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.

Happy Flybaby birthday

Happy birthday Zoe

Today is Zoe's 5th birthday. I made a little video for her last night, showing her that the Empire State Building was red in her honor and this morning I skyped with her as she opened the present I had sent back with her. She was excited but distracted by the present (a little suitcase set for her American Girl doll) and the dinner guests. She seemed happy.

I have been nicely distracted most of the day by work, first preparing teaching, then having the last lecture of the semester before planning a research study with a grad student. I didn't want to leave much time to think about it because she is so far away. But later this evening it dawned upon me what a milestone this is for my flybaby: She is now allowed to fly on her own. And she is excited about it. I bought tickets recently for her first solo-flight: A weekend trip down to Copenhagen to see her grandmother and the rest of our family. She will make the one hour flight on her own, with stewardesses taking her to and from the plane and looking after her. I know she will do just fine but I also know my baby very well. I can see why others would be hesitant.

Next up might be a trip back to New York for her. I cannot afford to go back to Sweden or Denmark any time soon (NY living is very expensive) so unless I find someone willing to take her back here, she will have to fly on her own. I got her ticket on miles, so there is not much flexibility. I imagine her with her little owl-suitcase and her doll sticking out, walking up the aisle looking for her seat. I imagine her crawling in by the window and holding her doll so the doll doesn't get scared when the plane takes off. I imagine her asking for milk and turning on her iPad with movies, watching the whole way.  I imagine her talking to the other passengers telling them that she is going to see her mom and that she is excited. She cuddles her doll again on the way down. And the stewardesses take her through immigration, and hand her over to me. And then I think that I really need to find someone who can take her back here so she doesn't have to fly that long way on her own. 

Happy birthday Zoe!

I wrote letters, Zoe did the edge...

Zoe turned 4 a couple of weeks ago and as flybabies do, she had parties in several countries. We started in Denmark where I returned to from a conference, finding her telling everyone she encountered that "it's my birthday today". It was wonderful to see her excitement when everyone from the hairdresser to the shop assistant gave her chocolate and three hairbands; I didn't have the heart to tell her that it was not until the day after, but I did have a thing or two to explain my mom who had convinced Zoe that the day of the Danish party was her actual birthday. In the evening I told Zoe the truth and she was mainly happy: "I get many happy birthdays!".

And so she did. Another one on her real birthday where two of my friends came over (her dad was still traveling) for sushi and another large party at her dad's place where she got the big present she had wished for the whole year: A real bike with pedals and a seat on the back for her doll. And finally she had a party for all her friends at daycare which I had planned with another little girl's mom to save a bit of the hassle. Zoe was more than happy to share her birthday party with Alice as long as there was a Hello Kitty cake and balloons. We had reserved the play room at the Nordic Museum, a hidden gem in Stockholm.

Waiting for the birthday party at the Nordic Museum

It was her babysitter who pointed out the obvious: Although we, Zoe's parents, have split up, we held the parties together. We were both there for the adult party and we were both there for the kids party. We have many mutual friends and apart from the nostalgic pain I always get from being at my old apartment (the apartment we bought together as a family where Zoe's dad still lives with all the furniture that we acquired together through the years), we were perfectly fine, chatting to our mutual friend and playing with the kids. I guess that's an important thing to give to Zoe. And I hope we can continue that for many years forward. I guess that's the best birthday present we can give her.

Cry no more

On Sunday we celebrated Zoe's third birthday. The day started with me and her taking the plane back to Stockholm from Copenhagen where she had spent a couple of days while I finished the conference in Paris. Zoe was her usual good self flying, asking the security woman for a pat down (actually asking me to ask her) and playing with the big doll in the lounge's play room. On take-off she put her head on my lap and fell asleep, sleeping through me having a cup of coffee and our landing between the now greener pastures north of Stockholm. At the train station at home a friend came to pick us up and help us over to her dad where he had prepared her birthday party. Zoe's best friend Ella was there and a couple of other friends of ours. There were balloons and many presents, among them a bike, one of those without pedals that you push forward. She was ecstatic about it as well as the Brio train and the plastic cash register. We had cup cakes with candles and sang happy birthday and everything was nice and good.

Now, I'm not going to pretend it is easy having split up from ones' life-partner, especially when there are children involved. Zoe's dad and I still find it difficult to be together, to find the balance between amicability and distance. I am not sure we have similar views on that, I miss the friendship, but he needs distance. Yet, in situations like this, of course Zoe comes first and it is clear that she loves each minute of having us both in the same room. In fact I have realized through experience and through talking to her, that she likes and needs a longer overlaps
when we hand her over: she cries much less after having spent half an hour with both of us, than if one of us just drops her off. That said, she still cries each and every time I leave. That being daycare or at her daddy's. It was therefore a big surprise to me that when the party came to an end and when I had to leave, she said "Bye bye mom" and continued playing with her new train. I was almost saddened. At least I was struck by the ease of which new toys and her dad playing with her could make up for me leaving for the first time.

I walked from there with a bitter-sweet feeling. My little girl is three years old and getting bigger and stronger every day. If it was the toys or a playing daddy, or even my three hours there, I don't know, but it was good for all of us to not have the tears. Yet my heart was heavy because this is the beginning of the process of her independence from me. An independence that is both good and hard for both of us. But an inevitable process nevertheless.