That International Trip We Took Four Months Ago

I promised myself over the holiday break that I’d finish writing about our trip to Sweden. But like all good intentions…

These days, I find myself thinking more about the visit as I follow @sweden. In what is one of the best social media marketing campaigns I’ve ever seen, those clever Swedish tourism officials gave control of the country’s Twitter account to its people (neo-Socialism is hip like that). A different Swede takes over every week, sharing information about where they live and what they do. The closet voyer in me loves it!

We’ve been home for 3.5 months, which may as well be 3.5 years as far as my poor memory is concerned. So I wondered, what has stayed with me from the trip?

1. Sweden has amazing balls. And I’m not talking about the meatballs, people. Every cafe and coffee shop we visited sold these amazing choco-coconut balls, or chokladboll. They were rich and smooth and I spent a lot of time contemplating how to smuggle them home.

I can't believe I didn't take a picture of one! (Cribbed from Flickr)

2. It’s the most spectacular place I’ve ever run through. There were a few times I had to stop running because the scenery was so epic and breathtaking. If it weren’t for those heinous winters…

Townie Beauty

Rural Beauty

3. Instead of Starbucks on every block, they have playgrounds. Parents take spending time with their children very seriously, Jerri & Hans said.

Coolest swing ever?

Stop judging me, blond child.

4. Home interiors tend to look like IKEA catalogs. And rightfully so.

The exit sign in the IKEA parking lot outside of Stockholm. (Tee-heehee #farthumor)

5. Picnics in front of medieval castles are not uncommon.

Can someone pass the Coke Light? (at Gripsholm Castle)

6. Children walk outside at night. In the city. Without parents. J/H seemed surprised when I pointed this out. “Why wouldn’t they?!”

Walking alone in Stockholm? OK, maybe not this young.

7. By comparison, their maternity leave is mind-boggling. Eighteen months, which can be taken in sections until the child is seven. Over dinner with extended family in Stockholm one night, our hosts couldn’t even grasp our backward system.

8. Love reigns, despite incredibly long distances. I inherited Jerri & Hans when I met Charles, and I’m so grateful to have them in my lives. They are warm, truly kind, and full of amazing life experiences. I hope Charlie gets to spend more time with them as he gets older.

With Jerri & Hans outside of Gripsholm Castle

9. Sometimes it’s OK … to let your screaming toddler take a few sips of wine in the desperate hope that he’ll CALM THE EFF down during a 17-hour plane ride and let you get a few moments’ rest.

Wine? What wine?

Bonus Video: This container was originally meant to keep Charlie’s shoes by the front door. He turned it into his own personal valet service.

Taking a Parenting Break

The clock read 5:03 a.m. when I heard Charlie wake up this morning. I felt a flash of rage when I remembered it was Monday. Are you kidding me, universe?

The mental and physical exhaustion from the weekend re-settled. I felt desperation at the thought of facing my day: fixing Charlie breakfast, struggling to give him a bath, bribing him to get his shoes on for school, commuting in traffic, spending 8 hours at work, driving 90 minutes to pick up Charlie and get him back home, trying to feed him dinner without it ending up on the floor or on his head, 30 minutes of hysterics at bedtime, and the inevitable bickering between Charles and I. Oh, and I have to finish some homework before I collapse.

It was time to take a mental health day.

Parenting just feels hard lately. Charlie is at a stage in which his emotions are running high, yet he doesn’t have the cognitive ability to handle them nor the language to express what he’s feeling. So, he whines. A LOT. And throws things. And clings. And kicks. He’s also decided that he only takes one 40-minute nap a day. Dear Lord, help us.

Coupled with all this is my weakness at being “the disciplinarian” and my inability to experience his unhappiness without internalizing a lot of crap that a therapist probably needs to sort out.

I know this is a terrible cliche, but I never realized how selfish I was until I became a parent. There are times I feel resentful that Charlie is so needy right now. Or that we can’t watch TV (our parental choice), use our phones or open a computer when he’s around. I tried to read a textbook in the same room, but he flipped out that he couldn’t have my hi-lighter. CHILD, WHERE IS YOUR OFF SWITCH?!

It’s times like this when I feel I suck at being a mom. Good parents don’t feel resentment toward their children. Good parents don’t desperately yearn for a few hours of solitude – one with no baby, husband, daughter, house, work, or school responsibilities. Good parents handle the tantrums and neediness, because – duh – they signed up for this going in.

On top of all this, I feel society constantly reminding me that I must treasure these years, which go by oh so quickly. Because when they’re over, your children leave you and you die. Alone.

(See, I really did need this mental health day.)

I recall this great TED talk I once watched about taboos in parenting. In it, the speakers (founders of Babble.com) address the false “party line” that every aspect of a parent’s life gets drastically better after the arrival of a child (skip to 11:12 for this section). They share a slide (lifted below) about peaks and valleys of happiness throughout life. Your 20s, for example, are pretty stable, but it’s not until you have kids that you resubmit yourself to the extreme highs and lows you experienced in your own childhood.

This morning, I truly felt that low. And it sucked. But I also remember that incredible high yesterday when Charlie ran to me and buried himself in my arms after a long run. Or how he hummed the melody of “Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star” to us for the first time.

At the end of the day, I willingly trade the stability of my 20s for these few, precious, transcendent moments.

To use another parenting cliche, it’s so worth it.

GRAPH: Average Happiness Throughout Life (Courtesy YouTube)

Face-Off: My Jessner Peel Adventure

The lighting is a bit different, but I hope you can see the difference.

There aren’t many pictures of me from this past holiday season. You wouldn’t have wanted to see them, anyway. Why? I made my face fall off.

After last summer, I began noticing some particularly dark spots on my face, most noticeably under my eyes, along the bridge of my nose, and above my lips (I called it my ‘Jess-stache’). I’ve always had freckles, but these were more like jagged, ugly splotches, and they were getting worse.

I began noticing the spots after Charlie was born, but I think a summer spent running in the sun with little-to-no sunscreen exacerbated the problem. Makeup wasn’t covering them anymore, and I hated looking at my face in the mirror.

Cue one of those daily deal sites, which coincidentally offered me a discounted facial at a close-by esthetician. I’d never had a facial; maybe it would help?

She instantly knew what I was up against: melasma, or hyper-pigmentation brought on by  crazy pregnancy/birth control hormones (check out this video of Brooke Burke revealing her melasma on “The Doctors”). And sun makes it worse. I had it in all the typical places, and I had it deep.

She recommended Jessner Peels, a type of chemical peel that somehow breaks down the melasma. I’d never heard of a chemical peel, but she was offering a 3-for-2 special (surprise, surprise) and I figured I’d try it. Moreover, she used Jessners on her face and had incredible skin! Note to self: You’re the perfect, gullible customer.

I finished the third peel last week (you separate each peel by only a month). In summary, they sucked, but they worked. Or maybe I should say “work” in the present tense, because by no means did three peels turn my face into a perfect baby behind. I could probably use another round of three, but I’m happy with the results and, truthfully, don’t want to go through it again.

Dark spots getting darker. H is for Humility?

The process (in my experience):

1) Day 1, Application: The esthetician cleans your face then rubs it down several times with some type of solution that can sting like a mother f***er, depending on your sensitivity. You hold a fan to your face, because, without it, you’d be flailing around in search of a bucket of ice water. I actually did alright; it was easier than 23 hours of labor, I joked.

2) Day 1, Night: Your face continues to sting, and you’re suddenly grateful for that package of frozen peas that’s been in your freezer for six years. You go to bed hoping tomorrow will be better.

3) Day 2-3: The stinging has lessened considerably, but your now-red face (remember, you’re literally burning skin away) begins to harden and shine, and not in a good way. Facial movements prove difficult, and your lack of expression may cause your boss to ask if she’s boring you during your weekly meeting (no comment). Your only relief is applying AquaPhor, which turns your face into an oily mess that gets in your hair and all over your clothes. Your dark splotches get darker and much more splotchy and all you want to do is hide in your closet for the next week, because how can it get any worse?

Halfway peeled. I am so sad here.

4) Day 4-6, Peeling: This is when it gets worse. You don’t realize how vain you are until pieces of your skin are sloughing off your face in front of family, coworkers, and business associates. Celebrities who do this (which I’m now convinced they all must) can entomb themselves in their mansions. Us working gals don’t have that luxury. So, you hide at your desk and avoid making eye contact with anyone. You cancel meetings, especially any off site. You become obsessed with snipping the flaky bits off your face before they are too noticeable, and you may find your toddler nibbling on a piece of dead skin that he discovered on the floor.

5) Day 7-8: By now, you’ve had it. Most of the peeling is done, revealing smooth, un-itchy, gorgeous skin, but there are a few stubborn spots that won’t budge. All you want to do is PICK THE DAMN SKIN OFF, but you remember your esthetician’s warnings about scarring. You do it anyway and hope for the best.

6) Day 9-10: You are so grateful to be done, and your skin is looking good. In retrospect, it wasn’t that hard. You’d totally endure it better the next time. Beauty hurts, right?

New running hat; bringing sexy back.

So you can see why I’m in no rush to go through this again, but I’m happy I did it. My face looks a lot better, and it’s comforting to know there’s a way to battle these skin conditions. If and when we have another baby, this will probably happen again.

These days, I’m taking much better care of my face. I’m using a pigment gel and cream that helps smooth out the splotches (in theory). I’m wearing a special sunblock that contains zinc oxide, which surfers use when they’re out on the water for long periods. I also bought an incredibly sexy wide-brimmed running hat. I’m sure I look silly wearing it, but I actually like it a lot.

Letters to Charlie: Month 19

My sweet boy,

Happy New Year! You’ve now been alive in three separate years: 2010, 2011, & 2012. Go you!

I wish I could write more about our adventures together, but I really don’t know how other bloggers do it. I just can’t find the time. And every time I bust out the computer in your presence, all you want to do is bang on the keys and cause havoc, and you inevitably wail when I take the computer away.

Speaking of wailing, you have become Emo Baby in the last several weeks. We understand that it’s a natural part of your development, but that doesn’t make it easy. You get frustrated so easily. You throw things and pound on the wall. You flail and kick and scream when you don’t get your way. You want what you want RIGHTTHISMINUTE and woe to the parent that tells you “No.” I understand how hard this must be on you. You’re learning about the world, testing limits, and you’re thwarted at almost every turn.

We’re trying to give you more control over your environment. When it’s time to eat a “goop,” for example, we hold out two for you to choose between. You stand there with a huge grin on your face, looking back and forth and back and forth. When you make your decision, you reach for it with triumphant gusto. Little do you know that you’re actually choosing which fruits/vegetables to eat. Hahahaha. Man, I love goop.

Let’s talk about something you love: your new Cozy Coupe. Grandma Z gave it to you as an early Christmas present and now nothing else exists in your universe. We take it to Starbucks, to the grocery store, to the park, to the mailbox. For the first few days, you woke up asking “Cah?….Cah?” When I explained the car lives in the garage and that it wasn’t available right that moment, you threw a fit (see Emo Baby above). I made the mistake one morning of not blocking your way to the car when I needed to put you in my car. I had to physically tear you from it limb by limb so that we could get you to school. THANKS A LOT, GRANDMA!

Speaking of holidays, you made it through another Christmas! You were much more aware this year, which made the season even more fun. We picked out a tree together and  you even helped decorate it by shuttling ornaments between your Dad and I. Every morning, you ran out of your room, pointed to the twinkling tree and yelled, “Cheeeee!” Besides the car, some of your favorite presents included a guitar from Ashleigh, a Bilibo from Uncle Dan and Aunt Rhianna, and word books from Grandma B and Grandpop Charlie.

   

My two favorite gifts came from your grandparents. Grandma Z gave me a gorgeous locket with your picture in it (and a blank space for a future sibling?….). Grandma B painted us a portrait from a picture I took of you in Sweden in front of a castle. Both made me cry; they know me so well.

Dad and I bought you a very exciting gift – a potty! You continue to tell us when you’ve pooped, and you decided it’s fun to take your pants off at random times. (Yesterday, I came upstairs to see half your butt hanging out as you and your Dad watched videos of garbage trucks. Such men!) When one of us uses the bathroom, you sit on your potty, too (fully clothed, for now). Eventually, we’ll take off your pants and eventually you will pee in the potty, and then we’re on our way.

My dear boy, although you’ve had a pretty emotional month, you’ve also shared with us some incredibly sweet moments. Sitting in your high chair the other day – flanked by your father and I – you pulled us close one by one and planted continuous kisses on our lips. You clapped for Dad when he shut off the beaters while baking. You tried to say my real name for the first time (I cried; surprise, surprise). You said, “Bye Bye bubbuh,” and waved when we took you out of the bubble bath.

I have to end this post by sharing how you and your Dad welcomed the New Year. We decided to reinstate our annual New Year’s party, but knew it would be impossible (and unwise) to keep you up until midnight. At 9:30, your father took you into your room to help put you to bed. It was rough getting you to sleep, as the noise from the party was much too loud, so your Dad stayed with you.

Around 10:45, I texted him to ask if you were sleeping. No response. At 11:30, as our guests kept wondering where your Dad was, I decided to check on you both. Charlie, you were sound asleep, sprawled out in your crib, happily in dreamland. Curled on the floor next to you was your father, also passed out. I put a blanket over him, crept back to the party, and let you both slumber peacefully.

Happy New Year, my amazing child. May 2012 be filled with exploration, excitement, love, learning, and, of course, your Cozy Coupe.

My Two Favorite Videos Right Now

Teenage Charlie is going to hate me for posting these.

Video #1: Charlie & Savannah rock out. Quintessential happy dude. I LOVE how he wiggles his tush, and how Savannah bosses her mother around.

Video #2: The bus. More butt wiggling.

Letters to Charlie: Month 18

My dearest boy,

Genetics is an interesting thing. Take your list of favorite things right now: cars, trucks, trains, airplanes, tractors, helicopters, and, most of all, buses. How did this happen?

Before you were born, I would have inwardly scoffed at parents who told me their 18-month-old boy was fixated on vehicles. Gender stereotyping, I’d sigh. They probably only have “boy” toys in their house. How unfortunate.

Now I’d be eating my words because, boy, (see what I did there?), you’re obsessed with anything that moves! This fascination must spring from somewhere in the male DNA; our house contains no more cars, trucks, or buses than it does stuffed animals, necklaces, or other “girl” toys. Nor do we favor one type over another until you make your preference clear.

These days, you’re also in a major Mama phase (woooohooo!). I wake up in the morning to the wonderful sound of “Mama? Mama? Mama?” coming through the monitor. You get into moods where you only want me to hold you, and if I unexpectantly leave a room, you whimper until I return. I clutch my heart at the way your face lights up each time I return. I’m appreciating this now because I know there will come a time when you only want to hang out with Dad.

It’s tough for me at night, however. I’ve never been good at putting you to bed, especially when you’re desperately fighting sleep. There’s just something about the sound of your desperate cry and the way you struggle that really stresses me out. I know I’m supposed to be the parent and take charge, but it’s easier on all of us when your Dad puts you in bed. Whatever works for a family, right? Still, I feel awful as you lunge for me when I transfer you to his arms, shrieking “Mama…Maaamaaa” even after the door is closed.

You’re kind of a picky eater, which is hard to believe about a 29-lb dude. You recoil at vegetables and somehow know when I’ve hidden them in other types of food (how do you knooooow?!?!). And you refuse to let us feed you, though you haven’t mastered silverware. You like foods that you can dip into things. I’ve learned to bathe and dress you after you eat. We often have to force a bite of food in your mouth before you remember, “Oh hey! Food is good. Well, what are you waiting for? More?!”

We’re still working on hitting and throwing things when you’re frustrated. You’re too young for time-outs, so for now I’m trying to be consistent about firmly saying no, explaining in a simple way why the behavior is unacceptable, and removing you from the situation. You bonked my head really hard the other morning, so much that I started to cry. A teachable moment, I thought, and through tears told you why I was upset. You looked at me blankly, then raised your hand, and slapped my arm. But you looked up again. Either you were beginning to grasp the concept of cause and effect, or just acting like a brat. Hoping for Scenario #1.

Here’s a cool development – you’ve started to tell us when you’ve pooped by pointing to your diaper. You also understand that we need to change you immediately and you don’t struggle. Ah, sweet bliss! And you’ve started seeking more private places to do it, a human impulse I’m told. Potty training isn’t too far away, me hopes.

My favorite milestone, however: You’ve begun to nod and say “uhuh” if we ask whether you want something. This, combined with a head shake and “no,” has opened up a wonderful new world in which we can better meet your wants & needs without (major) breakdowns.

And, though it pains me to admit, you’ve lost interest in “Baby Signing Time.” That was our go-to/little-guilt indulgence when we needed 20 minutes to get something done. At desperate times I’ve ventured into some YouTube clips of Sesame Street (you call Elmo “Melmoh” – so freakin’ adorable), but haven’t gotten into the stronger stuff. Something in me revolts against the concept of toddlers glued to commercial TV. I’m so granola sometimes.d

Speaking of YouTube, we now have a playlist of Savannah videos, which you demand to see daily (“Nana?….Nana?….NANA?!?!). You two even had your first FaceTime date/call – chaperoned, of course. You blew each other kisses through the phone!!! Ashleigh and I about died.

Your Dad and I often talk about how amazing it is to be a parent. We think it’s because we don’t remember ourselves at this age, so we get to experience that time of our lives again. The look on your face when you solve a puzzle, how you learn a new word then use it 20 times in a row, the way your entire body trembles with excitement when you spot the playground – through you we get to share in the unadulterated joy of simply being alive.

And you, my son, are so alive. You love to sing, and clap, and laugh, and bow (a new trick learned from Savannah; you’re pretty proud of it). You smile endlessly, you flirt in public, you wiggle your booty every time you hear a song. You get joy not only from your own accomplishments, but from the knowledge that your actions have made others happy.

You are such a sweet, dear boy, and you have so much to teach us about living.

Pre-Dawn Mental Acrobatics with a Neurotic Mom

Time: 4:06 a.m

Setting: Throughout the night, Charlie has inexplicably awoken every hour crying, falling back asleep only after we rock him in the crib. We moved the clocks back several days ago, and he still won’t sleep in past the 4. a.m. hour. I am exhausted.

Minutes ago, I returned to bed after rocking him to sleep once again. Through the monitor, I hear him begin to whimper and toss-and-turn. Ugggggh, I think.

Then, suddenly, silence.

Mental acrobatics, begin:

Why did the noise stop? Is something wrong?

I really don’t want to get out of bed again. I’m sure he’s fine….

But, what if he’s suffocated in his blanket? Or choked on his saliva? Why, oh why, did we turn off the breathing sensor in his monitor?! Who cares if it was going off several times a night for no reason! This is our child’s safety we’re talking about.

I’ll wait a few minutes. I’m sure he’ll move around again and I’ll hear it through the monitor.

…..
……..
………..

Come on kid, give me something!

I’m just being catastrophic. He’s fine, probably sound asleep. If I go upstairs, I run the risk of really waking him up. And it’s so earrrrrrly. I’m so tired. It’s so coooold. He’s fine.

But think of how you’ll feel if something really is wrong. You had the chance to save your child’s life from a smothering blanket and instead you selfishly stayed in bed. What a terrible mother you are!

Time: 4:28 a.m.

Alright, I’m going to sneak upstairs and peek into his room, just to make sure he’s breathing. He’s fine. I can always slip back into bed.

I climb the stairs, creep over to his room, slowly open the door, and peek in.

Charlie immediately stirs, sits up.

“Mama!!!”

Shit.

Sweden: Getting There

I’ve been asked several times how our trip to Sweden went. My answer: Layered.

It definitely wasn’t like our 2006 honeymoon in Maui – just the two of us, massages on the beach, drinks with umbrellas. Nor was it like our 2008 whirlwind trip through Italy – on a bus…with my mother.

Our trip to Sweden included aspects of each, interwoven with the daily challenges and joys of traveling internationally with an energetic 16-month-old. I wavered between feeling very happy and also feeling stress over Charlie’s safety, my parenting skills, and my lack of control in a foreign country.

Yet, because of its layers, I feel like this was one of the most rewarding vacations we’ve taken.

Getting There
Imagine the best flight possible. Comparatively, Charlie scored about a 5. Compared to how terrible we thought he’d do, he scored an 8!

Hats off to British Airways, which recently began offering an overnight flight from San Diego to Heathrow. I couldn’t imagine stopping on the East Coast to change planes. As a parent, I was beyond grateful for that direct route.

We could not afford to buy Charlie a ticket, so I imagined an 11-hour flight with a struggling, cranky infant in our laps. To my grateful surprise, British Airways does a great job of seating parents of babies and toddlers behind the bulkhead. Besides having more leg room, the seats feature a fold-out table upon which BA can strap a reclined baby seat. Although we struggled to control Charlie during taxi & takeoff (that kid really doesn’t like to be restrained), we were able to eventually transition him to the seat, where he slept for five hours. During waking hours, he flirted with the stewardesses, visited with other babies in our row and played with the new toys I purchased for the trip.

Things didn’t go so smoothly once we were at Heathrow. I went off in search of a bathroom as soon as we settled at the gate for our connecting flight to Stockholm (side note: Kudos to Heathrow for having a separate security line for families– brilliant!) Husband Charles began fixing our toppling luggage, and didn’t see Charlie scamper onto a chair then try to scamper back down. The little guy fell face first onto the tile floor and bit through part of his lip.

I heard Charlie’s screams from the other side of the terminal. His mouth was covered in blood, along with the adorable outfit he’d worn to meet his Swedish relatives. We made sure he just injured his lip (I didn’t want a sequel to the Tooth Incident) and cleaned up his mouth. Charles and I were streaked with blood by the time we boarded the plane to Stockholm.

Charlie fell asleep; his lip swelled to a the size of a nickel. Charles and I felt exhausted.

The rest of the trip continued without incident. We landed in Sweden 14 hours after our trip began in San Diego, happily met Jerri & Hans, and set out on our adventure.

Id, Ego & Super-ego

Special thanks to Husband Charles for designing and making our Halloween costume-shirts. Can’t wait for my mom to see them!

Notice Charlie's clashing outfit. Totally id.

Close-up of the text.

One Year Later

Woah.