It's gonna be May. May the fourth be with you. It's just that time of year again. This year I am acutely aware that for 15 years, May was a winding down time. A time for finishing loose ends and for saying goodbyes. A time to prepare for a break from the hectic schedule of a school teacher. My body craves that time to refocus my energy. Now that I work in a job that takes that away from me, I have to work even harder to push through May because there is no reprieve waiting at the end. Typically NBF and I go away in May for a little break to celebrate the anniversary of our first date. We've gone on small adventures and bigger ones, like to Edinburgh. However this year, NBF is in his last month of school and final exams. We don't get to go anywhere. Hell, we barely see each other between work and school. It's been a lonely couple of weeks and will be until the end of May, but it is almost over. We've never been together when he wasn't in school, so I should be careful what I wish for. I might be wishing for evening school teams meetings to come back when the reality hits. Another puff of the May nostalgia was my trip to Gothenburg, Sweden for work. I had an amazing experience of working with the leadership of our schools in Norway and Sweden. It is simply so easy to be pulled back into that world. I loved helping them bond as a team, and it was so great to hear all of the initiatives and progress despite funding issues looming. I was treated to an amazing dinner at a place called Toso. It was Japanese inspired, and we ate a seven course sampling meal. I was so full by the end that I couldn't even enjoy dessert. It was one of those restaurants where you aren't sure how to use the sink after you go to the toilet. The faucet looked like the tubes of a wind chime hanging from the ceiling. The atmosphere was lively even for a Thursday. I enjoyed this experience tremendously. The city itself is a beautiful and vibrant place. There are statues, fountains, gardens, and creative splashes everywhere you look. This was my second trip, but I know there will be more in my future. I really want to share Toso with NBF, besides, it's only a six hour train ride away. One splurge purchase was made that just brings my heart joy. Last time I went to Gothenburg, I found a book in a toy store that had my name on it. Growing up, I searched so hard to find my name on anything mass produced to no avail. Having sisters named Samantha and Elizabeth didn't help because they found their names everywhere. Long story short, I purchased a book titled, Nellie, a unicorn needs your help! Quite fitting considering I have collected unicorns since I was a small girl. This little book is so healing for the girl who grew up hating her old-fashioned and uncommon name. I have come to appreciate my name afterall, I am named after my beautiful maternal great-grandmother AND my maternal grandparents' middle names are Nell and Lee. Just the type of thing a kid can't truly appreciate until they grow up a little. Possibly the biggest adventure while I was there was trying to find snus for NBF. It is by far cheaper in Sweden, so I thought I would spoil him a little. Between walk-through malls with entrances on four sides of a block and Google maps with the accuracy of a male peeing while standing, I ended up walking a couple of kilometers on my hunt. I set out with confidence as people had assured me there was a tobacco shop in the mall right by the hotel. Fantastic! I don't even need google to find that. Let's just say I left with extra steps and a book. I decided I needed electronic intervention. Maybe I've never mentioned this, but I just cannot seem to get my bearings over here. Once I learned my directions in Kansas, I was oriented, but here it is just a different story. My first search for "tobacco shop" led me to a whole other mall and store full of humidors and high end cigars...um, no. My second search took me what seemed to be much further away from the hotel and central station I was leaving from. I can remember thinking if all else fails I'll take a taxi back as I walked further. When I finally found the place hidden behind scaffolding and construction, it was a breeze to show the picture to the clerk and get what I needed. I restarted google maps for the tenth time, and prayed to the satellite gods that it would actually fucking find me accurately this time. It didn't take long for me to be glad I didn't flag a taxi because all of that walking took me full circle to about a three minute walk back to the hotel. I am so hopeless with directions now, but at least I made my train. None of it discourages me from adventuring, though, getting lost can be half the fun. I might even plan a solo trip for one of the long weekends in May, but for now I trudge forward through the muck and mire of corporate schedules with no scheduled holiday breaks.
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Fair talk, I created this post to talk all about my Easter visit to the states about a week after I returned, and now it has been sitting in my drafts for a week feeling neglected. Winter was a little rough this year. I think the thought of turning fifty was harder than actually turning fifty. After all, that just shows up one day. The dread on the other hand lingers around corners waiting to nip at you with random white hairs and knee pain. Honestly, I think nothing has aged me more than stepping out of the classroom, but I digress. Filled with existential dread about life in general accompanying the losses in my family, I decided it was high time to make sure I had some hard conversations with NBF and the boys. It was also well past time that I handled any lingering strings in the states. After all, some of this stuff I had lived without for four years now. So, I decided I could cure my homesickness and get all of this stuff finished in one fell swoop. Thinking I was going to handle paperwork and old belongings, I had phrased it to NBF as, "I'm going to Kansas over Easter," to which he replied, "What days do I need to take off work?" And just like that, my adventure buddy was on board and not going to be left behind. There were several funny conversations about the boys never forgiving him for not visiting and needing his bonding time too, dammit. It wasn't until I was leaving Kansas to come back that I learned he and the boys were planning a trip for them to come to Norway as a surprise for my birthday. So not only was I ruining his surprise, I was trying to leave him behind. Before the trip, though, I had some work to do. It has become a little bit of a tradition to overdo the egg hunt for the bonus kids. After hearing that we would be gone over easter, there was a little dismay thinking that would mean no egg hunt this year. I made arrangements with their mom to make all the plans for the day and to include their little sister and BK's girlfriend. They completed challenges on Goosechase together, and for every five challenges they completed, they received a clue to help find their final egg. Goosechase gave me a chance to have some pictures of their adventures as well. I planned things like geolocation, origami, egg painting, and silliness. I even worked with NBF to write the egg clues in Norwegian so their little sister would feel more empowered. While we were shopping to fill the eggs, NBF was picking up stuff for the boys as well. We decided it was a good thing we didn't have six kids. We wouldn't be able afford holidays. Of course, Norway was in full snow mode the day we left, so we were delayed a bit, however, NBF was the troubled one in security this time. In Amsterdam, we got pulled for extra security screening. I breezed right through, but when I glanced back, there was a huge warning triangle on NBF's crotch showing on the scan screen and a security guard was "checking his package". NBF his normal self says something that actually flusters the security guard, and we are on our merry way. The stay itself was wonderful, although we did little more than sit and chat or go to restaurants. I know NBF wanted to do more, and to be fair we tried to schedule a bison ranch tour, but there weren't any close and available. I forget that while I am going home, he is still in travel/tourist mode. Before we left, he was even googling, "Hidden Gems in Kansas". The boys and I agreed to do much better by him next time. Not that it really takes much to amuse him because seeing Walmart and Target done up for Easter had him giddy. He was picking up bags of candy just to feel the heft and to show me. I was able to show him the little plastic eggs I wanted for the kids' Easter in Norway and the cheap little toys I wanted (and couldn't find) in Norway. This time I was wise, though, and took an extra suitcase for his inevitable shopping. And shop he did. He bought some clothes, shoes, belts, and of course, some big bags of candy. I think he is just as happy showing the size of the bag to people as he is with eating it. The savings on the pants he bought would actually cover the cost of having to check an extra bag. One day NBF casually asked if he could go to a gun store, so we took him to one. Next trip, the boys want to take him to a shooting range. Heaven help me, but it was neat to hear him chatting with BAH. The smile on his face when he got to hold some of the guns! We also took him to a hibachi restaurant where of course he made fast friends with the chef. Maybe the best part of the trip ended up being the delay that let us stay one more day. It can be hard to leave. In those moments, it is hard to imagine ever being able to see my kids enough. Arriving home a day late meant I was really not feeling the trip to Oslo for work, but I had promised the girls I would do a painting night. I was actually excited because we were going to have an actual painting instructor come lead us. We were also going to add in some wine, so Painting with a Twist. Little did I know what that meant. Having had my birthday fall on Easter Monday and checking no for celebrating at work on the survey, I had thought I was off the hook. However, EVERYONE was wishing me happy birthday, so I knew someone had published it. Then I noticed where I was invited to "Painting with a Twist," my boss was invited to "Painting and Celebrate Nellie's Milestone." sigh. It was still a blast. It reminded me that we need to do these things more often. Back home fresh from a trip home and being loved on by friends, I feel ready for spring. Winter of course is not quite ready to give up. There have been burps and belches of snow, with one such burp dumping 12 centimeters of snow on us. I'm fighting back with my patio furniture and flowers, but I haven't triumphed yet. Although, this weekend, I am upping the ante by grilling. Until then, I'll just enjoy my morning coffee and the times I can live outdoors. Oh to have the confidence of a mid March Norwegian snowstorm. This storm came in closing the airport and crushing cars with trees while dumping a few centimeters of snow in the lower areas. It didn't matter to that fresh blast of chill that we think it is time for the snow to be gone, or that stores have patio furniture out for sale. Maybe that storm had more audacity than confidence, but nonetheless, I know leading into tough conversations, I want the confidence I witnessed. I've spoken before about how my blog hitting a wider audience has occasionally stifled my writing. At times, I am tempted to fall into that social media trap of painting my life the way I want it to seem. Honestly, we all take part in that dance between social media and truth/reality, giving readers a peek into reality while letting the glitter blind them to the dusty cobwebs. Yet, I have tried to keep my blog, pretty true to who I am, a fumbling, stumbling, growing human. It has been a way to record my journey through life. Although it was prompted by my move to Norway, there is as much of my healing journey here as my experiences since moving. This is where it gets really tricky. Telling my story is cathartic and in the telling, I know I have impacted others to feel seen and less lonely in their own journeys. While I am honored to know this, I also know my partner and children read this blog. Often I think, what a weight to carry, what a burden to know these things. Much more so I worry more with my children than my partner, because let's face it, the man is a rock and views exploring who I am as an adventure he's willing to travel. In other words, he got a choice. In the playbook for healing from a life of trauma, most of the pages in the book are blank. The chapter titles or general headings might be included, but mostly it is a family heirloom being passed down as the companion to depression and anxiety. A lot of pages are labeled, "I'll give you something to cry about," and "You think you have it rough..." I've added a fuck ton of, "Well, that didn't work out," and even more handwritten notes that needed to be scribbled out later. And in all honesty, I think I am the first one to earnestly write in my family's book. I don't intend to minimize my family's trauma. I know there were some big demons to vanquish. Even though my grandparents overcame alcoholism, they weren't able to heal their relationships with all of their children. My mom was one of them. And even though my sisters will swear my mom was a different person, we were never able to heal our relationship. It is a fact that I was raised by a different woman than them. So when it came to the general topic of generational trauma, I think I missed the chapter on compassionately supporting your children as they deal with intergenerational trauma as adults. This one is maybe better known as, "Well, well, well....if it isn't the consequences of my own actions." I have tried to be very open with my kids about where I feel I failed them as a parent. I have received some pretty blunt feedback about where they think I failed them as a parent. I mean they are my kids after all. And in all honesty, I kind of thought the apologies and new understandings put that mostly to rest. 🎤 🎶And then along comes Trauma! (You're old if you're singing that and know the woman's name that belongs there, just sayin') Just as I was raised by a different version of my mom than my sisters, my boys were raised by different versions of their own mom, but they are both facing the mom that still views them as children. For a fair bit, I listened in silence to the stories or "versions" of history my boys related to me. I tried to remain neutral and keep them from feeling like they were in the middle. However, some serious health concerns with their father has added another facet to an already complicated dynamic.
My ex is every bit as damaged of a human as I was, after all, that was part of what attracted us to each other. He's never really tried to completely unpacked his trauma, though, and what little progress was made was set back by things out of his control. During these times, the boys have had to step up as caregivers, and as a result, their relationship as brothers has been tested. It has also come out more strongly in these struggles that he has had a very hard time accepting our divorce, and to be frank, I don't feel like he ever fully has. He remained friends with some of my aunts and cousins after our divorce, which isn't so out of the ordinary since we were married over twenty years, but he reestablished relationships with my estranged mother and sister. I can be honest enough to say that this hurt my feelings tremendously. Here is this man claiming to have loved me, to love my children, who KNOWS the history in my family, and still, he makes the choice to invite them into a circle that includes my kids and is so dismissive of me. Not only invite them into that circle, actively encourage my children to see them for the "changed individuals" they are. The history he recounts to the boys is skewed, and I have tried really hard to just take the high road, maintain distance, and evaluate whether it is me that is remembering incorrectly. It is possible, trauma changes your brain. Trauma also reconditions you. For example, through parts of this blog, I am trying to pave the way for others to understand my actions and explain my justifications. I have been conditioned to assume I am misunderstood and will be dismissed as irrational. I'm choosing to leave them as they stand to remind me the next time I reread my blogs to remind myself. Regardless, we have reached a point where my kids will quite literally be squarely in the middle, and I realized, or rather decided, that I was not doing my best to be the adult in the situation. In September, NBF and I will head back to Kansas to attend a wedding and Jeff will be there. I tried to get ahead of it by reaching back out to my ex. It 100% went as well as you, on the outside, would expect it to go. I won't go through it all here because the point is the lesson. I was approaching this situation as if my children needed protection and for their mom to step in. We have had many conversations about how they have to filter news about my life to their dad and how they have had to stand in the middle. I feel extreme guilt about this because I have been there. I have been that middle filter and barrier. But you know what, my "children" are men now. They went out there and fucking grew up, and it feels like I didn't even see it happen. There was a time warp somehow, and surely they are just in their early twenties, right?? They'll always be "my boys", but they deserve the chance to lead their own lives and manage their own relationships. That was my goal...to raise capable humans with great capacity for life, so why is it so hard to let them live? Because I want to fix everything I fucked up, that's why. I can see all that went wrong in their childhoods that led to this point, and I feel this tremendous, life swallowing sadness. But these two are able to give me a type of grace I struggled to realize at their age, they see my past for the obstacle it is to parenting. Don't get me wrong, they still say I botched some shit, but they think I made a lot of good choices too. And yes, there are things they need to overcome from their childhood to deal with, but just in our conversations, I am sure that if they have kids, their own mistakes will be less about generational trauma and much more about the creative and inventive way all new parents fuck up their kids. I did apologize to both of them for trying to mother too hard and acceptance was given with a laugh. I suspect it was relief. But, apologies are also an oath to do better. So here's me, settling into my newly redefined mom role, watching my adult children navigate their own decisions, giving advice when asked, but celebrating every step of the way as they work to cut even more tethers from the family patterns. Optimistic me, sat in my office watching rain this morning thinking, so the snow forecast was wrong. It was pretty warm yesterday. We even had to pull the shade because the sun was crisping the air in the living room. Then of course, Norway started Norwaying....wintering,..springing, maybe? I am honestly so confused every year. As soon as there is a sunny day or it hits double digits, I hear Norwegians casually throwing around the S word. Like somehow that stray ray of sunshine should inspire all of us to pack away the sweaters and bust out the swimsuits. There was even a hotel posting tiktoks last week about summer activities. Mind you, I see that woman is wearing a hat and jacket while she's canoeing. Not fucking falling it for it. Sitting here watching the snow fall, and I can't help but notice that I don't feel that peaceful serenity that I felt in December and even into January. I think there is a difference knowing that soon it will all melt away like it was never here, and it will just leave a mess. There won't be a soft blanket to take the edge off the world. That magical time of the year is nearly over. It passes with fleeting glimpses and cold nips on your ears as it lumbers off to hibernate. It will probably stumble, gasping and clutching for a hold well into April, but the daffodils are blooming. Pushing their yellow faces out of the snow, reminding us that the sun has returned.
That is one thing I do understand...the sheer relief at seeing the sun. Perhaps not enough to boldly declare the arrival of summer like Norwegians, but I can tell you that the first time you realize the sun is still up at 16:00 there is a full body reaction. (honestly though ) It is quite a trip to watch winter melt away on my commute to work, and watch it return as I head back north. Sometimes it is hard to believe there is such a difference in a two hour train ride. I was just telling my coworkers last week about getting dressed for weather at home and then nearly roasting to the point of passing out on the train to work. Speaking of coworkers, we had the first of our monthly gatherings for relationship building. Although, I am unsure how relationships built on the humiliation of bowling can last, I am willing to try again for movie night next month. I shouldn't be so hard on myself, I doubled my worst score ever. I should celebrate that. This month I have also been working on the bonus kids' Easter hunt. Tony and I will not be back in time to run that, so I have planned the event in advance to pass off to other family members. Hopefully it goes well. The last of the plan is to go shopping to fill the eggs which we will do this weekend when we go shopping for the boys. I swear they could ask Tony for anything, and if he could fit it in a suitcase they would get it. He keeps asking what they want and should we buy this and that. FFS, they're adults, Tony. (But I love that he thinks about them.) As I thought, dinner break for Friday tacos was enough for the snow to stop and the melty mess to begin. Maybe that means we can start up our firepit evenings again. I think we can even make it out there without me getting lost in the drifts. Next time, I'll try to remember to show you how deep the snow was through winter. I was looking out the kitchen window today thinking how nice it was to see the whole apple tree again. For now though, I am looking forward to a nice relaxing weekend, and I think we'll start with a cider and finishing the Blacklist. February has come and nearly gone before I am back here. As with so many months, I have not really done momentous stuff, but I have been fully occupied with life. A couple of really big projects at work are taking a lot of my creativity and focus for writing.
I have to tell you writing through writer's block and lack of inspiration is harder than one might think. Which then in turn makes me realize I really could be publishing my blog weekly again if I really set my mind to it. Writing has never been a full time job before now, though. I imagine it being similar to having a job housekeeping and coming home to clean your own house. Sure, you know it needs done, and you really are good at it. You've mastered some tricks, but wow, the inspiration and motivation are like the wisps of smoke from a match. I have thought through the years about collecting my blogs into a book or writing a book, but quite honestly, I know now that I was never ready or even as close as I had dreamed I might be. I think back to creative writing classes in high school and college and taking courses in writing children's literature. I thought I had a good grasp on what it meant to write and take feedback. As with so many other times in life...WRONG! And while I realize writing intellectual property for someone else is a different dragon, that thought is little comfort when some motherfucker comes along and shuffles the scales. Maybe I'll just hold onto monthly blogs for a while longer as I finish up these two big projects. Even if I have released my grip on my writing goals a little, I have managed to cling to my sense of wonder. I used to be able to rely on my students to help me with this, but now I really have to exercise the muscle on my own. It ages you to lose your wonder, you know. NBF and I decided to take a last minute trip to Oslo together this weekend. If we are looking at this trip purely from a proximity and logistical standpoint, it would be like someone in Kansas bragging about making a trip from Salina to Wichita. That is about the same distance and opens up as many shopping opportunities and experiences. But... when I stick my mind back in my roots, little Kansas Nellie hopped a train to Oslo, Norway. All of the sudden it wasn't simply the same commute I take to work. I watched the snow covered hills sparkle in the sunshine like they were covered in a blanket of crystals. The small towns along the way were nestled into the hillside, cozy in their blanket of snow. Red and yellow houses stood out like beacons of welcome. Arriving at the central station, I was instantly surrounded by many others with places to go and people to see. The energy was palpable. While we wandered the streets on Saturday night, the gågate, or walking road, buzzed with laughter and languages. People were too caught up in fun and football chatter to recognize the cold. On Sunday morning, it was snowing and a much more somber, silent feeling stalked us. I smiled as I watched tourists snap photos of the giant snowflakes landing on their scarves. I remember when that was me. I watched birds hunt for leftovers of a fun evening and had to giggle at myself when I finally realized that the oddly triangular looking track in the snow was a gull print. The little hints of magic that make life so much better are always there if only we remember to look. The same can be said for people. Sitting across the table from NBF, I looked into the eyes of a man that has not yet had his fill of adventure with me. There was a peace and yet anticipation in his demeanor, hearkening back to when I first started falling for him. Sometimes I think he is never quite as at home as he is when he is out adventuring. When he looks at me in this way, I wholeheartedly believe his words, home is where you are. In that moment I decided I want more of those glances between us. More adventure, more wonder. More searching out bakeries I find on Tiktok. It can be easy to get caught up in work and the routine. Some weekends it feels simpler to sit on the sofa and let life roll by like a leaf on the breeze. I don't think either of us are ready to settle for that. Next weekend is another trip to Oslo, March is a concert and a trip to Kansas. Let's just keep those adventures coming. As I get ready to wind this down, I am thinking on all that has happened and the detours my life has taken. I have been struggling with a lot again, and I want to hit the reset button on a few things. The adventures are a start, but there are other goals as well. I am going to leave you with the tweet that has been occupying my mind for the last week. Nobody said it was easy..... Unlike my days in school, January is not in its 87th day and counting. Rather, January is simply sliding away with a whimper. Much of December and January was spent housebound for me as I struggled through a few viruses, and we had a long bout of really cold weather and heavy snow. This winter has been the epitome of what I pictured a Norwegian winter to be before I moved here. Recently, NBF and I were chatting about the snow, and he was talking about it being perfect conditions to take his snowblower to the cabin to make a path out on the lake for ice skating. He says, "You do know how to ice skate, right?" "Umm...I can roller skate?" "You can't skate. You can't ski. What were you thinking when you moved to a country where we ski, skate, and have winter for most of the year?! You even struggle to walk, Nellie!"
I mean, I don't really know except that it was supposed to be the start of something amazing. I've told the story a dozen times if I have told it once. I certainly did not intend to find life and love when I made the leap into international teaching. There was not a single thought in my mind about building a life in another country only travel and experiences. I was only here for a good time not here for a long time. Life has a funny way of fucking with your assumptions every chance it gets, though. Now I find myself without a carefree single attitude but with a reliable travel buddy...without full control of the remote but with morning coffee delivered to me...without an explanation for how I ended up here but with a deep abiding love. I think the balance is tipped in my favor. I will tell you about another game life likes to play with us, surprise curve ball. One day you are playing a leisurely game of ball and life decides you're a pro athlete ready to handle the pitch of a seasoned baseball player. I spent a lot of time working on myself in the years leading to my move to Norway and even in my first year here. I was really feeling like I was getting a hang of this life thing. Then swing, you're in love. Swing, AB has cancer. Swing, a new job. A little faster now, swing, move in with a family. Swing, mother dies, swing, AB dies, swing, new job, swing, another aunt dies, wait, STOP. It's been a lot to happen over the course of a couple of years. That should be a full sentence. I mean, it is a full sentence. My mind, however, went straight for the hard shit. I did the old survivor's trick of "mitigating the damage". You know, Nellie, you weren't that close to your mom and aunt anyway. You chose to take the new jobs. You chose a man with kids. You can't complain now! Funny little fellow the mind, but I think he is finally catching up to what my body and heart have been experiencing. The processor has been running overtime lately for sure. This is probably going to come as a shock to some of you, but I use humor as a coping mechanism. Therapists are not fans, even if they tell you they understand. *eye roll* Their loss. As a trauma survivor, I find the darker the humor, the better. For example, I recently told a coworker that with the death of my mother and my aunt, there was no Hope or Joy in my life anymore. I now need to lead a Hope-less and Joy-less life. See...they were named Hope and Joy...so it's...funny. And as often happens when you laugh in the face of trauma, your brain snaps back. "Hey Nellie, did you notice that you are so bothered by the word hope that you actively avoid it in your writing?" And just like that, you're swinging at a curveball you haven't a chance of hitting. I do it. I know I do it. I even know why. When I was growing up, my mom INSISTED that any friends that came over referred to her as Mrs. Rodgers. She signed her checks that way. Signed our school papers that way. She was a proud wife. When my dad died, she had a real crisis of identity. She had forgotten who Hope was, so she made it her mission to rediscover herself and reclaim her name. Hope is a really common word to find on all sorts of household decor, clothes, and more. And I think she bought some of everything. So well she did her job that she and the word "hope" became synonymous in my mind, so by extension when we really fractured our relationship, hope broke with it. In my mind, when someone says all you need is hope, I actively think...like hell I do. Worse yet, when I hear, there's always hope, that small voice in my mind says, nah, she died like the wicked witch of the west. Ding dong the bitch is dead. How is that for brutal honesty and a peek you didn't need? I'm sure you can see why I avoid it. It seems insincere and almost wrong somehow when I write it or say it. The feelings are so visceral, so real, I am certain the person reading my message with the word hope feels anything but hope....that they see through my intentions and know I saddled them with hope. And here's the rub, as I writer and human, I need hope. There are dozens of synonyms, but hope is such a powerful, dynamic, and unique word. It gives voice to a feeling and collective urge and longing. That primal emotion echoes and stirs in my mind longing to be free of the restrictive definition I have wrapped around it... free of my personal connotation. I realized that while I truly believe my life is better living Hope-less, I don't want to be hope-less. This doesn't mean I am buying the pants my mom did with HOPE splashed across the ass. (Why did we ever go so far into that trend??) BUT...I am going to really work on leaning into the very necessary human emotion of hope and all that that brings to our lives. I hope to incorporate the word into my writing...okay that was way too forced, blech. I can do better, but for now I will let Desmond Tutu guide my path. The last few months I have been watching NBF apply and interview for jobs. It has really highlighted the disparities in the systems and how we view work negotiations, interviews, and the emotions of losing a job. I have to admit the differences began when he was told he would be let go. In my mind, a low level panic settled in that only the American system can instill in people, and of course, in true NBF style, he appeared unbothered. As a matter of fact, he said he was looking forward to a little break.
In the Norwegian system, employees and employers sign contracts agreeing to three months notice. For NBF and his company this meant he was paid his last three months salary without having to work because the company wanted immediate changes. Further, the company negotiated a one time payout because of the circumstances. this meant that even though his last day of work was September 30th he would be paid October through December salary. Then in January, he would receive his one time pay out plus payout for his unused vacation days along with his vacation money from 2023. This meant there was no hardship and hurry. The first month, he was in total vacation mode. The kind you only realize you need when you hit the third week. After that he started selectively applying for jobs and really concentrating on school. When it came time for interviews, he could afford to be selective. In the end, he was in for second interviews with a couple of companies at one time and as a courtesy told the first company that offered him a job that he was waiting on this other job so he could compare their offers. The response from that company was complete and total understanding and support. In the end, he was able to get the job he really wanted, and even though he has been without a job for four months, our finances haven't been impacted. On the other hand, I was concerned at so many points along the way. I tried my very best not to let my anxiety and worry pour out onto him. I did understand that I was out of my element and things work differently here. As I mentioned, just him losing his job triggered panic for me. I can remember having to move when I was young because my dad lost his job. I knew from my marriage how hard it was to make the money stretch between jobs and how important it was to take the very first job you were offered. There is no room in most budgets to wait for the "dream offer". There is also no space in an American employer's mind to accept that you are considering another position. In their thinking, you must not need their job and so you can go fuck right off. My mind was awhirl with questions; Why was he so casual? Why wasn't he just applying for all the jobs he was qualified to have? Why did you tell the first job ANYTHING about the second?? After NBF was offered the job, he didn't accept their terms and negotitated for some things that were important to him. And even though he was asking for something they had never accommodated before, he was given a compromise that was acceptable to him. I am just in awe that the system manages to work for both sides of the equation and that there is so much respect and value for people in the hiring process. When I wanted to wait to plan travel until after he had started his job, he was actually quite perplexed. Why would we wait? They know people make life plans. They didn't hire me thinking my life belonged to them. They expect that things like this will come with hiring anyone. I think they would be disappointed to hear I didn't have hobbies or travel. So here we are, new start on Thursday, and all my anxiety, worry, and fear was for nothing. And I can't wait to see where his business travels take him because now he is also in an international company. Maybe I will be the one tagging along for home office on the go in some far off place while he works! We decided to spend Christmas at the cabin this year. Norwegian tradition is a big meal the 24th, and American tradition means Santa will find us the 25th, so we went out the 23rd to prepare for all of it. Even earlier, we took some extra time to shop for decorations and bring some from home so that it could feel extra Christmas-y. I could not be happier with the mix of old and new and the blend of both of our cultures. And of course, gnomes. Our Tiktok inspired tree looked even better this year with a new village piece. Sitting in front of the fireplace, I couldn't help but feel grateful for a Christmas full of warmth, love, and happy memories. The meal was the first time we've really made something with such intense kitchen needs, so we learned a lot. We may have also decided on our next cabin building project. It was only NBF and me as two kids were in the states and the other two were with their mom. Still, we enjoyed a candle lit meal while we looked over the near frozen fjord. Christmas day, we had a small meal of leftovers from our dinner and then did a white elephant game and built gingerbread houses. I think everyone was surprised with how long we had been goofing about by the time I turned on the lights to take photos of the gingerbread houses for our family contest. For the white elephant, we used cards that dictated the trades or passes. Since this was the family's first experience with the white elephant, NBF and I bought all the gifts. We were pleasantly surprised and happy that the bonus kids ended up with the toolkits we purchased. This year we tried to get a few gifts that would help with living at their own home since that time is getting closer for both of them. The gingerbread house building went well as I finally learned how to make the icing correctly. Of course, NBF and I took all of the broken pieces so we spent our energy on our individual houses instead of the team house like the other two. All in all, it was just a fun day. This year, NBF and I also opted to gift each other travel for Christmas instead of other gifts. He is going to be starting a new job after the first of the year, so we also decided to wait on the planning for a bit to give him time to settle. He is also finishing his last six months of school which means some big exams. We both agree we had plenty of adventure last year to unbalance our bank accounts and to satisfy our itch to explore...at least for a bit longer. We also have a tradition of traveling every May when our dating anniversary comes around, so we may end up needing to make up two trips to ourselves. Before we left the cabin, we even put away the Christmas decor. We didn't intend to pack everything away yet because I wanted to get a couple of storage tubs, but it ended up fitting in one of the cupboards in our bedroom. I think there might even be more storage space for gnomes as well. Bonus kid's girlfriend sent me a video and I am trying hard to live up to it. (https://www.tiktok.com/@jo.co777/video/7313173474028113184?_r=1&_t=8iIAjsqYTCL) Every Christmas brings some sorrow and painful memories, it is to be expected. Experiencing my first pregnancy and the stillbirth of my son in the Christmas season at such a young age established a pattern of extra complications to an already emotionally fraught time. While this year brings the same, busying myself with new traditions and being loved by someone who encourages my gnome addiction and feels like a safe place to be Nellie makes a real difference in my ability to cope. It is almost beyond comprehension that pain this raw is in fact 33 years old. I used to think, or perhaps the better word, is anticipate a year when the pain would feel less palpable, but I have come to expect this yearly companion to find new ways to drill into my memories and spring to life. I think the main difference in the last few years has been not trying to justify or hide my feelings around Jerry's death for the comfort of others but just feeling and acknowledging them. His life and premature death are significant events that have and will forever impact who I am. I am ever so thankful for each happy memory I can build into this time of year to balance all I have experienced on the other side. Maybe this year I will even have the courage to get the diamond pressed from his remains.
Whatever this new year brings, I know I am ready to embrace some adventure along the way. I am looking forward to visiting my granddogs and attending the wedding of one of my bonus boys in Kansas. I can't wait until the next time I hug my kiddos, and I expect my travel buddy and I will rack up some flight time. From our family to yours, Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. Okay so that title is awful. I don't mean I am disappointed it is Christmas. I really meant wasn't it just Halloween?? When I was sitting on the sofa today, I looked over to see that NBF's advent calendar was at the halfway point. Immediately questions began swirling in my mind. How did we get to the middle of December already? How have I been at my new job for a year? Where did this year go? Why haven't I been in my blog this month? I can remember time passing ever so slowly when I was a child. December most of all it seemed. To be fair there were bursts and spurts where time disappeared. Of course, those are the happiest times...summers at Gramma and Paa's house, afternoons outside playing, Christmas vacation. But there were just as many endless Mays waiting for school to end and the ever lingering weeks and months of being grounded. I guess all that wishing for time to speed up gets granted later in life, because now I can barely keep pace with the passage of weeks, months, and years. Until I find myself yet again mouth agape, astonished that another year has come to an end. This year was the first time I have not been in a classroom in some capacity in 25 years. Can I just say that I find that number shocking?! I first began spending time in a classroom as a volunteer when OGBAH went to kindergarten. Still, it took me until November to realize that at least some of my attitude this year was due to not having the routine, pace, planning, and decompression time that comes with a teaching schedule. It is obvious I need to find the new equilibrium. Understandably, it is unsustainable to work as I did in a school where I could rely on regularly scheduled time away, or rather forced vacation. Granted, this year was unique as NBF and I made a joint decision for prioritizing our days off differently. I could have had a summer holiday, but we wanted to explore in less busy times for travel. I am also guilty of sabotaging my own schedule because I still struggle with doing tasks like research during work time, as I feel somehow I am stealing from the company. I keep pushing my boss to let us develop an official professional development plan, and I think at least part of that is so I don't feel like a thief reading a book on company time. I made myself start tracking my work time and projects in a calendar, especially if I am putting in extra hours or doing webinars on the weekend, and of course, I am always putting in enough time. Aside from work woes, it is the normal Christmas season angst this year. I have been able to decorate, bake, or plan most of it away. We continue to have our yearly conversations around Christmas traditions and decor. This year thanks to my secret santa at work, a bumper crop of new gnomes joined our family! NBF even bought one, but his will live at the cabin since he bought the rock and roll punk with the sole purpose of being the boss gnome of the other gnomes.
We struck a balance with Christmas decor by putting up the curtains and stars on December 1st, but the tree waited a week. I am team weekend after Thanksgiving put up the tree, and NBF is team December 23rd. After discussion, we got to the root of the differences. Although, I would put up the tree Thanksgiving weekend, I would take it down before going back to work in January. I also had an artificial tree. He on the other hand was used to live trees that went up the 23rd and stayed up until the 13th day of Christmas, dropping needles all the way. Anyway, we compromised with an artificial tree that went up last weekend and will stay up until the 13th day of Christmas. I once again baked lussekatter for St Lucia's day. I had volunteered to bake them for our secret santa reveal at work. I was a little intimidated because we have professional cooks on our staff, but they went over really well. I explained that there was an American twist because I don't care for raisins. so I used chocolate. The CEO called it upgraded lussekatter, and all of them were gone at the end of the day. I will call it a win. This weekend, we will shop for our yearly ornament that has become a shared tradition and plan for Christmas games at the cabin which we hope becomes a shared tradition. My boys got advent calendars for the first time because their stepdad spoils children rotten or as he puts it, I deprived my children of so many great things. I am not sure we will bake seven kinds of cookies again, but we will at least make a couple of batches. I am going to try to talk him into making some of my favorites from last year. Maybe the best part of all of this is that I have someone that helps me decorate, bake, and plan. After all, part of the Christmas spirit is coming together with family and friends to enjoy...together. I am stuck between two Nellie's today. One Nellie would love to invite you to her pity party and wallow in shitty, sad music together. Maybe we cry while we bitch about our current situations, maybe we just sit together and know. When I was younger it was very common for my parents to disregard what I was saying, tone police, and make me apologize for any perceived slights to them or their circle. I faced the same through my marriage. I swallowed my words and shrunk myself to fit the ideal daughter or wife. I didn't ask for what I needed or speak up to address what I considered disrespectful treatment. And now that I don't want to melt into the woodwork or rock the boat or constantly stifle myself, it feels selfish and wrong. Often I find myself waiting too long to address situations, and then I have to face the consequences that come with it. For example, recently, I had a meeting scheduled and of course, life happens. The meeting ended up starting later than expected and lasted much longer than expected. NBF was waiting for me to help with dinner, and because of the meeting, we had to start dinner over an hour later than expected. Dinner needed to bake for an hour and a half on top of that. Needless to say, NBF was rightfully irritated. I let both of us down that night. In my mind, I need to be flexible because life is like a toddler without a nap sometimes. But also, I find it highly disrespectful to abuse someone else's time. Then I think, well Nellie, that is a Nellie problem. Have you ever thought your standards are too high, and that you need to adapt. Yes that is true, but how much is too much? Where is the line? And then we circle back and repeat. I think I liked healing my mind, heart, and soul better, when I was actively ignoring the problems.
If I am being truly honest with myself, ever since my burnout last year, I have much less tolerance for stress than ever before. I think much like elastic, we can stretch ourselves to a point where it doesn't snap back anymore. Then we become the droopy underwear you only depend on for laundry day when you have nothing else. Okay, even pity party me thinks I am better than broken elastic underwear, but I still don't think the analogy is far off. The other Nellie wants to tell a story about a memory that popped up and brought her a sparkle of nostalgia. I am sure I have mentioned this before, but the hot cocoa here is so much thicker and smoother than anything I remember at home. Granted, our go to at home was a cocoa you made with water because well, poverty. My mom used to mix cocoa, powdered milk, and sugar in a huge tupperware bowl. It lasted most of the winter. However, we were only allowed ONE spoon of mix for our mug. Child logic overruled reason during those times. I could have simply added less water and had better flavor, but more water meant more hot cocoa. Fast forward to the other day when I was making cocoa with milk and as much cocoa and sugar as I wanted. I sat down cupping my hands around the mug, letting the steam warm the tip of my cold nose. Outside, it was just becoming light and the pink was painted onto the clouds. Snow covered our veranda. It was perfect cocoa weather. The first sip sparked the synapses. In an instant I was whisked back to my very first sip of cocoa in Norway. Christmas celebrations and decorations are in full swing in November over here. Part of it is because the lights are an important part of the season when there are so many hours of darkness. The other part is that many Norwegians start using, it is almost Christmas, we should wait until after the New Year in early December. If any community Christmas-ing is to be done, it has to begin in November. If I remember right, our school Christmas party happened right around American Thanksgiving that year. But we started with cocoa.... That first year, we took all the first through third graders on a field trip to old town in Fredrikstad to tour a bit of the town and to see a Christmas play. We played at a playground until our fingers were numb. I guess maybe I should say until my fingers were numb. I was arguing with kids about at least keeping their hats on and pushing their mittens into their pockets so they didn't get lost. When it was time for the play, the kids were thrilled. The pointing and giggling commenced as only six year olds know how to do it. For myself, I understood very little except that the children were having the time of their lives laughing at these Christmas nisser/thieves stealing the Christmas ham. After the play, we all went outside for cocoa and buns. At first, I declined the cooca, instead busying myself making sure the kids all had a bun and refills and attempting to keep spills to a minimum. When the kids were all but finished I had a cup of cocoa pushed into one hand and a bun into the other. I had to admit the warmth felt so good in my hands and on my nose. The aroma was so rich and sweet, and the warm, doughy bun spun its smell around the chocolatey cocoa goodness. Once I tasted the cocoa, the flavors danced on my tongue, and the bite of the bun that followed sealed it all into my memories. I had never tasted such thick, smooth, sweet, and delicious cocoa. The child in my mind wanted nothing more than to fall into a river of Norwegian hot cocoa much like Augustus Gloop in Willy Wonka. The second half of that cup was much harder to drink than the first. It is so rich and so sweet, that a small dose will fill you but also create an craving and memory that will last a lifetime. I have always found it fascinating that your senses can stir memories. I had almost forgotten this memory until that sip of cocoa the other day. I am glad I took the time to spoil myself and relive a magical moment in Norway. |
Nellie HillJust a woman leaping outside her comfort zone and telling the tale. Archives
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