Zoe and the cutting board

Back in November, Zoe and I were traveling to a conference in Florida, following a week in New York to hang out with friends and say a final goodbye to our lovely apartment that we had called home for almost two years. I had to pack up the very last things that I had left such as my mocca coffee maker, a few cups and my cutting board, an item I had bought as one of the first things when realizing that the kitchen didn't come with one. It is a high quality solid wood type cutting board from Williams-Sonoma because well, if I had to buy my own, it might as well be a good one. We therefore had to bring everything with us in the suitcase, going to Florida for the conference and Disney World for a day, before taking it back to Denmark, three flights in total. As we checked in in Newark, the check-in lady informed me that I was 3 pounds overweight and that I had to remove 3 pounds or pay $200. Remember that this is kind of ridiculous thing because I always travel with only one checked in suitcase for Zoe and I. We are allowed one each but try to imagine me with a 6 year old who can just about roll her own hand luggage, then having two suitcases and a hand luggage on my own. Makes no sense when everything pretty much fits in my not very big suitcase. I looked at her and informed her that I was pregnant and that I was not capable of carrying a lot when also handling my child, but she insisted. I pulled down my suitcase and realized that the cutting board would do it. I took it out and magically enough, we were now allowed to check in our luggage. The only place however where the cutting board fitted was in Zoe's little rolling suitcase, sticking up from the top. Zoe was completely unphazed and proceeded to roll her suitcase to security check with a large cutting board sticking out.

Everything was good, except now, every time she stopped and let go of the suitcase it would fall forward. At security we went through as the pros that we are, with Zoe taking her iPad in her hand, as well as the suitcase, to a bench slightly outside my vision while I packed up my own laptop and liquids at the end of the conveyer belt. When I got to Zoe I found her in tears with an elderly lady next to her, holding her iPad. What's wrong, what happened, I asked and felt like the worst mom, abandoning my child to figure out suitcase re-packing on her own. Zoe looked up at me. "I was trying to put the iPad back in the outer pocket but every time I try, the suitcase falls over and the cutting board hits me in the head". Sure enough, Zoe had a red patch in her forehead. The elderly lady who had seen Zoe in distress, had tried to help but not succeeded either. I went over and took the cutting board out of the suitcase so she could place the iPad back in it, before putting the cutting board back again. I comforted Zoe and promised I would help next time. But in my head, I couldn't help laughing just imagining her trying again and again to put the iPad back in while the cutting board made it fall over.

Zoe figured out how to handle the suitcase with a cutting board sticking out like only a flybaby would, because my "I'm pregnant" excuse worked as little for the next two flights and I had to take it out of our checked luggage due to overweight each time. Now that I use the cutting board on an everyday basis to cut bread, veggies and fruits, I think of my amazing flybaby who bravely strolled through several airports with it, probably to the amusement and wonder of our fellow passengers.

Don't panic

Arriving back in Stockholm this past Friday, after a short flight from Copenhagen, I was reminded again of all the impossible situations I put myself in, traveling alone with Zoe but also just living the lifestyle I do. Situations where I almost panic, loose it and do something I know I should not do. This time I ended up in the arrival hall with three roller suitcases and an overtired toddler. And because Zoe had to use the bathroom the minute we got out of the plane and it was a major traveling day, there were no more luggage carts available. Apart from the big ones that the staff use to transport bags out to the plane and which Zoe so happily likes to play with. Asking the staff for luggage carts, I got the lovely Swedish answer: "nej dom är slut" [literally 'they have ended', more like 'there are no more'].

So there I was, two hands and three suitcases. Plus Zoe's little play suitcase which she had insisted on carrying herself onto the plane, after the check-in guy had refused to check it in (yep, she asked herself, the word 'check-in' is an integrated part of her vocabulary), but which now was "too heavy". After waiting to see if something would happen in terms of luggage carts I decided that we couldn't just wait aimlessly. I hauled two suitcases to a point, then asked Zoe to stay with them while going back for the last one. That worked until we got to the big sliding exit doors that people are not allowed back through. How would I be able to get out and back to pick up the last suitcase? I decided that there had to be nice people leaving the airport who had one hand free to pull my last suitcase. I asked the first people I saw but they ignored me. They just walked on. I heard them speak Danish to each other and I approached them in Danish. That's when I decided that people would be able to see how I needed help.

I started dragging the two suitcases together, one of them obviously flipping around and sliding over the floor rather than rolling. That way I very slowly got through the sliding doors without anyone even looking at me, out to a staring crowd with tags, looking for other people. I finally eyed two abandoned luggage carts ahead of me and asked Zoe to go get one. Unfortunately they were stuck together and my 2 and a half year old could not take them apart. I left all the luggage on the floor for a second and got the luggage cart. I was shaking at this point. Wondering what kind of things other people were thinking. "Why is she that stupid to travel with so much luggage on her own?" "Why didn't she just take a luggage cart?". I guided Zoe to the elevators down to the train and we barely made the next one with me dramatically throwing all the luggage into the train while instructing Zoe not to walk into the train unless with me. My biggest fear on these journeys is of course that we get separated, her on a train, me outside or vice versa. Luggage, I couldn't care less about. Except when we sat down and the train took off, Zoe looked at me and asked: "Zoe kuffert?" [Zoe's suitcase]. Shit. Her little suitcase was somewhere between the arrival hall and the train platform.

But the moral of the story is that we survived. We did fine and I did much better than I have done many other times, I didn't loose my cool at any point. And all these situations help me realize that it is doable. And I don't even try to pretend that I know what it is like to travel with more than one child or that I know better than any other parents. But these impossible situations are what helps me realize, in retrospective, that I don't so so badly. And yes, my new years goal is to be more calm and not panic. This was a good beginning.

Flying to India

Zoe and I flew to India a couple of days ago. It was the first long haul flight I have taken with her in a year and it means she has reached 100.000 miles now (but let me get back to you on that after I have added things up). It was remarkably different to travel with a talking, walking, running toddler compared to the 18 month old stumbling, babbling toddler from last year. One major difference is that she is now able to sit and concentrate on watching cartoons or draw, or even play with her doll, by herself for about 20 minutes. Another difference is that she can walk most of the way herself on a layover, although having a one hour 15 minute layover in Munich was a bit stressful when she walked over to every single shop with any kind of cuddly bear or colorful bag hanging on display. "Se mor!"[look mommy] she said in that way only kids can, with wide-eyed amazement. In the end I had to simply let go of my fear of missing the plane (and unfortunately I have a bit of a history on that one...) and just be calm. What a nice bag, Zoe. Yes, that's pretty too. Come on, let's go, we are going to India to see your uncle and aunt. "Oh yeah", she would say, as she just realized that right now and follow me.

On the long haul Lufthansa Airbus 340-600 we got seats not too far away from the galley and the stairs down to the restrooms (yeah, I had never been on an airplane with restrooms downstairs, it had ups and downs, mostly downs when you have a not so stable stair walking toddler who loves going to the bathroom). This meant that after Zoe had snoozed for a couple of hours, letting me have my meal and watch TV comedies, she could get up and ask for more cashews from the flight attendant herself. Did I mention that this is a major advantage of having a bi/trilingual kid? She has no problem understanding English when we travel despite her living in Sweden and speaking Danish with me. "More cashews please", she said and after initial confusion and the flight attendant trying to give her apple juice, he got it. Throughout the rest of the flight she continued to ask for more and managed to eat 5 packs. And a small pack of ketchup instead of any of the delicious food that was on her special kids meal tray. As she exited the plane she waved at all the flight attendants: "bye bye airplane", to the smiles of most of them.

Exiting in Mumbai was a bit of a shock to me. Of course I knew that it would look different from what I'm used to in my little Western World bubble, but the smell, the warmth and people running around everywhere was still overwhelming. Zoe was still walking all the way through immigration but as we were waiting for our bag and car seat she got hyper, running around me in circles. I got slightly worried about her running too far away and getting lost in the crowd so I suggested she go in the baby carrier. Luckily she got excited: "Zoe little baby in carrier", she repeated and I managed to drag my two suitcases (a carry on roller bag and a slightly bigger checked in bag, along with the car seat) out towards our waiting hotel transport. Luggage trolleys were nowhere in sight so it took me a bit of effort and I was surprised that nobody offered to help me out. With a toddler on my back and two suitcases and a car seat. In the US I would have had three guys and one fellow mom asking me if they could help. We kept up the spirit and after a long walk faced the airport exit crowd. What a sight. Hundreds of people with signs, people with luggage standing waiting and people yelling everywhere. The warmth was mild but humid. After not seeing my sign anywhere a guy in uniform finally felt sorry for me and asked what company I was looking for. He swiftly found the driver of my ride and in three minutes we were on our way. Mumbai here we come. 

Feeling at home in a suitcase

During a recent visit to Zoe's grandmother, it turned out that
she found herself more at home in our suitcase