tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-62327608334198401772024-03-05T18:01:48.508-05:00FlybabyAdventures of a triple citizen <strike> baby </strike> little girl (and her mom)Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.comBlogger293125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-56862991730406534142017-08-27T16:49:00.000-04:002017-08-27T17:37:23.318-04:00Maternity leave<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Bowie was born two months ago today. And since I can't do anything normally, since my life has resembled an unrealistic soap opera for the last five years, he was of course born in a car. Not in the hospital, not at home. On the backseat of a car. The birth went so fast and my doula didn't realize, so we didn't make it further than the parking lot of the hospital. I grabbed him and pulled him onto my chest crying, assuring me that everything was okay. He was slightly small but perfect. He is still small and perfect. <br />
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Zoe adores him and has shown herself to be a great big sister, carrying him around, even changing him on her own initiative. Our summer together was amazing but now everyday life is knocking on the door. Zoe has started school in Stockholm because her and I have failed to convince her dad that it would be better for her to be in Copenhagen for school. Instead, he has generously granted me every second weekend and Zoe is just starting to realize this. In addition to calling me up crying at night ("mommy, why do I have to be here so much?") she counts the days until we get to see each other again. My stomach is in a knot and I'm trying to think up other possibilities that would enable me to see her more while she can still attend school in Stockholm as mandated by her dad and the State (last year school for her was not State mandated and I could take her to Copenhagen on weekdays). Meanwhile I have 4 more month of maternity leave, looking after Bowie full time but also being alone 24/7. My family is here and generously look after him 2-3 hours at a time if I need to and that means I have been able to go to the hair dresser and occasionally get a shower. When Zoe is here we go to the movies or swimming, while my mom looks after Bowie. Luckily he is a great sleeper who rarely cries and when he does, I pick him up and he stops. He loves being in a wrap and sleeps both in his crib and my arms.<br />
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But as with all maternity leaves, this is lonely. I spend so much time, just him and me and it makes me so sad to think that, somewhere else, my daughter misses me and has to spend all afternoon in the after-school she hates, instead of being with me. As my friend said "what a waste of maternity leave". </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-53136127737081327672017-06-24T12:58:00.000-04:002017-06-24T12:59:16.333-04:00Almost there<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Too cool for school in our new apartment</td></tr>
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"We have to make the most of this time", Zoe said to me as I tucked her into bed. "This is the last time you and I are just the two of us". Her insightfulness touched me and I agreed. We were going swimming the next morning and then we had to pick up some items in the city center, in an effort to be just a bit more ready for the big day when her little brother will be here. As much as I wanted to nest and make sure I had baby clothes, a changing table and, well a basic livable home, I also wanted to spend every single second with Zoe, chatting, laughing, singing, reading and doing the things that mothers and daughters do together. It was indeed the very last time in our lives when it was just us. I grew teary eyed and hugged her. How would I be able to provide her with the detailed attention and care that I have done the last 7 years? How could a little sibling make up for the time that we will lose out on the two of us? Was it going to be worth it?<br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ceramics workshop creations</td></tr>
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Within the last month, things have changed rapidly and my life is already completely different. I took over my new apartment in Copenhagen after selling the one in Stockholm and I have not flown since <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.dk/2017/05/new-york-life-for-6-days.html">our trip to New York</a>. I need to be in Copenhagen where the baby will be born and I need to have a home I can take him to when he is on the outside. I need to have a home for Zoe and as much as we loved our little apartment in Stockholm, its 34 m2 was not fit for more than her and I, with a bit of good effort. My apartment in Copenhagen is more than twice that size with a giant living room, ready to be divided into a bedroom for Zoe and an average living room. It is on the ground floor, which I initially was hesitant about, but Zoe is already running out to the back yard on her own to play with new friends and bike around on her new bike that I got secondhand for her. She feels secure that she can always knock on our kitchen window and get my attention if she needs to.<br />
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After she fell asleep, I made a few more plans that included a ceramics workshop and a trip to the local ice cream shop while we are still just us. Our new Copenhagen life awaits, soon with an extra little person.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-10710176584337658722017-05-17T22:08:00.002-04:002017-05-17T22:08:50.120-04:00New York life for 6 days<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZOieWaTls3eWQANAxfzWG4xayIj9AEQZre1ugK9zo6StOfWxi3LMnsedvEe6083ExcHHQVDA10Vr_dONVMyn99YqpUOnrqh-qBXtePq7-fW8XZmdTEdnZFWeeah2GfJzg5gGEVX6g_0q/s1600/IMG_6926.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEitZOieWaTls3eWQANAxfzWG4xayIj9AEQZre1ugK9zo6StOfWxi3LMnsedvEe6083ExcHHQVDA10Vr_dONVMyn99YqpUOnrqh-qBXtePq7-fW8XZmdTEdnZFWeeah2GfJzg5gGEVX6g_0q/s320/IMG_6926.jpg" width="240" /></a>After bringing Zoe to my usual conference we are stopping by New York on the way back. I am officially on vacation without any deadlines, which is a rare thing for me, so we have been hanging out with friends, shopped and eaten our usually places and simply been a bit nostalgic about our old lifestyle and 'hood (West Village). I'm overwhelmed with the amount of play dates Zoe has had, with the fact that her old drama teacher volunteered to have her for an afternoon (essentially giving her a private theater lesson) and with all the people recognizing us at our regular places. New York is still home to us. But what really got to me was when we entered the apartment building this evening after a long fun day, and Zoe seemed a bit sad. "What's wrong", I asked and she looked at me tearfully. "It's just New York. I miss it so much". She then broke down crying and started hugging me. "I just miss it so much when we are here. And I grow up so fast, suddenly I'm a teenager, then I'm grown up..." I didn't know what to say but we walked up to 4th floor, her still sobbing a bit, me worried that she was reading my own sadness, missing New York at the same time as us having a brilliant time here. "One day you will move back", I half-promised. <br />
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But we also have a lot of good things to go back to Denmark to. We have our new apartment to go back to, a new little brother who will come out in a month's time, and friends and family to spend time with. I asked Zoe if we should stop going to NY for a while, so she wouldn't get sad and she actually nodded. We will see how we do though, once an addiction, always an addiction. The Empire State Building was shining blue for us that evening. </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-4826701313299729502017-05-02T16:28:00.001-04:002017-05-02T16:32:52.010-04:00A regular everyday life<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I grew up in a nuclear family with a regular life of going to school every day and having dinner together with my family every night. Like most middle class children in the western (and possibly also eastern, northern and southern) hemisphere. Yet, since I was 18 my life has been less than regular, mostly because I have spend few long stretches of time in the same countries or city, instead often in differing settings with a multitude of living circumstances and a mix of irregular jobs. It has never bothered me, in fact I enjoy the diversity in my life and I know I get tired quickly from staying in the same place. (perhaps this is one reason I feel so much at home in NYC, the city where you could eat in a different restaurant every night and never run out of new options)<br />
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But tonight, as Zoe was drifting off to sleep, and suddenly remembering that we forgot to read in the big history book when we were in Copenhagen, but it was too late now, because we were back in Stockholm, I had a solemn realization: Zoe has never had a regular life. At least not since her dad and I split up, which she barely remembers anything from. The most regular life she has had, was when we were in New York and, mainly because she was stably there for two months at the time, before she would go back to Sweden and spend two months there. In NY we would have bagels and coffee (only me) for breakfast every morning and run to school (because we were always late), before I would go to work. We would have dinner together every night and she would go to bed at the same time, after always reading a goodnight story. We had specific activities for each day of the week, from yoga (Zoe had a children's yoga class concurrently with me having a grownup class) to me picking her up and bringing her back to my work. On Fridays she had dance class and I would run to Wholefoods for food, being back in time for pickup and on weekends we would often catch a show.<br />
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These days, her dad and I, are doing two days each, then five days each, in order to distribute the weekends. But with me in Copenhagen, we go back and forth, with Zoe missing a day in school here and there (kindergarten in Sweden is not obligatory). She loves it in Copenhagen and I make sure to always give her a detailed schedule of what we are doing so she feels in control and knows where she will be. But a regular everyday life, it is not. As I was rubbing her back and she was still awake, I promised her that when I get more organized, I'll make sure to read a chapter of a book every night, without exception and we won't have ad-hoc sushi while watching old Chaplin movies at the coffee table. "What does ornagized mean, mom?", she said and before I could answer she went on "but I like it this way, I think it would be boring. And you are the best mom in the world". And who am I to argue with that? </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-39130716054496727782017-04-29T18:24:00.000-04:002017-04-29T18:25:38.689-04:00Broken heart<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I don't usually write much about my love life because it is very private to me, so I might mention that I'm seeing someone, but there is a big difference between dating someone and actually having feelings. Add to that, trying to date as a single mom while trying to get pregnant, oh and splitting my life between three cities, the last five years have been messy to say the least. However, rarely dull. I'm lucky to be in a very social work sphere with a lot of men around me, being a very social person with a lot of chances of meet new people through friends, but I also lived in the heart break city of them all: New York City. My main challenge, however, is sadly that I'm an extremely well educated and (people tell me) smart, attractive woman. It unfortunately creates as many barriers as advantages, if the educational part is even an advantage at all. A relationship only works if you can have an equal informed and nuanced conversation and respect each others' educated viewpoints. I have out-argued many a first dates or left social conversations because there was no challenge.<br />
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Another problem I have is that I tend to fall stupidly head-over-heals in love with guys. Not necessarily very often but when I do, it is ever encompassing and it takes me months or years to get over it. Because as sad as it sounds it has only ever happened three times where it was actually reciprocated. And all of those three times, the guy promised me everything, only to pull back weeks or a few months later, leaving me completely heart broken. <br />
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But there is one thing I have learned about relationships, from both heart break and dating without any serious feelings: A relationship needs to have certain qualities on top of two people being in love with one another. For me it boils down to mutual respect, some essential things in common and feeling comfortable in each others' company. Then I have a few very specifics that I'm not going to mention, but these are specifics that reflect trauma from my long-term marriage where certain things just never got solved. But if they are all there, I'm in. Maybe in another 10 years.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-70999389496200365272017-04-19T15:30:00.003-04:002017-04-19T15:30:38.981-04:00Japan holiday<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJBQMRFwXeEDCbm9My3Kk0nAFcEXonBIKaUGqOSaZb5TOCqxwV9cQeuwI9Y-jlwQP7Ob0H8Dh4CKnVSYhYu_90tDAgjeB5nDGxeIJ5y_ssGZMt3gSHMwqlvFeknVOBypRgrK6LRacwBJA/s1600/IMG_6682.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhPJBQMRFwXeEDCbm9My3Kk0nAFcEXonBIKaUGqOSaZb5TOCqxwV9cQeuwI9Y-jlwQP7Ob0H8Dh4CKnVSYhYu_90tDAgjeB5nDGxeIJ5y_ssGZMt3gSHMwqlvFeknVOBypRgrK6LRacwBJA/s320/IMG_6682.jpg" width="292" /></a></div>
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlS9zj30M_KnPXYG4GhNQdBy6lSYwohLa9fTutj7wcKXEVaxFbYj0S6ZRzqm-VSvNcv4THQyB7QQZHOgSaW4zw9Yf82o9Zv8N8KZ490s4wtnHt3-ZrqqmZpERMvRNCxN01TYEm2hQdNbpa/s1600/FullSizeRender.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlS9zj30M_KnPXYG4GhNQdBy6lSYwohLa9fTutj7wcKXEVaxFbYj0S6ZRzqm-VSvNcv4THQyB7QQZHOgSaW4zw9Yf82o9Zv8N8KZ490s4wtnHt3-ZrqqmZpERMvRNCxN01TYEm2hQdNbpa/s200/FullSizeRender.jpg" width="165" /></a>Over Easter I went on one of the first real holidays in years (real holiday defined by <i>not</i> being three days tagged on to a conference) with my new special person because this would be one of our last chances before I can't fly for a while. And when I can fly again it will be, if all goes well, with a baby in tow. It was the most wonderful trip, just relaxing and doing touristy stuff, because in Japan you are not fooling anyone, except of course if you are Japanese, into thinking you are anything but a tourist. We saw temples, cherry blossom and I ate an insane amount of green tea flavored items, from ice cream and kitkat chocolate to yogurt and pastries. On the flight there I had hoped to get upgraded because of my condition but no such luck, however, Japanese people are very sensitive towards pregnant women and I was offered to skip lines, sit down on a crowded subway and one evening we got seated in the special section of the restaurant for only Japanese because it was more comfortable for me.That was one of my best evenings ever because we just sat there, laughing, talking, drinking sake and enjoying life. But as all holidays, it ended and I'm now back in Copenhagen working until Zoe and I go to my yearly main conference in the beginning of May.<br />
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-40490807387544808292017-04-02T17:46:00.000-04:002017-04-02T17:47:45.165-04:00Zoe and the cutting board<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Back in November,<a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.se/2016/11/new-york-florida-and-back.html"> Zoe and I were traveling to a conference in Florida, following a week in New York</a> to hang out with friends and say a final goodbye to our lovely apartment that we had called home for almost two years. I had to pack up the very last things that I had left such as my mocca coffee maker, a few cups and my cutting board, an item I had bought as one of the first things when realizing that the kitchen didn't come with one. It is a high quality solid wood type cutting board from Williams-Sonoma because well, if I had to buy my own, it might as well be a good one. We therefore had to bring everything with us in the suitcase, going to Florida for the conference and Disney World for a day, before taking it back to Denmark, three flights in total. As we checked in in Newark, the check-in lady informed me that I was 3 pounds overweight and that I had to remove 3 pounds or pay $200. Remember that this is kind of ridiculous thing because I always travel with only one checked in suitcase for Zoe and I. We are allowed one each but try to imagine me with a 6 year old who can just about roll her own hand luggage, then having two suitcases and a hand luggage on my own. Makes no sense when everything pretty much fits in my not very big suitcase. I looked at her and informed her that I was pregnant and that I was not capable of carrying a lot when also handling my child, but she insisted. I pulled down my suitcase and realized that the cutting board would do it. I took it out and magically enough, we were now allowed to check in our luggage. The only place however where the cutting board fitted was in Zoe's little rolling suitcase, sticking up from the top. Zoe was completely unphazed and proceeded to roll her suitcase to security check with a large cutting board sticking out. <br />
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Everything was good, except now, every time she stopped and let go of the suitcase it would fall forward. At security we went through as the pros that we are, with Zoe taking her iPad in her hand, as well as the suitcase, to a bench slightly outside my vision while I packed up my own laptop and liquids at the end of the conveyer belt. When I got to Zoe I found her in tears with an elderly lady next to her, holding her iPad. What's wrong, what happened, I asked and felt like the worst mom, abandoning my child to figure out suitcase re-packing on her own. Zoe looked up at me. "I was trying to put the iPad back in the outer pocket but every time I try, the suitcase falls over and the cutting board hits me in the head". Sure enough, Zoe had a red patch in her forehead. The elderly lady who had seen Zoe in distress, had tried to help but not succeeded either. I went over and took the cutting board out of the suitcase so she could place the iPad back in it, before putting the cutting board back again. I comforted Zoe and promised I would help next time. But in my head, I couldn't help laughing just imagining her trying again and again to put the iPad back in while the cutting board made it fall over. <br />
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Zoe figured out how to handle the suitcase with a cutting board sticking out like only a flybaby would, because my "I'm pregnant" excuse worked as little for the next two flights and I had to take it out of our checked luggage due to overweight each time. Now that I use the cutting board on an everyday basis to cut bread, veggies and fruits, I think of my amazing flybaby who bravely strolled through several airports with it, probably to the amusement and wonder of our fellow passengers. <br />
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-6349249654530243042017-03-17T17:39:00.000-04:002017-03-17T17:39:35.680-04:00Sometimes miracles do happen<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
When working towards a goal for many years, and it is still not reached, it's not uncommon to lose faith. And at one point you stop talking about it with friends and family, because it is just not that interesting to talk about, to mention yet another failure. That job that you thought was going to happen, that achievement, that one and only person you wanted to meet, fall in love with, it just doesn't materialize. At first the friends and family are encouraging, telling you it will happen. Things will happen and you will reach your goal. Because you deserve it, or because you are worth it. But then their voices vane and you are left with the persistence in your head and nothing else. And it is all up to you to continue the fight. But the thing is, I did. I persisted month after month, method after method. And after almost four years of continuous fertility treatment I finally got pregnant. In fact I'm already 25 weeks tomorrow and have a kicking baby-boy inside my belly, growing and waiting patiently to come out and see his big sister and his mom by the beginning of the summer.<br />
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It was an emotional roller-coaster from the day I realized my period was not coming and that I should probably skip the beer I had just been offered. I was in chock for a week, before I took the test, watching the two lines appear and then another week later told my mom and Zoe, watching their tears of joy. I was hesitant to tell anybody else and I was hesitant to feel secure in my pregnancy. I prayed to god every evening that he would protect me and the little growing miracle inside of me. If something takes so long, it can't be real, can it? It was not until week 14 where I started thinking it is very likely that there will come a baby out of this in the end. I might actually have a second child. Zoe will finally have a little sibling. Meanwhile she takes it with the ease of a 6 year old, randomly holding my belly, putting her ear to it and getting kicked in her hand. "It's a foot, I can feel a foot!" she says excitedly and starts talking to him. "I'm your big sister and I can't wait until you come out and we can play." I'm hoping that she understands how boring babies are initially and how much time her mom needs to spend with the baby at first. But I did, those many years ago when I got a little brother, so I'm sure Zoe will be just fine. I'm cautiously optimistic.<br />
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With my growing belly comes a lot of new issues into play that I've spent the better part of my days and nights pondering. I'll share some of them here as time moves on, but right now I realized that I cannot continue chronicling Flybaby without sharing the most important news in our lives, that there will soon be a Flybaby II. <br />
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-57365470031193935082017-03-13T17:28:00.000-04:002017-03-13T17:29:48.669-04:00Missing flights<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was the thing that just wasn't suppose to happen in our crazy traveling life. As I left security control on my way to the gate, about to board the plane back to Copenhagen after a 48 hour visit to see the new <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.dk/2017/02/new-friends.html">very-important-person</a> in my life, I got a call from from the babysitter. "They didn't let Zoe board because we didn't have the UM papers printed", she said in a cheerful voice, and it took me all of three seconds to realize this was a tone chosen not to worry Zoe who was right next to her. "But we are good, we will figure something out". A cold chill ran down my spine as I went into physical robot mode walking straight to my gate at the far end were they were now boarding. In a clear couple of sentences, almost faster than I could think, I told her that she needed to get to Copenhagen that evening, No. Matter. What. Even if the babysitter had to take her herself. Her dad was on a plane to Japan, our only other friend who can really look after her overnight was already in Japan and I could not imagine not seeing Zoe tonight. Especially now. "Find a way", I finished and hung up, trying not to panic, as I texted my mom letting her know that she didn't have to pick her up at the arranged time. I would land just 20 minutes later, not enough to meet Zoe at the exit as required for unaccompanied minors. Just before entering my own plane I received a text from the babysitter informing me that they had been able to buy a new ticket for the next flight and Zoe had been allowed to fly UM. I guess suddenly they did have papers to fill in at the airport*. I turned off my phone knowing that Zoe would be arriving in Copenhagen 20 minutes after me and I would be able to greet her at the gate. And that I would be writing the harshest complaint letter to SAS in the morning demanding an apology for the stress and worry inflicted on my daughter, as well as a refund for the extra ticket. <br />
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*I know for sure that they are able to do this because she arrived with these papers once, after being dropped off by her dad, who apparently had forgotten the pre-printed papers.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-41871578245251637392017-02-17T06:05:00.001-05:002017-02-17T06:27:33.118-05:00New friends<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRarA081A005EVXdkrHtdSCq-sFjoOvdLrDluVFngE8j8KIPSJBGH3ffxKp6UYM_W_Aw92D_Vf0gDdGQhqByzeHBsFgEztkACOUpzPBdjfWjThfe0uQGUa_XCCYp_k5XZ1qFaos6kzSpC6/s1600/IMG_5717.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgRarA081A005EVXdkrHtdSCq-sFjoOvdLrDluVFngE8j8KIPSJBGH3ffxKp6UYM_W_Aw92D_Vf0gDdGQhqByzeHBsFgEztkACOUpzPBdjfWjThfe0uQGUa_XCCYp_k5XZ1qFaos6kzSpC6/s320/IMG_5717.jpg" width="309" /></a>Zoe and I landed around 6:30pm in Stockholm on the Monday evening, just in time to grab sushi in the airport and head home for bed. We had landed at gate 7 ("Mom, how funny, I left from this gate too!"), which took us past the little playground and I gave in to Zoe's plea for 10 minutes play. She quickly made friends with two other bilingual kids her age and I sat down to relax for a bit, happy that she was finally playing with other kids after a mommy-only weekend. "Where are you from?", the girl asked Zoe in her British English that I later overheard she had learned from her dad. Zoe hesitated a bit, "well...", but then said in one breath "I'm from New York, but my mom is Danish and my dad is Scottish and my stepmother in Germain". I was a bit surprised, but also happy to hear that narrative. In her 6 year old life, she has lived in three different countries, four different cities, and that is not including Copenhagen where she has probably spent more time than any of the other places. She often mixes up the US, New York and California (where she was born) and just refer to the US as <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.no/2016/04/super-mom.html">New York</a> <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.no/2015/03/work-life-happiness.html">where she feels home like me</a> and still has a lot of friends. But what I also realized was that in not so long she would probably have to add "and I have a stepfather from [a fourth country]". Because it wouldn't be our truly messy lives if I didn't <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.no/2016/10/another-saturday-morning.html">find someone to date</a> who speaks a fourth language and live in a fourth country. Still.<br />
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The two other siblings had to leave and the girl kept running back to Zoe for more goodbyes, clearly infatuated by my lovely, funny daughter. Zoe was proud, "look mommy, I made friends, they spoke English", she said as we headed down to the sushi place. </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-88340253569650409042017-02-06T07:48:00.000-05:002017-02-06T07:48:12.985-05:00Another week<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning I made a mental note that our passports were all on a shelf in my parents' living room. I updated the note on my phone an hour later because I knew I wouldn't remember it in a few days, in fact I had thought that they were in the passport drawer in Stockholm. But at one point I had realized that next time we needed to travel outside Scandinavia, Zoe and I, would be the US in early May, when we are attending my yearly core conference, and figured we would fly out of Copenhagen because we leave the day after Zoe's birthday. And hopefully the note on my phone would prevent me from panic when I later wondered where they were.<br />
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Scandinavia has a passport union, that has been in place for over fifty years, which means that we don't need to show passport when going between Stockholm and Copenhagen. I once encountered an anomaly, which is when you travel by plane and <i>check in luggage</i>. Then they ask for your passport or ID. Also the child, if the child checks in luggage. That time I happened to have Zoe's passport with me, because that is obviously the only type of ID a child can have (as far as I know, in most countries) and when I asked the check-in lady if she didn't have problems with that often, she snorted that she had never encountered it. Apparently parents rarely check in luggage in their children's name within Scandinavia, who knew?<br />
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I'm off to another two days of Stockholm, picking up Zoe from school and being with her until Wednesday morning. Then she flies down to Copenhagen on Friday for a weekend with me here. Another week, another three flights. </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-9807708992889361772017-02-06T06:19:00.001-05:002017-02-06T06:19:29.829-05:00Missing each other<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Mom, I don't want to go back to daddy tomorrow", Zoe cried as she was lying next to me in bed after our usual goodnight story. "I don't like to sleep in my own room, I'm so scared of monsters". I hugged her and said I understood. Five days earlier her dad had yanked the iPad out of her hand while she had been video chatting with me over breakfast, us just talking about her week and that we would see each other that evening, she eating her toast. We were both in a bit of shock, her crying and me asking to at least say goodbye to her. When I picked her up at school later that day, her teacher told me she had been sad and lying on the couch for about an hour in the morning, saying she missed her mom. The teacher had reminded Zoe that she also liked being with her dad, in the true Swedish equality way. Here, the mother and father are exactly the same to a child, no matter the behavior or the parents, no matter the actual feelings of a child. And children need to be constantly reminded that there is something wrong with being closer to one parent, they are supposed to 'like' them equally.<br />
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I miss Zoe every minute I'm not with her, (like most moms), but I'm being torn apart when I know she is missing me too. I sometimes wish that we would have a normal life where a break apart is a comfortable diversity, a chance to so something different apart. Instead we stick to one another when we are together because it feels short and limited. We have a lot of fun though, every minute we are together.<br />
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-60292936190037758522017-01-11T09:43:00.000-05:002017-01-11T09:53:34.357-05:00Amazing Hawaii<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTxxaD1q-SMi0MxsiZREQ6HjBQIiRZZA1KFiZu5UOtIoqgznlrc2jBm1_cl1DNT84fuG1F_AubtpbfK5tnQqiIm_L1Ikn8isNOlSAca7AouICt4PJTi9yhX15QRy-Bhnt0UQJOtUoD8NE/s1600/IMG_6331.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUTxxaD1q-SMi0MxsiZREQ6HjBQIiRZZA1KFiZu5UOtIoqgznlrc2jBm1_cl1DNT84fuG1F_AubtpbfK5tnQqiIm_L1Ikn8isNOlSAca7AouICt4PJTi9yhX15QRy-Bhnt0UQJOtUoD8NE/s320/IMG_6331.jpg" width="244" /></a></div>
"Mom, I know it is a bit weird because we were just there, but I miss <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.de/2017/01/hawaii-here-we-come.html">Hawaii</a>", Zoe said, as she crawled into bed at our LAX airport hotel. I agreed and said we would go back one day. I missed Hawaii already too. In fact, this had been one of our most amazing trips ever despite it essentially being a conference at a resort hotel. But the hotel was amazing, huge with a canal boat we could take round and around at the resort, even at night when Zoe would fall asleep on my lap and I would just sit and continue the journey, enjoying the palm trees, the stars and the warmth of the air. We would swim in the lagoon each morning, after which Zoe would build sand castles with her new-found friends and I would get sunburned on my legs because I forgot to put sunscreen on them. We would sit indoor, me watching interesting research talks, Zoe watching Pocoyo on her iPad, for a couple of hours, before hitting the ice cream stand and get ice cream that melted too quickly in the heat. We went on a boat tour looking for whales and we walked to the shopping center to get souvenirs. One morning at breakfast, Zoe looked at me and said in a serious tone: "Mom, you are a real adventure mom. We always do so many cool things." It pretty much melted my heart and made me so happy to hear. We do exciting things. And hopefully we will continue to do a lot of exciting things, Zoe and I.<br />
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After our night in LAX, we continued on, back to Europe with a stop in London. <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.de/2017/01/hawaii-here-we-come.html">Two days to get</a> there, two days to get back, but it was worth it all. <br />
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-32993429336029816962017-01-02T09:12:00.000-05:002017-01-11T09:14:11.532-05:00Hawaii here we come<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
After an idyllic family Christmas, Zoe and I are embarking on our longest plane journey ever (the one to China from California was not quite as long); we are off to a conference in Hawaii. It was a long-shot when I submitted a paper last summer but it got in and now I have to go present it. From Copenhagen, Hawaii is as far away as anything possible, 12 hours behind, meaning our chances of actually getting over jetlag before we have to return are slim. I am envisioning a lot of nights in our hotel room reading books and waiting for breakfast to open, but also beach trips and Zoe yawning through conference talks in the back with her iPad (that's how we do it these days when conferences don't have childcare). It is a once in a lifetime trip and if I wasn't so broke from plane tickets between Copenhagen and Stockholm (5983 DKK per month to be exact), I would splash out on some actual trips on the island. We will be on the Big Island at a Hilton resort and there will be friends of mine with kids and someone who have promised to look after Zoe when I present my paper. All in all a good deal I think. Zoe has been singing 'Hula hula' all December in anticipation and packed not just two, but three bathing suits along her swimming doll.<br /><br />Back in Copenhagen life happened. A lot of it. I can't be specific but let me say 2017 will be interesting to say the least from my personal perspective. Happy new year!</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-53539205534391967122016-12-13T04:51:00.002-05:002016-12-13T04:58:34.128-05:00Social me<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
One of the characteristics of my personality is that I am a very social person. I can literally be with people all the time. I didn't think this was a particular special thing until a friend of mine pointed it out many years ago. Don't get me wrong, I'm perfectly happy in my own company too, but I'm not someone who needs a lot of 'me-time'. It reflects easily in that I could spend all my time with Zoe, if I was allowed to, 24/7. It is one of the reasons I feel so much at home in New York, it is the easiest place to get friends and after two years there, I have the highest concentration of friends and acquaintances there, <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.se/2016/10/the-puzzle.html">compared to anywhere else</a>. But Copenhagen is getting better and I'm making an effort to not only initiate things, but literally invite myself for dinner at friends and family. This week I have managed to invite myself (and Zoe) for dinner twice and only reciprocated with one other invitation to 'my' house (i.e. my parents' place). And then of course there is the yearly gløgg party at my place in Stockholm, where I always have to think hard about who to invite because our apartment is still only 34 sq meters and more than 8 people would result in some guests having to stand on the balcony. So this year I have invited 7 plus Zoe and I. We'll have to make gløgg, marcipan confect, honey hearts and pepparkakar. The preparation is of course half the fun.<br />
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Last night, Zoe told me not just twice, but three times that she can't wait to have Christmas in Copenhagen, to see her family and to go get our tree and decorate it. Me neither. After <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.se/2016/10/time-to-board.html">this</a> <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.se/2016/09/kind-strangers.html">semester</a>, I definitely deserve a solid break and holiday, so does Zoe.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-76056844976808166302016-12-04T12:38:00.000-05:002016-12-04T12:38:44.003-05:00Christmas spirit<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
It was a lazy Sunday morning when I woke up craving traditional Danish weekend breakfast: the delicious pastries and breads that are just not replicable anywhere else in the world. Luckily, being in Denmark that morning (because these days that's certainly not a given), I walked down to my local modern bakery, now sporting a cafe part where I parked myself for the next few hours indulging in cinnamon snails, hot tea and raspberry short breads. I was reading number 12 of 89 individual student assignments, due for grading by the Christmas holiday, when the children started trickling in, settling at the large communal table in the middle. It turned out that there was a decoration workshop going on, where each child got to decorate their own honey heart (a Danish Christmas cake/cookie) with colorful sugar glaze and sprinkles. Their chatter and excitement cut my concentration short, not because I can't focus with other people around, but simply because it reminded me that this was number two of three weekends without Zoe and just how much I wished Zoe would have been there with me. For some reason, still not really understood my myself, because we were even for the year, Zoe's dad had demanded two extra days this December and they had to be on the weekend. The argument was that I got to spend Christmas with her (we do every other year). If I wasn't going to give him the days, he would just come and pick Zoe up. Zoe cried her eyes out when she found out last Tuesday and stamped her feet. I tried to explain that her daddy just wanted to make sure he saw her as much as me. "But I want to be mostly with you, Mom", she cried as she has done so many other times. I held her tight and tried not to get tearful myself.<br />
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After the children at the cafe had started their decorating endeavors, I packed up and left. One day, I'll have Zoe here, decorating honey cakes and sipping hot chocolate. But right now, she doesn't even like those cakes and I still have 77 student assignments to grade.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-5287285432202111252016-11-26T15:52:00.002-05:002016-11-26T15:52:43.223-05:00New York, Florida and back<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Flying to New York</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Back in our lovely apartment </td><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;"><br /></td></tr>
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Zoe and I went to New York and Florida for two weeks. We were busy seeing old friends, having fun, catching up on our usual places and then my conference in Florida before we went to Disneyworld for one day. We had a blast but are back home in Copenhagen/Stockholm now. Next up is Christmas preparation and present purchases. <br />
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoe in the kitchen window sill</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A morning walk in our neighborhood</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Saying goodbye to our apartment</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Disneyworld! Magic Kingdom</td></tr>
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<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">A magic treahouse in Magic Kingdom</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbi8lfLvbsNpcb1oaRs2AtByFMwxyvdogCtvAR2cMYZ7nwiJojtnzL-i7lyNPPovzsL9MXX5B_i6ZMdAxdvGDpIplCaqGs1efn9bPMLeyOvg5-g2DQO9p0LmRNPqeU02ARkWXKWOxGPX4/s1600/IMG_5916.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWbi8lfLvbsNpcb1oaRs2AtByFMwxyvdogCtvAR2cMYZ7nwiJojtnzL-i7lyNPPovzsL9MXX5B_i6ZMdAxdvGDpIplCaqGs1efn9bPMLeyOvg5-g2DQO9p0LmRNPqeU02ARkWXKWOxGPX4/s320/IMG_5916.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">On the flying Dumbo rid</td></tr>
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFayGMDbauH7gDKja38wVLfvzo_oocJPAEI2Z71TXH3cnFZiXwk1k0sevgz3xayX7xWlCnENN9YCsNcKYZ86yYsPrhLqSp84Dnxj5Q27At3fu8cKpDpOiXAQcNtJ1M7pqcjqQ3p9WuTrBs/s1600/IMG_5958.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFayGMDbauH7gDKja38wVLfvzo_oocJPAEI2Z71TXH3cnFZiXwk1k0sevgz3xayX7xWlCnENN9YCsNcKYZ86yYsPrhLqSp84Dnxj5Q27At3fu8cKpDpOiXAQcNtJ1M7pqcjqQ3p9WuTrBs/s320/IMG_5958.jpg" width="240" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Ice skating!</td></tr>
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-68687361795582566982016-10-29T07:27:00.000-04:002016-10-29T07:29:40.925-04:00Another Saturday morning<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
I ordered my almond flat white and sat down to write on a paper. The guy next to me smiled as I sat down and I smiled back, thinking nothing of it until 20 minutes later where I concluded that he had to be American. He certainly couldn't be Danish since they don't look at you and definitely don't smile. He smiled that kind friendly "you are welcome to sit here next to me" smile that means exactly nothing more than that. On the other hand, if you smile or say hello to a Dane, they will immediately worry that you want to be their best friend. But it is possible to have casual conversation and even casual dinner, without pretending it was anything more. Like I had the previous evening with a fellow academic nomad who had a plane to catch later in the evening and I had nothing better to do than to stay late in my office to continue paper editing and figuring out what to do with my computer. We caught a pizza at a local joint where we could sit in faux leather booths and talk for a couple of hours. It was really nice to have an academic- turned private conversation with someone I always admired but never overlapped much with in terms of area. He was a nomad like me, working 25% here and 75% an hours flight away. I worked 100% here but had a 6 year old daughter in school an hours flight away. We bonded immediately.<br />
<br />
Flybaby is with her dad for the next week until we fly to New York for two weeks. Her and I are both ecstatic, I have booked three play-dates, an off Broadway show and a tour of a chocolate factory in Red Hook. We are staying for one last time in our old apartment with the view to the Empire State building and I hope to catch up with colleagues and friends, Zoe's old babysitter already booked. We will round of the trip with my conference in Florida and to Zoe the most exciting thing ever: One day in Disney World (Magic Kingdom of course). I'm only sad that we don't have time to more than one day there, but I'll probably take her back another time.<br />
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But until then, a drat everyday of weekends blending into weekdays with work and paper writing and occasional academic dates. </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-64752375071540919412016-10-17T23:35:00.000-04:002016-10-21T05:55:24.831-04:00Monday afternoon<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
"Sorry, we have to end here, I have a flight to catch", was the now common phrase I used to end a meeting. I had specifically volunteered to take on the ground work for our presentation at the research day so we could get out of there on time. A babysitter was picking up Zoe from school as I changed my shoes, grabbed my white coat and pink scarf, and headed towards the airport. I was just one hop away from seeing my little girl who had called me the previous morning to show me she had lost her second tooth. "Mommy, I'm so sorry, so so sorry, I didn't call you right when it happened", she started and we looked at the big vacancy in her lower mouth. I told her that we would see each other the next day and we said goodbye. <br /><br />Peaking from my window seat, the full moon looked like a man with a big nose, just swaying there in the background with transparent clouds in front of it. My plane was fifteen minuted delayed, fifteen minutes that I would miss with Zoe. But we would be together for the next nine days, weekdays, weekend and another few weekdays. We had plans every single day, almost too many to have just an everyday life, but I wanted to make the most of it. We were going to the theater over the weekend, we had a birthday for my nephew, Zoe's Danish cousin who she loved playing with. We had dinner plans with a colleague/friend who I always wanted to hang out with more. We had a full day of me working and her hanging out with my mom. Then we were taking the plane to school Tuesday morning because I just felt to bad about Zoe missing yet another school day, but my work obligations went into the previous evening. And I will not ever give up seeing Zoe at least half the time, the time I can get allotted for me. I landed safely an hour later and catching the Arlanda express I found myself hugging a little girl in less than one forty minutes later.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-59728541065071068102016-10-10T05:06:00.001-04:002016-10-10T05:06:53.913-04:00Time to board<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
My office neighbor had wished me a good trip three times before I almost snapped. "It's not a big deal, I'm just going to see my daughter, then I'm back Friday for the meetings. It's like you working from home for one day!" It wasn't even like working from home because I had a three hour meeting with one of my closest colleagues where we managed to write a workshop proposal and discuss a couple of papers that each of us had read recently. But yes, I did have a four hour commute 'home' to Stockholm Wednesday afternoon, just in time to pick up Zoe from school on the later side of 5pm and I did not work on the plane but instead took a nap because I was exhausted from a week-long cold on top of regular work. After a day in school for Zoe, me working 'from home', I picked her up at a regular hour and we headed to the airport. We ate a bit of dinner in the lounge while watching Dumbo together, Zoe crying her eyes out at always, during the scene where the mother is locked up but still manages to sing a lullaby for her cub, rocking the little elephant with her trunk. I comforted Zoe, well-knowing that this scene perfectly illustrates our life and that this is why we watch it and this is why we cry. We arrived at my parents' house past 9pm where my mother was waiting with tea and cookies, but Zoe fell asleep on the couch.<br />
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<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzYUsQ1X3zUhDLPapv9TEAaqpzBU3bBnZVUCGtZC7C2Ljm_xGObYfahzubDK5f_bN6Q3VPmXu84pjBhrpcIr_BIcwkg8QgeorhhHg9qUC28PVp0iQ1e4avczcY4DCkUPptGuZ4MC7mcBH/s1600/IMG_5698.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEikzYUsQ1X3zUhDLPapv9TEAaqpzBU3bBnZVUCGtZC7C2Ljm_xGObYfahzubDK5f_bN6Q3VPmXu84pjBhrpcIr_BIcwkg8QgeorhhHg9qUC28PVp0iQ1e4avczcY4DCkUPptGuZ4MC7mcBH/s320/IMG_5698.jpg" width="246" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Zoe eating chocolate strawberries in Copenhagen</td></tr>
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It is not the actual flying, I explained to my friend, it is the shifting of context that I have to do constantly. I wake up and for a couple of seconds I have to try to figure out where I am. I have to remind myself where I have my things. I have double of everything (well triple if counting my parents' place) but there are just some tings you can't have double of. And shifting context in terms of language and places, makes it hard shifting context when it comes to work. My type of work is already very diverse, I spend one hour preparing teaching, then another writing on a paper and a third in a meeting with colleagues in relation to a new research collaboration, not to mention the hour working on travel claims and planning. This is standard work structure for my kind of position, nothing new there, nothing special about that. But combined with me shifting between three different apartments, two lounges, airplanes and my office actually being the place I spend the most time in total, it is difficult to focus. To retain some sort of structure I go to the same coffee shop in Stockholm every morning after dropping Zoe off, sitting at the very same table, drinking the same type of coffee. It helps a bit. But then I get a notification from my SAS app telling me that I can now check in and I realize that in 24 hours it is time to board again.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-81687621473654041672016-10-04T16:32:00.000-04:002016-10-04T16:32:00.577-04:00The Puzzle<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Walking towards the subway station, messaging an old friend of mine to plan a tea/dinner thing, he pointed out what I already knew through a rhetorical question: "So you live in Copenhagen, but your daughter goes to school in Stockholm and your boyfriend is in New York? That's gotta be a puzzle!" It stung a bit and I didn't confirm, I just told him that we could meet up next Tuesday after my faculty meeting. I looked forward to seeing him after so many years.<br />
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They always say it is much harder returning than to actually leave your 'home country' and I have felt that again and again, each time I have had to spend more than a couple of days here. This time is the most extreme, I have not lived in Denmark for fourteen years, not since my mid-twenties when I started my PhD (apart from four months of thesis writeup spent in an office). It is incredibly lonely in the middle of a lot of people because not only am I used to having a packed program when I'm in Copenhagen (you got 5 days to see friends, parents, brothers, cousins), I also don't actually have that many friends here anymore. So I have to rekindle old acquaintances, some whom I have followed on Facebook, others who I never thought I would have conversations with outside work. The former turning out to have changed personality and values, the latter turning out to be worth the non-work conversations anyway.<br />
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But yes, I try to work in Copenhagen, have a daughter in Stockholm and a date someone in New York. Tomorrow I get to see the former for a couple of days, in November the latter. At least I get to spend plenty of time in my office messaging people around the world.</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-20654988890200258542016-09-21T17:58:00.001-04:002016-09-21T17:58:05.734-04:00Kind strangers<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
This morning, at 6am, I left Zoe with a virtual stranger in a strange house because I had to catch a flight down to Copenhagen to make one of my many job introductory meetings. She hugged me and told me she loves me and then went tiredly into the extra bed for another hour of rest, until the other children in the house would wake up and play and have breakfast with her. All before the stranger would take her and the other children to school at the normal school hour. After the door closed behind me I rushed teary eyed down the dark staircase to catch the express train to the airport. There I had breakfast in the lounge and boarded as one of the last passengers at gate 9, on SK410 to Copenhagen, making my meeting with a couple of minutes to spare.<br /><br />Exactly two weeks in, we are still getting used to our new lifestyle, Zoe and I, and although I knew there would be hiccups in my meticulously planned schedule, this week was worse than I had imagined, colliding with my most important yearly article deadline today. Because I am still starting my new job, there are a lot of meetings that I need to show my face at, not necessarily to receive essential information, but to show that I'm a team player and that I'm part of this new department. It doesn't help that my head of department has promptly informed me that unless I get this "Zoe situation" solved before Christmas I have to go on part-time. That's right. Unless I stop spending one day a week working from Stockholm, I have to switch to part-time. Where all other academics at all other universities have the opportunity (and often the right) to work from home (or the beach) 1-2 days per week, as long as their duties are being done, I somehow don't. "We have defined working hours here, they are in your contract", she argued and I realized that I had indeed signed such contract but because it is so normal for academics to work flexible hours (most of us work way more than 40 hours, both nights and on weekends, particularly in relation to teaching preparation and deadlines), I never thought I would be held to it.<br /><br />So when Zoe's dad texted me Sunday evening that Zoe was sick and could I please pick her up at 1pm Monday instead of from school, I panicked* because I had meetings all day and had arranged to have a babysitter pick her up so I could just fly in around 8pm. When I asked the babysitter if she could pick up Zoe earlier she said she didn't want to get sick and then actually couldn't pick up Zoe at all. I did the only obvious thing, I called in sick to my meetings, got on the first plane possible Monday morning, picked Zoe up and we went home and had movie night with popcorn and hot tea with honey. By the next morning she was actually well enough to go to school on the Tuesday, but I picked her up early.<br /><br />So why did I drop her off at a stranger's place this morning? Well, sometimes people just pop up in your life, who has empathy and understanding, and know that you would do the exact same thing for them. Since the babysitter was now out of the picture (I had asked her to come over to our place at 6am to take Zoe to school, long time ago, so I could catch my plane), I voiced my panic to another set of single moms in my social network. One of them invited Zoe and me over for dinner Tuesday night; Zoe and her two girls got along brilliantly (they all speak English) and she offered to take Zoe to school Wednesday. So of course she is not a stranger, it turned out that we had our basic degree in common, had both lived in Britain, and we bonded immediately over our lives combining careers and motherhood. Zoe was completely at ease being left there and as the pictures that kept tricking in on my phone showed, they had a great morning playing their hearts out with legos. Oh, and of course I got myself a new babysitter who is not afraid of looking after a child with a cold.<br /><br />*The first thing I did was obviously to ask how sick she was and if I could talk to her, wishing I was there to comfort her. It turned out it was just a light cold, but she was coughing enough to not be school-ready</div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-3250456085704527272016-09-11T17:06:00.000-04:002016-09-11T17:06:30.898-04:00A place to call home<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheh1He1TdUd_XHytACBhLtnRNBKFyGCZEY8B6Om3gjMIMvQxkJCSn0xQ6fWBoctxqKuzs8Kgeqov4laW0zFO1-2p4H0OlitxAjz5y2f2PfVqtKmapdliR6A6YdwIS-IGjnQupRU8WI33vi/s1600/IMG_5336+%25281%2529.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEheh1He1TdUd_XHytACBhLtnRNBKFyGCZEY8B6Om3gjMIMvQxkJCSn0xQ6fWBoctxqKuzs8Kgeqov4laW0zFO1-2p4H0OlitxAjz5y2f2PfVqtKmapdliR6A6YdwIS-IGjnQupRU8WI33vi/s320/IMG_5336+%25281%2529.jpg" width="233" /></a></div>
Four days ago I left the place that I now consider home. The place I feel most at ease in the whole world. <br /><br />I left a number of close friends<br />I left a set of amazing colleagues<br />I left the place where Zoe flourished with schoolmates and dance classes<br />I left my apartment with a view of the Empire State Building<br />I left the place that I love<br />I left a guy who just the other night called me his girlfriend and then cooked me dinner<br />I left it all because of this one little girl.<br /><br />Because I refuse to see her less than half our time, because I refuse to have her miss me as much as she does when we are apart more than a week. </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-51299072663681389162016-08-31T12:35:00.002-04:002016-08-31T12:35:46.903-04:00Taking the plane to school<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
On the Amtrak going to Northern California, looking out at the hilly green landscape I tried to plan the next four month in even more details. As much as I'm excited about my new job and the thought about never having to be apart from Zoe for more than a week, I'm also realistic. It will be hard. I'll be tired and I'll be missing meetings, missing friends, trying to write that brilliant paper on my one hour flight and have breakfast in the lounge more than I care (their coffee is not that good). But it wasn't until I bought (and wow, it's easy for me to buy plane tickets with my mobile Scandinavian Airlines app) a plane ticket for me and Zoe to fly from Copenhagen to Stockholm, early one October morning so she can make it for school that day, that it dawned upon me the reality of this: My daughter, Flybaby, will be taking the plane to school. If we catch the first 6:15am plane from Copenhagen, we can <i>just</i> make it for 8:30am, being probably 15 minutes late. But I have a work dinner the previous evening, so we have no choice. It's not just my life that will be chopped into pieces of different settings and countries, it is also Zoe's. I hope that I'll be able to support her and comfort her if it is all too much one day, and I hope that I will be relaxed enough to just let things (and plane tickets) go if she needs to take it easy.<br />
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I arrived at my California destination and rolled my little suitcase out to my hotel. Later on, Zoe's dad texted me telling she misses me. My heart broke in two and I had to comfort myself with with the fact that in 10 days we will be reunited. Meanwhile I have a committee meeting to run, six big boxes of stuff to pack, one lecture to write and a couple of flights to take back. </div>
Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6232760833419840177.post-16658200940863503212016-07-24T08:14:00.000-04:002016-07-24T08:33:13.185-04:00Scenes from the last 3 weeks<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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Copenhagen airport, end of June, 11am</h3>
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"Excuse me, excuse me", I squeezed through the slightly annoyed passengers at gate B2 waiting to board the plane to Stockholm, probably wondering why I thought I had the right to get on first. But I was not getting on. Instead I was waiting for the littlest passenger disembarking from the slightly late arriving plane from Stockholm. I was craning my neck to see the people exiting into the glass tube from the air-bridge, well-knowing that she was not allowed to go out on her own and had to wait until the end. My heart was pounding and when I finally saw her in the distance behind several layers of glass it skipped a beat and I gasped loud enough for the gate agent to pay attention to me for a second, yet still ignoring the fact that I was clearly overstepping the border between gate and air-bridge. When Zoe turned the corner and saw me, she started running as fast as she could pulling her little suitcase. "Mommy!', "Zoe!"; we hugged and kissed and I held her close, careful not to squeeze her too hard. When we finally let go, I looked up at a very young confused airline employee who had accompanied her out of the plane. "Are you continuing on a different plane?", he asked and I told him no, I had just arrived from New York which is why I was still inside the terminal. I wanted to explain that we hadn't seen each other for two months but then I realized that I didn't care what other people thought at all. All I cared about was that Zoe was here with me and we were going on holiday for three weeks. As we walked towards baggage claim, Zoe kept looking up at me and clench my hand, "it's so good to be with you again, Mommy".</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
Late night in our summer house, early July</h3>
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My dad raised his glass filled with single malt that he had bought specifically for celebrating my new job in Denmark (he knows I love whiskey, particularly the peaty single malt kind): "To your new job in Denmark. We are very excited to have you back. And to you getting back to the US again". I knew exactly what he meant.</div>
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
On the plane back to New York, mid July</h3>
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Zoe with a glass of apple juice and I with a glass of sparkling wine in the front seats of economy plus that we had gotten upgraded to. "Cheers to New York", I said and held up my glass. "Cheers to New York, and cheers to Denmark who gave you a job so we get to live in Denmark!", Zoe added (in Danish) and my eyes welled up. </div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRw52IgsjfBfHryGaqksJ6EfXAqsY6d1sx57pZnkgFgUFlGaQ3dGa9Gim2np7dNXzrNs-_48Gye2oirBuMBjo-TL3StNP6U_TY9BTJLTP2nqjvRpPvuuyBbpDXzOi-PWAIN4qcvkE8QtC-/s1600/IMG_5140.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiRw52IgsjfBfHryGaqksJ6EfXAqsY6d1sx57pZnkgFgUFlGaQ3dGa9Gim2np7dNXzrNs-_48Gye2oirBuMBjo-TL3StNP6U_TY9BTJLTP2nqjvRpPvuuyBbpDXzOi-PWAIN4qcvkE8QtC-/s320/IMG_5140.jpg" width="245" /></a>New York the day after we got back to our apartment</h3>
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Zoe was sitting on the side of the bathtub in our tiny NY bathroom while I put on makeup by the mirror. "But mommy", she said thoughtfully, "I don't really have any friends in Denmark. I have friends in New York and in Stockholm, but not really anyone in Denmark". I agreed with her and made a mental note to work on that. </div>
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<h3 style="text-align: left;">
New York early early in the morning</h3>
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"Mommy, is it morning yet?" Zoe sat up in our dark bedroom. "No, but we have jetlag. Do you want to go for breakfast?" Zoe agreed excitedly by the thought of pancakes and bacon and we headed out into the still cool West Village morning and found a dinner close to her school that was open at 6am. As we sat there with the crass but friendly waitress serving us orange juice, bagels and bacon I couldn't think of anywhere better to be. This was our third <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.com/2013/08/new-york-exploring.html">summer</a> in <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.com/2013/09/new-yoirk-baby.html">New York City</a> so we were prepared for the sweltering heat and we knew where the <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.com/2015/07/summer-in-city.html">free outdoor pools were</a>. This was also the start of some kind of end though. Zoe would be in day camp for a couple of weeks, the same ones as last year, and then I would have to take her back to Stockholm before returning on my own to finish my work in New York. She would start in yet a new school where she knew nobody (three kids from her old daycare were also starting there, however all in the other class) and in September I would start my <a href="http://flybabybook.blogspot.com/2016/06/decided.html">commuting life between Copenhagen and Stockholm</a>. I already had plans for us to come back to New York in November and December, courtesy of a conference and a committee meeting. But right now we were here, waking up to the view of the Empire State Building every single morning. </div>
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Louisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00199642489918949988noreply@blogger.com0