Good days and dirt


It’s Easter. Holiday. Time off. Lots of expectations and possible frustrations.

But today and yesterday life has been so sweet. The girls have been amazing. We have had no plans. Just the 4 of us and time. There has been no screaming. Not in the ridicolous amount that sometimes occurs anyways. Almost sisterly bliss almost all the time.

And I have felt goddamn lucky!

There has been eastereggs and Lego on the table. Lots of playing and entertaining.

Jolina has been such a big girl helping me and wanting to take part in the tasks. We have baked, gone shopping for seeds, and she has helped me sow them in the garden.

And the garden is playing a big part in life right now.

Yesterday Alan and I went to the garden center and spent way too much money. But we spent it on things we dream about. Plums, nectarines, apples and lots of berries to pick in the summers to come. Harvesting fresh fruit and veggies just outside our door.

And my mum took the girls for a couple of hours while Alan and I worked hard digging, shoveling, planting and watering. It was an awesome two hours. Working so hard without disturbances! We were so efficient just the two of us, and we just sweated away in our little garden bubble without having to help anybody down the slide/trampoline/tree. Even though that of course also is a very nice thing to do, and normally we really enjoy watching the girls play in the garden. But being able to work nonstop was quite good too.

And that is very much what I need right now.

To take my mind off all the things I don’t want to think about, moving blackberry bushes or planting seedlings is just perfect, and the big showel is awesome. The hard dirty work of the earth is good for occupational therapy.

So I have perhaps gone crazy spending my entire student funding this month on trees and seeds. But it’s money well spent on a dream and hope of green and awesome seasons to come.


The girls were supposed to be in bed..



The nectarine tree and my view from the bench today.



And suddenly the sun was out, and the girls had taken of most of their clothes.


The little seedlings. They make me so excited.


Goodnight from the happy gardener.


Nothing much to say, but I will try anyways


This post is sad and I don’t even really want to write it. But without it the blog will just fade out, cause I am sure not going to write anything else.

Alan’s grandad passed away. He was a strong, strong man, and he fought hard to the end. We are all sad, and it feels wrong to not ever get to see him again. He always called me slim. Even when I wasn’t. Always so lovely. A great man.


I have been dealing with some health issues. Quite anxiety based, and I finally got my doctor to send me off to further tests at the hospital. Because I basically thought I was dying all the time. All in my head perhaps, but still there.

The tests were supposed to make me feel safe and better. To show me that there is nothing wrong and that I am not sick.

Yesterday at the intestinal test (yay for that ugly image) they found something. Something they could not just remove there, so they had to send me off for more tests, tissue testing and an operation at another hospital.

It was very strange how the mood changed in the hospital room, from the nice nurses trying to chat and joke to take my mind off the uncomfort (or we can say annoying pain) of having a camera up my bum, to the sudden serious mood when the doctor found the nasty polyp. And all I could think of apart from dying was that it’s so unfair thinking of all the broccoli I have eaten.

It’s probably nothing (touch wood). And most often these growths are not dangerous. But for somebody with a serious anxiety fear of cancer and dying, it’s a bad situation.

Every other moment I am thinking its going to be ok. That it has to be ok. And the next I am thinking about who I can match Alan up with to give the girls a nice stepmom.

It’s ridiculous. Painful and annoying. And I just want those feelings to go away. And I want the ugly growth out.

But for now its just about waiting. And pass the time watching silly comedies, reading only books with happy-endings, and blocking all that’s not pleasant to think about.

I should know the result middle of next week.

I know all of you will cross your fingers for me. Thanks for that.

The silly drawing is just trying to make it all a bit funny. There should be a card for a colon check-up. Because humour is what you need in a situation like that.


The Dress!


With a capital D – because it deserves it!

And actually it´s not just one Dress, it could in theory be 3 different ones, for the 3 different parties, if I cannot decide on one.. That´s not so bad. Although you must not think that I am going to spend a filthy amount of money on it/them, since we don´t really have that – and in tune with the #YOEF (year of ethical fashion) that would kinda be a sin. So I hope to find something in the thrift shops, in my wardrobe, in somebody else´s wardrobe or in my fabric stash that I can use to sew. And I am not afraid of making my own wedding dress – what do they say “every stitch in your dress will be a tear in your marriage”? Well, I do expect some tears, and I will just make it with a minimum of stitches and hope it does not fall apart as I am wearing it. And if the sewing fails I will buy something that is nice, but obviously not too expensive on a student-wedding-budget. Behold – a challenge! Love challenges.

But I would like to show you what I dream of, and what I have always wished I would get married in.

The Dress:


Elizabeth Taylor in “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”. That dress. That rack. And that waist! Oh dear, if only I could make that with my sewing machine..


Apart from the Elizabeth Taylor one, which I like perhaps because I love the film so much, I am very much into chic styles – and for the daytime wedding(s) we will have, something not too huge and knee-length like these from my pinterest “I do”-board:

dress 2 dress 3 dress



I guess it must be quite obvious that I like lace.


Cannot wait to get started on this project!

So far I have bought this confirmation dress in a thrift shop, so I now have the first piece of fabric.


So, this is happening –



Summer is coming, and with that the 14th of July, where it will be 7 years since Alan and I met that amazing night in the not so classy London-club Ruby Blue.


So we have decided to tie the knot that day. Just low key. Townhall vows and the family who are avaible and want to come.


The following week we travel to London where we are going to have a party in a rugby club that we are fortunate enough to borrow.


And sometime later in the summer we will have a loud party and get drunk with our friends.


Its been a long process of deciding and trying to plan it out. What we would like. What we could afford. And now we have a date, and I am so happy.


It is no huge dreamy princess wedding. No grand ball. No inviting the whole Danish and English family to some luxury resort.  That will have to wait till we are rich one day. And no choice whether to have it in Denmark or England. We will simply just do both. And it will be for the girls as much as for us. Two hopefully cosy day-weddings where the kids can play and we can bathe in sun and love.


3 lovely parties in all, so we can celebrate it with as many as possible. And with each other.


There is lots and lots and lots of planning still. Dress. Food. A ring. Cake. All the things that cost but are so nice to dream about.


I am excited! Yay!



Drowning in a sea of snot


The last week has been a week drowning us in self-pity. Snot. And a little bit of sick.

We have all been ill, taken turns and had it more or less horrible, but I was the last in line, and am just barely sniffling up to the surface now. Totally man-flu that I got from Alan. Or man-plague actually.

A bad infection is being fought with penicillin, and I am hoping to get better soon. And that this turn of sickness then ends here. That it does not start over again with someone else in the family. Please. Don’t. Start. Over. Again.

It has been a tough week for other reasons. It seems all anybody has wanted to eat has been white sugar crap. Even I thought the veggies looked yuk and grosse. And of course white sugar crap does not make anyone well. It comforts for five minutes but then the good things stop. And with nobody really eating, nobody has really fancied cooking either, so it has been a week of pretty lousy quick solutions. And foul moods.

Today I cooked properly, with veggies and spices, fresh eggs (and ok – sausages, sue me) for the first time in what felt like ages. We ate in happiness. Nobody went on the naughty step, and it felt so amazingly blissful after a week of frustrations.

We had a picture perfect Instagram moment of playing, cutting easter ‘gækkebreve’ letters and cuddling on the sofa. And the best thing was, it didn’t even go to Instagram, cause my phone wasn’t there. So it will just be mentally stored.

My grandmother called and ordered me to get well soon and look properly after myself, and that’s always nice to hear somebody say! Thank you, I will do my best and rest, Granny.

So because I did not have the energy to blog, while it was all horrible, I am now sending some good vibes out there.

I feel like anything is possible – hey, I even managed to clean the cutlery drawer and the disgusting bin-cupboard after I sanitized all the knobs in our house today!

Then you just know its spring soon.


– and Roxie has been crazy talented back in daycare. Cute Easter birdie !

Enter awesomeness!


Last year Alan and I went to this amazing 80s party in town. The highlight of our year.

Today there is exactly one month till we are going again. I can’t wait.

We need some glitter, glam and awesomeness in our lives. And romance. Lots of romance. Alan is a dude who dances, and that’s one of the reasons he is the best! He especially enjoys dancing to cheesy 80s music.

This year I am thinking about making myself into a Robert Palmer ‘addicted to love’ kinda girl, and Alan will be either Magnum P. I. or Ziggy Stardust. Sounds great, right!












Friday on my planet


Today has been a good day.

No classes at uni, but a great meeting at the local museum where I will be doing my internship from September. I went to see them, because I have a good idea for an extra project I want to do with them. And luckily they said yes to that.

So now I just have to excel. Be effing brilliant. So they remember me if they ever know of a job-opening somewhere in the museum biznizz.

I am excited. And happy. And apart from my chest hurting (because appearantly you can try to breastexamine yourself too much) I feel good.

I picked up Jolina early-ish and we went home to make muffins, juice some fruit and veg, and prepare a nice chicken stock from scratch. Because I needed to do something that oozed surplus energy and made me feel better about my cooking/health/mommy-talents.

And it was a success. It worked well. Jolina was interested, helped peel, cut and tasted. It was picture perfect. No temper tantrums from either of us.

The afternoon went by, and suddenly it’s evening – and on a Friday night, it seems no matter how early you take the kids to bed, they still hit that overtired screaming point. And they also did today. But Alan is singing them their lullabies right now, and I can try just to remember the fun we had, and not the hysteric crying.

I am so glad I only made a small batch of muffins though, because I feel they will all be gone before Alan comes down.

The weekend is here.


The museum where I can’t wait to spend time. And try to be amazing.


Our afternoon muffin/juice party.


The girls with their Friday night treat bowls in front of the telly. And some very red icing. Because a little girl dropped the red food coloring, and the mom just thought – oh what the heck.


Alan got home from football just in time to do some circus fun with them before bedtime. Luckily all muffins and other food stayed down.

Also –


Life is weird.


I wrote this post several days ago – a week maybe. I can’t remember. I did not want to post it then. But here goes.

Alan’s grandad is still not out of the woods, but he is a tough old man fighting with everything he’s got. So we hope for the best.

Alan’s passport has expired, so he can’t even go and see him. It makes the distance to London huge.

One of my favorite bloggers received news that her cancer is terminal. And I have no words to give her, because they are all just flat and stupid. I wish I could do more. I just know she once wrote we should meet up at a blogger meeting, and I kept hoping for that. I look up to her for her writing and her personality, she stood up for things, and I was so proud that she wanted to meet me too.
She has a young son. And she has fought so hard. Life is awful and random.

I went to the doctor on Friday with fear of lumps behind my implants. The doctor said it was all fine, but I carry the fear constantly.

We are all coughing, feeling mondayblue- and tired for our different reasons, and I have been a shitty mum and girlfriend today.

I will kiss everyone when they are asleep tonight.

And tomorrow.


I have kissed them all a lot since that Monday.



I am walking back from the daycare. Picking Roxie up early. The walk back is silent, just Roxie’s laugh before she falls asleep In the pram. It gives me time to think of all the places I am passing.

I really like living here. Here, in this small provincial town where I grew up ages ago. It’s safe to me. It’s full of memories. And it’s full of people I love. And full of people I know.

A walk through town will give lots of hellos. Perhaps from some of the librarians at the library that I have known all my life. And who now know my kids. A trip to a cafe will maybe offer smalltalk from people who have gone to my classes in the gym. Or a girl in a shop will be the little sister of somebody I once knew.

It could send some people far away or suffocate them, but I like it.

Truth, with the familiarity of small town life also comes the gossips and rumors, and that does suck, but I like the feeling of everything being connected. Of seeing familiar faces everywhere. Of having known Roxie’s childminder since I was a little girl, and myself being somebody other people remember. A friendly face from somewhere.

I enjoyed living in London and Vancouver too. Mostly because they are awesome cities, but also because of the anonymity. Of going out and being whoever I wanted to be – without anybody knowing my parents or stuff I had done earlier In my life. But that part is not something I miss a whole lot.

Alan and I did have a talk the other day. Of that great tourism position in the London and New York office of Visit Denmark, or what happens when Alan becomes a football star (we know its happening one day!) and is sold off to somewhere cool – Vancouver preferably. What then? Or will or wanderlust take us somewhere else before that?

I can’t imagine it at all. But my lust for traveling is also close to nonexistent. I want to go to Gothenburg to visit my friend. And to London for our family there. But apart from that I would rather just stay here. I really don’t want to be on a beach in Greece or shopping in Barcelona. Totally weird, but true.

It’s almost non-accepted today, in our globalized cheap airfare-ticket world to NOT want to jet off to Thailand, Dubai or Los Angeles. But it’s the truth and now I have said it. I will just stay here, save on energy, be happy.

Cause that’s what I am. Right here on the grey and almost springlike day.