I know it’s been quiet on the blog but we’re just starting to get back into normal routines around here (of course, just in time for the busiest, most festive time of the year!). The truth is, we were all on the down low here in exchange for a bit of family time lately.
It seems that the fall breezes brought with them a fair amount of changes; most of them, we knew were coming. It was just a question of them finally arriving. One of those changes was my husband’s departure for Iraq. For us in our daily life, not much will change other than his noted absence. We will be able to stay in Denmark through the summer, which lets my daughter finish out her forest school time. For that, we couldn’t be more excited.
Naturally, his departure brought a few sad faces, but we used those last few weeks of fall to spend time together as a family (including a little side adventure in Morocco that I’ll post soon), which explains the quiet on the blog. For those that care to read a little more about the Iraq post and what that means for us as a family, you can do so on the other blog more geared towards our diplomatic life (“Somewhere over Iraq”.)
So our daily routines have had to adjust a little, but mostly we’re happy to be able to remain where we are, enjoying the good things that we have. And top of that list is forest school. We know that we will be departing Denmark this summer for sure now, which of course is bittersweet. Across this past year, we’ve really started to feel more at home, and more comfortable with everything from school to the post office but we know there are more adventures ahead. In addition to talk our toddler through my husband’s departure, I’ve slowly started to prepare her for life after forest school…and life after Denmark. No need to put the cart before the horse, but just a few little steps at a time.
In the meantime, let’s get back to the forest school adventure!
[…] too far off the following year. That is two work weeks without school access. As a parent who’s on her own through the end of this year, this definitely worries me a bit as to what happens to the kids when […]
[…] I felt guilty when I bought the iPad. For about five minutes. The truth is, I had mulled over this decision for so long that I had come to peace with it by the time I arrived at the store. On one hand, I didn’t want the technology that could distract her, suction her into graphics and dings and animations to be hers and hers to own. But on the other, I also felt that I could trust her with it. I wanted to trust – and to test – that two years of spending eight hours plus a day outside would have given my daughter the foundation to know that there is more to life than just what’s on a screen. Plus, selfishly, the truth was that I had a nine-hour transatlantic flight with two children on my own coming up the next week, and three more flights just like it later that month. It was time for the big guns, and I knew I had to have every tool in my arsenal. I’m idealistic enough to believe a screen shouldn’t be a baby-sitter, but also realistic enough to know the limits of my own sanity. My daughter has owned her own iPad for about a year now, and I have to confess, I don’t regret it. I thought I might. I was worried that this was the first step into the technology abyss, and we’d lose her forever. But it’s not turned out to be the case. Her iPad is her pride and joy, a special treat for special occasions, like flights and at the occasional weekend outing. It fills in as a babysitter occasionally, but more often than not, it is actually her camera, her typewriter, and her “telephone”, a direct line to her father in Iraq. […]