Summer continues!
I got my eyelids cut open! It was another Real Surgery, with comical hat and IV and sedatives (hooray!) but it was very quick, and the recuperation is barely a thing at all - basically just getting over the sedative fog immediately after surgery and then putting antibiotic ointment on my newborn eyelid for 2 weeks. I am extremely relieved to have two eyes again, after 5 weeks of 1.5 eyes, and now I'm very antsy to get my contacts back in (which I guess has to wait until I finish the course of antibiotic ointment). My vision is so poor that glasses can't correct it fully, and wearing my glasses makes me feel very vulnerable and kind of half-asleep. Anyway, that adventure seems to be done. My rebuilt eyelid (about half of the margin of the lower lid was built out of tissue cut from the inside of my upper lid) is weird-looking and missing eyelashes, but good enough to pass casual inspection from anywhere more than a few feet away from my face. Cook thinks it's very funny that I am now a person who has had multiple plastic surgeries.
Skipper's Swedish adventure continues; it has been a big one for her. So far she has done all kinds of Swedish things (picked blueberries, gone swimming at 10pm, eaten many meals outside, been very bored at a summerhouse), and some American-person-in-Sweden things (fielding questions about America, being unable to manage Swedish "R"s, hating salt licorice).* She has met a score of Swedish cousins (half of whom I've never met) for the first time, used a credit card, put her contacts on by the light of a phone flashlight, swum with jellies, learned a bunch of solitaire games, and read Pride and Prejudice. She has eaten shrimp that were served whole, Swedish Swedish fish,**and many kanelbullar, and also experienced for the first time a wonderful food that she described as "cold hot chocolate" which was of course ... chocolate milk. This is a photo, courtesy of my mom, of Skipper and cousins swimming at 10pm, dodging jellies.
When I was a kid, we visited Sweden sometimes, almost entirely in the summer, and I experienced it as a really Different place. The kids I met in Sweden were notably independent and creative, and everybody was outside all the time. People had less stuff and lived in smaller spaces. Everybody spent long vacations at summerhouses, but the experience was always more or less like camping - even in the relatively palatial family summerhouse, there was one bathroom for the gajillions of people, supplemented by an outhouse, so everybody had to be thrifty with water and bathroom time. I guess my sense of (summertime) Sweden was a combination of thrift or moderated consumption balanced by an abundance of both time and light, and none of that seemed true about the United States in any season. I look forward to hearing Skipper's impressions.
Duchess was house-sitting for nearly three weeks, and Cook and I had a strange preview of a future empty nest. On the one hand, it has been unexpectedly emotionally hard for me to have both my daughters elsewhere. I feel like my emotional center is reaching constantly for both of them. I don't know how the separation happens - I have to assume that this feeling fades as they grow older and build their own lives and we all become accustomed to being apart, but it feels like maybe it'll be harder than I guessed.
On the other hand, it is really, really, nice to be able to decide what we want to do/eat/watch/listen to/etc without having to anticipate and/or deal with the kids. We have been eating and enjoying a lot of foods Skipper hates, like spinach and chard. Cook and I decided to go for a little hike, and we just went. We had a great walk. Nobody whined or dawdled, nobody complained about the drive or about being dragged on a hike, and nobody got cranky that we had packed only snacks and didn't get lunch until we got home. It was wonderful. (I told this story to a couple of my childfree-by-choice friends and they were very smug.)
Duchess is working as a camp counselor, her first full-time job, and finding it very tiring. She got her first full paycheck, and marveled that she was getting so much money and also that it seemed like much less money than the work felt worth.
*Over the last few years I have begun to recognize some ways in which my mom's Swedishness has affected my life and personality. I never thought of myself as a child of an immigrant - my dad is American, my mom speaks perfect American English, and I don't speak Swedish and am entirely a tourist when I visit Sweden. But some of my approach to the world is informed by a Swedish perspective (pragmatic, fond of pale wood), and some of my lifelong sense of not-quite-fitting is probably informed by growing up in a Swedish-inflected household, in which candy was eaten only on Saturdays, shoes were never worn in the house, and performativeness and excess were avoided. There was always something un-American about us (though admittedly that was probably in large part due to my weird American dad's insistence that we not have a television). Anyway, it's just that I always thought I was all American, and now I see there's a little bit of something else there, too.
**She claims they're different than American Swedish fish - larger and more delicious.
