Scenes from the last 3 weeks

Copenhagen airport, end of June, 11am

"Excuse me, excuse me", I squeezed through the slightly annoyed passengers at gate B2 waiting to board the plane to Stockholm, probably wondering why I thought I had the right to get on first. But I was not getting on. Instead I was waiting for the littlest passenger disembarking from the slightly late arriving plane from Stockholm. I was craning my neck to see the people exiting into the glass tube from the air-bridge, well-knowing that she was not allowed to go out on her own and had to wait until the end. My heart was pounding and when I finally saw her in the distance behind several layers of glass it skipped a beat and I gasped loud enough for the gate agent to pay attention to me for a second, yet still ignoring the fact that I was clearly overstepping the border between gate and air-bridge. When Zoe turned the corner and saw me, she started running as fast as she could pulling her little suitcase. "Mommy!', "Zoe!"; we hugged and kissed and I held her close, careful not to squeeze her too hard. When we finally let go, I looked up at a very young confused airline employee who had accompanied her out of the plane. "Are you continuing on a different plane?", he asked and I told him no, I had just arrived from New York which is why I was still inside the terminal. I wanted to explain that we hadn't seen each other for two months but then I realized that I didn't care what other people thought at all. All I cared about was that Zoe was here with me and we were going on holiday for three weeks. As we walked towards baggage claim, Zoe kept looking up at me and clench my hand, "it's so good to be with you again, Mommy".

Late night in our summer house, early July

My dad raised his glass filled with single malt that he had bought specifically for celebrating my new job in Denmark (he knows I love whiskey, particularly the peaty single malt kind): "To your new job in Denmark. We are very excited to have you back. And to you getting back to the US again". I knew exactly what he meant.

On the plane back to New York, mid July

Zoe with a glass of apple juice and I with a glass of sparkling wine in the front seats of economy plus that we had gotten upgraded to. "Cheers to New York", I said and held up my glass. "Cheers to New York, and cheers to Denmark who gave you a job so we get to live in Denmark!", Zoe added (in Danish) and my eyes welled up. 

New York the day after we got back to our apartment

Zoe was sitting on the side of the bathtub in our tiny NY bathroom while I put on makeup by the mirror. "But mommy", she said thoughtfully, "I don't really have any friends in Denmark. I have friends in New York and in Stockholm, but not really anyone in Denmark". I agreed with her and made a mental note to work on that. 

New York early early in the morning

"Mommy, is it morning yet?" Zoe sat up in our dark bedroom. "No, but we have jetlag. Do you want to go for breakfast?" Zoe agreed excitedly by the thought of pancakes and bacon and we headed out into the still cool West Village morning and found a dinner close to her school that was open at 6am. As we sat there with the crass but friendly waitress serving us orange juice, bagels and bacon I couldn't think of anywhere better to be. This was our third summer in New York City so we were prepared for the sweltering heat and we knew where the free outdoor pools were. This was also the start of some kind of end though. Zoe would be in day camp for a couple of weeks, the same ones as last year, and then I would have to take her back to Stockholm before returning on my own to finish my work in New York. She would start in yet a new school where she knew nobody (three kids from her old daycare were also starting there, however all in the other class) and in September I would start my commuting life between Copenhagen and Stockholm. I already had plans for us to come back to New York in November and December, courtesy of a conference and a committee meeting. But right now we were here, waking up to the view of the Empire State Building every single morning.

The Danish way of Parenting

This week marks the end of our "dance/theater camp and full time working mom" month and so far it has been a success. Earlier today I came home to an excited Zoe who played sleepy house with the babysitter and her dolls, after a day full of drama camp, sand and water at the playground around West 100th Street. She was exhausted but also excited about the final show tomorrow. While she finished putting her dolls to sleep I had a chat with the babysitter who ran me through the afternoon. She told me about Zoe insisting on noodles for lunch and my well-behaved child who had accidentally called her mommy a couple of times. We bonded over our Danishness and I realized exactly why Zoe has been so extra happy with this girl. She trusts that Zoe is doing what she is supposed to, she treats Zoe like a person, and lets her make a lot of choices herself. The playfulness more than emphasis on 'teaching' and the respect for the child as a person. Not that only Danes treat children like this, although my new book is hinting in that direction, my friend pointed out the other day that this was more a non-American perspective than anything and that he (who is Australian) had also used such strategies with his children. I never gave this much thought, to me an equal, trusting, explaining attitude was always the foundation of being a good mom. But I have been very lucky, because with two brothers much younger than I, interaction with children has always been a big part of my life. So when I had Zoe, I had already thought about many things in terms of children and I knew pretty much how I wanted to raise them and treat them. But I also knew that I had to improvise and think about things as I go along.

After the babysitter had left, Zoe watched an hour and a half of television while I cooked, we ate and I cleaned up. I figured she had spent all day being very active and just needed to relax. Then we brushed her doll's teeth (and Zoe's) and read three books in bed before talking a bit about family. At one point she realized that while my mom has three children, my step-dad only has two, but my real father died four years ago and Zoe started crying, hugging me. I comforted her and told her it was okay and I would take her to the island where he had lived one day. She asked me about his life, what he did and it was nice to be able to tell her about that now that she is old enough to understand. I said, he would be looking down and be very proud of his grand daughter. She disagreed and told me that he misses me more than her because I am his child. Which was actually very insightful of a five year old. She then fell asleep while I caressed her back. 

Summer in the City

One of my vices this summer is drinking cold read wine. It came about after our 4th of July picnic in Brooklyn Bridge Park where we last minute realized we weren't allowed to bring alcohol. My friend (who is Scottish and therefore never short of ideas of how to smuggle alcohol) poured a bottle or two into a large coke bottle. As it turned out we were five people short (for various reasons ranging from food poisoning to obsessive compulsive disorder) and hence had a full two litter coke bottle of red wine left. I promptly put it in the fridge and it has been sweetening my evenings on occasion since.

Summer in New York is hot. To cool us down, Zoe and I discovered a small pool within the confounds of a playground just a couple of blocks from us. We went over one day almost too late but managed to dip out bathing suit clad bodies in the cool water for ten minutes before they closed. Zoe was ecstatic. She loves water despite being scared of it and not being able to swim yet. This is an activity for her and her dad though. I rarely swim although I like it and am quite good (fast) at it. When it all comes down to it, I'm more of a gossip-in-the-hot-tub-with-a-drink kind of person. Gotta wait a few years for Zoe to join in on that. 

The summer weather reminds me of the past two summers where we also spent significant time in New York. The main difference back then though was the better state of my finances. This summer I prioritized babysitting and summer camp for Zoe, which has cost me more than half my (sorry Swedish) paycheck. As I bought cheap generic goldfish crackers for Zoe rather than organic cheddar cheese bunnies for double the price, I thought about how I could have done it differently. I could have gone to Denmark for the month of June with Zoe, missing out on a whole month's work, which would eventually affect my career significantly because my main conference has paper deadline mid September. Then I could have come back to an empty office in August working my b** off while all the Americans were on holiday and while Zoe was with her dad. Probably the most depressing situation I can imagine. I love my life with Zoe in New York. It keeps me energetic, happy and optimistic. And Zoe has been overly happy with her different day camps, as well as her new Danish babysitter. If I had to make that choice again, I would do the same. And enjoying the cold red wine. 

Heat stroke

With Zoe being back for July and me working, I have signed her up for several half-day camps according to her interest such as dance, music and acting. She even got into the much coveted Frozen themed dance camp that was overbooked on the first day of signup, possibly because the dance studie wanted to give the spot to her (or simply because she was on top of the waiting list but of course her mom always think the former). I have a babysitter for some afternoons but want to spend some time with her too and expect to just have to work more at night.

We had high hopes for the very first day music camp on the upper east side where I had packed lunch for both of us (the price of camp is strenuous on my budget to say the least) and expected to go to central park between that and dance class later in the afternoon. We excitedly found a bench in the shade because it was scorching hot, but Zoe was exhausted and didn't eat much. Instead she lay down on my lap and fell asleep. I covered her bare arms with her sweater and put more sunscreen on her cheeks but it was a very hot day and just because your bench is in the shade when you sit down, does not mean it continues to be in the shade. The sun tends to move. I really didn't want to wake her up because she had already slept less than she needed, having to wake up at 7am to make it to music class for 9am, so I let her be while I listened to music and surfed Facebook. After an hour she woke up again and we packed up. As she started walking, she started whimpering and complaining that her head hurt. I made sure she drank a lot of water and we made it to the subway only because I carried her one full block and a half. When we got on the train there were no seats and I for once cursed the New Yorkers for not getting up for a crying 5 year old.

We got off at the station close to the dance studio and despite Zoe's previous enthusiasm, she was now clearly not feeling well. "Can we please just go home?" she asked and I knew this was bad if she did not want to go to dance class so I immediately flagged down a taxi. At home I made sure she got more water and left an abundance of snacks on the table next to the bed including chocolate ice-cream which she had two bites of. I looked it up online: Zoe clearly had heat exhaustion, the step before a heat stroke. She was hot but since I don't have a thermometer (which says more about how rarely Zoe is ill than my qualities as a mother) I didn't know how much.

She slowly recovered and although she was not on top of things the next day, she insisted on going to music class. I let her and bought a thermometer from the pharmacy on the way home. I now know that she had 38.5 C, which is a fever but not a terrible or dangerous one. She did not eat much for two days but on day three she finally cheered up, no fever, being back to her normal self. Needless to say, we are now looking for indoor actives to do during the day and no naps in Central park anymore. 

17 days and counting

The Empire State Building was blue and pink when I snapped a picture and texted it to Zoe, knowing she would wake up to it in a couple of hours. I hoped she would be happy to see it and not necessarily think too much about me not being there with her. She would go to her daycare and play with her friends, particularly her best friend with whom she talks with sounding like two teenagers according to her daycare teachers. They are very close and miss each other when one is not there but unfortunately Katie is due to start school after the summer, a school which Zoe cannot get in to. They will be divided no matter what. Perhaps they will be able to stay in touch, but they will be spread across the world soon enough, she is Irish, Zoe is Danish and they are not likely to live in the same country again.

I miss her terribly and count down the days until I get to see her, every morning. My friend and colleague is bring her over on June 25th and I'm going to the airport to pick them up. They have to fly via Copenhagen because that was the only way I could get a ticket on my miles for Zoe and I couldn't afford one on my own. I'm hoping they will pick up some chocolate and a danish magazine on the way. And I hope that Zoe will impress the stewardesses by speaking Danish to them and English back to her friend.

These two months have been long and strange and I have discovered new parts of my mental strength, trying to distract myself, ignore the toys in the corner and not think of Zoe too much. I'm still in disbelief that I let her go back for two months because it was inconceivable before it happened. I know Zoe is also getting hardened, when I talked to her Sunday, she was too distracted by a trampoline to come to the phone and when she did she was not sad as usual. I don't doubt that she misses me, but an everyday lull has probably taken over and (thank god) she is actually having a good time with her dad, all our friends, her friends and a semi-stable life in Stockholm. She also had a stable life here but one with fewer social activities and more mommy-daughter time.

When she comes back to New York she will go to three different summer camps, one for each week plus a week's staycation with me. I know she is excited and I will finally relax again. I'm going to hug her so tightly and not let go for 24 hours and even then, I'll only let her be away from me for a few hours at the time. 17 more days.