What I love about this giveaway isn’t just that you guys get a chance to get a freebie worth $160, but there’s some do-goodin’ involved. Let me explain.

We all know dental health is important, especially for kids. But most parents don’t know that children should visit the dentist within six months of getting their first tooth – and no later than the first birthday. (In Illinois most kids don’t visit the dentist until they are 3 ½ years old.)

As part of the Delta Dental of Illinois Foundation’s campaign to raise awareness, you can easily give an oral health kit to a local underprivileged child. And these children really need it. After all, one quarter of U.S. children have 80% of the nation’s tooth decay, and most of them are underprivileged.

The statewide public service campaign is called “Dentist by 1” and serves to educate parents about the benefits of taking their children to the dentist by age 1 and to encourage them to schedule a visit.

Along with the campaign, the Delta Dental of Illinois Foundation is offering one of my readers the Oral B 5000 an electric toothbrush ($160 value) to help promote good oral health! (Sorry, but it’s only open to my Illinois peeps.)

To enter, tell me about your child’s first trip to the dentist or something funny about their oral health care habits in the comments under this post. This Delta Dental of Illinois Foundation “Dentist by 1” Electric Toothbrush giveaway begins today and ends on 11:59 p.m. Wednesday, May 23, 2012.

For additional entries:

• “Like” Delta Dental of Illinois on Facebook and tell me in the comments below.
• “Like” She’sWrite fan page on Facebook and tell me in the comments below or on the Facebook page.
• Pledge to take your kids to the dentist by age 1 or to regular visits at www.dentistby1.com and tell me in the comments below. When you pledge, Delta Dental of Illinois Foundation will donate an oral health kit to a local, underprivileged child and will also send you a kit. (Kits include a toothbrush, floss, toothpaste and a children’s oral health tip sheet.)
• Follow me on Twitter @sheswrite and send out this Tweet: “Did you know kids should see dentist by the 1st birthday?Help @sheswrite & @deltadentalil raise awareness.Click on http://bit.ly/helpkidz.

For more information about the importance of visiting the dentist by age 1 and tips on establishing good oral health habits for a lifetime of healthy smiles, visit www.Dentistby1.com.

No purchase necessary. Open to Illinois residents 18 & older. Odds of winning determined by the number of eligible entries. Not responsible for technical or typographical errors. Void where prohibited by law.

About Delta Dental of Illinois Foundation

The Delta Dental of Illinois Foundation (DDILF) was formed in March 2008 by Delta Dental of Illinois (DDIL), a not-for-profit dental service corporation with a mission to improve the oral health of the communities it serves. DDILF is the charitable arm of DDIL and works to support and improve the oral health of people in Illinois. In the past decade, combined efforts of DDIL and DDILF have provided more than $2 million to programs and organizations that provide oral health education and expand access to oral health care for Illinois residents. DDIL provides dental benefit programs to individuals and more than 5,000 employee groups throughout Illinois and covers two million employees and family members nationwide. DDIL and DDILF are based in Naperville, Ill.

*Illustration courtesy of freedigitalphotos.net.

It’s sad really because She’sWrite gives me much joy. Soooo, I’m moving it up on the priority list and as part of that I am introducing a new feature. It’s called… wait for it… no really, wait. It’s catchy, it’ll be worth the wait:

Tasty Tuesdays

Pretty snazzy, eh? Don Draper, eat your heart out! OK, OK, so the title’s not *that* fantastic, nevertheless the content will be. I have several posts about restaurants we’ve visited or recipes I’ve tried and yet they haven’t made it to my blog. So I decided to create a home for these food-related posts: Tasty Tuesdays. There likely won’t be food-related posts on every Tuesday, but they will be here with some regularity. So let’s begin shall we?
For my inaugural Tasty Tuesdays post, I’d like to introduce Mary Whalen. She’s the founder of AH Moms, an online community for moms in suburban Chicago. She’s here to share her recipe on a freezer meal, something that can be a sanity-saver for time-strapped mamas.

Not Your Everyday Chili

Once in a while grass fed ground beef is on sale at Whole Foods.  When it is, I grab a few pounds and do some freezer cooking. One of my favorite freezer meals is chili, since 1) it freezes well, and 2) I easily can adapt recipes make them a little healthier.

My Favorite Chili Recipe

When I started searching for a good chili recipe, I thought that a good strategy would be to find the winner of a chili cookoff.  The recipe I ended up finding uses three kinds of beans, yellow or orange peppers, and chipotles in Adobo sauce (I could eat that Adobo sauce on its own!)

• 2lbs ground chuck or round
• 3 -4 tbs chili powder
• 2 teaspoons cumin
• 1 onion, chopped
• 6 cloves of garlic, chopped
• 1 yellow/orange bell pepper, chopped
• 1-2 Jalapenos, finely chopped
• 1 can of Kidney Beans
• 1 can Great Northern or Canelinni Beans
• 1 can of black beans
• 3 cans of diced tomatoes
• 1 small can chopped mild green chili peppers
• 1 tsp oregano
• 1 t or so of Chopped Chipotles in Adobo
•  1 bottle of dark beer
• 1 cup cooked millet (take 1/2 cup uncooked millet and add 1 cup reduced sodium chicken broth.  Bring to a boil, then simmer covered for 20 min)

1. Cook the meat in a large pot, seasoning with about ¾ of the chili powder, cumin. When browned, dump into a bowl, and set aside for now.
2. Saute onions and bell peppers in some oil in the pot.  When they start to become translucent, add the chopped Jalapeno and the garlic and sautee for another minute or so.
3. Dump in remaining chili powder and cumin to coat everything. Cook for a minute or so, making sure the mixture doesn’t burn.
4. Dump in the rest of the ingredients, and return the meat to the pot.
5. Cover and let simmer for about 45 min to an hour.
6. Add the cooked millet, and let simmer uncovered for 10-15 min.  Adjust seasoning if needed.

Alternatives

There are a couple recipes I use that are similar to chili (tomato based, ground beef stews) that I think of as chili-with-a-twist:

• Texas Straw Hats – The main flavorings are ketchup (which the kids love) and Worstershire.  There also is tabasco sauce, which you can adjust to your taste.
• Picadillo – I’m addicted to this Cuban dish that can be served as a stew or as an empanada filling.  Cinnamon, green olives, and capers give it a unique flavor that somehow works.

Healthy Cooking Tips

When cooking chili or similar dishes, you can make them healthier by…

• Adding beans – If a recipe does not call for beans (or even if it does), you can replace some of the meat with beans.
• Using no salt beans – Whole Foods has both an organic and conventional (non-organic) canned bean, some stores like Jewel also carry the organic brand, and you always could cook dry beans without salt.
• Using no salt tomatoes – - Whole Foods has both an organic and conventional canned diced tomatoes and some stores also carry the organic brand. If it’s the right season, you can try using fresh.
• Adding extra veges – Though veggies like carrots or corn make the flavor of regular chili too sweet for my taste, celery is one that works for me.
• Adding quinoa – You probably have heard of quinoa, the latest superfood. It’s a high protein grain that you can cook and add to stews, soups, and other dishes to boost the nutrition content. I add a half cup or so cooked to an average recipe.
• Serving over brown rice or whole wheat macaroni – Especially if you’re accustomed to eating chili or these other recipes with chips, a whole grain is a healthier option.

Do you have any favorite chili recipes?  Any tips for making your chili healthier?  I hope that you’ll share them.

Mary Whalen is the founder of AH Moms, an online community for moms who live in the Chicago northwest suburbs. She has two preschool-aged daughters and has a background as a technical writer and training developer.  Since Mary started AH Moms last year, the site has grown to over 500 members who post questions and share tips, find moms groups, and share information on activities, programs, and resources for kids. AH Moms is open to any mom who has young children and is free to join.

For further information or to contact Mary, visit ArlingtonHeightsMoms.com or find AH Moms on Facebook as Northwest Suburbs Moms.

When me and my boys spent three weeks in Norway, we got a good sense of what our life could be like if we lived there. We’ve long known the differences between the U.S. and Norway. For one, they’ve had wonderful universal healthcare for decades. In America the average worker gets two weeks vacation each year, and it’s not abnormal that some have to use their vacation days when they are sick.

In Norway, the workers generally get five weeks vacation. From what I understand, sick leave seems a bit unlimited as long as after four weeks you’ve got a doctor’s note and a treatment plan outlined. And yes, this includes needing time off to care for a sick family member.

Then there’s the maternity leave. In the U.S., the Family Medical Leave Act allows for 12 weeks of unpaid leave. In Norway, you can generally receive up to 100 percent of your salary for 47 weeks, or 80 percent of it for 57 weeks. (As long as you’re not some fat cat banker, pulling down millions upon millions of dollars each year.)

For paternity leave, dads generally get 12 weeks paid. That’s three months people. Thu-reeeeee. And it’s expected for you to take advantage of such leaves, if you don’t it can be frowned upon because you clearly don’t have your priorities straight.

Last week the Save the Children foundation released its 13^th annual State of the World’s Mothers and it found Norway was the No. 1 country for moms. The U.S. came in 25^th place, while an improvement from last year’s 31^st spot, we’re still the lowest-ranked industrialized country. (You can view the report here.)

That’s largely because moms here have a 1 in 2,100 risk of pregnancy-related death. (In Norway it’s 1 in 7,600). Other factors that lower the U.S.’s placement include, the fact that many kids aren’t enrolled in preschools, women here have relatively low political status and we’re one of the few countries in the world that doesn’t guarantee working moms paid leave.

Over Christmas we got to see those Norwegian numbers in action. One family that really made an impression on us was where the mom was a journalist (like me) and the father worked in a field similar to Hubby’s. They have three delightful, well-behaved boys. She took off 48 weeks with each of her kids and received 80% of her salary. With her youngest, she took an extra six months off with no pay. Today she works 80 percent, which means she works four days a week and due to constructs of her company, her work day is seven hours. Seven.

Her husband had two weeks paid off after all three kids were born, then with the two oldest he had an additional six weeks off. All paid. Plus he works 7 to 9 hours a day. Just for clarity’s sake, this is all parental leave, it doesn’t include holiday or sick leave. They keep that separate.

Oh how envious we were!

I did have seven months maternity leave with both kids, with some of it paid, including use of my vacation. When I’d tell people the length of my leave, they’d always exclaim how lucky I was to be out of the workplace for so long. After my maternity leave with my oldest, I worked part-time for about four months and then returned full-time.

As many of you know, when I tried to do the part-time thing after my second kid, I had to quit my job because the company denied my request. In Norway, that denial would have been illegal.

So now I’m freelancing and I like the freedom it allows, but it was scary venturing out on my own. It’s kind of like starting your own business and I struggle with capping my hours at part-time so that I can be there for my family while keeping the career thing going.

With Hubby, he works 12 hours a day, five days a week and also spends four or so hours each Sunday on work.

Seeing our Norwegian friends’ lifestyle was eye-opening. They were still able to climb the ladder of success, but without sacrificing their families.

Not that they don’t have their stresses and challenges, but this was more than a grass-is-greener-on-the-other-side revelation. It seemed like they have evolved to a higher mindset. Of course you must spend more time with your family because you work to live, not live to work. Anything different to them is backasswards.

When we returned to the states, it was interesting to contrast the daily life of the Norwegian journalist’s family with the frenetic pace of my American mommy friends. Many married, stay-at-home moms feel like single moms since their spouses are away so much. Then when both parents work, they’re wracked by guilt that daycare and nannies get to see their children more. They worry about missing out on first smiles, first steps, first words, first crushes. Also the marriage takes a hit because after work and the kids, there’s not much energy left for each other, making it easy to drift apart.

We’re told we can do it all and have it all, but without a significant culture change, let’s be honest, we can’t. Sacrifices have to be made. Not that the Norwegians have it all, but they’ve got the infrastructure to be much more satisfied with the parental juggling act than Americans.

As people, our families and friends are our foundation. In the race to be bigger, faster, stronger, we’ve lost sight of what makes us better: Time with each other.

*First image by Erica Lynn Photography

Hubby and I were at the Chicago Headline Club’s 35^th Annual Peter Lisagor Awards. There we sat at table No. 23 in a stately ballroom at the Union League Club of Chicago with 350 of the area’s amazing media professionals.

As I waited for the awards ceremony to get to the most important category _ mine _ I paused to look back on the evening so far.

During the cocktail hour, I got a chance to catch up with some of my Associated Press colleagues past and present. I was pleasantly surprised to run into a dear old non-journalism friend. And I got a chance to chat with a woman I greatly admire, Chicago Sun-Times columnist, Mary Mitchell.

Mary and I climbed the stairs, leaving the cocktail party and headed to the ballroom. I re-introduced myself to her, since it’d been years since we last spoke. I congratulated her on her lifetime achievement award.

She admitted she was a little nervous. I was taken aback. The tough, plain-spoken champion of the powerless was nervous? Huh, I guess she was human. I told her there was no reason to be nervous.

“Well, they usually give these awards out when you’re retiring. I’m not retiring,” she said.

I said that this award just marked the beginning of her second act. She smiled. I pressed further, saying that this award only meant that she’d done more in the first half of her career than most people do in a lifetime She liked that idea even better. She high-fived me and we went our separate ways into the ballroom.

The first award of the evening belonged to the ever-so-gracious Mary Ann Ahern. The broadcast political reporter received the other lifetime achievement award. The Headline Club presented a video montage that chronicled Mary Ann’s career. She tearfully thanked her family, her journalism mentors and championed the importance of the people’s right to know.

Then came Mary Mitchell’s story. It featured a video of her telling her tale in her own words, in her own way. The part that resonated deeply with me was the need to give a voice to the voiceless. That, in fact is why I became a journalist.

After Mary, they honored the first winner of the Anne Keegan award. This was touching because in introducing the award, they aired a beautiful documentary on Anne and it was narrated by her husband. She was an award-winning columnist who loved reporting on the little guy. She died last year, so her husband presented the award to the Chicago Tribune’s Colleen Mastony.

Then it was time for the rest of the awards. The presenters blazed through the categories with such speed that the Micro Machines Man would have been proud.

Next, it was almost time for my category, best independent blog. And I suddenly got very nervous. Clearly, I wanted this more than I realized.

“For independent blog… Melanie Coffee ….” The presenter’s voice disappeared amid the cheers and my excitement over winning a Lisagor.

It was serendipitous, one of my former bosses was the person who handed me my award. We hugged and I went back to my table to my cheering husband.

I was happy. Happy to win a Lisagor, on my own, doing something I’ve created: She’sWrite, It’s What I Do.

A lot of the activities (rightfully) focus on getting the kids ready. But what about me? I’m not talking about the usual “my baby is growing up” wistful feelings most moms have. I’m talking about all of the crap you have to do before you ship them off. I’m so not ready.

The school year is four months away still and I’m already ready to be done. First there was registration, which required form after form after form to be filled out, not to mention the immunization records, the physicals, eye exams, dental exams, proof of residency, vial of blood… OK, clearly kidding on the last one.

On the day of registration I came with my mountain of papers and seeing how I didn’t have some of the required paperwork for proof of residency, I brought a copy of our mortgage. The entire, 11×14 cumbersome packet. One of the PTA volunteers had to help me thumb through the reams of paper to find the information that qualified our family of residents of our quaint burb.

Then came Parents Night, where parents go to the school, meet the teachers and principal and find out more about the kindergarten program. That night, Hubby and I had a miscommunication on timing, so we arrived well after it started. Nothing like loudly bursting into a gymnasium filled with more than 150 prompt parents, especially just as the principal says: “And in conclusion, if you just remember that one, crucial thing, your child will be fine next year….” Well, so the principal didn’t say that. Though, he could have, you know, since we weren’t there for his speech.

Next up was kindergarten orientation. I thought it was just something for Logan to tour his the place, get a feel for what life might be like at the big kid school. Then while talking to one of my mommyfriends, she asked:

“Have you taken Logan to get screened for kindergarten yet?”

“No. What screening? Is that the same as orientation?”

“No. It’s screening.”

Silence.

My heart sank, have I flubbed this up already? What screening? I don’t remember a screening. Nobody mentioned nuthin’ about no screening. Biting back the panic, I called the school. The damn place was closed and I got the office voicemail. I’d have to call again in the morning.

But the next morning I forgot all about the kindergarten screening. And the next and the next. (I kinda suck at this, don’t I?)

Finally, two days before his orientation, I called the school to inquire about this “screening.” Turns out the orientation and screening are the same thing. Phew. Much ado about nothing. Again.

Glancing at the school calendar, I am reminded how much stuff that goes along with attending school. There’s endless forms, Back-to-School Night, parent-teacher conferences, field trips, concerts, activity nights, progress reports, spirit week, bake sales, rummage sales, library books, PTA committees… I think it’s going to be nonstop and only get more hectic with each grade.

So yeah, my kid’s getting ready to go to kindergarten, and I am so not ready.

I know that there’s unhealthiness in that carnivorous practice, especially with the swine and sadly, I’m sure I’ve ingested my fair share of pink slime. :s But alas, I’m a Meat Eater.

And I’m raising a couple of Meat Eaters too. We talk about healthy food choices, try to limit the sugar, eat our veggies, take our vitamins, etc. I feel like we’re your average meat-eatin’ Amuuurrikan family.

Which is why a new children’s book peaked my curiosity. It’s called “Vegan is Love.”

I was given an electronic copy before it was released earlier this week and though I hadn’t read anything beyond the title, I admit I was prepared to roll my eyes. I mean really, why would I buy a book from someone who not only refuses to eat meat, but also won’t wear any animal products? That means no leather purses or strappy heels. I’m kidding, really PETA folks, I’m kidding. Some of my best friends are vegan.

Ahem, back to the book… I actually liked it. It’s written and beautifully illustrated by activist, artist, writer and former teacher Ruby Roth. It explains what a vegan is and why those choices are important. It says: “we live this way because that it is good for our health, the earth and animals … and that is love.”

After explaining veganism, it talks about wearing clothes that are not made from animals. Then it covers animal testing, and what struck me was that the illustrations of the clearly depressed animals also showed their bloody ouchies.

Pretty heavy stuff for a children’s book, right? This book is aimed at kids who are ages 6 and older.

Next the book discusses child-friendly concepts such as zoos, aquariums and circuses and why these activities are bad for animals. It offers vegan-friendly alternatives, for example instead of the zoo, go to a ballet.

The ballet scene is my favorite. The dancers clad in plum-colored and starry costumes are all mid-air, their muscular bodies in various angles on the pike position. There’s no doubt, Roth is a talented illustrator and has a knack for having very emotive characters.

Her book also discusses the health benefits of being a vegan and how, essentially, the world would be a better place if everyone were vegan. The environment _ from the ice caps to the forests and oceans _ would improve and there wouldn’t be world hunger.

Granted solving these complicated problems aren’t nearly as black-and-white as this book proposes, but it *is* a children’s book.

The book has dusted off a controversial debate about whether being a vegan is healthy for children. The Academy of Nutrition and Dietetics says vegan and vegetarian diets are safe for children. In fact its Web site says “well-planned vegetarian diets are appropriate for individuals during all stages of the life-cycle including pregnancy, lactation, infancy, childhood and adolescence and for athletes.”

Still yet, some child psychologists and dietitians take issue with Roth’s book out of concern that it could scare kids into being vegans and create feelings of excessive guilt for having or wanting an animal product, especially since, as the book says: “vegan is love.”

In a statement Roth says “it’s high time we engage youth in topics previously reserved for adults – democracy, supply and demand, and engaging ourselves in the public realm. Fast food companies don’t think your kids are too young to be marketed to.”

I think if you choose for your family to be vegans, this book would be a good addition to conversations that should already be taking place in your home about your choices. If you’re not vegan, I can see how it could serve as a way to open your child’s eyes to other lifestyles. I’m all for expanding horizons and learning about other people’s life choices.

However, even if Logan was 6, I’d hold off on this book until he’s a bit older or at least until we’ve had a few more conversations to build a more comprehensive foundation on issues such as world hunger, pollution, and saving the environment.

As we all know, those issues are not black and white. The truth is in the shades of gray.

*Little Rudolph was part of a stew Hubby’s mom prepared in Norway. It was tasty, a little gamey, but no, not like chicken.

*Photo by Mobius Cycle.

Photo by Erica Lynn Hang

We were in Norway for his birthday and though I didn’t want a big shindig for it, I wanted to mark the occasion with our Norwegian family. For Logan’s first birthday party, we had a bunch of friends over, some with kids, some without. I remember Hubby and I disagreed on whether to serve alcohol. He thought it was inappropriate, I thought it was essential. (Thankfully in the end, I won.)

For Ethan’s birthday, my mother-in-law asked if we should invite some of our friends with kids to come over for a party, but I really wanted it to be low-key and just family. The other thing I wanted was to bake him an American-style birthday cake.

I’d already picked out the recipe among the hundreds on Allrecipes.com and since I was making it from scratch, I just needed to work on rounding up the ingredients.

This was when the entire country of Norway ran out of butter. Yes, butter. My blessed sister-in-law, who lives in England, knew of my cake-baking hopes and smuggled a brick of it into the country.

Since Ethan’s birthday came a couple weeks after we arrived in Norway, that gave me time to prepare for my first from-scratch-cake-baking adventure. I did recon at the grocery store and in my mother-in-law’s kitchen. One unforeseen hiccup was baking soda.

I tried to explain to my mother-in-law what baking soda was and she kept asking if it was baking powder. I then asked my brother-in-law who is British and loves to cook.

He speaks Norwegian and English, so I thought he could help. I explained that besides baking you could also use baking soda as mouthwash, to clean your bathroom and to keep your fridge fresher. He began to look at me like I was an American whackadoo.

Finally after extensive Googling and more grilling of my mother-in-law, I got what I needed.

The next challenge was changing everything into metrics. They cook with deciliters and milliliters and the only thing I know about liters is that Sprite comes in a two liter bottle. So it was back to Google.

Finally, I had the recipe all translated and ready to go. Then came my mother-in-law. In case you missed my earlier post about her, we have a great relationship but, we’re still both very opinionated and vocal.

She, in a gentle way, was trying to get me to reconsider baking this cake. She could see that I was stressing over translating the recipe and finding the proper ingredients, so thought it would be fine to make these mini-waffle things that the Norwegians make when you come over for coffee.

I told her I wanted to bake the cake. In her typical Norwegian straight-forwardness, she said she didn’t think many people would eat it because oftentimes when super sugary, unhealthy desserts are served, the ever-health conscious Norwegians won’t eat it. (Funny thing about Norwegian honesty, they don’t sugar coat anything, but because they’re being so honest yet nice about it, you’re not offended. If an American were to tell me not to make something because no one would eat it, I’d be PISSED.)

I looked her straight in the eye and said that I didn’t care if no one ate my cake, it was simply something I wanted to do for my son. She smiled. She completely understood and asked if there was anything else I needed for the cake.

Then came Ethan’s big day. I began working my magic in the kitchen. My mother-in-law kept asking if I needed any help, I shooed her away. When I’m in the kitchen, I like everyone to be out. Let me do my thang.

I put the cake in the oven and took a breather and hung out in the livingroom with Hubby and my mother-in-law. Turns out she invited her sister and her family over to celebrate, and everyone planned on being there. I was floored and touched because “everyone” meant, her sister Eli, Eli’s husband, Eli’s son and daughter-in-law and Eli’s two grandchildren. All coming over for Ethan’s birthday.

I love big, supportive families and felt honored that they’d all come out for my little boy.

As the cake finished baking, my mother-in-law said she was impressed with how easily I moved around her kitchen, noting that it’s hard to cook in another woman’s kitchen. I admitted to my previous recon missions. She asked again if she could help. I could tell she wanted to pitch in, but also wanted to respect my need for space. Naturally, I asked for help with the frosting.

She jumped at the chance, but was stunned at how many eggs and how much powdered sugar and butter was used to make the buttercream frosting. The clock was ticking so my mother-in-law switched from frosting to making those waffle-thingys.

I took the perfectly golden cake out of the oven and it looked beeeyoootiful. While it cooled, I went downstairs to change my clothes. I couldn’t have the birthday boy’s mama looking rough.

Freshly dressed, I walked back into the kitchen, only to find that my cake fell a little. Damn. That’s never happened before. I sighed, and started focusing on giving the cake my finishing touches.

I decided to make the frosting blue because he is a boy. Then I wrote in green because it contrasted nicely with the baby blue, also I tried to make these little red flowers and added some candied silver balls on top.

The guests arrived, filling the extended table. My mother-in-law lit the tall sparkling candle on the cake and I proudly marched out of the kitchen into the dining area with my baby’s cake perched in front of me.

Slowly, I placed the cake on the table in front of Ethan. I looked at everyone, expecting them to be awed by my awesome cake. Instead they looked bewildered. I glanced back at the cake, what was wrong? Did it fall again?

It hadn’t, I just think the bright color was a bit of a shock because most of the food in Norway consists of colors you find in nature, not the baby blue hue of my cake.

“Wow!” One of our cousins broke the silence. “That cake is really… colorful!”

“Uh, thanks?” I said with a weak smile. Not knowing what else to do, I started singing “Happy Birthday to yoooooouuu.” Thankfully they joined in. I sliced the cake and we began passing out pieces to all.

They were hesitant to take the first bite and just kind of looked at the blue and yellow cake. Then it hit me. Blue and yellow. Those are the colors of the Swedish flag. The Swedes and Norwegians have a playful, but fierce and centuries old rivalry. It was the equivalent of showing up at a Fourth of July party with a Union Jack cake. Whoops.

But being the awesome family that they are, they ventured a bite of the Swedish-colored-American-made birthday cake. It was moist, rich and gooooood. All the plates were soon cleared and some asked for seconds. I was proud.

After the cake, Ethan dove into unwrapping his presents. And while unwrapping his gifts, I took a moment to take in the moment.

It meant a lot that here were me and my curly-haired boys, thousands of miles from America, but surrounded by people who love and support us unconditionally. Even if it meant horking down a piece of Swedish cake.

Gratulerer med dagen, Ethan.

Opening Christmas gifts

So, take a walk with me down memory lane and into Santa’s backyard.

Christmas in Norway is very long and I don’t say that because you’re dealing with only about 5 hours of daylight each day. It’s that the holiday celebrations go on and on. The festivities generally start on Dec. 24 and that morning we have the traditional large Norwegian breakfast. It’s like a mini buffet that includes hearty breads, different spreads for the breads that can range from sweet jam to funky caviar to goat cheese. There’s also rice porridge, or risengrynsgrøt. If you find an almond in your porridge, you get a marzipan pig. Some families do this on Dec. 23^, but this year we did it on the 24^th and wonder upon wonders, all four kids at the table each found an almond in their risengrynsgrøt.

The top three meals to make during the Christmas season are ribbe (pork ribs,) pinnekjøtt (dry-cured ribs of lamb), lutefisk (cod cured in lye.) I’ve had the first two, and they taste pretty good. Salty, but good. The third, lutefisk, I do not plan on tasting. Ever.

We opened all our gifts from family members on Dec. 24, and the kids tore into their packages like a pack of rabid hyenas.

That night, we had ribbe (it reminds me of eating BBQ ribs after you’ve boiled them, but before you’ve slathered them with BBQ sauce and placed them on the grill.) Shortly after dinner, the doorbell rang.

Who could it be? None other than Julenisse, or Nissen for short. Since Nissen lives at the North Pole and that isn’t too far from Norway, he swings by there first before heading out to the rest of the world.

So there stood Nissen, quite cheerily in the vestibule and soon it became clear that he had had too much glogg before stopping at our house.

At first the kids were excited, then they grew confused. Nissen was digging so vigorously in his bag for their gifts that his coat came open revealing not a big ol’ hairy belly, but a natty old pillow.

Us adults were howling with laughter, as Nissen got more flummoxed and began tugging at his beard, which somehow kept creeping up to his eyebrows. Poor Nissen.

Thankfully all the kids got their gift from him and he went home to sleep it off a bit before his long night.

(We also opened gifts and stockings on the morning Dec. 25 that Nissen left behind, in homage to British and American tradition.)

That evening, the 1st Day of Christmas, we hosted another dinner. This was a slightly larger affair, and included the adult children of my mother-in-law’s significant other. The main course was pinnekjøtt and Logan even liked it. I admit I’m not a big lamb fan, but I’ve grown to like pinnekjøtt.

That evening was fun because MIL and her beau went to bed, while us “kids” stayed up late talking, drinking, laughing. I especially love chatting it up with one girl who is an amazing fashion photographer and is charmingly humble about her rockstar life.

And finally came the dinner party to end all dinner parties, on the 3^rd Day of Christmas. This is the one where we’re all hands on deck because 20+ people are coming over. It’s time to expand the dining room table, move the furniture around to make room for more tables, bust out the china, good wine glasses and dress nicely.

It’s a team effort and I was chosen to make the Waldorf salad. I’ve never made one of those and the recipe my MIL gave me was in Norwegian. In case you missed it, I don’t speak Norwegian. Long story short, with some translation, the salad was fine.

My British brother-in-law made the turkeys. Yes, turkeys plural. For some reason the turkeys in Norway are scrawny, so for a big meal, you must make two or three because they generally weigh around 10 pounds each. (When my mother-in-law and her sister came over one Thanksgiving, they were astounded at our 20 pound, organic turkey.)

For dessert was kransekake. It’s rings upon rings of a crispy cake donut with streamers and sometimes Norwegian flags for decoration.

The following nights we’d go to different friends’ homes for dinner or late night drinks, until the New Year. That’s when there’s another big celebration and usually I don’t make blanket statements, but trust me when I tell you the Norwegians are INSANE when it comes to the fireworks.

It’s just as festive as our July Fourth, but they do crazy things like hand-hold bottle rockets and roman candles. Hubby’s uncle has these industrial strength ones that are the size of a Samsonite briefcase. He sets them off just to the side of his driveway, while everyone stands a mere 15 feet away, some wearing goggles, you know, for safety…

But it’s fun. A lot of fun. The average Norwegian takes off work from December 20^th through early January, so they have more time to really immerse themselves in the important things in life: our family and friends.

The hoodied 17-year-old’s killing galvanized hundreds of thousands to have demonstrations that ranged from large-scale marches to individuals simply wearing their hoodies all day. The issue with the black teenager’s killing is that Zimmerman, who is white and Hispanic, was never arrested. That all changed Thursday with Florida Special Prosecutor Angela Corey announcing charges of second-degree murder. Zimmerman has claimed self-defense.

But now what? How can we capture the #justicefortrayvon energy that ran from the street corner to the Twittersphere and on up to the White House? This week the Rev. Al Sharpton and his National Action Network are talking about just that.

The group is in the middle of its conference in Washington D.C. and Sharpton has said attendees “will organize ways to energize the country on pressing social issues” and that they’ll figure out steps to achieve those goals.

I hope so, but I gotta say, there’s something a little staid about sitting in stiff chairs at an air-conditioned conference hall theorizing about how to fix society’s problems.  I know the heady work of focusing efforts must be accomplished to achieve sustainable change.  Still, I think there’s a lot of out-of-the-box opportunities that we can take advantage of to improve U.S. race relations.

With social media, grass roots movements can spread like wildfire. #iamtrayvon did, #Kony2012 did, #OWS did. My fear is that #TrayvonMartin will go the same way as other “movements” that dissipated with the next trending topic.

While the deep-thinkers are figuring out a plan of action, I’m wondering more about us surface-thinkers. What can we do? Probably the simplest, yet hardest thing is talking and listening to each other. When I tell you that racism does exist, believe me. When you accuse me of being defensive, I will listen and we can talk about why I am that way.

What about getting out of our socioeconomic bubbles and exposing ourselves to people different from ourselves?  Having one black friend, one Hispanic friend, one Asian friend and knowing a Muslim doesn’t count. It’s not enough.

Visit a different church or spend time at a library or park that’s not in your community. Make an honest effort to develop meaningful relationships with people who aren’t in your bubble.

As parents we work hard to expose our kids to different vegetables so that they can have healthy bodies and a diverse palate. Why not commit the similar amount of energy to expose them to different people? They would have a healthier mindset and a diverse life experience, making them more well-rounded. Isn’t that what we all hope for?

And don’t stop at broadening your horizons. When you see injustice, speak out against it whether it’s in the workplace, your schools or in the justice system. We’re all members of the human race and deserve better.

So, again, I wonder what’s next. Wouldn’t it be great if we could look back on Trayvon’s death in years to come and identify it as a watershed moment that led to improved race relations? I implore you to figure out how *you* can be a part of the What’s Next and then, make it happen.