the lucky ones heading to the fish fry tonight, I recommend trying my grandpa's lasagne. The fried fish rocks, of course (grandpa handles the breading station), but his homemade lasagne is, I'm sure, out of this world. Rumor has it that the church sells out of his lasagne every single week!

Recovery

A great many women have helped to shape who I am today and the life I have been blessed to lead. One woman, however, has had a great impact than any other.

My mother is so many things....

A daughter.

A sister.

A wife.

A mother and a beloved grandmother.

A Rotarian.

A caregiver to those less fortunate, as evidenced by her involvement in Meals on Wheels and a variety of other community-focused activities.

A neighbor.

A friend.

But just after Thanskgiving, my mom -- my role model and one of my truest, closest friends -- was diagnosed with cancer.

In the face of cancer, one can chose to crumble, to give up, to refuse to fight, to adopt a negative attitude. Those choices are available. I don't know whether they ever crossed my mom's mind. I don't know whether she locked herself in her room and cried herself to sleep after she heard the words. 

I know that the selfish part of me was furious with this disease -- what right did it have to threaten my mother's life? My friend's life? And the worst of thoughts crossed my mind -- what if I were to lose her? And not just me, but what about dad? Tim? All of her grandkids? Why have so many people I loved been threatened by this disease in the past? Why? Why? Why? Questions to which there were no answers.

Somehow, through the agonizing months of waiting for test results, through the weeks that passed as she waited for her surgery, my mom, with dad at her side every step of the way, remained amazingly, remarkably positive.

I wonder if that was just because she's my mom... as a mom, I know the need to spare your children negative thoughts, concerns and worry. But I believe in my heart her faith and her general positive energy were what showed -- true and clear, as always.

For those of us sitting in the waiting room -- my dad, my grandpa, two of my uncles, fellow Rotarians and mom's friends -- the surgery, which took place one cold morning in late December, seemed to take forever. Few words were exchanged. I tried, and failed, to focus on a journal submission I was editing. We shared coffee and tea, tried to eat something.

The not knowing -- that's hard.

What would the surgeon say? Would she get through the surgery ok? What would her prognosis be?

And then, suddenly, he was there, the surgeon, standing at my side, in his scrubs.... he talked for what seemed like an eternity about things that weren't really relevant to the immediate issue. Was she OK?

But finally he said the words we all needed to hear. "The surgery is over. It went well. I'm very pleased." Relief. I was flooded with utter relief. She survived.

And the news that followed brought us joy beyond anything we'd expected. "The pathologist was in surgery with me. He's examined the tumor. It hasn't spread beyond the uterine wall. I expect her to make a full recovery."

We peppered him with questions about lymph nodes and further treatment. We thanked him with words that failed to express the gratitude we all felt for the gift he had given us. And when he left, we cried.

Cried with joy at the news that our mom -- our friend, my dad's wife, my grandfather's daughter, our children's grandma -- was going to be ok. And we cried with the knowledge that we would be able to take pictures like this with her for many years to come.

I left Chicago a few days later to celebrate Christmas in Denmark with grandpa (who joined us -- thank you grandpa, for spending the holidays with us. It meant the world to all of us), Steen, the boys and our Danish family. I left Chicago with a new perspective. With a desire to live for today, to tell those around me how much they mean to me. With the knowledge that I am so absolutely, incredibly lucky to have been born into this amazing life.

I also learned that if you a post-menopausal woman, you should see a gynecologist immediately if you experience bleeding or spotting. This is the message the surgeon asked me to spread -- so there you have it.

Sliding downhill.... on purpose

Recently, we left the near-Arctic conditions common to our home here in Sweden for the unexpectedly balmy conditions of the Austrian Alps. 

We took this trip in honor of the famous week-long "sports break" that our children (well, all children lucky enough to be enrolled in Swedish schools) have every winter. Every other year or so, we ski. 

This year's destination was Obergurgl, a tiny hamlet located 3 hours or so from Munich. Actually, if you're planning a trip to Obergurgl, you'll get there much faster if you land at Innsbruck. However, after our last ski-trip-related landing in Innsbruck, I swore I would never fly there again (let's just say, landing in a valley nestled between row upon row of Austrian mountains is not my idea of a fun, smooth or happy landing). Steen, being the good sport he is, agreed to fly to Munich and get transport from there... 

We were thrilled to walk through the lobby doors of our amazing hotel to find Susanne, Jesper and Lauritz waiting for us. For a few minutes, I couldn't get my head around the thought that they were there... after all, Susanne had sent me a text earlier in the day to wish us a good trip! But there they were.

That, my friends, was the beginning of an amazing, relaxing wonderful week in a ski village I truly enjoyed. Time with the boys, sunshine and above-zero temps (weird in the winter in the Alps, but at least there was still snow) good food, beautiful scenery and the best of friends. What more can one ask for?

At the end of each day, we spent an hour or so hanging out in the hotel's pool/spa area. The highlight was, undoubtedly, the outdoor pool, where the kids (and their uncles/fathers) would plunge bravely (really?) into the piles of snow surrounding the pool area before racing back to the heat of the pool.

We were a people of ritual... so of course we never missed the "afternoon tea", a.k.a. "after ski", at the hotel each afternoon. The hotel laid out a buffet of soups, pizza, sandwiches and sweets, and we ordered ourselves something warm (and warming) to drink. Skiiers need to be nourished, after all!

Despite all appearances to the contrary, we actually did ski. On the mountain! On the mountains! In the snow. And we live to tell the tale.

Nico could proudly say that he was able to ski the green hills on his own with an acceptable level of control by the end of the week. Kudos to his ski instructors and, of course, to Nico himself.

And here they are, my beautiful sister (of the heart) and her fun-loving husband.

The bigger boys joined me on the lift....

Steen, Nico and I sharing yet another warm drink somewhere in the village.

One of the many incredible views....

Enjoying lunch in the sun!!!!

Nico and his first ski instructor. This was before he got moved up to the next level, i.e., this is taken before he could stop himself from crashing into the barriers. :)

Matthew and Lucas waiting for the ride up to the start of their race. Don't they look like pros?

Jesper enjoying a laugh and a good meal...

I look forward to seeing this view again soon -- this one's taken from our hotel window.

125 years worth celebrating

A few weeks ago, my grandfather turned an amazing, healthy, fun-filled 85.

A few days before that, I turned 40.

To celebrate, grandpa, mom, dad, Steen, the boys and I took a wonderful week off, and we spent it in the sun and warmth of St. Thomas.

Being able to celebrate my birthday and my grandfather's birthday with so many people who mean so much to me was amazing. The week was one I will never forget. Here are a few highlights... in random order, as I seem completely unable to control how they are shown in this blogging tool.

Having lunch in downtown Charlotte Amalie. Some guy we met on the street recommended this little sports bar on a side street. Personally, I thought the atmosphere and the food were great. The boys loved the chance to sit on bar stools. As this was one of the few days of the year when there were no cruise ships in port, Charlotte Amalie was relatively empty, so we could actually get a seat.

Nicholas keeping an eye on the pirate ships in the background. He couldn't wait to tell the other kids in his daycare that he'd see a pirate ship!!!!

Playing at a beach on St. John. We took the ferry over and spent a day visiting a number of different beaches, where we snorkelled, built sand castles and played in the water. As long as he was in his ring, Nico had no problem surfing the ways into shore.

 The big boys building a fortress...

Our hotel....

Grandpa's 85th. Here he is being serenaded at breakfast by our amazing waitress, Althea, and some of her colleagues. He's holding the traditional hand-crafted birthday chocolates in his hand.

Grandpa's 85th birthday lunch at the grill on the beach. The chef made us a special treat after he heard of my grandfather's history. He also and learned a few tricks of the trade from my grandfather, who was an executive chef for 40+ years....

The boys checking out the caves on Devil's Bay Trail (Virgin Gorda). We rented a boat (and a captain) for a day to go to the British Virgin Islands.

After a great birthday that Steen had filled for me with water aerobics and a relaxing, mind-calming visit to the spa, I had the most amazing 40th birthday dinner ever. Steen had planned a special night at a terrific place, the Old Stone Farmhouse. We had a tour of the kitchen, met the head chef, wrote our names on the wall, and drank champagne that the waiter opened with a sable. It was one of the most memorable, happy nights ever... Oh, and we got to eat a meal that was as beautiful as it was scrumptious. My mouth is watering just thinking of it... 

The boys got tons of quality time with their grandmother. Here's Nico reading his noisy Halloween book with grandma.

Breakfast on my birthday -- the ladies at the breakfast singing me a birthday song.

 Mom, Dad and Matthew taking a dip.

On a final, non-St. Thomas-related issue, here's a photo of Matthew's paper bridge that he had to build for science class. The requirements were the following: had to cover an open span of at least 50cm., had to be able to hold 2.5 kg of weight without falling apart or dropping the weight, could be made with a maximum of 20 sheets of paper and school glue. Glue was to be used for attaching pieces only, i.e., not for reinforcement. Impressive, don't you think?

The traffic jam grows

Nico was thrilled to get countless Hotwheels cars from his grandpa for Christmas. And a carrying case to boot! As you can see, these cars have joined their numerous predecessors in the Nico-created, daily traffic jam that occurs in various shapes and sizes in our living room.

Saying goodbye to a great man

I am slow to post and I have been absent from my blog for far too long.... there are so many things I want to do, and it seems often that I never have time to get half of those things done.

But this post is important to me. I'm so very sad that I must write it.

Several weeks ago, the world lost yet another great man. A strong man. A man who resonated peaceful, knowing strength to his very core.

My Uncle Mike passed away in mid-September following a long, unfair and I suspect painful struggle to remain in this world day after day, to hold his wife's hand for as long as he could, to sit and enjoy his blueberry pie or a bowl of soup, and to read the daily paper.

Aunt Ruth and Uncle Mike

My Uncle Mike wasn't really my uncle at all. He was my grandmother's brother and my dad's uncle. But he's been a vital part of my life... he has always been there. At family events, when he'd call my brother and I to the side and quiety place a rolled up $5 dollar bill in our hands and say, in that beautiful, low baritone voice of his, "Put that in your pockets and don't tell your parents." At my grandmother's house, where he often visited for a meal or a talk. At graduation parties, on the phone, wherever we might need him or want to share with him, he'd be there.

He was, I think, very, very close to my grandmother. I know that when my grandmother was taking care of their parents after they fell ill, he would come one night every weekend and take over the caretaker duties so my grandparents could have the evening together. After my grandmother passed away without warning several years ago, he held me in his great, bear-size embrace while I sobbed at her wake, and from that moment on he was there for my grandfather in every way he could possibly be. They shared weekly lunches with his wife, my Aunt Ruth, and they took good care of each other.

For my Uncle Mike, family was everything.

To me, Uncle Mike was always almost more than a man, somehow larger than life. He seemed, somehow, all knowing, and remarkably at peace with the world. Maybe this was the result of his years behind the wheel of Mac trucks. Maybe it was the influence of my wonderful Aunt Ruth (or sweet Aunt Betty, God bless her soul). Maybe it was the result of growing up in an Italian family in Chicago. Maybe it was caused by something about which I know nothing.

But that inner peace, that wonderful joy that he always expressed when he saw us, that happiness to just be alive...those are things that I shall always try to emulate.

He was a man I loved and respected, and the world is so much less in his absence.

Farewell, Uncle Mike. You are in our thoughts, in our hearts and in our prayers. Until we meet again...