Another Saturday morning

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.

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.

But until then, a drat everyday of weekends blending into weekdays with work and paper writing and occasional academic dates.

Monday afternoon

"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.

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.

Kind strangers

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.

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.

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.

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.

*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

Hell and back

On Wednesday two months of me being away from Zoe will finally come to an end and we will be reunited in Copenhagen airport as she steps off a plane from Stockholm as an unaccompanied minor (something she is a pro at by now). She will fling into my arms and I'll hug her so hard that she will have to tell me to stop. We are going to have the most amazing summer together, first going to my new job for a couple of meetings (she is super excited to see my new offices) and then going to the summerhouse with our family, including her two little baby cousins.

But until then I am flying back to New York from a conference where I was invited to give a keynote talk. Being a small conference it was very social and nice because it was an opportunity to catch up with old friends while also make new acquaintances and find potential collaborators. I even got to hang out with two friends from Stockholm who I hadn't seen for a couple of months. We exchanged gossip and general information, them telling me about Zoe, how she eats bacon for breakfast each time she visits them.

Last time I said goodnight to her, we counted the days. "Mommy, if we don't count today, how many days until I see you?", she asked and I showed her six fingers. Okay, she said. I kissed her goodnight through the video and told her I love her.

She, out of everybody, knows nothing of what I have been through the past 3-4 weeks and she will not know for another many years. But then she will because she is clever and she will figure things out. Some of my friends know a little, others know more, but none of them know it all. I share one or two things with each of them, but I will not bother anyone with all. Because that is too much. Just like you don't tell your mother about that one thing, because you know it would tear her apart that she couldn't protect you. I try to turn even the worst thing into something positive, like I'm actually seeing a therapist now. I think that's good for me. But even her, I have yet to tell the details of how my dreams are disintegrating in front of me again and again. And again.

It was the second morning at the a chic coffee shop with great service in Chicago where I finally found tears dripping down onto my phone. It was not something I had expected but the betrayal and the hurt I felt just over floated as I sipped my double latte. The incoming calls on my phone remained red and that was not going to change for the next while. "Remember, put the mask on yourself before helping others", my friend had reminded me on the phone the other evening, using the airplane analogy. This is something I frequently have to remind myself. I told her some of the stories but not even half the pain. She has enough pain herself I'm sure.

On the plane back to New York I thought about the most amazing part of this: I'm still standing. I'm standing right here. I gave a killer keynote, had senior people asking me to write funding proposals with them, had a guy flirt with me in a pretty non-equivocal manor. And if anyone can take all of this in one go, all four horrible things, it is me.

Decided

I wake up to the buzzing sound of traffic and noisy neighbors. On weekends when my alarm is not there, it usually only takes me ten minutes of trying to snooze until I realize that I'm in New York and instead of wasting time in bed, I can spend my morning breathing in that hot New York air, walking the still sleepy streets with the other single woman on their way to get their morning coffee, the jazz player rolling his double bass to the brunch restaurant and looking up at the fire escape clad brick buildings. I hop out of bed into a soft Brooklyn Industries dress and go to pick up a croissant from the french bakery down in the village. I kiss Zoe's picture on my desk on the way, imagining her playing with friends right now and looking forward to spending a whole summer with her. I have lunch with a friend and dinner with another. In between I send emails about committee work and grade student theses that were due last week. I'm finally calm after a few difficult weeks.

After two weeks of grueling decisions, chats to most of my friends and me crying more than I should, because I was bound to lose out in both cases that I had to chose between, I finally reached a place in my head where I can breathe and where I think I can do most for Zoe. I think leverage is the best term here. So although I have not made an official announcement in my real life, I might as well describe my upcoming years here. And it is about to get even more messy:

From September I will be working full time in Copenhagen (with only one job). In any normal scenario this would mean I would also be moving to Copenhagen, but since Zoe is stuck in Stockholm, I will technically move back to Stockholm. But I will also live in Copenhagen, and I will certainly also be living in New York as much as I can to keep my sanity. I told Zoe part of this on the phone the other day and her eyes lit up in amazement. "Are we going to live with grandma?" she excitedly asked and I said I didn't know yet, we probably will have our own apartment in Copenhagen as well as keeping the small one we have in Stockholm. I will fly to Copenhagen for weekdays and fly back to see Zoe on weekends, with her hopefully coming down to Copenhagen half the time too. Because after all she is Danish and we have all our family there.

Let me be clear: this is in no way my dream scenario or dream life. This is something I have to do for Zoe. She needs to see her mom regularly without having to go for two months without, crying whenever we talk because we miss each other so much. My new job is a helluva lot better than my old one in Sweden and has several major benefits: Three of my good friends work there, making the work environment good (back in Sweden I had one close, amazing colleague friend, and she still will be, but two people do not a community make); people speak my native tongue at work, not some kind of Muppet version of it where they refuse to consider me as anything but a strange foreigner until I speak English; I get to teach two subjects that I really enjoy. Oh, and I'll obviously keep my gold status on my airline because I will be spending the better part of a two days per week 'commuting' between two major cities. Yes, I'm trying to see that as a benefit. But my new job is not my dream job in any way, it simply is not. That I had to say no to. Instead it is another bump in the road to the actual dream job, which I might be able to take in 10 years time. I might only just have one life, but Zoe only has one mom.

Game over

The Empire State Building is green and red, two colors Zoe would find boring, but she is not here to complain. Instead I'm hitting the two week mark of her absence where I start really feeling it in my heart. Her pictures around the apartment, her toys still scattered a bit between the bedroom and the shelf in the living room reminding me that she was just here and will be back again. In another two months. Not for long, because her dad informed me today that he wants her to be back in Europe for at least two weeks before she starts school so she can get over her jetlag. Not like something we could talk about or agree about. "I want her back in Stockholm by x date". I am not sure exactly when this whole parenting thing turned from two people trying to agree about what is best for Zoe, to demands and requirements. It is honestly the weirdest thing. And it only adds fuel to my hurting heart, missing her, missing hugging her, chatting to her, reading long chapter books before bedtime and rubbing her back as she falls asleep. She is and will always be my little baby. And being without her is like missing a piece of myself.

If it wasn't enough that I miss her, my life is as messy as it could ever be. Having my visa cancelled out of nowhere was nothing compared to this. On top of having a major life decision in front of me, I'm responsible for coordinating some conference work that will take about 30 hours to do this weekend and be a major chore this summer. And then I have all the work at my second job, which is actually my main job at the moment since they are the only ones providing me with a salary. On top of that I pay too much attention to someone who doesn't deserve it, someone who can't help pay attention to me either, but who should know better. I just want to move on. I just want to have made this decision, to be on the other side, next to Zoe, having pizza on a weeknight and discuss how the stars were made and why her friend in school doesn't speak another language.

I keep concluding that it's game over. That I have been defeated by circumstances and really bad life choices such as who I decided to have a child with. It makes me depressed and sad and incapable of working on anything serious for a while. But then I remember my promise to myself. That I'll never give up. That I *will* one day have that professor job in the US, no matter how much I have to sacrifice. Except I'll not sacrifice any time with Zoe. And this is where I fail again. And again. As her dad satisfactory said to me last time he picked her up: "I have my research group now, this is what I always wanted". I'm so happy for him.

Decisions

Last night was the first time where I just didn't have the strength to explain my situation to yet a new person and simplified things, just telling the newly befriended acquaintance that my daughter went to that particular school in her neighborhood. It stung like crazy when she happily suggested that we might bump into each other in the morning because she always walked her dog down Bedford Street around the time of the school run. It stung because there is no more school run. There is no more chit-chatting to the other parents, getting approached for volunteer activities and then me running off to work, stopping by the bakery for a warm croissant on the way, running back in the afternoon to pick up and take Zoe to dance class. Exactly a week ago I said goodbye to Zoe in the lobby of a hotel, both of us crying and me hurrying out because I just couldn't do another hug.

Most women, mothers or not, even sometimes men, tend to go quiet when I talk about my situation. They first have this "what a great life you have, a great job, a great situation", until it dawn upon them what I have had to give up. And that if I want the career, the success, which is right in front of me now, offering to make up for lost years, I have to give up spending my everyday life with my daughter, the person who means the most to me in this world. And no matter what, I'll spend countless hours (and money) on airplanes to see her for short moments.

"Mommy, I don't understand why it is, but I cry more when I'm with Daddy than when I'm with you. I just get upset a lot", Zoe told me as we walked to school the last day. She had just spent a long weekend with her dad, on holiday. I said I was sorry but didn't know what else to say. To me it is obvious. I don't really have a choice, I know what to do and maybe in another ten years I'll get another chance.

When half is as good at it gets (2)

The first weekend without Zoe is always the hardest one. It didn't help that I hadn't planned much in terms of being social, only an adhoc drink with a visiting friend on Friday. After managing to buy a birthday present to Zoe and work out Saturday, by Sunday I was going into such mental disarray that I felt out of control. A final spur of energy made me turn on Eurythmics' "Sisters are doing it for themselves" and get out the door, walking to the Lower East Side in the pouring rain. And there I was, in my Tory Burch ballerina flats, having a double latte at El Rey (where they also happen to sit in Master of None, but by then I already had three stamps on my coffee card) feeling really stupid that I felt so sorry for myself. Yes, I didn't get all the things I wanted but I still got a lot. In fact, it was as if I have gotten exactly half of what I wanted in life.

I wanted a family but I have half, two of us to be exact, and that exactly half the time. I wanted to live in New York forever, but I got to live here for a year and a half. Not that that is half of forever, but perhaps if you round it down a bit? I wanted that nice professor job and I got a professor job in a country I hate. I got to kiss the guy on the top of the subway stairs. Okay, on some counts I definitely got less than half, but I got something. I put on a smile and thought about all the things I got instead of all the things I didn't get or will lose. Because that's what it looks like, I'll lose New York and get something entirely different. And sometimes, half is just fine.

Saturday morning thoughts

Zoe woke me up by gently squeezing my arm, telling me it was weekend. We made bagels with nutella and I used my last bit of milk for a strong latte. She started making birthday cards to her grandmother and my brother who both have birthdays coming up, very creative with hearts, stars and glitter glue. I started my 3rd job's tasks, things that I mostly have to do on weekends, often when Zoe is asleep. This 3rd job means I'm surviving in New York as a single mom.

But time is running out. By mid-May my visa is expiring, which means my jobs are running out, which means I have no income. I have a few options, one is applying for another visa, but it is insanely expensive (6000+ $) and I would need to have a job offer. Which I'm not sure I will have. I'm waiting for three people to get back to me about options right now, something that I hate, putting my fate in others' hands. I feel I have ended up in some bad situations in my life by waiting for others or let others influence my decisions. I followed my ex-husband three times for work, which means I have missed out on so many opportunities that other people like me have in my field and ended up in a horrible work/living situation. Trying to correct that now has been extremely difficult. But I'm not giving up (not entirely sure what giving up would look like anyway), I'm still looking for that permanent position in a country I like living in (i.e. the US), that pays enough for me to support a middle class lifestyle for Zoe and me. One pair of designer shoes per year for me and weekly dance classes for Zoe. It's all I'm asking.

Oh and it would be nice to have a boyfriend too. So far, since my divorce, I have managed to date a flaky liar, fall in love with a guy who works for my ex and then my boss. I get dates with guys who buy their degrees on the internet and end up sleeping with my friends, usually putting an end to that friendship. Once a month I vow never to deal with any guys again and live happily ever after, just myself. But then I see them all around me, being all nice and sexy and cute and sometimes even amazing dads. And I fall head over heals again, over the most inappropriate guys who have no interest in me whatsoever.

Zoe finished her birthday cards and we packed them into envelopes. I finished my reviewing of papers and we went to have sushi in the afternoon. At least we have each other and that's not too bad.

When half is as good as it gets

This morning I took the little kids duvet from the couch where it has been warming my feed for the last two months back to the bed where it belongs. I also took out two pair of boots from the closet, size 29, and put them next to the much bigger boots in the hallway. I took out the Hello Kitty lunch box from the top shelf and the Frozen themed glass with the pink spiral straw, which lights up when you flick the switch at the bottom of it. I didn't need to take down the tiny tea set and the children's books are all lined up on the lower shelf of the long book case.

I know the routine by now. The things I teary eyed took away, put into closets so I wouldn't get reminded too much of Zoe's absence are now being brought back for use again. The things that I kept out to remind me that I have the most adorable and sweet daughter, albeit far away, are being put back to their appropriate place. Zoe will be here this afternoon, staying for two months, exactly two month after she left, as she has done now for over a year. She will go back into her routine of school, dance class, acting class and see her good friends (she has three close friends here) regularly again, but she will also miss her friends and dad in Stockholm.

Reflecting back to the beginning when her and I had to be without each other for first 3 weeks, then two months (these first two months were still the hardest months of my life, hands down) it has become, if not a comfortable routine, then at least something I have gotten more used to. And time flies. The time she is away, I burry myself in work, staying in the office until 7pm, going in on Sundays, writing emails to students past midnight and simply just try to focus on my career. And one day takes the next, I have coffee with friends, dinner with colleagues, go to the Guggenheim museum on a Saturday night and look forward to my everyday life with Zoe.

The situation is not ideal for Zoe (to a large part because she misses her mom a lot) but when two parents can't agree beyond selfishness and principles, half the time is sometimes as good as it gets. And as I look at the pink toothbrush and the bubblegum toothpaste by the sink, I can't help but just be utterly grateful and excited to spent the next two months having a normal everyday life with the most important person in my life.

How to make everyday life work

This week has been one of the craziest, busiest weeks in my life recently, with me trying to keep up with all my 4 jobs and get a lot of work out the way before Zoe gets here in less than a week. It has also been crazy because I let it: when Zoe is not here, I tend to work long hours, sleep too little and try to be social. To top things off, lots of little stupid things happened such as me getting a 100$ fine in the subway, by the police for walking in through the exit door without asking the attendant first (yep, not because I didn't have a ticket, because I have a weekly pass. I just tried to save time/energy from the turn stile rejecting me, I had gone two subway stations too far and needed to go up and over, entering the subway again before 18 minutes had passed) and the Instacard shopper forgetting my bagels (how could he? It was the most important part of my shop!). Bigger things such as teaching, conference chairing and paper deadlines were just standard parts the week. But it got me thinking that I need to write an updated "how to make it as a single parent in New York" since the last post like this was written in Stockholm (alas, it was "how to make it as a single mom in Stockholm").

• New York does not have the exact same concept as arstiderna.com, instead I buy groceries on Instacart (which is expensive because you have to pay for shipping plus tips) or FreshDirect. Instcart has the huge advantage that I can spend 10 minutes when I get to work, collecting my standard groceries and have them delivered in evening when I get back. They are always on time and they are good at providing exchanges when the item you ordered is not available. Except when they forget my bagels. 
• When I really don't have time to cook I get food from Munchery. They have great kids meals too and instead of traditional restaurant delivery which is always half-cold on arrival, this you have to heat yourself, for 10 minutes in the oven. It is prepared with that in mind and tastes really good, always.
• I do not have a cleaner here in New York, I simply can't afford it. Instead Zoe helps cleaning on weekends and I just care less than I used to.
• I have a score of fun babysitters with more or less flexible hours. There is the pole dancer (who I also helped getting a job in a bar) and the Danish college student. There is the girl who always bring her ukulele and the strict librarian type girl with glasses. But more importantly, I  prioritize spending time with Zoe and sometimes bring her to my office where she usually enjoys a bit of iPad time and free snacks. 
• Laundry is much less of a problem than in Stockholm. I simply take it out and pay 14$ for 10lbs. We drop it off on the way to school and pick it up on the way back the next day.

As for the things I hadn't figured out two years ago, there are still some things I haven't and probably never will:

•  Zoe still watches television (on her iPad) every evening when we get home while I prepare dinner. We have a rule that there is no television/iPad time before after 6pm because I don't want her to spend the afternoon watching television. But sometimes, it spills into book reading time and she is not happy about putting down the iPad. This doesn't mean she watches television every day, sometimes she just plays with her toys and forgets about it. 
• I'm still not a morning person and neither is Zoe. But we have improved our mornings tremendously, particularly after she started having to be in school at an exact time. We pick out her clothes the evening before, she can now get ready almost by herself. We braid her hair the night before so she can brush it herself (if not, it tangles and I have to spend 10 minutes brushing a screaming, crying girl). This doesn't mean I got it all down and occasionally things just break down. We still laugh at the thought of the morning when I placed a jar of Nutella with a spoon in front of her. "Sorry sweety, I have nothing else, this is your breakfast".
• Missing Zoe. I always miss Zoe terribly when she is not with me. This is something I will never get over, I feel cut in half when I don't have her.
• Having someone to share your day with. Two years ago I lamented not having someone to talk to about little everyday things, sharing the ups and downs and in particular the little cute things Zoe says. Living in New York has altered my everyday mood completely and honestly, I have nothing much to really complain about. More importantly, Zoe has grown and is now capable of more detailed conversations. We play the "tell me a funny thing about your day" game at dinner every night and I get to tell her about my annoying boss, the funny lady on the subway and that I talked on skype to a friend. She tells me about lunch, how another boy got kicked out of the classroom and that her teacher gave her a star for her letters.

All in all, things look slightly different than two years ago, but mostly for the better.

 

 

Happy December

Since it is just Zoe and me in our little household, there is nobody to see us and praise us in terms of just how well I'm doing. So I'm going to do it myself. When Zoe's teacher asked me the other day if I got a babysitter now for once per week, I smiled and said, "No, it was just this Monday, it is still always me picking up Zoe". And of course bringing her. In fact we are managing to have some very nice, not too stressed mornings where I get up, shower, make coffee and breakfast, wake up Zoe (although this morning she woke up herself, walked out in the kitchen and scared the **** out of me because I hadn't heard her) who then watches a bit of TV under her duvet in the sofa, before having breakfast with me at the dining table. Last night we had forgotten to read her school book (she gets one book to take home each day in Kindergarten) but had instead read our other books, so we read this at the breakfast table. Then I realize how late it is and rush Zoe into the bedroom where she dresses herself and brushes her hair (which we braid in the evening so it doesn't tangle during the night), while I put on makeup, earrings and clear dishes away. We run out the door 8:10, just with enough time to walk really fast to school and be the second last kid in the classroom.

Permanent dismissal list at Zoe's classroom.

But mornings are the easy part, me having essentially four jobs now (don't ask...) and trying to fit it all into 9am-2pm + 8pm-11pm is rather complicated. And when important meetings fall in the afternoon I have to get a babysitter (who btw, is a Danish student whom Zoe instantly liked). But almost all other days we enjoy the afternoons together; Tuesday we went to Boise Tea house for Russian Earl Grey and macarons before her drama class and yesterday it was rainy and grey, so we just decided to go home, sit in the sofa with hot chocolate and cookies, writing Christmas cards. The hardest part is when Zoe is finally sleeping, then I have to look at all the things I didn't get to, including planning the next day in detail. Last night I was still emailing with a colleague while getting into bed at 11pm. But waking up with a clear schedule really makes my day more efficient. So now I just have to figure out how to squeeze in 14 reviews of student papers, re-reviews of 12 papers and the planning of two studies, all before Thursday next week.

How is Zoe doing? She is doing really well, with her new friends and her mom right here. She reflected (on her own initiative) on her situation the other morning and said what she had said so many other times, this time much more articulate though: I like living with you best mom. I would like to live with you a bit more, and dad a bit less. I miss my dad but I miss you more when I'm with dad. I think it is because we are both girls. Then she crawled up on my lap and hugged me, crying a bit. So there you go. It is still beyond me, why such clear wishes from a child, just because she is only 5, should not be taken serious. But apparently the law knows better.

Hard work

After two weeks picking up Zoe from school at 2:40pm every day I finally gave in yesterday and sent her to the after school (which I have to pay for). She was not happy and cried in the morning even though her new best friend Lisa was going as well. I assured her it would be fun and she had sneaked her doll into her backpack in case they allowed toys in the after school. I got three hours more for work, which enabled me to actually write the whole study plan in my funding proposal but which also made feel guilty for most of the afternoon. When I picked up Zoe my guilt was reaffirmed: Already at 5:30 (I came slightly early), 15 min before they were to be picked up, the kids were lined up by the wall at the gym, backpacks and jackets on, instructed to sit still and wait. My heart broke a little bit as I walked in and saw Zoe just sitting there with her head in her hands, waiting for me. She immediately ran in to my arms, we hugged and she told me that it hadn't been so bad, but that she was not allowed toys and they weren't allowed to play freely. Instead they had played games and ate goldfish crackers. I could tell she was exhausted and I let her watch television while I cooked dinner.

I'm the luckiest mom in the world and I am not complaining, but this is hard. I love every minute of my life with Zoe here, and I wouldn't want anything different when we are both here, but it is still tough. It's hard to manage to do all my work in 5 and a half hours while she is in school plus the 3 hours I might be able to squeeze in at night. In fact the night hours are the toughest ones because I'm dead tired myself but still have to try to write something coherent. I have managed the small things by having groceries delivered, getting Munchery one evening and generally trying to say no to things at work. And we are doing very well, Zoe and I, reading a new book every night, packing lunch for her together in the morning and generally having fun. We have not had a single tiff or serious argument yet (although I yelled a tiny bit at her today because she got scared of a dog and almost walking into the street). She does a lot by herself in the morning like putting on her clothes and brushing her hair while I'm doing something else, and she asks for and decides on activities (tomorrow we are going to family yoga for example). She makes everything very easy for me, because she is so sweet and fun to be with, yet, this is hard. But then again, it is nothing compared to being away from her, that is the hardest of it all.

 

Game over

My phone rang at 2 am in the morning New York time. It was Zoe. I answered happily but still partly asleep. "Mommy, do you know where my baking set is?", she asked as this was the most important thing in her life right there and then. I explained that we had left it at grandma's place and that we would get it next time were were there. "I want to bake a pumpkin cake", she continued and I promised that we would do that as soon as we were reunited. It was early Saturday morning in Stockholm and I realized that she had woken up by herself and decided to call me from her own phone. Nobody else in her house were awake. We chatted for a bit more and I told her that she could call me any time before we said goodbye. I fell back asleep with the phone still in my hand.

It was such a relief to see that she could finally call me on her own and that she did it. A few days later when she called to say goodnight and get a story (or two) she cried again though. "Mommy", was all she could say. She wore her bracelet, the one where I have the other heart part, which I was also wearing. I told her that no matter what I would convince her dad that she had to come over here. And if he still wouldn't let her, I would come back to Stockholm for two months.

On the train home from half a weekend in New Jersey, visiting a friend who had offered to cheer me up and distract me with red wine and good food, I mentally started going through the things I would have to do if she would not be allowed to travel here. Zoe's dad was still refusing me to take her here, saying we didn't have an agreement but since I thought we did have an agreement, I did not know what to do other than keep asking him. After making this mental list of things I would have to do if I had to go back to see Zoe for two months (quite my job here, losing most of my income for two months, losing my deposit on my apartment because I'm leaving with less than a month's notice, kick out my own renters in Stockholm, cancelling my committee meeting in December etc), I realized that this is not an option. I have to get her here. My head started spinning. What more could I offer him? Money? More time with Zoe when we get back? Because the game is over. I can't stay here for much longer. If I can't have Zoe here, there is no way I can be in the US. And circumstances seem to be dictating my next cross-Atlantic move.

After I had read two stories for Zoe, we said goodnight. She told me it was just the girlfriend that evening, her dad was at a cafe (probably out for work dinner) but that is was okay. After all, I'm glad they get along. She is a good friend for Zoe and that's all that matters.

Happy mom is a good mom

It was the usual routine. I video chatted with Zoe while she was having dinner but at one point she started crying because she misses me so much. I tried comforting her, but I always tear up too. Her dad then cut our conversation short as usual because Zoe needed to take a bath (they do bath every night) and we hung up, after she promised me she would call soon again (although I always call her). I had just explained how I'd made a Skype id for her and that she could now call me from her own phone (she has an iPod touch for games, which she calls her phone). And as always, I felt a rock in my stomach and I considered grabbing my bag and head for the airport to catch the first flight to Stockholm to see her.

Walking home later from the Grumpy coffee shop where I had enjoyed a flat white while editing a student's paper, I had a minor revelation. I am here in New York because I know it is best for me and I cannot forget that. And that's the irony. Because even though from the outside, it looks like it would be 'best' for Zoe to have me close by in Stockholm, it would not be best for her to have a depressed mother who hates her job very much. In fact, I don't think it is fair for parents to give up their own happiness for their children, it only bites them in the back later through guilt feelings and blame. It's not simple though and it also doesn't work well in a motherhood popularity contest.

The west village apartment

I reminded myself to think about my situation and opportunities here again. Just lie down and think thoroughly about is. Is this what I want? The New York job, the West Village apartment, the Brooklyn boyfriend? At night I did just that. And even after two phone calls with my new colleague who needed my help on a document that very evening I had no doubts about those three. These are exactly the things I always wanted. Now if just Zoe could get the only thing that she wants too, then we would be all fine.

Sunburnt

Yesterday I attended an outdoor event with a lot of important people talking (in an aim to stay semi-anonymous, I can't be more specific) and lots of press. It was amazing to see the New Yorkers being proud of being New Yorkers and I got chills of excitement when they said "In New York, the possibilities are endless". I was so proud to be living here and realize they were talking about people like me. I can do anything here. Zoe can do anything here. We are now New Yorkers.

Meanwhile I got terribly sunburnt because they had promised rain in the morning and I hadn't thought about the sun going through the clouds and been foreseeable enough to actually put on sunscreen. You would think, with my pale Scandinavian skin, I would have learned by now, but no. As I sat having lunch later on, I felt the burning start on my arms, the main part that had been exposed to the sun because I had taken off my cardigan. It ended up being so painful that I had to sit with frozen pea bags on my arms, shifting it from the right to the left every 10 minutes. Today I'm taking it easy, working from cafes, fully covered up.

But the sunburn brought one significant thing with it. As I cursed my stupidity I made a decision to not waste my precious time and feel sorry for myself. Instead I finally got started on my book, the academic book that I have had in my mind for six years or so, the one that I'll write and the one that will help me get my next job. It wasn't so hard. I realized that I know so much about this topic that I can just write like I write literature (yes, I wrote a novel, unpublished, but finished). When I get in to it, writing everyday, it will be done in a year. I can do this. Sunburnt or not. 

Two weeks and counting

As for Sundays goes, this was one of the better ones. I got to spend all afternoon with a really really good old friend of mine. In fact I like to call him my oldest academic friend because we met at my very first academic conference back in 2002 when we were both graduate students let lose in a foreign city with two goals: following as many interesting talks and meeting senior researchers during the day, and having as much fun drinking and partying at night. The latter is what I remember the most, including him and I dancing in a basement disco to the tunes of electronic beat music. This was still three years before he would, at a similar occasion in a different city, reach behind my back and cockily snap open my bra. Just to be silly. Since then we have seen each other once or twice per year, closely following each others parallel life of buying a home, marrying and having children, changing jobs and moving cities (well only me). Opposite me, he is still happily married but he has seen me through ups and downs and been hugely supportive whenever we get to talk. In fact, I remember more than once, me being upset and him hugging me, telling me things would be okay. Not something you find in your average academic colleague. Just today I was reminded how this guy, of all men I know, is one of the most observant guys when it comes to emotions. He noticed I got teary eyed when talking about him being away from his family. He asked and listened attentively to why I got divorced. No judgement, just listening.

We walked through the West Village and SoHo, ending up at my secret sushi place where we got the chef's selection of amazing fish, including mini squid and fried fish bone. I realized how lucky I am having such good friends around the world who know me well, who comfort me when I'm sad that Zoe is not with me. Five weeks more. Just five weeks.  

Interviewing Zoe

Occasionally my research involves interviewing people and transcribing those interviews. For a particular project, I conducted five interviews last month when Zoe was here. She happened to be around for four of them, partly because one had to be on a Saturday, partly because her school was closed one day and I had to take her to work. Today I had to listen through them and write notes which was with a nostalgic and sometimes heavy hearted feeling. She came and disturbed be through all of them, though nothing major, just little "Mom, I can't find the scissors, can you help me" (she proceeded to make a paper princess crown, painting it all by herself during one interview), or "Mom, my video is scary, can you help me find another". I missed her even more listening to her voice and wished I could hug her during that scary part (I remember doing, but you can't hear that on the recording) and help her with the crown.

It got me thinking how she has always been part of my work life. How I somehow have managed to work quite a bit when she is around. Not the work that requires sharp thinking but the lighter parts, such as interviewing (I once had her with me in a stroller and managed to schedule it during her nap time), reading academic materials and preparation of teaching. I just never felt I had a choice, I am not willing to give up spending a lot of time with her. She is still little and I want to enjoy the time we have together because it is short.

As I went through old voice recordings on my iPhone later this evening I found a very old interview of Zoe herself from when she was 2 1/2 years old. I don't remember any details but I ask her what her name is, where she is going and she is hesitantly answering. Her voice is the cutest, sweetest and I can't believe this was just two and a half years ago. It was a different world. I recorded a little message for herself and snapped a picture of the Empire State Building, sending it to her dad. I have promised her a picture for every night when the building is a different color and that is what she will get. Hopefully, the days will go fast until she comes back to me to stay again. 

Slow Subway Jazz

The slow saxophone jazz on the 2. Avenue uptown platform made me slow down my pace and reflect on how much I love the New York subway. Its busyness, its roughness and its friendliness without chit-chat. I have yet to get on a crowded train with Zoe without someone giving up their seat for her or moving over so I can sit next to her. The calming music also finally allowed me to laugh about my bad-mommy moment of the morning: Me reaching over Zoe to turn off my 5:30 alarm but forgetting that I had plugged in my phone last night and clumsily dropping it, straight in Zoe's face. She cried in her sleep while I whispered, "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry". Her eyebrow was read from the blow and I hoped it wouldn't bruise. She slept for another hour and a half while I got up and showered. 

One morning where I did not get
up at 5:30

I squeezed into the overfilled subway car together with all the other blonde career women with their lattes in one hand and their Tory Burch bags in another, only distinguished from their upper west alter egos by their edgy hats and flats rather than heels. One of them let me reach my arm over to hold onto the rail and we exchanged one of those smiles acknowledging that we were all in the same boat, going to the same kind of office job, staying late to try to make it in our competitive world before it was too late. Except I couldn't stay late, I had a four year old to pick up and then feed and put to sleep. I would then be so tired that I would fall asleep next to her, tumble out to brush my teeth around 11pm and go back to bed, only to set my alarm for 5:30 so I could get an hour's work done in the morning instead. But at least I was still in the career game, only difference these days was that I made my coffee at home and drank it at 6 am before Zoe woke up. And right now, I wouldn't want it any other way.

A latte and a biscotti please

I ordered a latte while Zoe crawled up on the barstool so she could see better. "I'm hungry", she proclaimed and I asked the barista if they had something to eat. It was a minimalistic coffee bar that I had found via my new favorite app and no food was on the counter. "We have biscotti?", he said and I looked at Zoe who nodded. Latte and biscotti it was, and one minute later we were out the door with our breakfast heading down to the subway station where the E train could take us to work. At the station, Zoe asked to taste my latte and she proceeded to drink at least a third on the train. After three bites she put the biscotti in her pocket. I guess she is a true New York baby by now, simply having a latte for breakfast before going to work.

Because going to work she was. In-between dressing myself and Zoe, my phone had rung this morning, Maria from Zoe's preschool informing me that there was no school today. The water main had broke and there was no water in the whole 5 story building. And I should not bring Zoe over before hearing back from them, i.e. this could take days. I quickly sent two text messages to my babysitters well-knowing that they themselves had to go to work and resistance was futile. I had to bring Zoe into the office for my three meetings. We packed up a few toys and most importantly the iPad, some snacks and set off.

Being a single mom is hard. Being a single mom in a city where I have peripheral friends and no family is really hard. But I also know these kind of things will happen and that there is absolutely no reason to panic because there is nothing whatsoever I can do. I don't have friends I can call up and ask for a favor, I don't have extended family here who can help out in a pinch. Wherever I go, Zoe follows. And this is great, we both enjoy it. We chat on the way to the subway, we walked all the way home through Greenwich Village, talking, jumping, buying fruit and a princess Pez. In my office, Zoe made a book on printer paper with a black and a red ballpoint pen about a naughty mom who turn into a dragon and blow fire (I don't want to put too much into that!), an activity that took the better of an hour where I got to review a student paper.

In the end the babysitter stopped by after work and looked after Zoe for 2 hours while I went to a coffeeshop to review a few academic texts that are due Thursday. She had done the dishes and Zoe was in her pajamas when I came back up, so all in all a pretty good deal. And I'm sure Zoe can't wait until another plumber messes up the preschool building again so she can share my breakfast latte.