My relationship to my breasts was complicated for a long time. I was late to develop, always the shortest one in my class (even though I am now of average height). “All” the other girls had breasts but not me. And my breasts were small, which I was self-conscious about. It was always difficult to find bras, even when I was adult.

When I was pregnant I even worried a bit whether I would be able to breastfeed with such small breasts. But boy did they grow when the milk came in. I was fascinated by the change. Big, round, full breasts, with visible veins. I even had a cleavage!

And they worked great for breastfeeding. Ingrid was over two when I stopped breastfeeding, and I only did it so we could start trying for another kid. Adrian, at over two and a half, still nurses. I won’t really call it “feeding” any more because it’s not about food any more. It’s about intimacy and comfort. Even Ingrid still likes to sit close and lean her cheek against my chest sometimes when Adrian nurses.

During these years I have become friends with my breasts. I now see them more with my kids’ eyes, rather than with others’ eyes. They are yummy and cuddly. They are not there to be looked at, and I really don’t care at all what other people may think of them. Nowadays they are quite small again and it doesn’t bother me the least. I have stopped wearing a bra because I have realized that I don’t need one, even though all the billboards try to sell them to me.

Påskkäringar & påskgubbar (Easter witches). And one Easter bunny.

So we’ve been feeding birds (and other critters) this winter. I’ve streamlined the process for this season. There are no more plastic bags and no more mixing. Instead we now buy bird food in large buckets. I have a one-litre stainless steel measuring jug with which I scoop up half a litre of pre-shelled sunflower seeds from one bucket, to which I add a double fistful of peanuts from the other bucket, and that’s it.

Now that the season is almost over, we had seven or eight large empty buckets in clear plastic. Instead of throwing them away, I gave them to Adrian’s nursery this morning, for the kids to play with.

I thought that maybe they would use them for storing and carrying things. Or maybe they would put the lids on and build towers.

No.

When I got there in the afternoon, I was met by four or five kids, each one wearing a bucket on his head like a space helmet. It was spooky.

The staff told me that these were not helmets, the buckets were mufflers, and they (the staff) were very pleased.

Unfortunately I have no photos of the buckets in use because Adrian was tired and not in the mood. But here’s what they look like with about 5,5 kg of bird food inside. Source: Plantagen.se.

First we made lussebullar, saffron buns. We started off making those mainstream S-shaped buns (kuse) but quickly got bored with those and switched to making B-shaped buns (lussekatt), crossed S’s (julvagn) and other such traditional shapes. (The internets seem to have only one decent image of those shapes.) Then we got tired of those as well and branched out into more creative shapes: twists and braids and spirals of twists… and palm trees and swans and snails. And then we poked in lots of raisins in them all.

Later we baked gingerbread cookies. We have dozens of cookie cutters of all kinds of shapes, so the cookies ended up quite varied. Every year I start off making different kinds of cookies but then end up making mostly Christmas trees, hearts and pigs. They offer the best combination of efficient dough use (not much scrap dough left over between them), easy handling (unlike the reindeer and men with their long fiddly legs that break off), Christmas-themed imagery, and a good shape for later decorating.

Ingrid was making buns and cookies like a pro this year: rolling, kneading, shaping, decorating… Adrian liked playing with the bun dough and adding the raisins (and eating the raisins). Otherwise he wasn’t very interested.

The childless me, from before kids, could probably have imagined having lunch in an Oriental restaurant with two kids, 6 and 2 years old.

I would probably have been able to picture the six-year-old being bored, sliding from the chair down to the floor and climbing back up, then folding the wrapping paper from around the chopsticks into an accordion shape, then pretending to shoot all the villains and the dragons in the picture on the wall, and all the while asking “when will the food come” again and again.

But I don’t think I’d have imagined myself nursing the two-year-old.

Who, by the way, is dressed in pyjamas (because that’s what he wanted to wear this day).

In a green dinosaur-themed pyjama top combined with pastel pink pyjama bottoms with flowers.

Adrian’s monthly post will have to wait until tomorrow, because the object of said post is still awake and showing no signs of wanting to go to bed, at 10 pm. Instead he is sitting on my knee, making funny noises, poking at my boobs, and voicing opinions about what I should be doing on my computer instead of typing (looking at a Pippi movie, or at pictures of him or Eric or dolphins).

During much of last week, I was on my own with Adrian, while Ingrid and Eric were off having fun on their own. (Three days with Eric’s family in the archipelago of Stockholm, and then two and a half days in Gothenburg at Liseberg.)

On the one hand, life was noticeably duller than usual. I’m pretty sure that not only myself but also Adrian missed the others’ company.

On the other hand, meal times were so much calmer, and there were far fewer toys to pick up in the evenings.

It is heart-warming to see and hear Ingrid and Adrian together. They play so nicely with each other, and Ingrid takes such good care of Adrian, that I’m almost afraid to believe it will last – even though it’s been this way since Adrian was born.

When he was a tiny baby Ingrid didn’t quite know what to do with him. But as soon as he could at least sit up and respond clearly to the world outside, she was there, waving toys in front of him and making silly faces at him.

Now their interactions are very different but apparently still pleasing to both. I say “apparently” because they’ve now progressed to a level that I as an adult cannot grasp. Their play is physical, and seems to involve lots of noise, squealing and shouting, and imitating each other. Adrian’s part is entirely non-verbal and much of the time so is Ingrid’s. When she speaks to him, it’s baby talk.

When we are out walking he prefers holding Ingrid’s hand rather than mine.

I wonder how he will react after summer when she goes to school and won’t be at nursery with him any more.

Sunny and warm again, so we went to Skansen.

We spent what felt like hours at the fairground (Galejan) even though they have like five rides in total, two of which are swing carousels (small and large). Adrian wanted to try the merry-go-round but started crying and wanted off the horse as soon as the whole thing started moving. Then he wanted to try the small swing carousel (“gunga! gunga! gunga!”) but again started crying as soon as it started.

Ingrid spent 5 kronor of her pocket money on a whac-a-mole game and was disappointed to tears when it ended after just a minute, and she got nothing more than some electronic points on a screen.

On our way to the children’s zoo Ingrid spotted a sign that said you could try your hand at traditional farmstead jobs. At that moment they were doing textile jobs, mangling and ironing, so Ingrid got to iron a towel using an old-fashioned iron (with a fire-heated stone inside). She also tried on old-style clothes, and tested an old bed (with a hay-filled mattress and pillow, and thick plank edges, and heavy curtains), and loved both.

The children’s zoo had been redone and there was little zoo left, mostly just bridges and walkways and fences and hills, more like a playground than a zoo. Which both kids liked but I was sort of disappointed. We usually spend a good chunk of time in the Skansen zoo but this time we never even got there, and treated Skansen like a playground instead. But we did at least get to see rabbits and a squirrel and a peacock and some perch in an aquarium.