Skype Mom travels again

It does not really matter where one is when one skypes. It seems that the light in the ceiling is always shining to the eyes of the receiver and requires changing and you are sitting in a darkish room reading a fairytale. Stockholm looks like Finland looks like Rome. This is not helped by the fact that I have a room with the windows very low next to the floor level, so I have to have a light on even during the day.

Nevertheless, for a distant parent the regularity of contact is the most important thing. It is not the child’s fault that you have to work away and you have to show your child that you care. This week I will have two social evenings in a row, which means that I cannot book or plan anything more before Saturday. Number One Son will need a couple of nights of regular good night story before any thought of another evening in a restaurant. In addition, I cannot be impulsive and attend an opening of an art exhibition I just spotted, but do the thing I promised today. Nevertheless, Saturday will be my last evening, so it would be nice to have a meal in town. People have lauded the artichokes this season and I feel tempted.

The tiredness in the eyes of Archaeologist Husband keeps me concentrated in work. One cannot be frivolous when the other half is carrying the can and taking the responsibility of any everyday activities. Luckily, it is not long until the half-term when I will be doing my share. And be nagged about the housework...

Quiet life of a Skype Mum

Reading a bedtime story via Skype to your child when the child is in Britain and you are working in the continental Europe is the easiest way to guarantee that you life frugally, save money and keep away from any temptation. Of course, one could hit town or any bad habits afterwards when one has also discussed the day with your partner. However, if you are working, you start to be quite tired by 9 pm. In addition, you may not life in the busy party central, but the residential ‘garden city’. By 9 pm the bus service has grinded to almost to a halt, so reaching any hotspots will take time and waiting in the freezing evening.

I probably should have started a hobby, but the travelling schedule would bring gaps to any evening classes. Sitting in for example would mean that I would mix with people who are not archaeologists, I do not work with and who actually live locally. Now I live in a student flat in a house where the nearest thing to a local is me, another Finn and one Norwegian guy who may or may not still live in the house. Well, there are some Russians, but if you consider people who by definition speak at least some Scandinavian, I am almost native. This is a bit alienating, but making the most of the window of being able to write and study means that I am easily at the University until about six a clock, when I have to leave, if I want to eat before skyping.

Luckily the archaeology seminar sometimes leads to a dinner in a pub, but since I miss the Christmas party, these occasions seem to be rarer now during the ‘nose-whitening January’. The discussions at the swimming pool where I go about once a week relate normally to some queuing issue, when I transform into a small-minded middle-aged woman when people pass me in the Jacuzzi or shower queue. May be I should have taken up Italian discussion group or something. Well, now I am heading to actual Rome and my Italian will be hilariously mixed with Swedish words. You should have heard me on the phone! ‘Februari’ came from my mouth instead of ‘febbraio’. No wonder the funzionario was puzzled... Or perhaps written Swedish may have been more fitting. Considering my first stab in formulating a paragraph in Swedish for 15 years in academic language. Total laugh-out-loud non-sense!

Winter holiday?

Even if the new year has barely started we have the plans ready as far ahead as April - which is in current circumstances about as far ahead as we can think! After that the things seem to be changing and be covered by the mist of uncertainty, but at some point during the summer I and Number One Son will be in Finland, hopefully with Archaeologist Husband. But all is open and so much depends on other people's projects, so we can just sit and wait. But we are ready undil Easter.

The end of my stay at home was marked by a colour change: I left behind a green land and landed in the darkness into the whiteness. Almost every day some new fluffy snow is coming down from the sky and in the underground one can spot ladies and gentlemen in their cross country gear. Suddenly I am facing distant memories from the late 1970s and early 1980s when I tended to go to [cross country] ski and skate. Then the mild winters, student life along the coast and move to the country where I did not see snow properly again in the winter until the late 2000s. And in those cases we talk about snow staying over one weekend. However, the last two winters were different in England and suddenly I had to use my Finnish winter boots again.

Now the coffee table discussions at work when my colleagues are discussing their children going to ski and skate here and there around Stockholm make me think, if Number One Son should have his slice of the pie. However, we have made the decision that I will go home for half-term, since one week's winter would mean a lot of winter clothes bought for one week only and sudden need for skies and a sled. With no certainty, if there will be another Swedish winter ever again, we really do not want to buy things we do not need or be able to store. Which is a pity, since every child would need their time walking on the ice on a lake or on sea. of course, we will never know, if it will be snowing at Easter in April!

End of the holidays

Number One Son's first proper Christmas holiday from the school is almost over. The time passed us by fast. Not least because I have been battling with a winter cold throughout, been able to do activities for a short time and then basically been resting on the sofa. As if my body and the bugs knew I am officially on my annual leave, so that one is destined to become ill. In addition, Archaeologist Husband has to finish a series of reports for mid-January, so he has been heading to his office on many afternoons, while I have done some things in the mornings on the weekdays.

Luckily, we have managed some play dates - both in our house and elsewhere. In addition, I and Number One Son visited Sales after Boxing Day and headed for the city centre on a couple of other occasions just to see the Christmas decorations or running some errands. The holiday time has been relatively quiet - just as we planned it to be. It is just a pity that my cold has left the long walk to the Bradgate Park undone and swimming has been out of the question. I just shiver out of a thought of a draughty changing room!

Skype Mom lands home

I can finally spend some quality time with Number One Son as we did yesterday when we took a bus to town from moment’s inspiration after seeing our former neighbour at the bus stop or today when participating in the local NCT coffee group’s excellent Christmas party in Markfield Community Hall. If yesterday we were just walking around and viewing the Christmas decorations and funfair in the pedestrian area in the city centre, today the children were running around, hopping down the inflatable slide, using the toys in the hall, popping the whatsits and grapes and enjoying the disco lights.

One of the Christmas party's attractions

I missed Number One Son’s turn as a camel in the navity play, but I managed to write at least a couple Christmas cards to his class mates. The first school morning after flying back from Sweden and the first morning after a conference trip to Bournemouth were tiresome, since both times the weather made all my plans to go pear-shaped and both times I was home much later than anticipated. Nevertheless, I had been partially lucky on both occasions. On the first occasion my flight was the only one that reached Heathrow from Stockholm. This was thanks to the minister Willetts who flew back from the Nobel festivities on this flight – in the economy class. The arrivals board at Heathrow showed how many other flights reached London; they were from places like New York and Cape Town. Our flight was an anomaly – and we knew why. On the latter occasion my connection from Birmingham was late as well, so I got onto the last train to Leicester. Thus, Number One Son’s teachers and teaching assistants did see a glimpse of me during this term.

Luckily, all the presents are bought and wait for the Christmas Eve to be given to Number One Son. We decided to celebrate two Christmases - Finnish and British. I give my presents first and Archaeologist Husband takes care of the Christmas Day - both the night and day shift. In that way Number One Son will get small presents across one night and two days. I would have died out of happiness as a child from such a practice. This means that he may have been a contender in the 'who got the most presents' competition we had among my childhood friends. I never won, but Number One Son's numbers are brought up by different Godless Parents and pass-me-down DVDs. Nevertheless, it means that the day will be memorable. He is already loving the Christmas tree and the lights.

On a positive note, his speech is also improving and we are having discussions, even if they are still short and consist mainly me confirming that I have understood his words correctly. In any case, this shows significant improvement and his numerical skills are outstripping easily his vocal and literacy skills. I learnt in the TAG that the numeracy and literacy exist separately in the brain, so they can develop separately; one can excel in one and be less impressive the other, but some tasks require both skills. I must thank this morsel of knowledge cognitive archaeologists who try to understand the beginning of counting in the early prehistory. I must say I did not expect archaeology being useful in parenting knowledge dissemination...

Finally a name

Sharing your problems sometimes pays you huge dividends. On my visit to Finland my girlfriend, who I have known since we were in the play group together in the 1970s and who also has a son, listened my son’s difficulties. She said that his difficulty of pronouncing words and their random outcome together with lacking phonemes sound like ‘dysphasia’, a special difficulty related to the language development. It was earlier called dysphasia, but it is often described with the longer description including the words ‘difficulty’ and ‘development’. I am sure our speech therapist has included all these words in her discussions with us and she has tested Number One Son’s syllables and how his ‘k’ sound is still left wanting regardless his love of cars.

December 1 in Finland

Archaeologist Husband has passed me the information from Number One Son’s teacher that his speech is improving. My girlfriend explained that slowly her son found all the sounds and now he only mixes up difficult, similar-sounding words, such as ‘astronomy’, ‘astrology’ and ‘archaeology’.

What I learnt from googling was that this condition is apparently inheritary, but the term covers a range of conditions for which the ultimate reason and total outcome is unclear and can vary. Thus, the change in name from a precise word to a wider, more general description.

Parenting from Whiskey Bar

Keeping regular contact when travelling around for work brings its own challenges to distant parenting. This week I travelled to Finland for a seminar organised annually by the Archaeological Society of Finland. I had two extra reasons for travelling; firstly, to promote the Monographs of the Society (MASF) for which I am the Editor-in-Chief, and secondly, to promote the Nordic Archaeological Theoretical Group Conference at Stockholm, organised by my employing institution. Naturally, I have our session to flock, but to inform my colleagues about the relatively early deadlines for papers and registration (the cheaper registration fee will disappear already on January 11).

I was unsure where I will have an opportunity to skype and I was worried about this, considering how regular our routine had become. I heard that we were to have a wifi connection on the Finland ferry to Turku, so I headed to the direction of the bars and cafeteria that were flagged out for laptop connection. A friendly bartender explained how the connection is normally the best at the certain end of Whiskey Bar, so I ordered a pint and placed my laptop onto one of the bar tables. Getting the connection was easy and I could check the Guardian before logging in to Skype.

So good so far, but I should have known that it cannot be this perfect. I was on a moving boat after all and the picture quality was poor and pixellated and it froze at random intervals. Number One Son was initially happy to see Mummy, but his interest vanished, when Mummy did not move and the sound quality was poor. He disappeared into his room without coming back. Archaeologist Husband informed me that the sound was cutting randomly and he had great difficulties of making any sense of what I was saying. Thus, the skyping session was short and I could head to have my dinner before a comfortable session in my cabin with Miss Marple and salty liquorice.

The following evening I was unable to skype, since I had taken the Christmas presents instead of a laptop to my brothers. They did have a wifi network, but now Skype on their computers, so I ended up upsetting Number One Son who did want to see his Mummy. Luckily, the biological research centre of the University of Jyväskylä did have a well-functioning wifi system, so the peace was restored on the home front after Mummy could fulfil her parental duties. The same was true with my friend’s house, although I managed to lose the image with Skype after mistyping the password. But he could fall asleep to the sound of me reading his bedtime story. Tonight I am waiting to hear, if my return ferry has a wifi service and if I end up skyping in the pub or cafeteria.

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Epilogue
The evening ended with a fail, when my laptop decided that a half of the battery life meant that it was totally flat. It shut itself automatically down and I had to text Archaeologist Husband that I had failed.