Partial daily routine fail

After working away for a month I did parachute myself as a mother back home for a week. It was a time to let Archaeologist Husband to attend his friends wedding and take care of some practical work issues, such as the MOT. Thus, I thought that it made sense to spend some time at home before another month away before the conference season and Christmas. It takes a couple of days to acclimatise again and the first school morning was going to be tuff. I was not sure what time I had to be in – I thought at 9 am, but was ascertained it was already earlier. And the pick-up was not going to be at 3 pm, but 3.15 pm.

I did not know Number One Son’s current preferences and I definitely was not certain what steps I had to take and where Number One Son had to put different school-related items. My downfall was going to be the choice of the wrong coat – and not picking up the right sounds from my son’s slightly mispronounced words. He feels deeply for his light blue winter coat we bought him from Finland two years ago. Just how deeply I was going to learn when trying to drag him towards the school in his raincoat. He was crying and screaming and by the first junction – while getting unnerving looks from other mothers heading to their primary schools – I had to admit my defeat and return home. After the change of the coat Number One Son headed happily to the school, even if he had to be prompted and we just made it before the tambourine.

Archaeologist Husband has happily created a new routine around the school times and I took the new mealtime routine little bit shakily. Breakfast is quite straight forward, since Number One Son is an early bird and simply becomes hungry by 7 o’clock. However, it is unclear to me how much he has to eat right after school, when we are going to eat as a family a shared family tea after 5 pm. I cannot starve him, but it is not nice to see him push his plate away at mealtime when he has been munching and snacking on and off after school. Luckily, I had to go to Cambridge on my second day back home, so I face the evening routines more relaxed and briefed next week.

Gold, water, fire and sea

Sometimes the simplest things are the best. In the Historiska Museet in Stockholm Number One Son liked exactly the things I had expected him to. He paid almost no attention to the actual archaeological objects – except when they were the ‘treasure’ in the Gold Room. The most eye-catching thing for him was a video of a waterfall, at full wall’s height. He sat on the floor and stared at the water. He was puzzled by the different shades of blue in the ‘Ice Age Room’ and the videoed fire in the hearth of the Neolithic hut. He got mildly enthusiastic about the models of the Viking Age ships and was happily using the brush in the ‘Excavation Room’. He even matched some clay beads in the images on the exposed surface and the finds cards.

Similarily, sticks, dead leaves and straw was the best at the seaside. He enjoyed throwing small stones to the sea; I did honestly try to keep him from throwing the stones from the boat’s landing place. Luckily, we could find some small stones nearby so he could walk back and forth the landing place and throw the stones one by one to the sea. This activity was done while Archaeologist Husband was preparing for his guest talk in the Classical Studies at Stockholm. During the guest talk Number One Son was kept occupied with the Angry Birds. The same medicine kept him happy in the restaurants during the lunches and dinners. What did the parents – and we – do before the tablets!

We did actually visit a library. But there I had to admit to a helpful member of staff, but we did not really come there for the books when they suggested we could look at their English collection. No, we went there for the alphabet exhibition with an M-slide, an A-climbing ladder and a B-train. We went there for the hiding places, climbing tower and big chairs and the room with the lights in the ceiling where the children could run around on the cushioned seats. We went there to see the other children and their many fathers. There was a lot of running around and the occasions when Number One Son hugged unknown babies and tried to carry them. I had to tell him that they were not ours...

Another big hit were the busses, trams, trains and underground. Number One Son loves public transport, although it pales in comparison with the airplanes. He was a happy boy when he was heading to the security with Archaeologist Husband.

Together

What is the more traditional way to start a joint holiday than a bout of tummy bug! My bed got a free flow of yuk and the sunny day in Stockholm did not see a stroll of Old Town and a lunch in the city, but a lot of Angry Bird, a lunch in the suburb pizzeria – naturally straight from the 1980s – and a sunny stop in the local playground. Maybe it is just leisurely togetherness we need after a month-long separation.

At the playground

The beginning of the visit saw my mobile battery die before the much awaited couple walked through the arrivals door – this time of Facebook would have required a photo. How tall did my son look and how ruly his haircut! I have been too busy of organising the first school day or working away in Stockholm to notice. He looks like a small boy, now his cheeks totally red out of excitement when he takes turns with his father in playing Angry Birds. The game with strangely Central European music you just cannot securely place anywhere. Hungarian? Polish? German oktoberfestband? A band from Transilvania strengthened with some horns?

The poor boy who was so whacked in the morning that he did sleep until 8 am and just meekly whispered ‘morning time’ instead of jumping onto your tummy looks somewhat better but is prone to lose his perk. He suddenly went all huggy and sleepy in the pizzeria and starts to look glassy eyed little by little. Let’s hope we see Gamla Stan tomorrow morning!

The screaming sound of silence

The daily event that really makes my heart bleed as a mother who tried to bring up her son bilingual is my daily ’Good night’ routine. As you know, this happens over Skype, since I and Number One Son are in the different countries due to my temporary contract. But every night I try to be there at the same time at my lap top and read a stretch of a Finnish or Nordic children’s book in Finnish. And every night I finish with wishing him ‘Good night’.

When I say this in Finnish, he does not react in any way. When I say ‘Good night’ in English, he may answer. At least he will do it when prompted by his father. Nevertheless, those few silent seconds after my ‘Hyvää yötä’ are the longest in my daily life. They scream the fact that my son has made his mind up.

Worried about behaviour

The worst part of being away is the moments when you hear that Number One Son has misbehaved in the school. In his school the reception class children have a special system they enter, if they are naughty and misbehave. Illogically, they get a green card that follows their behaviour after any fracas in the playground. This must be signed by the parent after the school day, so he or she knows how the child has behaved after misbehaving. Three moments of naughtiness and you are out, i.e. you will not get playtime outside. Archaeologist Husband thought this was to be for a week, but apparently it is only for one day. I was wondering before hearing the latest details how the teachers are going to cope with a child who cannot go out for a week and will be bursting with energy...

I am sure Number One Son is not the only child giving smacks to their friends in the playground in the heat of the moment. In a way these systems are good, since they help everybody to learn that certain behaviour is not correct in a big group and you are not supposed to hit anybody. However, how these things are conveyed to a child who cannot communicate fully can be tricky. Luckily, it was obvious that Number One Son knew that he had done wrong. And apparently not allowing him to play Angry Birds helps too!

The thing with these reports of naughtiness is that you are never told who the other child is. On one hand this is good, since you cannot build up a perception of a child that may be wrong. However, when Number One Son was still in the nursery, it was common that he and his best mate were play fighting, smacking or biting each other. It was not right, but we, the parents of both children, knew that they were the best of friends and that the both were quite rough and ready. In those situations it would have been good to be told, since we could have been able to tell both children off simultaneously when taking them home.

Parenting and the ‘antisocials’ at the conferences

This time around we headed all family to a conference at Cambridge. Having a child with us meant that we did look for outside accommodation, since Cambridge colleges are not really meant for families with children. And I do understand, if the people preparing their conference papers at the last minute or trying to get a good night’s sleep before their big day would feel short-changed with the happy shouts of our early bird Number One Son at six o'clock in the morning...

Our life has been so busy with me dislocating to Sweden for a year and Archaeologist Husband keeping the everyday in England running with the school runs, hot evening meals and such like – not to mentioning trying to sort out his work space in the new house – that we had not even remembered to sort out the babysitter we had considered, when we first discussed being in this conference together. Even if it would have been nice to discuss with our colleagues during the candlelit dinner in the college, we had been thinking more about a dinner for two in the city, but in the end we were happy just to oversee that Number One Son got to sleep properly and ate sandwiches and sipped wine while whispering in our hotel room.

Naturally, the socials in the pubs and discussions at the dinner table are part of the conference experience and networking, but as a parent you have to balance all aspects of your life and sometimes prioritising family moments to the networking opportunities. This does not mean that you do not network. No, it just means that you network quicker and in a more decisive and planned manner than previously. Pauses between the papers and the coffee breaks, they become the prime moment for a parent to network. You stop lingering around the edges and walk directly to the people one needs to meet and discuss with. You cannot any more wait until the wine loosens up the inhibitions of your inner wallflower during any of the evening dos, but you have to use your time effectively and speak and act up during the daytime.

Guilt buys

Now I know how those parents working long hours and concentrating single-mindedly on their careers in fancy international firms feel like. After a couple of weeks in Sweden I was heading for home for a brief visit and felt I have to bring a present. I saw this marvellous red knight’s shirt with a golden lion and silvery netting across the sleeves. I could have bought something simpler – like a T-shirt from Gamla Stan, but I wanted to buy something special, something that shows that I care, even if I am away for weeks in one go.

Suddenly I realised that I was trying to give some shiny wonderful thing in lieu of my presence and buy myself a better conscious. And I felt really guilty. However, the guilt was replaced by disappointment when Number One Son showed zero interest to the shiny wonderful thing I thought he would love because of his interest in castles and knights and dragons. But no. And otherwise the reception of mummy back home could be called somewhat lukewarm. At least it was less dramatic than I had imagined. No tears, no shouts nor cries. Just a couple of hugs. He may survive.