Fly, Little Bird!

These past 5 months of hosting a refugee teenager from Afghanistan have been a huge learning curve for us. At times we weren't sure if challenges were due to him being a teenager, or because he was from another culture, or because of the language barrier. We have learned so much about the Middle Eastern culture, like, that no one is allowed to call a woman by their first name, that they don't celebrate birthdays or ask eachother their age, and Rammadan is a really, really big deal!

Overall, we are so thankful to have gotten to be a part of the start of Jan's new life here in Canada. Part of it was that, as Christians, God asks us to help refugees, the oppressed, the poor. "The refugee residing amont you must be treated as your native-born. Love them as yourself, for you were once refugees in Egypt." Leviticus 19:34, and God "defends the cause of the orphan and the widow, he loves the refugee residing among you, giving them food and clothing" Deut 10:18. This isn't to say it was always easy. We had struggles making sure he stayed in school, because he had classes he didn't understand and didn't know or want to talk to the Principal about it. He said from the beginning that he wanted to work to help pay off the debts his mother had loaned to smuggle him out of Pakistan, which were significant, and which we understood. There seemed to be a language barrier, in that we'd agree on something (like, we will leave tomorrow at 4:00 to sign you up for a gym membership), but he wouldn't come home! Those were the times I wondered if it was the English barrier, or if verbal agreements were more relaxed where he's from. I think it was a combination of both.

But overall, we loved having him live with us. He was so sweet and respectful. He cleaned up after himself, and played tee ball and soccer with Axel. And we had the best conversations. We talked endlessly about the Afghani/Pakistani cultures, what he hated and what he missed. He said that once he left Pakistan and arrived in Sweden, he couldn't believe that boys and girls could walk around freely in public. In Pakistan that might get you arrested, or worse. He even felt uncomfortable calling his Swedish teachers by their first name, which he felt was very disrepectful (which I agree with, American culture is similar in that sense). But he got most passionate when he talked about how overly controlling the culture is, especially over women. Women are not valued at all. They can be beaten by their husbands without intervention because their husband owns them. Their families marry them off as teenagers because they are not allowed to study and having a family is their only purpose. I have no problem with women having the sole purpose and desire to have a family, but the fact that it's forced and they have no choice is very sad to me. We loved hearing how Jan had realized what he had been forced to believe, and how he was forming his own opinions for the first time in his life, without fear or coercion.

A month ago, he decided he didn't want to continue in summer school, or school at all for that matter, because he wanted to work. We encouraged him to stay in school for the benefit of his future, but he said school would come after he paid off his debts. We were fine with this, but our rule for living for free in our house was that he must go to school. Furthermore, he had just turned 18, so he was an adult who was capable of making his own decisions and living on his own. So we all decided it would be best if he start looking for his own apartment, and start his new life. He was sad at first, even though we talked a lot about it. But after a few days we sat down again to talk, and he said he had realized that us making him move was the best thing that could have happened for him. He said that, at our house, he was starting to become unmotivated and sleep in too much, and had no concrete plans for his future. He hadn't made plans to get a summer job, even though he wasn't even in school. So this little kick in the butt had turned out to give him so much inititative to start planning his new life! He quickly got a job at a restaurant, he received permanent residency in Canada, he found a room to rent for very cheap, AND he got his work permit. Total answers to prayer.

Yesterday, we moved him out. As he and I were getting into the car, Johan gave him a hug and told him to always consider our house a place where he was always welcome. That we're always here for him. Then he said "Let's see eachother again soon, okay? But before heaven!" They laughed and both said "InShaAllah", which means, "God willing" in Arabic, a phrase Jan uses all the time.

I drove him to his new apartment and met his new roommate, who was a very sweet guy from the Philippines. The apartment wasn't fancy, and you could tell a guy lived there, but it was roomy and had everything he needed. And realistically, who's first apartment is nice?? I don't think anyone at that age has a nice first apartment, and pretty much everyone needs to go through the experience of living in that first apartment, sharing a room, it's part of growing up! I thought it was great. Jan then walked me to down to the parking lot to say goodbye.  I gave him a hug (totally not allowed in Pakistan!) and told him that I was so proud of him and happy that so much had worked out. He said he was so thankful for everything we had done for him, and that he had so much hope and excitement for his future. I am pretty sure that he felt the proudest of himself he's felt in a while.

As I drove away, it felt like something so hard (making him make this step to move out), had become so good. I don't believe he would have accomplished all of this had he stayed at our house. Even though it was definitely the more secure, comfortable option, this scary plunge of his proved to show him that he is capable of succeeding and taking care of himself. But we made sure he knows he will always have a family in Toronto (Us).

Our Good Friday Message

I've been thinking for weeks about how I wanted to write this post. I wanted to make sure that it wasn't arrogant, that it wasn't offensive, that it showed the right amount of empathy and humanity. Because we recently decided to welcome a refugee teenage boy into our home. Then I realized....who cares?? His story needs to be heard, and it doesn't really interest me if anyone is against this or that because of the political fearful climate surrounding refugees these days. This story isn't about that, it's about a sweet teenage boy. And he gave me permission to share this story.

I received an email a couple of months ago from a girlfriend from church, asking us, on behalf of the Romero House (a local Toronto organization that helps refugees upon arrival in Toronto) if we'd be willing to house a 17 year old unaccompanied minor who recently arrived in Toronto. After a lot of talking, we decided to meet with Ellen, the social worker from Romero House. She started off the conversation by describing Jan Ali to us, that he was a pretty typical teenage boy, he liked sports, had a cell phone, was very social...and he speaks about 8 languages, including Swedish. Say what? We speak Swedish at home, and that was actually one of my concerns, that we'd have to give up our language culture. Pretty amazing! After that meeting, we felt a bit more comfortable with the idea, but still wanted to meet him. So Ellen came by with him to our house and we all had Swedish fika and tea. He was so very polite and sweet, and spoke conversational English. So fast forward about two weeks, and we were driving over to his temporary apartment to pick him up. And he's been a member of our family ever since. 

The first weekend we were all together, we took him skiing at a local mountain. It was his first time skiing, and he took off like a pro. Pretty quickly, we took him to a black diamond run, and he fell and tumbled like a snowball. Then, on the chair lift on the way up, he told me, "Let's go back to that run, I'm going to get it". Right then, I knew what kind of a kid he was. 100% determination. I think he'll fit in with our family quite well!

Romero House suggests that we not ask too many questions about their past, because they are constantly having to "prove" themselves to border agents, judges, etc, that their story is true. So we took our time and let conversations happen as they came. However, Jan was never shy about talking about his history or his people. He is a Hazara. His people are originally from Afghanistan. If you've read the book, The Kite Runner, you'll have an idea of their history. They have been persecuted by other Muslims for over a century, but especially in recent years with the rise of the Taliban and other insurgents. His family was driven from Afghanistan when he was four years old and fled to western Pakistan, where they lived ever since. His father was killed when he was very young, and his brother-in-law was killed by a bomb in Pakistan. Hazaras are hated because they do not believe in the same kind of Islam as Sunni Muslims. They are Shia Muslims, so they are not considered to be "real" Muslims by extremists. I honestly still don't know the main differences, but I'm determined to learn. Hazara men are also especially targeted, leaving only the women and children to fend for themselves. The Hazaras from Jans tribe in Pakistan live in Quetta. However, they are allowed a space up in the mountains outside of the city, and they are forced to stay within the small designated area for them. If they go outside those borders, they may be killed. Hazaras are an ethnic people with very distinct facial features, so they cannot blend in with other cultures, they are easily spotted. Jan described being a little kid and often never being allowed outside for fear of danger. He said it became so normal for people to enter their village and set off a bomb, or for there to be hangings outside, that people (even he) stopped reacting to them. That made my heart absolutely sick. To think of the things this sweet boy and his family have had to experience and witness throughout their lives.

Jan recently found another Hazara refugee here in Toronto who just happens to have grown up just a couple of blocks from where Jan grew up! Also amazing. We were talking about the violence in Quetta, and Zakir (Jan's friend) said that he recently went to the Dr. in Toronto and was told he had shrapnel in his leg. "From a blast", he said, shrugging it off as if it were nothing.

Jan escaped Quetta and Pakistan when he was 15 years old. Let me repeat that, he was 15 years old. He hired a private guide and walked for months across the Middle East from Pakistan all the way to Turkey. Once there, he took trains heading north, with the end goal being Sweden. Once he was in Sweden, he was told he couldn't stay. Sweden had decided they couldn't allow in any more refugees due to the Syrian refugee crisis. Jan said that when he arrived in Sweden, he walked into the country with dozens of other refugees escaping the crisis. There were so many, no one said a word, they just led them straight to the refugee camps. He lived there, in a refugee camp, for one year. When he found out he wasn't going to be allowed to stay, that he might be sent home, he got desperate. He bought a fake passport and decided to go to the country everyone said would accept him: Canada. His flight from Sweden had a stop in Iceland, where he said a border agent was asking him questions. His passport said he was from the Czech Republic, and he was shaking in his knees, hoping that they'd let him pass. They did. He said that one thing he remembers about Iceland was that he was so thirsty, but had no money to buy a water. He had spent all of his money on a passport that he couldn't even buy water. I just thought "but why didn't you ask for tap water?" But then you realize the language and cultural barrier, and simple things to us are not always apparent to foreigners. Once arriving in Canada, he went to the border agent, and immediately told them that he was a refugee. Since he knew no one in Toronto and had no place to stay, they took him to a detention facility. Jan didn't realize that's what it was, he thought it was some sort of housing for men. But when they only allowed him to go outside once a day, he told them that he needed to get out of there. They let him go and speak to another border agent, who directed him to the Romero House. Romero House quickly set him up with a host family where he could live. The husband of this family was a Christian pastor with a wife and an 18 month old daughter, with another child arriving any day. So Jan stayed with them for about a month before moving in to a temporary apartment at the Romero House. This was when we got the email. 

I realize that this story is a lot to process. But to be honest, from the day Jan moved in, it hasn't felt like a burden or shock to us at all. It really feels like God has blessed this all in its entirety. We always knew our Toronto house was too big for us, but that there was a reason for it. It has been a total blessing to have Jan join our family. Not just because we have been able to help a boy in need, but because we are learning so much from him. My heart aches for the freedom of the Hazara people, people I had never even thought about before. We are talking a lot about how to bring his family to Canada, which is, as expected, his first priority. He is in high school, taking math, computer programming, and English. He wants to be a computer programmer. We have encouraged him to stay in school and even go to a two-year college after so that he can have a good future, and take care of his family if they do end up making it here. But lately, the story of the persecution of the Hazara people has been heavy on my heart. I often sit up and read about people who are involved in their freedom. We are even looking into ways to sponsor his family to come to Canada. A tricky thing is that Hazaras are so persecuted, that it is often hard for them to be declared refugees within countries local to Afghanistan. Pakistani police may even harm them. But this stuff isn't too big for our God.

So today, on Good Friday, the day when Jesus was betrayed by his own and taken to the cross, we celebrate his sacrifice by breaking bread with Jan and his new Hazara friend, Zakir. Jan's entrance into our family has brought with it new Indian music, amazing spices, chicken biryani, and lots of languages. But to me, the best part is sitting around the table, eating together or playing Yahtzee, soccer, basketball, or tee ball, listening to middle eastern, salsa, and Swedish music, sharing our different foods, switching between speaking Swedish, English, Spanish, and Hazara, and realizing that we are here because Jesus asked us to love our neighbors. 

Toronto: Year One

It's crazy that one year has already gone by since we moved. It feels so raw when I remember back to how sad it was to say goodbye to our home, family, and friends. But so much has happened this past year that I wanted to summarize, just in case next year really sucks.

Canadians
I came to Toronto thinking that Canadians (Torontonians, I guess) would be so Euro. They're on the east coast, close to Europe, I expected a culture shock. But there was none. In fact, the people are not much different than Californians. Wait, let me clarify, they're not much different than Californians from larger cities. You go to small town Cali (like my hometown), and you get a completely different persona. So coming from San Diego, where people are very integrated into different cultures, lifestyles, etc, it was no biggie for us.

HOWEVER, there were a few noticeable differences that I did notice from the beginning that only we could chuckle at. Because when you're the newbie, you can't make fun of the rest of the population for how "different" they are, because really, we're the ones that are different. So you have to suffer alone and just keep the jokes to yourselves, because no one will laugh but you:

1. They say "ash-phalt" instead of "asphalt". Come on, people!
2. They curse a lot. They drop F bombs in front of their kids even. Except they're so sweet and kind when they talk, that you barely even notice that they're cursing.
3. They all say "eh". ALL of them do!
4. They hate the cold. Seriously, we're from California, and we were outside every day during the winter. All of our neighbors were huddled inside.
5. They're so very kind. I always thought Californians were kind and welcoming. Torontonians have us beat. We felt welcomed every where we met someone new, and people always seemed interested in getting to know us.
6. They have a huge lake (Ontario), but no one swims in it! They say it's too dirty. When they tell me that, I tell them that when I was a kid I swam in drainage ditches lined with foam from the pesticides.

I don't really have any complaints about Toronto. It's a fabulous city with so much to do, and it's beautiful with it's lush greenery and huge canopied trees and European style mansions. However, there is one complaint, that, as a civil engineer, drives me absolutely bonkers. The traffic engineering design is the worst I've ever seen in a major metropolitan city in the developed world. For example, there are rarely any left turn lanes, so if you're driving, you hope to god no one decides to turn left, otherwise, you're stuck behind them until all the opposite traffic passes. Also, there are normally two driving lanes on both sides of the street, however, they allow people to park there, so it cuts it down to one. Add that, on top of getting stuck behind someone turning left, and get ready to welcome the road rage. When we first moved here, I'd yell at Johan "Don't do it! Don't make yourself turn left, for fark's sake!" The freeway design isn't any better and is equally frustrating. It takes forever to cross the city from one end to the other. Hence, we take the subway whenever we can.

Axel loved his first year in junior kindergarten. I started him off going Monday, Wednesday, Friday full days, then I'd send him half days on Tuesdays and Thursdays so that he could have a nap and we could spend time together. However, soon after he started asking if he could stay all day, every day. Okay, sniff sniff, off you go, little bird! There are a million kids in our neighborhood, three of his best friends live on our street and were all in the same class. It was wonderful to be able to walk together to and from school, and play together in the park after school. There is also an amazing community of moms that I've never experienced before (well, I've never had a child in school, so I don't have much to compare it to!). But they are all so fun and kind, and we've had a couple of large get-togethers, as well as monthly wine nights mostly for the moms on our street who know eachother a bit better. They've become my closest friends here.

Axel is still crazy. Johan and I have started calling him Axi Boom Boom. I don't know where that came from. But the kid is still a mini Evel Kneivel. Moms who don't know him panic when they see climbing up and jumping off of 5 foot walls, or riding his bike or scooter as fast as possible off the road into a neighbor's yard or grass ditch, only to throw himself into it. Sometimes if he's bored, he'll make a ramp on our driveway, launch off it with his skateboard into the street until he reaches the grass ditch across the street and throw himself into it. He just likes to crash and fall. But he never gets hurt. I guess he's been doing it for so long he's learned how not to get hurt. I was joking to the neighbors that he's like a cat, if you threw him off the roof he'd still land on his feet.

This year, he learned how to ice skate, play hockey, snowboard, go off jumps at the terrain park with his skis, play t-ball, and swim on his back. Now it's soccer season, and he's working on getting the ball in the air when he shoots. He's starting to shoot really hard. Here's a video of him with a nice left into the goal:

Here's a couple of videos of him at the terrain parks at four yrs old:

Johan loves his job. He's got amazing co-workers who make work fun, which makes for a great work atmosphere. He loves taking the subway or riding his bike to work because he hates driving a car to work and sitting in traffic. He is still making strides to find an effective treatment and cure for cancer. The goal is still for his company to have good enough results to get a drug on the market within the next 3 years, so that his company can be sold, at which time we'd move back to San Diego.

I also love my job. I work three days a week, which gives me a really good balance of work, having time to run errands, and spending time Axel and my neighbors. I started a boot camp for my neighbor moms back in the Fall and we're still going strong! We'd drop the kids off at school, then go to the park and bust our booties. It's been a fun way to get together twice a week.

This month, we celebrated midsummer, Swedish style, with our neighbors. I was so impressed at how well everyone embraced the cultural traditions. They helped prepare food and drink, walked out into the forest to pick flowers for the maypole and the flower crowns, and even sang a song in Swedish and drank our homemade schnapps!

We really have the best neighbors. I really credit them for making us love Toronto so much. I told Johan, I don't think I'd ever want to live somewhere just because it was beautiful or had good weather, I need to live somewhere where I love the people. Whether they're family or friends; Surrounding yourself with good, loving people makes it possible (and enjoyable) to live pretty much anywhere.

Life Lately

I never wrote about our trip to California for Thanksgiving. It was so so good. Everything was beyond our expectations. I remembered how much I love and miss California. We remembered how amazing San Diego is, and the time with our family and cousins, and friends was so good and precious. I love our family. 

Until just recently, we've been struggling with either keeping Axel in his bed the entire night, or getting him to stay in his bed until a decent hour in the morning. For crying out loud, there were a couple of nights this Fall when he woke up at 3:00 a.m. Ready to take on the day. We have no idea what was going on then. But we've realized that sleep training doesn't end after they quit being a baby. 

We haven't completely solved the staying in bed issue. I have learned the solution, though, we just aren't consistent enough to make it happen. You just have to stick with your rules, and you have to be realistic. We normally say that any time after 6:00 a.m. is an allowable wake up time. He goes to bed at 6:00 p.m., and he needs 12 hours of sleep, so 6:00 a.m. Is reasonable. If Axel wakes up before then, he has to go back to bed. The big question, however, for the strong willed child is: "Or what??" How do you make a strong willed child go back to bed? It really is about consistency. Lead them back, sleep in the bed with them if you have to. You may fail the first couple of times, but if you are consistent, the kid will eventually accept that he should just go back to bed. Our strong-willed child meter tips the scales, and we've struggled with this for about a year and a half, and it's just now starting to bear fruit. So have hope! Be consistent, and be strong!

Food is another thing we've struggled with, like practically every other parent. Granted, Axel has always been a great eater, we've gone through more of a control and attitude phase regarding food. It didn't matter what we put in front of him, as soon as he saw it, he'd make the most hideous face, pretend to gag, fall out of his chair, and pretend he was dying. Just like I described. It was drama every night at our house at 5:00 p.m. And it wasn't that he didn't like food, it was that he wanted to have control over his food. He wanted to decide, because he knew that he was 4 and he had a voice to be heard and that we listened. However, that didn't mean that we had to give in and let him eat peanut butter and jelly sandwiches every night. Instead, we negotiated. Being that Axel is basically a barbarian and needs extreme quantities of food to supply his high energy lifestyle, it didn't work to let him go to bed hungry. We tried that and it backfired on us when he consistently woke us up at 1:00 a.m. begging for food. Our rule was that if he didn't eat his dinner he didn't get to watch a show before bed. He gets to watch a show on tv in the morning after breakfast, and at night before bed. It was his luxury, his treat. So that was a big bargaining tool for us, and it worked pretty well. There have been several ugly tantrums here and there in between, but in general, we've been consistent with the rule, and it works. Now, there are still foods that he didn't want to try, but he'll at least try them. Another thing is that he is obsessed with being big and strong. So we tell him that he needs to eat his growing food if he wants to be big and strong. Cha-ching, that is working better and better. 

This month I started leading a boot camp with my mom friends on my street. I kind of suggested we do it as a joke, and now they are so invested that we meet every Tuesday and Thursday morning after dropping the kids off at school! I like to yell things at them like "No weakness!" And "This isn't ballet class!" (I got that one from my UCLA gym trainer). Other times I just tell them that they can quit, but then they're not going to get buns of steel. Then I dangle a cookie in front of them as they push weight up a hill then throw the cookie away. Okay, all of these things are lies, but we joke about them being reality in the near future. But seriously, I have some badass Mom girlfriends. They never complain, they are always eager, and they're freaking tough!

Hockey is our new sport obsession. Since we now live in the north, and there are ice rinks at every street corner, it only makes sense that we play hockey. Plus, Axel's older friend plays hockey and he wants to be just like him. He started taking ice skating lessons in early December, and after a couple of weeks, he's already skating like a pro. He can definitely skate faster than me, but I've also just started learning. The other day he and Johan were trying to teach me how to stop, which is the hardest part of ice skating. It's terrifying, actually. But it's so easy for Axel. He kept showing me, saying "just like this, Mamma", it was really cute, and also humbling that my 4 year old was trying to teach me something that he was better at than me. At least it will be many years before he's better than Johan.

There was a mom blogger who, a couple of weeks ago, wrote that for Christmas, she likes to think of a phrase her kids said a lot that year and put it on a coffee mug. I told Johan that my coffee mug would say: "You're the meanest Mom in the Whole world". Or the most recent one that I got yesterday was "Mamma, I'm not going to invite you to my birthday party!" I laughed at that one, cause good luck getting Pappa to organize it for you (Johan is the best at everything else, by the way). One evening I told Axel I was making Swedish oven pancake for dinner. He was so excited and even helped me make it. It's an egg, flour, and milk batter, but it's savory and I usually add bacon and a vegetable to the batter and bake it in a form in the oven. When I pulled it out of the oven he threw himself on the kitchen floor in tears screaming "That's not a pancake, you're the meanest Mamma in the Whole world!" I was speechless at that point.

Sometimes it feels like he has so much frustration. I always have to wait it out, then we talk about it after, when he's calm, kiss, hug, and admit that we do actually love eachother. But then there are the nights when we're watching his show together on the couch before bed, and we snuggle and wrap ourselves together in a blanket, and he lets me wrap him like a burrito in a blanket and carry him to bed. Then I think "At least he doesn't hate me all the time". 

No More Toys

Mom just left us after visiting for two weeks and we already miss her. It's so nice having her around. She and Axel have so much fun together and are so silly. He cried when she left. Come back soon mom! At least we can look forward to Johan's family visiting soon.

For about a year, we've been experiencing extremely embarrassing we-are-raising-the-most-spoiled-child-on-earth tantrums. They revolve around one thing: buying him toys, candy, etc. when we're out. It didn't matter if we were in the grocery store, the subway, or the airport, he would find something he wanted and wreak havoc when he didn't get it. My Mom witnessed it at its worst...in San Francisco on vacation, Axel was a maniac, throwing himself on the floor left and right, yelling and screaming for this and that. It was obviously our fault. We would give in and buy him things every now and then. But the tantrums got so bad that we would have to throw him over our shoulder, kicking and screaming bloody murder. It was beyond embarrassing. I could imagine what all of the people watching were thinking: "Those parents sure spoiled that little hell raiser". And they, to some extent, were right. We needed to learn to say no. And do it consistently.

So one day recently, Johan and I came upon an idea how to cut the tantrums and quit spoiling our child.  We all sat down and had a family discussion. Our new rule was that, from then on, we would buy NO MORE TOYS. Gasp! Yes, that's right. No more. The exceptions were birthdays and Christmas, which we also have gift limitations on, but that's another story. So since we were no longer going to buy Axel toys, if he wanted something, he was going to have to buy it himself. He would have to help me clean the house, pick up his room, help cook dinner, help with the gardening, etc. And the great thing is, he is really good at all of these things! But he had to work and save up his money.

And do you know what happened next? The kid owned up! This has created an amazing change in him. He still asks for us to buy him things when we're out now and then, but then we ask him "Do you have your money?" and "Do you have enough?" He is so proud to be working to save up his money. He is currently saving up to buy a Darth Vader Star Wars light saber, and he's almost there! We were at the mall the other day and he almost had a breakdown over that light saber, but I was able to talk to him about our deal, that we could come back after he had saved up enough money. Amazing! No tantrum! It's amazing the attitude shift when you're forced to work for what you want, instead of always being given whatever you want. It's kind of like real life.

Next issue to tackle...keep the kid in his bed an entire night. Until next time.....

I hate (I mean, heart) soccer

Everyone warned us about the intensely hot and humid Toronto summers. But this has been one of the most beautiful summers we've ever seen. It's been about high 70's almost the entire time and lots of sunshine. It rains about once a week for a short period, just enough to keep the grass green. But the weather here has been amazing. Here are some photos I took during some of my runs. I like to run beside the Humber river because it passes right by our house.

So apparently, we are raising the energizer bunny. Over the course of almost a year, Axel has slowly become more and more obsessed with soccer, and has basically lost all interest in anything that doesn't involve kicking a round object into a net as hard as he can. The only people we've found that can keep up with his energy are his cousins Elise and Eliana who are 11 and 13 (no surprise, they're practically junior national soccer champions), and our friends' 8 and 10 year old boys. So basically, big kids. 

He wakes up, eats breakfast, watches a couple of cartoons, then at about 7:45 a.m. it's game time. That goes on until about 7:45 p.m. when we have to bribe him by any means possible to come inside and take a bath and go to bed. 

So take this amount of energy, couple it with us moving to a new country where we have no friends to distract us even momentarily from the soccer, and add into that me home full time with Axel all summer long and you get this:

So I counted down the days until the end of June when school would be out in Toronto and summer camps start! I decided to put him into a half day soccer camp (obviously), hoping that if he played all morning long that he'd be all soccered-out by he time he came home and would be ready for a nap. Ha ha, novice me! But apparently, there are no real soccer camps for 4 year olds. Well, there are, but they aren't soccer boot camps, which my son needs. He doesn't want to play "baby soccer" where it's all non-competitive and all you do is try to hit a bright cone with the ball, (which I am all for, by the way), but he was absolutely insistent that he play real big boy soccer. He wants fierce sprinting, and falling, and playing until he drips sweat and mud. And goals. Lots and lots of goals.

So I lied. I told the soccer camp that he was 5 and figured he'd just have to hang with the big boys. The first couple of days were rough. He was obviously the littlest camper, and there was only one other 5 year old at the whole camp! So basically, everyone else was between 6 and 12 years old. He'd come home complaining that he never got to score and couldn't run faster than the big kids. But I'm proud of him, he stuck it out for three weeks. And towards the end, he started to learn a lot, score goals against the big kids, and even made friends. I spied in on them once during a scrimmage and I couldn't believe how little he looked. All the kids were playing together, and then there was little 4 year old Axel playing with some big 6 to 12 year olds! When the ball wasn't in his part of the field, he'd go up to a big kid and start to get them to wrestle with him. I was so proud of him for not being intimidated and how well he made friends with everyone. On his last day, all the big kids yelled goodbye and gave him high-fives. Pretty dang cute.

Since then, I decided to put him in a camp with kids his own age. Really, it was mostly because I didn't like the language influence the older kids had on him. Some of them used language that we didn't want him exposed to this young. We had several good talks with him about it. We explained that the words that come out of your mouth are very important. They should be always be used to be kind and to love other people. He seemed to take it to heart and understand. But now he's in an age appropriate sports camp. It's a bit boring for him because he wants to play the real sport, not just a rendition of the sport made easier for 4 year olds. But he's having fun and making friends. 

But just those 3 hours every morning help me regain my sanity, and even prepare myself for an entire afternoon of playing with the energizer bunny. Oh, and that whole idea that maybe playing soccer or sports all morning might tire him out and get us off the hook from having to play at home....rubbish. He's somehow more pumped up and ready to go once he gets home. 

At Least he still naps. Which is another funny story. Johan couldn't handle how active Axel was so late at night and wanted him to go to bed earlier, so he told me I needed to take away his nap. So I did, and Axel started going to bed at 6:00 p.m. And I still looked like the beat down mom in the picture above. But then during the weekends, after an entire day of Axel and no nap break for us, Johan could barely see straight. So he told me to put him down for a nap the next day. So now, we nap. 

Our daily life is intense. I'm sure it would be less so if we let him watch more tv or iPad, but we choose not to. His intensity might be in the upper 99th percentile of any child his age, but it's what makes him Axel. And I guess a good thing is that we are all adventurous. Life with Johan was always exciting to begin with. But throw Axel into the mix, and life is still exciting, but now we all get a good workout in the meantime.

Love, Respect, and Bad Lyrics

Some of you may have heard of Jens Lekman. He's a Swedish musician who has a beautifully captivating voice, but (in my opinion) he's the most terribly awkward songwriter, in English, at least. He wrote a song with lyrics that go "she said it was all make believe but I thought you said maple leaves". Just stuff that doesn't quite make sense or just slightly misses the mark of witty. I used to do a pretty good impression of him where I'd make my voice sound like Harry Connick Jr. and would just spout out nonsense. Anyways, maple leaves, Canada, where was I, not sure. Oh, funny regular occurrence is that since we flew here on Air Canada (which has the red maple leaf just like the national flag on the side of the plane) every time Axel sees a Canadian flag he yells "Air Canada!" Imagine his surprise on Canada Day when the entire country was celebrating our airline? 

We've been adjusting really well. I really didn't think it would go this smoothly. But we've started making friends and having people to meet up with at the park. Axel has made a new best friend, an adorable little neighbor girl named Lilly who is also on his soccer team. They are so cute together.

We were talking today about how thankful we are that we've gotten to live in so many different countries. So far, I've lived in four outside of the U.S. (Spain, Sweden, Belgium, and Canada), and Johan has lived in three outside of Sweden (U.S., Belgium, and Canada). Living in another country, not just visiting, but living there, allows you to really take part in their culture, feel as if you are one of them. And little by little, it allows you to see the world through their eyes. 

It's changed us. It's helped us to empathize and understand a much broader range of people who vary in their race, religion, political beliefs, and culture in general. I came from a very conservative right-wing town where I genuinely believed that you could not be a Democrat or Liberal and still believe in God. Johan comes from a very liberal, left-ist country where the majority believes that George W. Bush was (and still is) the devil. 

And imagine, we got married!

When I was younger and lived in my first countries abroad, I compared people a lot. I compared and I judged. I compared them to my friends and family back home who, in my eyes, were the best and were my idea of normal. I judged them for their liberal, "hedonistic" lifestyles. I remember coming home to Johan after going out to dinner with some new girlfriends in Sweden and saying "None of these people get married! They just live together! And their parents too!!" I'd never been exposed to that lifestyle before, and it was so foreign and very uncomfortable for me to accept.

I later realized how damaging my comparisons and judgements were to any future relationships. They were also hindering me from feeling at home in my current country abroad. Now that we've moved to Canada, and we're a bit wiser in this area, I don't allow myself to compare or critique unless it's a good or constructive critique. Because it's true that comparison is the thief of joy, and judgement is God's job. And this mindset has really made this move amazing. We are loving everything new and different. We love the people, the city, the way of life. 

I also realized, years ago after I got over my discomfort of living among "heathens" (because I myself am so perfect), that there was always something beautiful to take away from each person, no matter our differences. I could be having a conversation with someone who believed completely opposite from me on every level like abortion, politics, religion, health care, but as long as we maintained a mutual respect for each other, it didn't matter that we had nothing in common. I started to become fascinated with why people thought differently than me, and it has helped me to love and respect people more easily and judge less. I am not perfect, but I'm aware of this now. And when I feel the comparisons or judgements creeping in, I now know what to do with them. 

I am no longer the super conservative I used to be, and I think it's safe to say Johan is no longer the ultra liberal either. We've changed. But living in other countries among different people with different beliefs will do that to you. It's a good thing. I think that these past life lessons have prepared us to be able to fully embrace Canada, the lifestyle, and its people. Plus, they speak English here and have Costco, so that helps too :)