When Nothing is About You Anymore

This has the potential to be a very long post. But it won’t be.


Because my baby is asleep, and my husband is doing the long drive to pick our daughter up from school. The time for me is short, fleeting, and sometimes (mostly) non-existent.

We just went through a huge ordeal to relocate from Arkansas to Sweden, rather too quickly, in everybody’s humble opinion.


Because of our daughter’s school.

She’s six, which means she would start 1st grade in America, and she is starting 1st grade here. Except here we don’t have Kindergarten, we have what we call “kindergarden.”

Confusing, right?

What we call kindergarten is what you call preschool or daycare.

When making the decision to relocate, we also decided to not do it in the middle of the school year, to not make it any harder than it need to be on our daughter. Who wants to start 1st grade and then move across the world and jump into the middle of the year in a different country with a different language unless you absolutely have to, right?

So we packed up, sold our stuff, and left in what feels like a flurry meets tornado, all for her.

Because quite frankly, if we didn’t have kids, or both our kids were younger than school age, we would chill out a little bit and leave maybe closer to Christmas to give us time to prepare and get through our busy season with the company we own in the states.

You know, if we were normal and sensible and stuff.

We quite often discuss (laughingly) who’s considered last in the family, my husband or myself. I guess it depends.

It’s not the kids, that’s for sure.

We’re survivors though, and having young kids really puts you in some kind of ‘survival’ mode. You realize you got to do what you got to do – but it’s no longer about you, it’s about them.

Take now, for example.

My boy woke up (so I will tend to him), which means this blog is over. That’s life.

And I quite like it, actually. It puts things in perspective.



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