Something about HUGE changes

I am currently sitting in a café in my hometown in Denmark. Husband is in London, working. Both boys have started school in Denmark, the chick has started nursery (finally, she is very much a product of lockdown and very very keen on mama). So how the fuck, did we end up in this situation? Well, when it came to crunch time decision making, we were at a loss. We went back and forth and decided that Denmark would be a good call for the children. Finally giving them that Danish injection we felt they needed. My mum were up for a massive open heart surgery and I missed my friends and family. So I started looking for jobs, but alas it turned out a lot harder than I thought it would be. Like a lot, a lot. Now having a husband who worries, the not-knowing about income and jobs made him a little, to say the least, worried. He started looking. And then the international school the boys were joining fell through. I was devastated. And no job were coming my way. Husband got an amazing job. In London. I said that was great. I meant it. But I felt sad. For what could have been. So we started planning UK. Again. Then Husband suggested I asked my mum if she could see us living with her for 5 months (a term) and started looking into other school prospect – we were both hesitant throwing them straight into a Danish system, however, found a great school that could support the boys the way we needed it, so suddenly I was moving to Denmark with the kids, whilst Husband was going to be in London 5 days a week and Denmark at weekends.

And so it is, just like you said it would be… Like Damien Rice sings at the beginning of The Blower’s Daughter and so it is indeed. We left Malaysia, our home for 6 years, in the midst of a pandemic and it’s been fucking hard. Lockdown in KL has been interesting to say the least. Two adults(ish) working fulltime with three kids in a flat, not allowed to visit people or go out has been a… shall we say… different experience. Everywhere people have gone through their different versions and experiences and this is ours. Still decompressing. In a situation not a lot of people would put themselves in voluntarily.

However, before the pandemic hit, we had already decided that this was going to be our last year in Malaysia, our last year being part of an amazing school community and work environment. Our last year in a multicultural and diverse community that both excited me more than it frustrated me (which it definitely could at times). So why leave, I hear you ask? If it was so amazing. Because it was two flights away from our families. Because we love adventures and we were ready for the next one. Because when the pandemic hit, Knolly, the third bow to my string, was only 4 months and she ended up not meeting any family until she was just under two years old. The latter became more of an acknowledgement of our decision being the right decision, rather than the reason.

So here I am. In my hometown. In a cafê with a milky latte and less diversity, but stunning nature. Husband commuting from London and supply teaching on the horizon. It’s been 4 months so far of fulltime solo parenting during the week, looking after my mum, 10 chicken, 4 budgies and attention seeking dog. It has not been easy. I have struggled and will definitely go into that in another post. For now – first post in a while. Standard. But the unexpected housewife is back.