There's always one!

Flying home from my dad’s funeral, was relieving as well as painful.  I was leaving my grieving mother behind, but I was also looking forward to see my own family again.  The only hurdle between me and my wife (and of course kids) was a 2 hour plane ride.

I really enjoy traveling, but sometimes time is just crawling by.  Perhaps it’s because I arrive in the airport several hours before take off, but I can’t help it, I hate rushing through the airport.  Being in time, and preferably several hours, is my ideal scenario.  This in deep contrast to my wife, who thrives on adrenaline - the question lurking over us as to whether we’ll make the flight or not.  If you’ve ever tried running across Schipol airport with two kids (under the age of 30 months), aging mother-in-law and wife, then you’ll know stress.  You haven’t fully lived until you’ve done that.

Anyway, killing time in the airport is easy for me.  I have a natural talent for wasting money on souvenirs, primarily for the family, and this becomes more and more with 3 kids.  Also, as a tradition I always have to have a traditional Danish hot dog before leaving Denmark.  It's some weird superstition I've developed over the years, and the onions give you natural air while flying 13km above the surface, forcing you to think of something other than crash landing.  Nothing beats a Danish hotdog (ristet hotdog med det hele).

Having spent almost 3 hours in CPH airport you tend to get somewhat bored, so it was a delight when my flight home started to board.  It's only a 2 hour flight, so not many air-miles.  The amusing thing about these short jumps are that the waiting passengers are desperately trying to get on the plane, despite having a boarding-card and assigned seat.  They huddle around the only check-in person and queuing becomes a thing of the past.  The queue is more like a octopus with 8 arms, and people just squeeze in.

After a 10 minute waddle to check-in, I was dragging my 7 shopping bags through the narrow cabin, looking for my seat and an empty overhead locker.  I managed to bump into all passengers, on both sides of the aisle, until I finally found my seat - I was sitting on row 15, so plenty of upset people starring at me from behind, probably thinking of ways to return the favour of dislocating their elbows.  Thanks to self-service check-in, I was sitting alone and could spread my loot across 3 seats.

It is always amusing to see how people waddle down the aisle, stopping abruptly when they spot their seat and block the rest of the passengers from reaching their seat.  There's always one or two among the passenger who doesn’t understand that they are delaying the boarding of the flight, and possible take-off, by standing there and pressing their luggage into the already full overhead locker.


Having witnessed the remaining passengers find their seat, I unpacked and prepared for the 2 hour crossing.  In front of me were three rather large blokes and as soon as we reached the cruising altitude, 2 of them moved their seats into lying position.  Frantically, I was starring at the greasy hair top of the guy in front of me, praying that he wouldn’t recline too.


I have absolutely no idea why people need to recline their seats for a short flight.  The old smelly fecker in front of me decided to join his mates, probably pretending they were lying on some sun-bed in Fuertaventura.  Then they started to speak loudly and moving wildly in their seats, making my coffee squirt hot coffee on to my lap.  Forced to withhold screaming, I instead dug my nails into the armrests.  I looked to the row next to me, and the elderly lady looked at me as if I was in pain, probably thinking that I was gripping the seat that hard because I was scared of flying.  She gently smiled and said that it'll be ok.  What did she know about my leg being eaten by atomic coffee.


Back to the smelly ogre in front of me, with his Shrek ears.  How do you approach this.  Do you complain to the guys, praying they are not hidden Hells Angel members, tell on them to the steward or do you suffer the pain for 2 hours?   (by the way, the steward freaked me out a bit.  He was a very pleasant and polite man, in a tanned short-sleeved shirt, but as he stretched his arms to close the overhead lockers, he revealed a tattoo under each bicep - some ancient language - was he a member of illuminati or some other sect, or was it just the names of his kids in his native language.)


I have long legs and need legroom, but either of the options were not really appealing.  However, I opted for option 3.


Gently, I tapped the guy on the head, getting some strange oily stuff on my fingers, and kindly asked him to straighten his seat.  He was not amused and stated he had to sleep, whereto I replied that I was working and sitting 2 inches from a 15” HD MAC screen was not pleasant or good for my eyes.  There was absolutely no need to tell him that I was watching CSI - need to know basis.


The remaining 70 minutes of the journey I enjoyed with my seat back (reclined position), watching my favorite TV show, CSI, and getting free refill coffee from my male steward (sorry cabin crew dude).  Who cares about being polite when traveling anyway?


Soon I would see my lovely family again, and being pressed against my wife’s lactating breasts was something to look forward to.  All I had to endure was a 20 minute taxi ride, with an arrogant, complaining and gossip magnet of a taxi driver.


Regards
Your frequent flyer

Every country has them!

You see them no matter where you travel.  They  are not a trade mark for any country, so you can't say that this is only a phenomenon in e.g. England.  When you do get too close, you always try to cross the street or go into the nearest shop.  But why is that?

Actually, I'm not talking about the normal low-life criminals.  They are too easy to spot and are often harmless, unless in groups of 3 and up.

What I'm talking about are the strange group of fat fuckers dressed in hoodies, biker clothes and track suits - but they have absolutely NO connection with e.g. Hells Angels.  Hells Angels are nice people, despite being involved in some minor gang related feuds, but they keep it within they community.

These hooded gorillas are normally walking around thinking they are the dogs bollocks, just because they wear Orange Chopper sweatshirt hoody.  It is not exactly like they are threatening or mean like Senior Teutul, but they think they are so cool.  No criminal organisation would hire them because they are out of shape and lacking verbal skills, other than saying "Fuck You", "What are you looking at?" and "Go Rooney!"

The average age for these dudes is around mid forties, but they like to hang out with younger blokes too, pretending to be young again.  Obviously their midlife crisis.

If you look closely, they are actually very much like a group of chimpansees, and they behave similarly. They stroll around in their enclosure and pretend to be tough, but in reality they are scared of confrontation.  They thrieve on being loud instead, but only as a group.  Sir Attenbourough would be able to make a program about these, together with McIntyre of course, on human behaviours.

That said.  The younger generation in these groups are the ones to be scared of.  They'll act agressively, destroy everything in their path (such as benches, trains, pubs, etc.) and act first by hitting people.  Again, very similar to the animal kingdom, like hyenas.  Stay clear of them if possible, they bite!

Another goup of hoodies that really make me laugh, are the ones that you always see on TV destroying everything to do with capitalism, and thereafter meet n McDonlad's for some food.  They are always covering their faces, so that can only make me wonder if they are proud of what they believe in or not.  They want to change the way government act towards world poverty, but then they destroy cities and expect to get a community house where they can hang out.  One house these weirdos squadded in Copenhagen was an old abonded house - which I don't mind.  But, this particular house was marked to be demolished because is wasn't safe; the interior was covered with asbestos, which we all know is lethal to inhale.  They got really upset when evicted and caused the usual mayhem in the capital.  Then the government gave them a new house, a fully decotared club house, and they quickly destroyed that too.  I guess it was cramping their style.


This group of people reminds me of the noisy black-headed gulls floating in the skys, stealing every food they can find and harrass all costal areas.  They are really annoyingly loud (squawking) and their political agenda is getting boring.


I'm sure that if any hoody reads this blog, they either get really offended or they want me to join their little tea party.  Please be aware and cautious when encountering these hooded individuals - unless you are Harry Brown.  

In all honesty, most of these hoody dressed guys annoy me, but they still have the right dress the way they want.  I'm sure they hate guys dressed with shirt and tie, thinking they are are stuck-up twats.  We live in a free World, but respect your fellow earthlings and don't beat up people just because you think it's fun.

Goodbye Dad

My beloved father passed away during the night between Thursday and Friday.  He slept quietly in, leaving all his pain behind, so now he can finally be at peace.  We will all miss him very much.

Despite the illness and his pain, he always refused to be seen as weak, but it simply became too much for him in the end.  I'm so sorry I wasn't with him in the last few weeks, and haven't been at his side much, but he knew deep inside that I was looking after him from a far.

I guess that is one of the curses of living abroad.  You cannot be there when you have to, but I cannot change this and he would not want me to change it either.  He was and is my hero, and he has always been there for him.  Now it is my turn to be there for him, when he passes over.

Dad, I love and miss you.

Your son

Eyes full of sand

I've always helped out with the nightly feeds, despite how painful they might be on the body, as you are tired.  You just have to abstain from engaging with certain late night activities, such as going to the pub, drinking too much alcohol and/or staying up late to watch a movie.  It's as simple as that!  That is why many parents stay home (become anti-social in some people's eyes) during the first 8-12 months of their baby's life.  We just don't have the energy.

Monday morning was my first night feed, having spent the two previous nights trying to help my wife with the breastfeeding - and no, this is no moment to get all sexual, it is simply a matter of me helping to place the baby in her arms, so the baby can feed easily.  However, the Dolly Parton Syndrome effect on my wife is a pleasant sight at 2.30 in the night.

Anyway, I woke up at 4.45, gently lifting the little princess up and walking downstairs.  It was amazing how quickly I memorized the nightly feed ritual; coffee, blankets, remotes, baby bottle and of course the main star herself.

She was starving and I had barely seen the intro of "The Mummy" before she had finished her feed.  She savored the last 20ml, while staring around the room, as I was watching the movie.

When she had emptied her bottle, which made me proud to see, I gently placed her on my shoulder to make her burp.  Sweet lord.  This can be a scary moment for any parent, as you are not sure what to really expect.  The baby has a number of options available:

1. Projectile milk covering you, the sofa and parts of the wall  - generally anything in front of the baby
2. Enormous fart, that warms the palm of any grown man, and makes you wonder if that hurt
3. Hiccups, which in worst case could lead to option 1
4. Burping sounds, which in some cultures is a symbol of excellent food.

My daughter chose the last option, thankfully, but the sound and quality would make any teenage boy envious.  My eardrum was ringing for several minutes after that experience, but I didn't care.  I've seen "The Mummy" a few times already, so I knew the dialogue.  

The innocent little angel simply smiled, after releasing what must have been, the World's loudest baby burp.  It is a delight to share such moments with your child.  I can only imagine how amazed her friends will be at the first parties, when getting older.  After that performance, she fell asleep on my shoulder.

It is bizarre to wake up so early, mainly because you are amazingly awake.  Sitting in front of the computer at 05.30, listening to the first birds chirping and seeing the first rays of the son, is actually a magical moment.  There's absolutely no point going back to bed.  The other two kids are going to wake up soon anyway, so I might as well keep going.  

I better get going - bread is almost done baking, I have to prepare breakfast for the kid, make their lunch boxes too and prepare the next load to be washed..  Good morning, where ever you are.

Night of 1000 squeaks

The girls arrived back to the house, finally, Friday afternoon.  Amazingly, it was less than 48 hours after our little baby girl was born.  How women does it I have no clue?  Squeezing a melon sized baby out must be (and is) the most painful thing I could imagine.  Despite that, my wife walked calmly to the car less than 2 days after her ordeal and when they were released.

Perhaps walking is not the right term here.  She waddled slowly towards the car.  We waited for the green pedestrian light to come on, but we still didn't make it across the street in one go.  But, we were in no rush and I had brought a backpack with supplies, just in case we had to camp overnight.

It was wonderful to have the whole family together again, despite the hurdles we know lies ahead of us; sleepless nights, nightly feeds, diaper changes, bellybutton changes and of course the ever lasting sterilizing bottles.

Of course, most of the family invaded our house that evening, welcoming home our daughter, which is a great way of celebrating; laughter, alcohol and good company.  The house was full of joy since late afternoon and late into the night.  We should have known better!

Slightly intoxicated from the wine and beer, I laid down on my pillow looking forward to a nice long sleep.  Did I not learn from our two first kids?  Was this still a weird surreal dream about having 3 kids?

Any parent of young kids must understand that kids have no respect for hangovers or the fact that you have not had your full beauty sleep.  Well, beauty sleep would take way too long for me, and I would not get any prettier.

Having a new person in your house, especially a baby, reduces your capability of falling into deep sleep.  You know, the sleep where you fight off giant ogres, dive into the unknown abyss or simply floating in space totally relaxed.  For what ever reason, all your senses are alert and you'll hear if the baby farts, breathes slightly faster or whines a bit.

Our first two kids were born 5 and 6 weeks early, and were kept in ICU (Intensive Care Unit) for two weeks, so having our little baby home after just two days was a VERY new experience to us.

Approx. 30 minutes into my dazed journey across the plains in Never-ending Story, I was pulled back to reality, as our little baby squeaked.  Strangely, I managed to get out of bed, stood in the middle of the bedroom very confused, looking for where this new sound was coming from.  The pain shot through my shin, as I walked straight into the corner of our bed, blindly looking for our baby's bed.  I finally arrived, only to find my wife sitting with her, breastfeeding.  Like a zombie, with only one instinct left working in brain, I limped back to bed, having no difficulty returning to the adventures of Sebastian - 01.28

01.37 - My dream quickly changed, I was now being chased by Ring Wraiths, expect their screams sounded more like muffled mouse sounds.  Soon, I was awaken by a stinging pain in my left arm, and woke up with a scream, only to find my wife sitting next to me saying it is my turn to hold her.  I wonder if that was the pain Frodo felt when he was slashed with the morgul blade?  I just felt the pain from my wife's knuckles!

My zombie "skills" kicked in again, and I crawled towards the baby's bed - leg was in too much pain and I had no use of my left arm.  Using my Ray Meare's survival skills, I used my remaining limbs and teeth to get into a standing position, and grabbed the little wonder.  Quickly, as she calmed down, my heart melted just by looking at her.   01.49

This was going to be a long night indeed.  But, keep in mind, this was all new to us, so every like squeak or fart from the baby, and we would come to her rescue.  Natural parent instincts I guess, but in hind side, probably slightly over worried.  She's fine and we know it - just difficult not to react.

So, the first night of being reunited with the family, my wife and I had probably 3.5 hours sleep each.  At 06.55 I was gently woken by our oldest daughter "whispering" in my ear that she was hungry.  Wow, had I really slept for 16 minutes straight?  A new day started by making breakfast for the two oldest kids, as if nothing had changed.  Somehow, my wife managed to get another 2 hours of sleep, which she fully deserved.