My fairy tale life... or thereabouts.

I have had a rather intense week with lots of chores around the house. The other day I started out with vacuuming and mopping the house, followed by dusting all the surfaces and ironing of the enormous pile of clothes that somehow always seem to be there no matter how often I iron. When the entire house was spotless and fresh and the laundry was neatly ironed and put away, I took out my sewing box and started mending my daughters’’ school uniforms and some other clothes. Then it struck me; I am not a Lady of Leisure, I am a middle-aged Cinderella. My castle is a newly built townhouse in a bayside suburb of Melbourne. Instead of two evil stepsisters ordering me around I have two teenage daughters who treat me like a servant most of the time. Or a diplomat and judge when I am called in to make peace or settle a matter or disagreement between the two sisters. There is a prince of course. He usually comes riding home on his white stallion - cleverly disguised as a black station wagon – around 7.30 every night, missing out on dinner with 45 minutes or so. The prince reheats the leftover dinner and usually tidy up in the kitchen. Then the prince continues with his noble quest – to solve problems, to please his customer and to keep order in his army of engineers. The two teenage daughters spend ample time on their iPads every evening, communicating with their friends over Instagram, Snapchat and Kik. Middle-aged Cinderella – that's me - is often very tired at night and goes to bed with a book, waiting for the handsome prince to keep her company in the bed. When the prince appears in the bedroom, several phone conversations, text messages and e-mails later, Cinderella is sound asleep – exhausted from all the housework and negotiations with teenagers who know everything better than their mom and are always treated unfairly.

 My life has always been kind of a fairy tale, I would say. This is just another chapter of my very own fairy tale, set in contemporary time in a faraway country. What happens in the next chapter remains to be seen. But I do hope there is some household staff included once again.... 

Reality check for mommy

The summer might not yet be over but the schools’ summer holiday most certainly is. We are once again back to our weekly routines. Youngest daughter is now also in secondary school and the other night the school had an information evening at school for the 7th grade parents. After some presentations by various school leaders all the parents went to their daughters’ classrooms – yes, we have chosen a girls’ school for our daughters – to get to know their homeroom teachers and the other parents. In order to get the parents talking, the teachers presented a number of topics like ”do you encourage your daughter to make a healthy lunchbox for herself?”, ”have you taught your daughter to operate the laundry machine?” and ”does your daughter use public transportation to go to school?”. It seemed like all the mothers were encouraging their daughters to make healthy lunchboxes – except me. Don’t misunderstand me, I do not encourage my girls to make unhealthy lunchboxes or eat junk food. But I do not encourage my girls when it comes to making lunchboxes at all since I make the lunchboxes for them. I have not taught them to use the laundry machine as I prefer the machine to be full and therefore save electricity, water, money as well as the environment. A reasoning that is immediately overthrown by the fact that I drive my girls to and from school every day. 

             My very own bread - healthy, delicious and baked with love

”All the other girls seem to be doing a lot of things themselves. Do I spoil the girls too much?” I asked my husband. Admittedly, my husband is a very biased man. In his eyes, I am perfect and almost incapable of doing something wrong. ”You are a fantastic mother” he replied, ”but perhaps you should let the girls take a little more responsibility.” The girls don’t make their own breakfast, when they wake up they sit down at the dinner table were breakfast is promptly served. In my defense, I have come a long way here. A year ago, I served the girls breakfast in bed every morning on school days and two years ago, I served them breakfast in bed while singing a ”good morning” song that I made up myself. Sadly I had to stop with that lovely morning routine as the girls thought my song was ”lame” and my singing voice was ”off-key” and ”hurting their ears”.

Brekkie in bed: pancakes with fruit compote and whipped cream. Good morning!

I understand that I need to teach my daughters some more useful skills other than making their own beds and put bread in the toaster. It is with some sadness in my heart that I realise my daughters are no longer little girls depending on their mommy to save the day; they are young ladies preparing for a life as adults. And as I slowly prepare them for their lives as grown ups, I have plenty of time to prepare myself for the day they move away. I reckon my girls will do just fine, probably better than I will...

My way of dealing with the ant invasion

Melbourne has recently had some very hot days with temperatures well above 40C. This means that it is too hot for anyone to be outside and everyone tend to seek refuge indoors – including the ants. This seems to be an issue all over Victoria at the moment, not only is the ant-problem discussed on TV and in the news, it is also a trending topic on Facebook which is always a good indicator to what is hot at the moment. With ant sand, daily cleaning and a large spray can of insect killer, I manage to keep the ant invasion to a minimum. Here is my question though: what is the point of using ant spray? Does it kill the ant with some chemicals right then and there or is it simply just drowning the ant? In either case, it seems quicker, cheaper and less hazardous to the family’s health just to use a wet paper towel and sweep up the ants. Or just crush them with your fingers if you see a couple of ants running around by themselves.

I am fed up with ants and am therefore posting a photo of a butterfly instead.

We came home on Monday after a long weekend up in the mountain area of Victoria. It was very hot and sunny even at 7 o’clock at night. Our aquarium-ish home felt like a sauna. I opened the pantry and discovered that while we were away, two shelves had turned in to regular ant colonies. Disgusted, I pulled everything out and sprayed for king and country. I was interrupted when a neighbor came by and asked if I wanted to join her for a walk. I accepted without hesitation and left my husband with the spray can and small puddles with dead ants scattered all over the pantry shelves. Forty-five minutes later – after the walk and a nice shower – I came out to the kitchen and my husband served me dinner. Shortly after he was done cleaning and organizing the pantry. Apart from the occasional ant, the pantry has been ant-free since then – touch wood.

                    While the husband was sanitizing the pantry....

Some reflections to start off the year of 2014

Another year has passed. I note that 2013 has been the first year in over 20 years when I have not been on an airplane. The last years I have flown about 10 times per year which is a lot considering I have a fear of flying. There is always something sad about a New Year; we have high expectations on how much greater the new year will be than the previous one and we make promises to become better persons and change our bad habits – promises we usually break after a few weeks anyway.

My New Year’s resolutions this year are more or less the same that I always make:

-          To drink Coke Zero only on weekends and public holidays. I usually fail on this one after a couple of weeks. ”Only this one” I say to myself and have a sip or two and when the weekend comes I am fed up with all the sips and stick to water. Hopefully I will be able to stay away from this addictive drink as I am not craving sugar and sweets anymore.

                          Fuelled up on sugar is a thing of the past

-          To show my loved ones with both words and actions how much I love them. This is not even a challenge, I do that every day anyway. But still, I think that showing love is fantastic. It is wonderful to love and it is wonderful to be loved.

                          "Love" is a beautiful message in the sand

-          To not buy any clothes, shoes or accessories for myself unless it is really, truly necessary. Here is the real challenge. I say this every year and I manage to keep it up until the next great sale comes up. This year however, I am very determined and I will do my very best not to give in to the first temptation. Luckily the Australian fashion is not exactly in accordance with my Scandinavian taste and I have disovered a new and previously unfamiliar feeling when browsing the malls of Melbourne: the feeling of boredom. The year of 2014 will be the year when my wardrobe will not get any new additions and I will have done something good not only for the environment but also for the family’s bank account.

                               Snapshot from my pre-Australian life

I would also take the opportunity to make the following statement: we are a family with a normal day-to-day life, living in a normal sized house in a bayside suburb of Melbourne. We do not run a ”Bed and Breakfast” nor a recreational home for young delinquents who think it would be great to surf, party and chillax in Australia. So do not send your derelict children to me, it has been a long time since Australia was a colony for ex-convicts and other criminals.

Happy New Year! 

Now's the season to be jolly....

My favorite season of the year is Christmas. I go over the top and then some more to make every Christmas very special for my family. This year however, I am struggling terribly with finding that special Christmas spirit. Sure, there are some half-hearted efforts in the shopping malls to create a festive ambiance but there is no Christmas music as background music or anyone with a Santa hat saying ”ho-ho-ho”. Nothing on the radio and nothing on TV. For the Australians, this time of the year seems to be more about summer, sunshine and vacation and Christmas is just something that is happening on some of the days, nothing special. It is painful for a conservative traditionalist like myself. When I’ve asked a couple of local Aussies how they celebrate Christmas they are quite vague: ”ahhh, we meet up with family, have turkey or ham. Maybe go to the beach. Have a barbie”. No, they are not referring to Mattel’s disproportionate doll. They mean barbecue and it is pronounced ”baaaahhhbiiie”.

            Where's the snow? And the sledge? This is just wrong....

In my efforts of embracing our host country I cooked a turkey dinner on the 23rd of December last year. It came out very well and we decided to make it part of our family’s tradition. We celebrate Christmas on the 24th and I refuse to incorporate any modernity to our traditional, Swedish smörgåsbord. I am however open to try some Aussiefied food on the 25th, which we consider to be a rather sleepy day between Christmas and the Great Sale of the Year. I went to the Boxing Day sale at the fashionable mall Chadstone last year, quite by mistake I admit. I’ll be sure not to do that ever again.

                     The 2012 edition of our family Christmas dinner

Otherwise I have not gotten around go buy all my Christmas presents yet. The Daughters have put their wish lists on the fridge and my Husband mentions some things every now and then. I’ll know where to go and what to get when I hit the shops next week. What do I want you may wonder? Peace and quiet, a good night’s sleep, love and happiness to last me a lifetime. Immaterial but priceless gifts. 

                            Merry Christmas from us Down Under!

In the category "Weird Sandwich Spreads"

Many non-Swedes don’t like our Kalle’s kaviar, the number one sandwich spread among us Swedes. I guess you have to get used to this peculiar, salty, fish flavor from an early age to appreciate it. The Australian equivalent to our Kalle’s kaviar – in the category ”Weird sandwich spreads” – would be the Vegemite. When consulting the somewhat doubtful source Wikipedia we learn that ”Vegemite is a dark brown Australian food paste made from leftover brewers' yeast extract with various vegetable and spice additives developed by Cyril P. Callister in Melbourne, Victoria in 1922. Vegemite is salty, slightly bitter and malty, and rich in umami – similar to beef bouillon. The texture is smooth and the product is a paste”. We are always trying to, if not embrace, so at least explore, the local customs and traditions. ”When in Rome...” and all that. I got a jar of Vegemite at my daughters’ request and the entire family reached the same verdict: the taste is vile, VILE I say. Perhaps it would taste better the second time around? Nobody in the family wanted to subject themselves to the foul taste of Vegemite again so after six months the jar was eventually relegated to the garbage bin. However, Australians seem to love their Vegemite and will defend it until the very end.

Vegemite toast as portrayed on Wikipedia. Looks slightly inedible to me. 

Somethings you just need to get used to from the very beginning, like the Swedish Kalle’s kaviar and the Australian Vegemite. The Daughters who have never lived in Sweden, have their own favorite sandwich spreads: peanut butter either combined with raspberry jam or with banana. Or Nutella with banana, that works too. To me, these combinations are very odd and I have refrained from tasting but the Husband claims that they are ”delicious”. But I guess preferences in sandwich spreads are like most things in life: to each his own.

           Kalle's kaviar portrayed on Wikipedia: now we're talking! 

Daytime live drama on a Sunday afternoon

Did you think that our estate in this bay side, sleepy, Melburnian village provides us with an uneventful lifestyle? Well, think again! We’ve had disruptive, horrible party animals as neighbors for half a year, we have half-naked, littering neighbors, we have weed-throwing neighbors and we have a self-appointed supervisor – not me – who patrols the streets of the estate and takes notes of interesting facts about all the residents which he enters onto a spread sheet. Surprisingly enough, this fact-collecting, potential blackmailer is a man and not a woman, which shows that women are not the only ones interested in gossiping.

In our estate, anything you say or do can and will be used against you 

Sundays are usually very slow and this Sunday was especially slow as I am working on an essay and my family left the house to give me some hours of peace and quiet in my study room. I was very focused on the topic and being quite productive when I all of a sudden heard a car revving followed by screaming and shouting outside our house. My study is on the ground floor and I looked out the windows but all I saw was a car parked in the middle of the road, I could still hear the shouting: ”I know you are in there, come out you coward!” as well as what sounded like loud banging and kicking on a door. A woman in her mid-30’s, early-40’s emerged from the entrance to the neighbors across the street. Our friends own the house but they are renting it out to a couple in their 50’s whom are keeping a very low profile. So low in fact that I have been wondering if they are really living there, especially the husband who seems to be more of a frequent visitor. The person shouting insults and accusations out on the street was angry, nay, she was boiling mad. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. The couple renting our friends’ house came out from the garage to face the upset woman and she instantly threw herself over the man. He in return pushed her and she hit him and threw something at him which he threw on her car. The man’s woman, or perhaps I should specify by saying the woman living in our friends’ house, got into her car and tried to get away. The scorned woman then jumped into her car and tried to crash her rival’s ditto but luckily she came to her senses and the other woman managed to flee. The man quickly withdrew inside the house and the furious woman ran after him whilst screaming her thoughts on him and his woman using a very foul language. I could hear the front door once again being under attack. The closing scene of this little Sunday spectacle was the woman standing in the middle of the road shouting loudly for everyone to hear: ”HE’S BEEN CHEATING ON ME FOR TWO YEARS, THE BASTARD”. She got into her car and sped away at a high speed. I was very tempted to go knock on the couple’s door to urge the man to remind their visitor to respect and follow the 20 km/h speed limit but I realized that perhaps it wasn’t a good time. But if it happens again, be sure that I will be out there to tell him – even if he is in the middle of a heated argument with his betrayed wife and his mistress hiding behind him. There are kids playing on the streets in our estate. So drive carefully! And watch the language! 

 Sirens and the men they got their vengeance on....