- I get up at 6, not 7.
- I drag Amanda out of bed at 6:10, not 7:30.
- Amanda moans, and cries, and shivers in the cold, dark morning.
- Amanda and I leave the house at no later than 7:15. Emma and Daniel are still eating their breakfast.
- I drop Amanda off at barnehage no later than 7:20. This morning she was the first one to be dropped off. Yesterday evening (due to god-awful traffic and a late bus, she was the last one to be picked up. I swore I would never do that to my kid....NEVER....yet.....here we are).
- I catch a bus into town no later than 7:30.
- At 7:40, I call Emma from the bus to tell her it's time to start getting coats and shoes on, and then to head to school. "Try to remember to turn out the lights," I say. "Okay Mom. I love you," she says. "You're a big girl, Em. I love you too." I hang up, then turn up the volume on my iPod, and try not to think about how Boy is surely walking out into -23 degree weather without his coat zipped up because I'm not there to do it for him.
- With any luck, the bus rolls into town around 8:20.
- I run/trot/shuffle clumsily over icy cobble stones to my new school in order to make my 8:30 class. Biology on Mondays and Wednesdays; Math on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays.
- It's high school, folks. I'm back in high school.
- Somedays I'm back home before Emma and Daniel get home. Somedays I'm not. Keys to the house have been made and given to both. Daniel was so proud of his; he showed it off to all his friends.
- Thursdays will be the hardest. Emma will have to take a bus--on her own--into to town to her art class. Daniel will come home alone. Mister will leave work an hour early to pick up Amanda from barnehage. I'll be done with my class in time to pick up Emma after her class. We'll take the bus home together. We were all set to practice this new routine--Mister had arrange to take the day off, so he could be there to take the bus that first time with Emma, just so she'd know where it was going to go (it takes a slightly different route than we usually drive)--but the damn art class was cancelled at the last minute, so we didn't get a chance to practice. Next week...
- It's only been three days since our new life started. Only three days.
- It's still not quite sunk in that this is it. Every day, every week, through to the end of the school year.
- I feel guilty all the time. The kids weren't expecting this. They could do without the shake up.
- Mister says I'm dead wrong about this. If ever there were any three kids in need of a good shake up, it's our three kids.
- Be that as it may, it doesn't feel good.
- I don't love the classes. I don't fit in.
- It's freakin' high school. I can't dress it up any better than that. I was hoping there would be more people like me--foreigners in need of extra classes to get into a specific univeristy program. But, no. They're all kids.
- They look at me like I'm all dusty and decrepid.
- I'm older than my math teacher.
- It's weird.
- On the other hand, I can tell the classes are already working wonders on my Norwegian. My infant math teacher spent 3 hours this morning teaching me how to divide 3rd and 4th degree polynomials, and I'll be god damned if I didn't understand it. Mostly.
- It's a soft entry into the world of Norwegian higher learning.
- I needed that.
- But still. Dude. It's high school.
- It's weird.
Saturday, January 09, 2010
Our new life looks like this: