Adjusting

I just discovered a few cheeky photos taken while we were visiting Aunt Ilona and Uncle Paul last week, so here they are. Sorry, nothing yet from Stockholm.

And, I realize that I owe you a great big update about what's Augie's doing (and thinking and saying!) now. It's coming...

  

I thought I'd be back to blogging more by now, but obviously that hasn't happened. By some twisted logic I thought we'd be spending the days exploring (and photographing) and then I'd have whole swaths of evenings during which to write and reflect. I also thought I'd be adjusting to life here better.

Which is to say that it's been tough, at least for me. James seems to be enjoying the grand adventure, and Augie seems to enjoy darn near everything we do, so the two of them are doing just fine. But for me, it's been hard. I can't pinpoint it exactly; it's not the general apprehension of adjusting to life in a new place or the particular apprehension of adjusting to life in a new country; it's more vague and gray and insidious. Kind of like the winter in Scandinavia.

I'd like to chalk it up to just that - winter in Scandinavia - if it weren't accompanied by a more acute feeling of existential doubt and the continual, nagging sense that I haven't done much with my life. Exactly the kind of stuff you want to be worried about when you have to book an appointment with the tax board of a foreign country using their Swedish-only appointment-booking tool, get to the state-run liquor store before it closes at a ridiculously early hour for a bottle of wine to go with dinner, find the entrance back down to the subway in the 4pm blackness with no map or phone of any kind, all whilst realizing that every single woman in the country wears nicer shoes (and pants) than you do. And what is this strange new tuft of hair that's suddenly appeared above your forehead like the ghost of bangs (fringe) you never had?

Oh, and did I mention that Augie hasn't taken a full-length nap since we left New Jersey? So in addition to all this angst, I've got a baby who isn't sleeping well. You might think that naps are for babies, but they aren't: naps are for mothers. Naps are these little rest-breaks of sanity that keep us from a) locking the baby in the closet, b) downing the rest of the whisky, and c) running off with the postman. Sometimes I feel like I'm thisclose to caging Augie in an upside-down crib, grabbing the Grouse, and finding the nearest post office. And last night our new alarm clock in the bedroom went off at midnight, waking us all, after which Augie found it difficult to get back to sleep. Just what we needed.

Here's to tomorrow, lengthening days, and family naps.