Expat Jon takes on the world (well... Sweden)

I think my Swedish friends think I'm a little bit crazy.  I even think I may be a little bit crazy.  But in a good way.  I'm that "good crazy".  You know how you have that one friend who always has some crazy new idea?  Then the next week, that friend has a new, crazy new idea?   I'm that friend.  The thing is, my ideas are good.  Really good!  With the proper resources, all of my ideas would be successful and heralded by all that know of them. But then another idea comes along.  And that earlier idea becomes... meh.  I mean, it's still a good idea -  a great idea even - but this one is better and it needs all of my focus.  Even though the plan is for me to fully execute the first brilliant idea and then follow up with the even better idea.  But that new idea is so tantalizing that I just have to go all in on it.  Then the other slightly less brilliant idea gets left in the shadows.  You know how this sto...

I can't believe it.  Today marks nine years since that fateful night that Swedie and I met.  It wasn't supposed to happen.  It never is.  That was especially true in our case.  There is this thing called the Atlantic Ocean that sits between our countries.  How could it work?  How could we even meet? I was stationed in Turkey in 2005.  With my job at the control tower, I was unable to take the normal holiday trips that everyone went on when long weekends came up (Memorial Day, Independence Day, etc.).  We would end up taking trips together whenever the runway got it's annual work done on it.  Not as fun as going three buses deep to a party city in Turkey.  I would hear the crazy stories of the parties and European girls.  That's right.  EUROPEAN girls!  I got deployed to Iraq at the beginning of 2005.  I came back just before Memorial Day weekend.  When you come back you get two weeks of R&R.  This...

I did it!  I made it!  Yes!  One year.  One year in Sweden.  One year permanently away from my country.  I want to thank my mom, my stylist, the creative director… But wait.  This shouldn't be that big of a deal.  I mean; it is a milestone, but this is permanent.  I am an "Expat".  I will live here for the rest of my life.  Yikes.  That sentence was hard to type.  Full disclosure: I deleted it twice and considered putting a "(likely)" in there between will and live.  But the word "likely" only softens the blow.  The truth is, this is home.  We're fully settled in.  Home, car, dog and now baby.  The roots are in.  It's official.  The fat lady is "...in the club high singing off key ' And I wish I never met her '…" I'm still wrapping my head around the permanence of our move here.  I think about Swedie when she made that trek across the pond to the US.  That was a big deal, bu...

So the day finally came where we met with other expecting couples.  We were to meet at the midwife's office with seven other couples.  This should be fun.  It would be good to hear other people's stories and perspectives. We were in the elevator and ready to go when I realized that I had forgotten my gloves.  I was going straight to work from the midwife, so I needed my gloves now.  Swedie didn't want to be late (we were ten minutes early already) so she couldn't wait for me to go back up to the apartment on the elevator (2 minutes max!) to get my gloves.  Great start to this moment!  It took me less than two minutes to get back down and somehow Swedie had disappeared.  I walked at a brisk pace in the hope of catching a glimpse of the sprinting pregnant woman that I call my wife.  No sign of her.  She's fast as hell, I guess. So I finished off my THREE MINUTE WALK to the midwife that Swedie was too stressed to wait for me for and ent...

As I get closer to doing some actual parenting, I have been reflecting on the performance of my parents.   I'm sure as most people, I want to take the good things they did for me and apply it to my parenting.  This only guarantees that I will mess this kid up in a completely different way.  I'm fine with that, though.  Messing up kids is the main part of parenting.  During my reflection of my youth, I realized that my parents lied to me a lot.  I was one of those kids that thought my parents could do no wrong and knew everything.  Google didn't exist back then to prove otherwise, so I just took their word for everything. My dad was there full time up until I was 9.  You couldn't tell me that he wasn't the fastest and strongest man in the world back then.  I would argue with kids in school about how strong my dad was.       - My dad can pick up a house!       - Well my  dad can pick up... a... BUILDING! ...

Move over coolest person in the world.  In late February you will play second fiddle to the next generation Expat Jon.  Ouff!  There's a bad muthashutyomouth brewing in Swedie's stomach and I can't wait to unleash him/her on the world.  Being that we're now in the second trimester and I'm allowed to share with you, here's how the journey has gone so far: Discovery So I'm chilling at work and I get a phone call from Swedie.  I'm a little busy, but decide to take the call.       What's up?     Jon.  I've been feeling funny lately and my friend said to take a pregnancy test and I took it.  And, it says I'm pregnant. Now, my reflex/instinct is to panic.  Go into defense mode and see exactly what this chick's motive is.  Ask is she sure.  Get a calendar... Wait a minute.  This is your wife!  The two of you pillow-talk about growing your family together all the time before you fall asleep mid-conve...