Homesickness

I'm sure there comes many a time for everyone who have moved way from their home where the distance back gets very overwhelming. Not just for people like myself who have moved to a different country - it's not always easy to just go back to your hometown either. It's not a distance based on country borders or travel time, but about so much else. For me, however, it's the physical distance.

* * *

For most of the past week we've had my dad visiting. He wanted to be here for Boy's birthday, and he had a trip with friends planned in London the weekend after, so it all worked out well. It has been great having him here. I don't get to see him anywhere near enough, as it would simply be far too expensive to travel back and forth more often. We don't even need to do anything special, just being in his company is so comforting and familiar. When I dropped him off at the train station after 6 lovely days it was very hard to say goodbye, and I was very grateful to have my little Boy to cuddle extra hard as I walked away trying to fight the tears.

I have lived in England for 5.5 years now. It's far from the first time we've said goodbye. We've also seen each other a lot since Boy was born, so it's not just that either. This time was just a lot harder, and it brought me down in the dumps a bit. I've tried to make out why it got to me as much this time, but I haven't had much luck.

* * *

Back when we were looking for a new house and it looked like we had to move out of our current home town I also looked at houses back home. Near my family. And while just the thought of moving back was very daunting, it was also very appealing. It appealed to me purely from a very selfish point of view, as I would have my family nearby, but in the end I decided that it wouldn't have been fair. Not to my husband, who doesn't speak the language (well, he speaks some and understands a fair bit more, but not to the level I speak English). It wouldn't have been fair to my son who would go from a childhood with cousins down the road and little friends nearby to a place where we don't know anyone with children his age and no "instant friends" relatives. And it wouldn't be fair on all our friends and family here who we'd be moving away from - Boy's aunts and uncles, grandparents, godparents and so many more. It just wouldn't be fair.

In fairness, I think a move home would've taken a lot of adjustment. My family isn't very big, and I've lost contact with most my friends from school. I think it would get very lonely for a long time until we settled in. The husband would've had to find a new job in a country where he doesn't speak the language. I would've had to find a new job and get Boy into a nursery. We would've made it, I know we would, but the grass isn't always greener on the other side.

For now I will cherish every moment I get to spend with my family. When they come to visit us and when we go to visit them. I will cherish the laughter, hugs and love, and keep counting down the days until we meet again.

Image sourced from http://enthusiastblog.com/tag/homesick/

A letter to my 1 year old

1 day late as I forgot to schedule this one for yesterday.

To my dearest son,

I can't believe you're a whole year old. 12 months. 52 weeks. 365 days. A whole year has passed since I got my gorgeous little chunk of a boy placed in my arms. A whole year since I sat looking into your beautiful eyes for the first time. A whole year since I finally got the title of Mamma.

What a year it has been. We've been through some challenges, some ups and downs. Mostly ups, though. From that beautiful first smile, to the messy first taste of food, to the cheeky grin that met me the first time you pulled yourself up to stand. How has it all fit in just one year? How has a whole year passed? Have you not been with us forever?

You are a ray of sunshine, a cheeky mischief maker, a cuddle monster, and the best little boy a mummy can ask for. You rarely cry, and when you do it's usually for a reason. You always spread joy and happiness, and your giggle can brighten even the darkest of days. I am so incredibly proud to be able to call you my son. Mamma is the proudest title I could ever have.

There may have been hard times, and like all 1 year olds you have bad days. But they are few and far in between, and there is no terrible night that can't be remedied by a beaming smile in the morning. No tantrum that can't be remedied by a cuddle. No tears that can't be wiped away by your laughter.

My dearest son - thank you for making me the happiest I could be by letting me be your mummy. Thank you for humouring me with that cheeky smile when you know you're being a touch naughty. Thank you for being you.

Mamma loves you. To infinity and beyond.

Scandimum and Boy on an adventure!

Scandimum and her blog...

...hasn't really been particularly connected, has it? I promise I do want to get into things! With the husband now having several new games to play on the XBox I may be able to use the computer more = Hopefully more blogging!

I doubt I've built much of a fan base with my 6 posts (because I have a feeling a fair few of my 120 odd views are myself or my husband..) but to anyone who's reading this: I'm back!

A lot has changed in the past 6 months in the life of Scandimum. As you might expect when Boy has gone from 7 months to nearly 1. Since my last post we have accepted an offer on our flat, had an offer accepted on a new house, Boy is well and truly on the move (though luckily to me he's not too confident of letting go while walking yet), I've lost weight, the husband has lost weight (more than me, but trying not to let the green eyed monster out! Must. Start. Exercising) and, most importantly, we are mostly getting quite good nights sleep, with 1 or no wake ups most nights. Now watch me eat those last words in a few posts' time when Boy decides to start night time parties again.

So enough for a catch up. For today I will post about myself as me, rather than Boy or being a mum. For my (far too slow) weight loss journey I decided to join Slimming World. I know a few people who have had good success on it, and I figured that going to group every week to get weighed would keep me on the straight and narrow. So far it's working. It may be a lot slower than I'd like, but that's my own fault as I'm not too good at sticking to plan. And I've learnt how to cheat - a bit too much! I'm 3.5 lbs off my 2 stone award (which means I've lost 11kg which is the units I work with), and I'm chuffed. I'm finally starting to see it myself as well, and a couple of weeks ago I FINALLY fit back into my pre-pregnancy jeans. It's taken far too long, but it feels good! I want to lose another 2 stone, at least (minimum another 15kg), but I'd rather it takes longer to come off and stays off than go on a crash diet and gain it all back. I'm also trying to commit to running again, which I quite enjoy, so hopefully that'll help the weight come off. I'm determined to run a 10k next year (I have a specific one in mind as well).

I will choose to ignore the massive portion of (absolutely delicious) crumble I've just devoured.

My current weight loss. The green line represents losing 10% 

of my starting weight. The purple line is my target.

My little boy is growing up

I can't believe the speed at which my little baby boy is growing. He's 7 months now, and I simply cannot fathom where the time has gone! He's gone from my little chunk of a 10 lbs newborn who just laid there doing nothing but looking cute, to a lively 7 month old boy (and over 21 lbs!) who is full of life and character.

Over the past two months he has been eating solid foods like a champion (albeit a messy champion) and he absolutely loves it. And in return he no longer has as much milk - I can't believe my little boy has cut out several bottles! He has gone from his little crib right next to my bed, less than an arm's length away from me, to his big boy cot bed in his own room. He sleeps better (thank heavens) and beams up at you when you get to him in the mornings.

Over the past two weeks he's shown just how much of a big boy he is becoming. He has figured out that he can pull himself up standing. It started in the bath tub, but he can now pull himself up on anything of the right height that he can get a grip on. And he has even started moving about somewhat. He can cruise along the sofa, though he looks like a drunk on his way home from a long night in the pub while doing so. And while it's still very slow going he has started army crawling. I'm not ready for my little baby to grow up yet!

Growing up way too fast! 1 day old vs 7 months.

The Big Decisions in Life

There comes a time in everyone's lives where you have to make some big decisions. To be honest, most of us will have quite a few of these decisions to make - ones that may have a massive impact on the rest of your life. It may start with what subjects you want to study at school, whether or not to go to university, and if you do go what degree to take. It may get real when you decide to move out from your parents' house (and sometimes when you have to bite the bullet and move back in).

For me the first of these Life Changing Decisions happened when I was about 18 years old and I decided I wanted to go to university in the UK. I applied to several, and got a bit upset with each declined application I got. When I got my first (and only) offer I was delighted and so excited. You see, in the process of applying I had met a guy. I had gone to London to take a test, and I had chatted to him a lot online before hand, and when we met it was love at first sight, and I was very excited about the prospect of getting to live in the same country as him. He was my first serious boyfriend, and I was head over heels in love. I moved straight from my dad's home to university halls, and life could not have been any more different. But I enjoyed it.

Two years after first meeting this guy I had another Life Changing Decision to make when he asked me to be his wife. It was one I had already thought about, and it was an easy decision to make, and today that guy is my dearly beloved husband and father of my child. I won't bore you with even more of my life story and further Life Changing Decisions. Except the one I'm facing now.

It may not be as serious as moving out of your parents' home, moving to a different country or deciding to spend the rest of your life with someone, but it's a big deal. We need to move. We need to find a bigger home for our little family as our current one simply is not very toddler friendly, and we're heading to that stage at a record speed.

Finding a house we like (and most essentially can afford the mortgage of) isn't necessarily the hardest part. Houses in our little town come on the market relatively frequently, though when they do they also tend to sell quite quickly. This time around, however, I have a more personal problem that worries me when looking for a house. My brother- and sister-in-law are looking to move to our lovely town from about 20 minutes away. Their budget and what they want in a house is very similar to us. So I'm very worried we will end up falling for the same house, and without knowing ending up in a bidding war against each other. I know I would be gutted if I really fell in love with a house only to end up visiting it frequently when they move in. I know it's just a house, but it's just something that niggles on my mind every time I see a house. Especially as I know my sister-in-law really wants a house (which is at the top of our price range) which I too absolutely adore and would love to live in. I have deliberately not looked too much at it (or any other house around at the moment for that matter) because I'm worried we'll "take their house" from them.

Stepping carefully through the house market.

Finding my feet

It appears blogging from anything but a computer is a bit of a faff, so I don't get around to it as much as I had hoped, as I normally only use an iPad, and my husband normally uses the computer. I'd like to apologise to any fan base I may have managed to build with my 2 former posts! I'll get there eventually.

When becoming a mum I felt I finally found myself. As I've mentioned previously I always wanted to be a mum. Growing up it was the only constant ambition I had, while my career ambitions went from teaching, to medicine, to baking, to forensics and so on. I felt ready to have a baby quite early on, but I felt like I needed to complete my education first. While I applied for universities I met my now husband, and early on in my second year at uni he proposed, and 6 months after my last exam we married. I was broody in the two years leading up to our wedding, and when I finally found out I was pregnant 4 months after our wedding I was over the moon! I was lucky with my pregnancy and barely had any symptoms. Had it not been for being a bit more tired than normal and a positive test (or four) I wouldn't even have known I was pregnant leading up to my first scan. I really felt like something had finally clicked into place, and it must have shown as I got so many positive comments throughout. I didn't really get uncomfortable at all, not even towards the end, and I really felt like I was made for pregnancy, like someone kindly said. 

I have never been happier than I've been since having my little boy. No, everything hasn't been like I had imagined. I had to introduce formula where I had hoped to exclusively breast feed, leading to having to give up breast feeding completely a lot earlier than I had hoped. He still isn't sleeping through the night at soon to be 6 months, waking several times for feeds, which I had hoped would be different. My husband hasn't taken on the picture perfect daddy role like I had imagined as he feels the pressure of working even harder to provide for us. But despite all of this I'm absolutely loving being a mum, and I can't wait to add to our family again.

Boy enjoying some sensory time

Despite all of this there is still one thing I struggle with. While I've become a lot more confident in the past few years, I still worry a lot about what people think about me. And more importantly, I can be quite shy and introvert, which means that making friends can be hard. I've always had a few good friends rather than a big group of friends, and that's still the same. I can talk to a lot of people now which I would've struggled with before, but not the way I would with good friends. I had hoped this too would change with becoming a mum - I had imagined all the mummy friends I'd make and how we'd spend lots of time with them and their babies, and my little boy would grow up with lots of little friends. I spend most of my time either in a baby group (not really making friends, a bit of chatting between "exercises", but nothing beyond group), with the same two friends, or on my own with Boy. With my two good friends we're normally together all three with all our children, but I sometimes feel like the odd one out where Boy is the youngest by over a year, and they are a lot closer than I am with either one of them. I love them both dearly, but I still feel like I'm imposing myself on their day with the kids. I know I'm being irrational, but it's my own insecurities going haywire.

That said, I'm lucky in that I have the best little boy ever to keep me company. I'm actually quite happy being just the two of us, though of course it's nice with some adult company once in a while. The Boy has such a little personality, and I am really blessed being his mummy.

Blogging "etiquette"

As I'm starting this blogging adventure I have a few things I need to think about. The main thing is how much privacy I want to keep. I'm planning on blogging about my daily life, and I hope to be able to put across some fairly intimate thoughts and feelings at times, so in that respect I'll open up completely. On the other hand I'm debating with myself whether or not to use my own name, my husband's name, and most importantly - my little boy's name. When writing "anonymously" it takes a lot of focus to use generic terms - Me being Scandimum married to Scandidad with our Scandiboy (or just Boy for simplicity). This means that even though I open up and write about personal things I get to stay a little bit anonymous, though if or when people who know me in person come across my blog they may understand (or at least strongly suspect) who I am. However, if I  were to start using names and give out some more personal information it takes away any doubt. I'm thinking of my son's future, and how he would feel about taking away his anonymity.

I could keep his name hidden and just let my own details come out, which means only people who know us personally would know what I write about my son is about him. This would preserve his anonymity somewhat, and even if he was to come across my blog when he's older, he would hopefully not feel too exposed.

This really is something I feel like I need to figure out sooner rather than later. Chances are my blog won't reach a very wide audience, and it won't really matter too much, but I can't help but thinking what if? What if I really get into the whole blogging universe, that my blog reaches a wide audience and that my writings will be read my thousands? I'm only imagining this, I highly doubt it will be the case, but what if? More than likely I'll end up writing mainly for myself, maybe reach a few other readers in the mummy/daddy blog universe, and potentially a relative or two.

Whichever the outcome of the reach of my blog, how much do I want to make public - to stay on the World Wide Web for all eternity? What do you think?

Picture source: Mimi and Eunice

Where it all began

I knew from a very young age that I wanted to be a mum. My first doll lasted me many good years, and it made me a bit sad when I thought about her the other day, realising I don't know where she went. Her name was Amanda, she had a small tuft of hair on the top of her head (you know, similar to what you do when your little girl's hair is finally long enough to gather in a pony tail at the top of her head), and only her head and hands were hard plastic, the rest was pink stuffed fabric. I loved that doll, and I think I played with her a fair bit longer than most girls are interested in dolls.

My own mother was always very excited about the idea of being a grandmother. Sadly she passed away when I was only 13, but I can still remember her saying several times how she looked forward to me having children. She got to experience being an auntie, and she was the best auntie any child could ever wish for, and I know she would've made an amazing Mormor (maternal grandmother).

My mum and me

I can't say my father has been much more patient. When I was 17, so before I met my now husband, I remember we were sitting watching TV one afternoon when suddenly my dad turned to me and said "I can't wait to be a granddad!". When I pointed out my age he replied that when his mum was my age she already had a baby - my uncle. Even the fact that I didn't even have a boyfriend at the time seemed to faze him. He did still have to wait another few years, though! 6 to be exact.

When my now husband and I met we already knew one another a fair bit through chatting online. So when we met it was love at first sight, and an adventure started. For the first two years of our relationship we had to battle distance, where he lived in Buckinghamshire and me in Norway for the first year, and then I moved to Essex and he to Bristol for the second year. On our second anniversary he proposed, just days before we moved into our own home, and two years later, after I had graduated from university, we got married. The pressure for children started before we were even married, as we had babies arriving in abundance to close family and friends only 6 months before our wedding. We had been married just over 3 months when a positive pregnancy test beamed up at me an early March morning. I could barely contain the excitement, and was lucky with my whole pregnancy, with little to no symptoms throughout. However the little monkey was very comfy in there, and despite contracting for 5 days I had to be induced 13 days past my due date. Apart from the fact that I needed induction my labour was very straight forward and not as bad as I had expected (don't get me wrong, it hurt a LOT, but I had somehow expected even worse!). And as soon as my gorgeous little boy was placed in my arms it was all worth it! And (not so secretly): I can't wait to do it all again!

My gorgeous little boy at 13 days

Hello, Blogger Universe!

First if all - hello and welcome to my little blog.

Let me introduce myself: I'm Scandimum - a 23 year old Norwegian (and part Swedish) girl who became mum to the most beautiful little boy in November 2014; O. Together with Scandidad we live in a beautiful picturesque little town in north Wiltshire, on the border of the Cotswolds.

I moved to the UK almost 5 years ago, summer 2005, when I started university. I had by hen been with my now husband for about a year, as we met during my application process. We got married 6 months after I finished my last university exam, and just over 3 months after we were man and wife a positive pregnancy test glared up at us, a cold March morning. And that is how I became Scandimum.

It was my sister in law who inspired me to start blogging. She started her own blog a couple of months ago, and following her updates has made me decide to give it a try as well. I have blogged a couple of times before, once during my year in France attending a French school, and once when I did a food blog. The food blog died when I started a diet, as diet food wasn't what I wanted to blog about. I love baking, and that was what I liked blogging about, and I just never got back into it. I figured here I could include the odd recipe, amidst posts about life in general, which I'm hoping may be the key to success!

I have yet to figure out how to add pictures, so please do bear with me while I'm learning the ropes!