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.

 

 

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.

 

New York miracle

Zoe is coming over to stay with me in two weeks from today. After negotiations, more negotiations and me giving in, her dad finally agreed to let her come over here for the two months when I have her. I had looked into going back, but now it seemed I could stay here doing my job. At first I didn't want to believe it, but the next day I could not stop smiling. I could eat again, laugh again. The most real thing came when I talked to her yesterday and she said, overly excited: "Mommy, do you know, do you know? I'm coming over to be with you!" We virtually hugged and she said she couldn't wait until I would put her to bed by lying next to her, rubbing her back.

I slowly started planning, signing her up for drama class (the same as this summer) and a new ballet class which is much closer to where we live and cheaper. I looked at the school program and discovered what I had not considered: The after school program is full. I have to pick up Zoe myself 2:40 pm ever single day. While having a full time job. And then I saw it as a blessing. I'm going to spend every single afternoon with my daughter, taking her to playgrounds, baking bread, going to museums (on the free days) and having fun. We are going to sing and dance and chat and laugh and just be her and me. I'll be at work at 8:30 and I'll just have to cram in as much as I can and work a couple of hours again when she is asleep. And I can't wait.

Keeping your problems

For the past year or so, this saying has keep popping up in my head. It goes something like this: If everyone took all their problems and put them in a big pile, we would all take our own problems back.

One of the nice things about me being in New York is that I have many friends here. Being in Academia I have friends around the world but for some reason it turned out that I not only have some really close ones here, I also have good friends stop by and wanting to hang out with me. And you never know anyone's situation before you have actually talked face to face and then you realize that yes, you would take all your problems, including your extra five kilo, wrinkles around the eyes and money issues back. Those problems are mine to keep.

My friend asked me about how I'm dealing with being away from Zoe and I said it as it is: It's like having my arm cut off and I cry at least once per day by now. But I'm managing. She smiled compassionately and said that it must be somehow nice to also have a bit of freedom, like just being able to work a lot and see friends at any time. I looked her in the eyes and reflected on my walk over to the cafe where we met: I had overlooked a little boy, Zoe's age, screaming and crying because he wanted candy and the dad had to drag him along the sidewalk. It was clearly not a comfortable situation for either of them. And all I could think was how I wished Zoe was here, crying and screaming over not getting a doll, me not giving her more toys, candy. At least then she would be here with me. So no. Not at all. From my perspective I would gladly have her all the time including the screaming and crying, the babysitting scheduling, the bringing to work, the flying to conferences. This is obviously easy for me to say because fact is that Zoe is probably the most well-behaved 5 year old girl in the world and our tifs are tiny and rare. But no. As much as I take advantage of being here on my own now and go out as much as I can, it merely covers up the numbness in my stomach and distracts me. 26 more days. 

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. 

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. 

November blues

It has been a few emotional weeks for me with issues I cannot tell many people about. Luckily I have a few very good friends here in Stockholm (yes, it happened, I still cannot believe it but it happened) who are of tremendous support to me and who do not flinch when I have a day where I cannot speak without tears in my eyes or have to walk out in the middle of a meeting. My lowest low was the hour I spent crying in a bathroom after walking out of a teaching course I have to take, because I realized just how much I did not want to be there, but wanted to be somewhere else. In my panic I managed to do even more damage, which I spent the next week trying to counter-control. I think I'm back on track and I learned a few things: 1) Have a glass of wine in the morning before a difficult (mentally draining) day. I promised myself that this is a once per year thing because I don't want to end up an alcoholic, but still it worked that day when I desperately needed it. 2) Don't send off emails or text messages when you are really upset, call your mom instead. 3) People who you think are on your side can flip in a blink of an eye and people who seem to find you despicable, have their own issues that are even worse than yours, and their seeming judgement simply reflects their own grief. 4) I'm capable of pulling myself together and run a two day conference for 25 people with a smile on my face despite my aforementioned breakdown.

How much turkey can a 3 year old eat?

Finally, I learned not to feel guilty as a mom. I'm doing my best with Zoe and that is pretty okay. Our life is not streamlined, or in any way normal; yesterday she went to dance class in a shirt full of rice from the previous day's sushi dinner and with leftover candy for breakfast, this morning we spent the time wrapping a present for her dad, whose birthday it is in a couple of days when she is with him, instead of eating breakfast. But she is also the three year old that I can bring to a Thanksgiving dinner who will play and entertain the other guests for four hours while I enjoy the company of other adults. And she is the three year old who plays "let's go flying" when other kids play they are going on a road trip. She is also the three year old I can take into a toy store and walk around with for half an hour until she proclaims, "oh, no more toys, let's go" without asking for a single thing. She really wanted to buy her dad a laptop sleeve with sushi on it for his birthday, but I had to tell her it didn't fit her daddy's laptop. She then carefully selected something else. She painted a cup cake on a card for him and tried to write her name but only O's came out. She might not be in bed at 8pm every night after home-cooked dinner at 6pm but I think that is simply not for us. And as long at I'm okay about that, she will be okay.

Hopefully the final weeks of the year will be better. I'm looking forward to a week's holiday with Zoe in Copenhagen and then a fresh start.

New York, New York

As much as my job sometimes put me in rather complicated situations, I have also been very fortunate: I got two internal grants that fit very well together, a grant for a teaching free semester (this is a lot since my normal teaching load is around two courses per semester) and a grant for travel and accommodation for a research project, four weeks in total. I will be working with a colleague at Cornell University, upstate New York for two weeks and then go down to New York city to collect data for another two weeks. I am planning to go to New York in August because that fitted the schedule of my colleague. Obviously I have to bring Zoe but I'm used to travel with her for work by now so I'm arranging for her to go to a daycare there for a week and I'm hoping to find a babysitter for New York city. Her dad will also be there to look after her for five days while I am at a committee meeting. I don't expect to be able to work full time for the whole month but I hope to be able to collect a lot of data and have interesting meetings with colleagues. And then I look forward to pretending to live in New York city for almost two weeks, something I still dream of.

I am very used to arranging these things and I'm also prepared for bumps along the road. My first bump was when the daycare who agreed to take Zoe in, needed a medical and vaccine record that included a vaccine against chicken pox. This vaccine is not given here in Sweden (and most of Europe) but it is required in the US. My doctor friend tells me it is because it is not 100% and that chicken pox is not deadly or even as dangerous as many of the other deceases that children are vaccinated against. But because we moved from the US when Zoe was 18 months, she doesn't have it. Luckily she is going for her last round of MMR in two weeks time and I can ask to have the chicken pox vaccine too. Then I have daycare.

I go her plane ticket on my miles, which means she won't make silver next year again, but I will not be financially ruined. I was lucky to get the only available flight in August to Newark on the 7th, ironically from Copenhagen via Stockholm. It would have been nice with the direct flight but saving 9000 SKr (~1300$) is even nicer.

I am hugely excited about the prospect of being in New York for two weeks where I can pretend that we live there. I hope to see friends, colleagues and spend time just living there with Zoe. Maybe one day it will be real.

Moving up

Today I got promoted. I think. A colleague stopped by my office and asked if I had time to chat. She closed the door and said she had asked the head of department if they could make me research coordinator of the unit. Would I accept? I was flattered to be asked and didn't need that much time to think about it. This will mean I get more influence over the research direction in the department, at least within my field and that I have to coordinate funding proposals. I was a bit surprised because I have been in the department less than a year but if this can give me more influence, more resources to do research, then I'm happy. And hopefully a raise.

Mommy's high heels

This is Zoe's favorite book. I bought it directly from the author when Zoe was just a baby so it even has a little handwritten greeting inside "To Zoe with cupcake kisses". It has provided references to Zoe's world since she was old enough to realize that I go somewhere else when I'm not with her: I go to work. I went back to work when she was 4 months, a generous maternity leave in the US where we lived at the time (however, it was obviously without pay) but a very short maternity leave from a Scandinavian perspective. To me this was ideal, I would do it exactly the same way again if I got the choice. The book has provided Zoe with the logical perception that when I put on my high heels (okay, more likely high boots here in the cold Stockholm winter) it is because I have to go to work. When I take them off I have been to work. When I wear flats it is a Zoe day (=weekend).

Recently though we have started talking more specifically about my work. Zoe has been with me to work. She jokingly asks if she can go with me to work in the morning. ("Zoe not daycare, Zoe go mommy work") Today we were especially in a hurry because I overslept a bit, hitting the snooze button for half an hour without really realizing, and I had a funding proposal deadline in the afternoon. Zoe was not corroborating and kept repeating that she didn't want to go to daycare. It doesn't always work just rushing her and in my attempt to practice positive parenting, I try to reason with her rather than ordering her. But how do you explain a funding proposal to a two and a half year old? I went down on my knees and looked straight at her. Then I told her that I had a lot of letters to write to ask some people for money. This money would mean that Zoe could go and visit grandma more often and that we could travel for example to see her friend Milly in Paris. Essentially, this is exactly what research funding will enable me to: I will be able to travel to see co-workers, often dropping Zoe off in Copenhagen, and research funding will enable me to go to conferences, for example in Paris. It will also help me get research students but there seemed to be no direct benefit for Zoe. She thought about it for a moment. Then she said "Ohhhhkay mommy. Zoe go daycare". And so I put on my high heels and managed to submit my funding proposal later in the afternoon.

The youngest committee member

Yesterday Zoe attended her second academic committee meeting*. Her first committee meeting was when she was just under a year and her dad and I had scheduled travel on top of each other by mistake. It was rather complicated back then even though I had a babysitter and tremendous help and understanding from the other committee members. But I had at least planned it for months and had warned my fellow researchers ahead of time.

Yesterday, on the other hand, was completely unplanned and did not show me from my most professional side. But the best laid plans sometimes don't pan out the way you want them to and this was one of the times. I had arranged, after having Zoe looked after by a friend of mine the full meeting day of Saturday, to hand her over to her dad, who was also attending the meeting but was able to skip the last day. Zoe and I arrived with all our luggage (one small bag for Zoe, one suitcase for me, a laptop bag and Zoe's stroller) at the downstairs reception where I had arranged for Zoe to be picked up. Except her dad was nowhere to be found and did not answer his phone. As the meeting time approached I really only had one choice because I knew my opinion was needed for three papers and that I would be wasting 20 people's time if I didn't show up. "Zoe, do you want to go with mommy to work?" I asked and explained to her that she had to be very quiet and a good girl. That got her a bit excited and on the way to the meeting room she eyed the trolly with coffee and orange juice that the service people was distributing to the rooms. "Appelsin!" she said happily and I knew this was the answer to at least 20 minutes' silence. As I reached for the orange juice still on the trolly an angry French woman told me in clear French that I could not take the juice since it was for the other room and that I had to wait for her to get to my room. I then walked a crying Zoe to our meeting room, while she continuously sobbing and asking for her appelsin. I sat her on the chair next to me and decided to take affair as the meeting was starting. I went back to the trolly and when the lady looked away I snatched a juice from the tray. Except I got caught and she started yelling at me in not so clear French. "My daughter is 2! Deux!" I said just as heated, at this point I was desparate and frankly annoyed; we were the same large group divided into subgroups and there were about 10 juices for each room. Everyone inside the room was now starring as our heated French/English argument got louder, and at one point she tried to take the juice out of my hand. I finally pretended to walk away but ran back as she walked into the room, snatched one and ran back to Zoe. All flustered I gave it to a happy little girl who sat there and behaved exemplary while I argued my way through the meeting, getting my way in two out of three cases.

After an hour I got a text that Zoe's dad was downstairs, he had simply misunderstood the time, and I took her down. She waived bye bye to the committee members and everything was good. But it is hopefully the last time in a long while that I bring Zoe to a committee meeting again.

*Committee meetings, for me, are an essential part of my academic career. It is always an honor to be asked to be on these academic committees where I take part of discussions around research publications.

Lights out

As much as I love my apartment, with it being small and cozy and high ceilings, those high ceilings come with a certain cost. Emotional cost. The beautiful windows and almost 3 meter ceilings also means that, like most apartments on Södermalm, the block was built in the 1920s. Now, it is well-kept and the kitchen is of course renovated (in fact less than 3 years ago) but one thing they have not exchanged is the power box.

Zoe and I came home one late afternoon last week and I was in dire need of a coffee so I turned on the espresso maker (my department for some reason tends to run out of milk at the most annoying times like the day of my 8am class and I cannot drink coffee without milk) and I was about to heat up leftover lasagna for early dinner. Zoe wanted to watch a bit of cartoons so I put my laptop in the charger and turned on a 30s Donald Duck episode. Then everything went PUF and the apartment went dark (yes, it is very dark outside at 5:30pm here now). Zoe started screaming, 'oh no, oh no' and I started wondering what kind of electricity system we had here, because I have lived with a range of types through my time as an international dweller. Then I remembered that it was the old system with fuses and that a fuse had probably blown. I had to use Zoe's high chair to reach the fuse box and as I looked on the shelf below I realized what I had suspected: The owner had not left me with any spare fuses. I tried desperately to calm Zoe but looking at the clock it was now close to 6, the time most stores apart from grocery stores close. I took Zoe with me and started ringing doorbells at my neighbors. Nobody home. I found one guy above me who nicely enough came in, looked and seemed more confused than me. "But we modernized" he said and recommended me to go down and buy a new fuse. We got our shoes back on and ventured down. Before I left, I cleverly took a picture of the fusebox so I knew what I was looking for. I grew up with this type of system so it couldn't be that difficult. I put Zoe on my back in the Beco, since her stroller was already parked in the basement one flight of stairs below and I did not have the strength to pull it up again. She was overly joyed to be in the 'back pack' as she calls it.

At the grocery store no fuses looked like the ones in my picture. It didn't help that they were named something different than what I had talked to the upstairs neighbor about. Swedish electricity terminology was not something that came easy to me. I concluded that we needed to go to a hardware store the next day. By now we were hungry and when I asked if we should go for pizza on the way home (there would certainly be no cooking at home that evening) Zoe said "No, sushi!", so we found a sushi bar in the big food hall and had dinner. Zoe was still uncomfortable, probably picking up on my concern to spend the night without power and keep asking if there would be light at home. She asked if a friend of mine could come fix it, which I was surprised about; said friend did not usually help out at home but he is one of Zoe's favorite people.

As we were finishing the salmon nigiri, I realized something that I couldn't believe I hadn't thought about at first: there were three fuses in the fuse box and it seemed as only one had died. Not that I knew because it seemed to be tied to everything in the apartment (hence probably the problem with over-heating in the first place), but the bathroom light had still been on. We walked home and I eagerly went up on Zoe's chair and switched the fuses around. Now I noticed that the inside of the fuses actually resembled the ones available in the grocery store. I cursed a bit. I should have known that, I now remembered exactly how they look from my childhood where my mom would proficiently exchange them regularly. Okay, I turned the main switch on and WEOU WEOU WEOU WEOU, turned it quickly off again, climbing down to comfort a very scared and now loudly crying toddler. The fire alarm was apparently attached to the final fuse. After comforting Zoe I did one attempt more, which Zoe was not happy about, she kept repeating as she curled up in the couch "scary, scary, scary". When the sound went off again I gave up. I'll fix this tomorrow I told Zoe and we got out tea candles and the small reading light she had gotten from earlier mentioned friend. She said she wanted to sleep and I let her fall asleep in my bed, in my arms.

The next day we had to wait getting up until it got a bit brighter but then we hurried to daycare. She was really clingy and I told the teachers what had happened. I rushed back, past a grocery store and home to fix the problem. As I managed to keep the power on for slightly longer while the alarm was going, I realized that it was not the fire alarm but the gas alarm that was plugged into the wall above the fridge. It had probably broken in the process and was sounding like most broken alarms do. I unplugged it and changed the fuse and electricity was restored within five minutes. All I had needed was 5 minutes Zoe-free time, something that was not an option the night before. It annoyed me slightly that I hadn't thought about taking the fuse out and bringing it to the grocery store in the first place but there were so many ifs and buts and it made me remember how much longer things take and how much of my energy and brain I spend on my child when with her. Zoe could definitely have been without this experience but I made sure to explain and show things to her when we got home later that day. I took a 'work at home' day and worked from a cafe to get beyond the whole thing. And I made sure to leave three extra fuses in the back of the top kitchen drawer, the very same place my mom kept ours.

Quadrilingual

Zoe started her new daycare yesterday. It is a private daycare where I had to charm my way in but it is 5 minutes away from where I live (and where Zoe's dad lives) which will turn our previous hellish commutes into a leisurely stroll. The concept of the daycare is that it is trilingual, English, Swedish and French. Zoe is in the English group of small children under two and a half which makes her one of the oldest. Her obsession with babies (any little person that is younger than her or uses a pacifier) makes this a good situation right now. The daycare's strategy is that each teacher uses one language with the children so even though the common activities are in English, there are teachers who speaks in Swedish and French with the children during more individual activities. More structured language practicing takes place once or twice per week where the children have specific activities in Swedish and French. So now Zoe is being introduced to a fourth language. Why not?

Here in Sweden so-called "in-schooling" can take up to two weeks where the parents spend the first two days with the child in the daycare and the child is picked up early all the way until the last day. I have no idea how working parents do this here, perhaps they have family around who can help, but I was not thinking this was a good idea for Zoe. She is already familiar with the idea of daycare, she likes it, and would be confused if I stayed there with her for long hours. After talking to the head teacher I was then allowed to do a speedy in-schooling. This was the right choice. Zoe impressed the teachers and even me the first day by being completely comfortable there, eating a good lunch, using the potty and playing calmly with all the new toys. When I came to pick her up yesterday after lunch, just before her midday nap she lay down on a mattress: "No mummy, Zoe sleep here! No sleep klapvogn [stroller]". I promised that she could nap back at home in my bed and she reluctantly followed me. This morning she went directly to the table with the play-dough and after a brief chat to her teacher (a really sweet woman who teaches english and art) I told her I was leaving and she kissed me goodbye. I am so proud of her and think she will be just fine with a fourth language. Oh and the new daycare.

Mom on a Mission

The month of April for some reason has ended up being crazily filled with travel and deadlines, for both me and Mark. I had a funding proposal due yesterday which I hadn't really been able to start on until two weeks ago. Mark is away this week (don't ask where, I think Ireland and Brussels, not necessarily in that order), which means that I have exactly 7 1/2 hours to work every day due to both drop off and pick up of Zoe. As I have described before, our mornings can be rather long and chaotic and it is not easy to get myself ready when she is roaming around. With such limitation to my working hours (normally around a deadline I work more like 12 hours per day) I had to be extremely efficient, not just having lunch at my desk but explicitly turning off my email, phone and Facebook while working during the day, just hoping something important didn't happen (it didn't). But I surprised myself; with the determination that is normally reserved for the subway commute, I managed to work effectively and although I still needed to actually write several appendix documents yesterday morning, I had a funding proposal at 4pm. I submitted it and Zoe was not even the last kid to be picked up.

Tomorrow we are going down to Copenhagen for a bit of R&R, seeing mainly my parents and brothers. This is the last trip before I am leaving Zoe for a full week with my mom (and two days with my best friend who stepped in the days my mom couldn't). We are flying Norwegian, the discount airline that won't let Zoe sit next to me on the empty seat. The big question this time is if I should finally let her walk to the train station instead of bringing the Beco carrier? She is big enough to walk that far but I also like to have a way of securing her. In the airport there is also a quite long walk but they have luggage carts I can put her on for that trip. In will report back how it goes.

It was never meant to be like this

When I have a rough day, a straining hour or even just a bad moment with Zoe, like loosing my temper on a subway platform, I often think that it was never meant to be like this. Parenthood was never meant to be a single or even duo person chore. The good old saying "it takes a village" echos in my ears as I wonder where my support network is. Because having my lifestyle and career means that there might be many supporters but none next door. I have several close friends that I could call up at any hour of the day (and I do occasionally); I have wonderful family who even visits often, but all these people all are between 1 and 10 hours flight away and have been since Zoe was born. When I hit my head badly on the kitchen sink last night and the thought flashed through my mind that I might need stitches (not that it was that bad of a bruise but one's mind does tend to wander towards the extreme) the only one I could think of to call to look after sleeping Zoe was a younger male friend of ours who lives 10 minutes away. Not a close friend, not someone who have ever looked after Zoe or any other kids for that matter, but someone who Mark goes drinking with and who works in the same research center as we do. We have colleagues, but none whose phone number I have, or who lives within any proper distance. There is no village.

Modern parenthood is very independent and lonely in its structure and we tend to pay people to do the chores that was done by extended family and neighbors in "the good old days". This has become even more apparent now that we don't have an arsenal of payed people in our household anymore (well at least a nanny, a cleaning lady and an occasional babysitter seemed like an arsenal when we now only have one busy occasional evening sitter). Scandinavian daycare and wage levels plus our general financial situation means this is no longer an option.  When Zoe was sick two weeks ago and Mark's board meeting overlapped with my teaching I called an emergency nanny service. I left a sick toddler with a stranger and paid her a considerable amount of money to go to work. She was my village.

I keep reminding myself that this is how things are; I have made a choice to live like this, I have decided that I can do that. Even when I scream at Zoe because I just can't take her crying for the 5th day in a row while I am in the shower and there is nobody to distract her and she got tired of Pingu, I try tell myself that it is okay because it was never meant to be like this. I am in an extreme situation. And perhaps one day soon there will be a bit more of a village.

Morning chaos

I am trying to get our morning routine streamlined, partly in order for me to get into work at a decent time and partly to get Zoe used to a regular set of morning activities now that we are finally in our new apartment with a full-time daycare. Okay, mainly because I want more time to work and because Swedes pick up their children ridiculously early, making me feel like a terrible mother when I rush in at 4.30pm to a virtually empty room with the last four neglected kids left. I have no idea how the Swedes do it, but between two full time jobs and commute time (45 minutes each way), we have to adjust our previously leisurely mornings. Last weekend Mark and I sat down and distributed the drop offs and pick ups between us, me generously doing 6 and him doing 4 (due to the difference in our job flexibility, he is the director of a research lab, I have more flexible work hours). I ended up with 4 drop offs due to several factors and therefore decided to move wake-up time for Zoe and myself half an hour to 6.30 am (me) and 7 am (Zoe). So far, none of this "streamlining" has been successful.

Zoe might not like hats in public,
 but at home, after a refreshing day
in daycare, she loves to try mine.

This morning, all that could go wrong went wrong. Zoe decided to wake up at 6.30 am, which meant that I didn't have any time to get ready myself without her following me around which added probably 10 minutes. She was in the bathroom while I showered and wanted to brush her teeth when I did. When I was taking down her cereal she accidentally saw a box of Pringles that we had bought last Sunday and which she had tasted when visitors came around. Because I didn't want to give her any, she threw a hysterical fit, including laying down on the floor hammering her little hands into the newly waxed wooden blanks. When she finally finished her breakfast she didn't want her clothes on, even though both Mark and I attempted to convince her. We ended up holding her as she cried while putting on clothes. I managed to get her into the stroller two hours after us waking up and got to the daycare at 'normal' time. When I reached my office at 10 am I was so exhausted that I just sat down in the couch area with an article and a cup of coffee. So much for getting up early. And I still have no idea how people do this.

Full Time Working Mother

Living in the US has made me aware that I am a full time working mother. I never thought much about that term before, even living in the US for years without kids, because growing up in Denmark, the concept simply did not exist; you were a mother and you worked. Like everybody else. But now, even though I could not imagine my life with a baby any other way, I have to relate to that concept and define myself as such. It makes me think about myself and motherhood in a different way. I feel I have to defend myself in my everyday interactions. When I am trying to get onto a full bus at 5.45pm with a stroller and a crying (because she is hungry and tired) toddler I am ready to defend myself: "sorry but she needed a haircut, she couldn't see out through her bangs anymore and the only appointment I could make after work was the 5 pm one". Why didn't I just go on the weekend? "Sorry but I have so many other things to do on weekends, like cleaning and grocery shopping and I also like to take my daughter to the play ground". Okay, I lose on this one, I should really have taken her on the weekend where she wouldn't have been so tired and hungry that she screamed even before the hairdresser got to the bangs (why did she start off so slowly, even pinning Zoe's hair up with hair clips? (which Zoe obviously took out)). And then perhaps Zoe wouldn't have run away from me as I tried to pay the hairdresser, galloping all the way out on the pavement of the busy street, sending my heart racing and me almost pinching Zoe out of frustration and fright. And I feel the need to defend myself when I take Zoe to the indoor play gym on Friday mornings and let her roam around amongst the other kids while I frantically try to catch up with a bit of email on my iPhone. I really should play with her myself, but the reason I can take a Friday morning with her is because I know I am able to coordinate some work while we are away.

What I don't feel guilty about or have any need to defend is that I am a full time working mother. I love my job and have never imagined doing anything else after having children. I could maybe organize things differently sometimes but I really do try my best. My last line of defense is always imaging myself screaming at strangers who give me the side eye: "Yeah, why should we mothers need to go out at all, why don't we just stay home, chained to the stove where we belong". Because that would surely make them see the ridiculousness of judging me for trying to get in to an overflowing bus at 5.45pm on a Wednesday.