Ikea and Ancestry.

A few years back when the whole ancestry thing became popular I asked for the DNA kit for Christmas.

When I lived in Italy, I found great pleasure while visiting 🇩🇪 Germany, in yelling my last name everywhere, "FOUST!"

Foust means fist in German, and also has associations with the devil due to Goethe's, Faust. My Father had multiple books on the very sibject of being a Foust.So between my last name, and my Mothers known ancestry of being mostly Scotch Irish, I was pretty sure I knew what I was. Then came ancestry.com

Waiting for that report was more nervewracking than a college acceptance letter. What would I find out?!?

The day arrived and I got my report. Ok I was Irish. Knew that. I was British and Scottish. Knew that too. Oh wait what...I am Swedish?!?

Kids get in the car, we are going to the motherland, Ikea. And while we drive there we are going to listen to the country's national anthem, Mama Mia.

We walked around enjoying all the goods MY people had built. We lingered over the idea of buying some authentic Swedish meatballs. We admired the sleek looks of their ready made kitchens. We eyeballed some quality bookshelves.

You see what I was doing was a true Foustian history lesson for my kids. This trip is my parenting style in a nutshell.

When I found out I was Swedish it unlocked the world.

Now this explained my platinum blonde hair, not the box of L' loreal dye I used. It completely answered the question of why I listening to Abba en loop in college. For some odd reason me finding out I was Swedish felt like my whole world had been explained.

Yet I also mourned. I wasn't German?! Where did this last name come from?! I had so proudly yelled, "FOUST" throughout Germany only to find out it was a farce?!

A few weeks later I received an email. My DNA had been updated. I was German, not Swedish.

The wind left my sails, had we gone to Ikea in vain?

I suppose, but at least I got some cheap utensils.

FOUST!