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Colleen McFarland: Blog

February Fever

Posted on February 8, 2015 with 0 comments

 

This is a blog, whatever that may be.  I haven't even looked up the word.  I did look up trog, and that means socially inferior person, but I didn't want my blog to have any seriously, negative connotations.  I also looked up troggle, which was the name of a small troll who liked eating vegetables, not people (a book by Random House Publishing) and then there was something about troggle math, but I never really liked math either.  I was trying to think of something clever as a title for my blog, so that's why I was thinking of words that rhyme with 'blog'.  I could call it the 'frog blog', the 'hog blog', the 'fog blog', or even the 'blog-blog', but none of those seem quite right.
I live in Norway, and I do like trolls.  Trolls are the official mascot of Norway.  I have bought several small trolls that sit upon the shelves in my living room, and some are upstairs hiding on a guest bedroom shelf.  Norwegian trolls look really different than the ones I grew up with in the U.S., you know, those orange, and blue-haired, smooth trolls with big, wide noses and ever-present smiles.  The trolls in Norway have long noses, and they also have tails, and mostly long shocks of black or brown hair, but I have seen a few blonde-haired ones.  Trolls are also magical creatures and each one has it's own story.  I gave my sister a troll for her birthday once.  Her name is Prinsesse Veslemøy, and she is a Cone troll, who comes from the Cone forest in Norway, and has a beautiful singing voice.  Cone trolls also borrow items without asking and forget to return them.  I thought my sister would get a kick out of Prinsesse Veslemøy, but when I gave it to her, she scrunched her face and made a weird sound (my sister, not the troll).  Her grandson also got scared when he saw the troll hanging from my sister's rearview mirror and said "Grandma, take the witch down!"  So much for giving my family Norwegian trolls as presents.
My friend Susie was the one who suggested I start a blog, although some of my other Facebook friends who read my posts also told me I should write a blog.  Susie also suggested that I move to Norway when I was pregnant with twins because my husband is Norwegian and children and pregnant women get free healthcare here, so we did.  I picked out a house online that looked so pretty, near a forest and looking over a fjord.  We live in that house now, and it is really pretty here, but it is also damn cold, and the winters are so long that I think the sun has pretty much decided the only time it's fun here is during the summer, so it doesn't really show up that often from November to May.  Our house, as most houses in Norway, doesn't have central heat; there is no natural gas here used for heat (another fact I wasn't aware of before we moved here).  We have electric heaters on the walls and two wood burning stoves.  The first winter here with our newborn twins, and me running down our seventeen steps in the morning to make bottles in the kitchen before our stoves were lit, I thought for sure I would get frost bite.  We did buy a heat pump after a year, but even that blows cold air inside every twenty to thirty minutes or so, for some reason that only the guy who sold it to us knows why.
I used to like snow.  I remember being so excited as a kid when it snowed and school got canceled, and my friends and I would walk for miles in the snow just to go to a giant hill where we would take our sleds and zoom all the way down, laughing and screaming.  
I don't laugh anymore about the snow.  It's a pain in my ass now.  It takes forever to get the twins ready to go outside or even to take a ride in the car.  It's wool stockings, wool pants, wool socks, wool hats, scarves, sweaters, jackets, and boots.  And, of course after all of the clothes are on, and we're ready to walk out the door, one of them will have the nerve to say "bœsj" in Norwegian, which sounds like "bosh", and means "poop".   They are not potty-trained yet, so off comes the entire get-up to get a diaper change and, here we go again!  Then it's getting them into the car-seats.  What kind of wise-guys invented these things anyway?  I'd like to give them a seminar on why their products suck and why they should talk to me about it, among a zillion other products made for babies that are made to drive parents crazy; like wet-wipes that have an invisible tab you're supposed to find and peel off at three o'clock in the morning.
 
There is snow and ice everywhere here.  It's on our porch, our steps, piled on our roof and our non-existent drive-way, on our cars, every day, several times a day, and when I take the kids out of the car to walk up to the pre-school, it's like an ice-skating rink.  I have actually thought about bringing a bag of salt just so I can sprinkle it as we walk up to the pre-school.  Salt is really hard to come by here though.  I have lived here for going on three years and have asked my husband, "Can't we buy salt here?" and I'm pretty sure he said "No."  Then one evening we stopped at a gas station in another town and I saw bags of salt in front.  I couldn't believe it!  So, we bought two medium bags of it since that was the only size.  I'm sure we spent at least $30 dollars on it, since everything here is four to five times as much as in the U.S., except healthcare of course, but since taxes are so high here, I guess we are paying for it along with the salt.
They do put out some kind of rocks in a thin line up to the door of the pre-school, but I have two-year old girls who don't walk in a single line up to the door.   They don't even want me to hold their hands now, so independent they are (wonder where they get that from?).  They always say "Self, self" and sometimes even take a swat at me if I try to help them.  I call them my precious, little 'monsters', and it's true.  They are precious, and they also act like little monsters.  I never thought two babies could rule my life in such a way.  They can go from screaming to singing in a matter of minutes, throwing tantrums on the floor to blowing me kisses as I try to clean up all the crap they are constantly throwing around the house.  Today, while they were playing, I was sitting on the couch trying to eat a piece of toast with egg, red pepper and cucumber on it after I had fed them.  They both walked over to me and one of them said "egg" and started doing that whiny, little, inside 'hiccup' thing, so I gave her some of my egg, then the other one said "paprika" about fifty times (which is red pepper in Norwegian) so of course I gave her some of the red pepper off my toast.  My food always looks half eaten before I even start.  As I finished my delicious, half eaten piece of toast, I looked up and there was the 'paprika eater' opening a drawer and throwing every piece of paper, coloring books, crayons and what-not out of it onto the floor.  I told her to help me pick it up, and she did.  At least I'm doing something right.
Well folks, that's it for now.  Stay tuned because tomorrow will surely be another day of headaches, hilarity, and hopeless (oops, I mean) hopefulness.
CMR

This is a blog, whatever that may be.  I haven't even looked up the word.  I did look up trog, and that means socially inferior person, but I didn't want my blog to have any seriously, negative connotations.  I also looked up troggle, which was the name of a small troll who liked eating vegetables, not people (a book by Random House Publishing) and then there was something about troggle math, but I never really liked math either.  I was trying to think of something clever as a title for my blog, so that's why I was thinking of words that rhyme with 'blog'.  I could call it the 'frog blog', the 'hog blog', the 'fog blog', or even the 'blog-blog', but none of those seem quite right.

I live in Norway, and I do like trolls.  Trolls are the official mascot of Norway.  I have bought several small trolls that sit upon the shelves in my living room, and some are upstairs hiding on a guest bedroom shelf.  Norwegian trolls look really different than the ones I grew up with in the U.S., you know, those orange, and blue-haired, smooth trolls with big, wide noses and ever-present smiles.  The trolls in Norway have long noses, and they also have tails, and mostly long shocks of black or brown hair, but I have seen a few blonde-haired ones.  Trolls are also magical creatures and each one has it's own story.  I gave my sister a troll for her birthday once.  Her name is Prinsesse Veslemøy, and she is a Cone troll, who comes from the Cone forest in Norway, and has a beautiful singing voice.  Cone trolls also borrow items without asking and forget to return them.  I thought my sister would get a kick out of Prinsesse Veslemøy, but when I gave it to her, she scrunched her face and made a weird sound (my sister, not the troll).  Her grandson also got scared when he saw the troll hanging from my sister's rearview mirror and said "Grandma, take the witch down!"  So much for giving my family Norwegian trolls as presents.

My friend Susie was the one who suggested I start a blog, although some of my other Facebook friends who read my posts also told me I should write a blog.  Susie also suggested that I move to Norway when I was pregnant with twins because my husband is Norwegian and children and pregnant women get free healthcare here, so we did.  I picked out a house online that looked so pretty, near a forest and looking over a fjord.  We live in that house now, and it is really pretty here, but it is also damn cold, and the winters are so long that I think the sun has pretty much decided the only time it's fun here is during the summer, so it doesn't really show up that often from November to May.  Our house, as most houses in Norway, doesn't have central heat; there is no natural gas here used for heat (another fact I wasn't aware of before we moved here).  We have electric heaters on the walls and two wood burning stoves.  The first winter here with our newborn twins, and me running down our seventeen steps in the morning to make bottles in the kitchen before our stoves were lit, I thought for sure I would get frost bite.  We did buy a heat pump after a year, but even that blows cold air inside every twenty to thirty minutes or so, for some reason that only the guy who sold it to us knows why.

I used to like snow.  I remember being so excited as a kid when it snowed and school got canceled, and my friends and I would walk for miles in the snow just to go to a giant hill where we would take our sleds and zoom all the way down, laughing and screaming.  I don't laugh anymore about the snow.  It's a pain in my ass now.  It takes forever to get the twins ready to go outside or even to take a ride in the car.  It's wool stockings, wool pants, wool socks, wool hats, scarves, sweaters, jackets, and boots.  And, of course after all of the clothes are on, and we're ready to walk out the door, one of them will have the nerve to say "bœsj" in Norwegian, which sounds like "bosh", and means "poop".   They are not potty-trained yet, so off comes the entire get-up to get a diaper change and, here we go again!  Then it's getting them into the car-seats.  What kind of wise-guys invented these things anyway?  I'd like to give them a seminar on why their products suck and why they should talk to me about it, among a zillion other products made for babies that are made to drive parents crazy; like wet-wipes that have an invisible tab you're supposed to find and peel off at three o'clock in the morning. There is snow and ice everywhere here.  It's on our porch, our steps, piled on our roof and our non-existent drive-way, on our cars, every day, several times a day, and when I take the kids out of the car to walk up to the pre-school, it's like an ice-skating rink.  I have actually thought about bringing a bag of salt just so I can sprinkle it as we walk up to the pre-school.  Salt is really hard to come by here though.  I have lived here for going on three years and have asked my husband, "Can't we buy salt here?" and I'm pretty sure he said "No."  Then one evening we stopped at a gas station in another town and I saw bags of salt in front.  I couldn't believe it!  So, we bought two medium bags of it since that was the only size.  I'm sure we spent at least $30 dollars on it, since everything here is four to five times as much as in the U.S., except healthcare of course, but since taxes are so high here, I guess we are paying for it along with the salt.

They do put out some kind of rocks in a thin line up to the door of the pre-school, but I have two-year old girls who don't walk in a single line up to the door.   They don't even want me to hold their hands now, so independent they are (wonder where they get that from?).  They always say "Self, self" and sometimes even take a swat at me if I try to help them.  I call them my precious, little 'monsters', and it's true.  They are precious, and they also act like little monsters.  I never thought two babies could rule my life in such a way.  They can go from screaming to singing in a matter of minutes, throwing tantrums on the floor to blowing me kisses as I try to clean up all the crap they are constantly throwing around the house.  Today, while they were playing, I was sitting on the couch trying to eat a piece of toast with egg, red pepper and cucumber on it after I had fed them.  They both walked over to me and one of them said "egg" and started doing that whiny, little, inside 'hiccup' thing, so I gave her some of my egg, then the other one said "paprika" about fifty times (which is red pepper in Norwegian) so of course I gave her some of the red pepper off my toast.  My food always looks half eaten before I even start.  As I finished my delicious, half eaten piece of toast, I looked up and there was the 'paprika eater' opening a drawer and throwing every piece of paper, coloring books, crayons and what-not out of it onto the floor.  I told her to help me pick it up, and she did.  At least I'm doing something right.

Well folks, that's it for now.  Stay tuned because tomorrow will surely be another day of headaches, hilarity, and hopeless (oops, I mean) hopefulness.
CMR