Pronounced BAH-CHEW-CHEE, it was a nickname my sister called her first-ever niece, Miss C-Jaz. According to urbandictionary.dom, this term is used to express "an absolutely wonderful bum". And that she is, myBachoochie, my little bum cheeks.

Friday, September 18, 2009

From a Sticky Door Lock to a Sticky Kanelbullar

How many Swedish construction dudes does it take to fix a stuck lock (in our main door)?

In my case this morning I spoke to six people.

The first kinda spoke English, and was kind enough to attempt to fix the door, but his method involved trying to use his screwdriver to bend something in the metal jamb plate.

The second only spoke German, so he was useless.

The third man did speak English, and actually walked me to the office (a make shift PILE of portables) to find someone to help.

The forth man (maybe a developer or contractor who was in the middle of a meeting) spoke English fluently and called someone on his phone to come help.  Whoever they were never showed up, and I wasn't going to wait even and extra 10 minutes.

I returned to the make-shift office, I spoke to a building manager, the fifth man, and he actually came with me bringing along another building manager, LEO, the sixth man, who was the most useful, prompt, and polite Swede of today's bunch.

In taking only one look at the door, he new what needed to be done.  He politely removed both work boots even though he only took only one step into the foyer.  He asked if I could wait 7 minutes so he could get a tool that he needed.  He returned promptly, did what he needed to do, and the door could lock and unlock like no other.  I was amazed and relieved because I could not lock the door, and none of the three men who saw the door could lock it either.  I thanked Leo, and he kindly said with a smile, "You're welcome. Have a nice day."

So, as this transpired within about forty-five minutes, which was long enough for me to sit through, it was longer for Miss C-Jaz who I was trying to keep preoccupied as we, with Ganma and Ganpa, were ready to head out to ICA (my version of Safeway).  She sat in her stroller and all was well.  We arrived at the mall, and I let her walk.  Even until we reached the other grocery store, Willy's, she was having fun until nap-time hit.  She didn't want to sit in the grocery cart or her stroller.  All she wanted...

"Mommy, carry Nana!"  Over and over and over.

I squatted to her eye level, and said, "Cianna, I'm not going to carry you because you're heavy for Mama, and we have our stroller too." (Believe it or not, but Miss C-Jaz has gotten heavier even with her petite size, probably by 2 or 3 pounds since we left home-home.)  Nothing worked, and I think she threw her first tantrum ever in public - some screaming-crying and a little bit of tears with some arm flailing thrown in.  It really wasn't that bad, and I knew that she was fueled by wanting to sleep.

We were in the middle of a not-so-busy aisle, I sat her in her Zooper stroller, a bottle of milk ready to give her and Bo in tow.  As I seated her, my right hand held her in a seated position, trying to work quickly with my left to buckle her in.  She cried loudly in protest with a little squirming, but she stayed, thankfully.  She drank her milk.   She whined.  But by the time we hit the line for checkout, she was also checked out.  Naptime!

Overall, it was a busy day and a different day, but it was still a great day, especially after all the yummy goodies from ICA and Willy's!  The sticky lock now works like a charm, and I survived my first public tantrum with Miss C-Jaz.  All is well!  Time to dig in to some kanelbullar!