Being on a remote island in Indonesia feels in many ways like a journey back in time. The locals live a simple life, have simple houses, have many children. Right now we have no electricity, it may last a few hours or more, I have not turned on our generator yet. The internet drops too, and there is no signal on my phone, it is actually quite nice. Right now no one can reach me, I am completely cut off from the outside world, it gives a sense of calm.
Island life has in many ways become a symbol of the family life we want to live.
I have been alone with the children for two months while my husband has been out sailing. When he left, I could see the doubt in him. It is difficult for him to leave; there is no doubt that our family is the most important thing to him, and that everything else comes second. But sailing is also a dream and a unique opportunity, and with my support he went for it.
While he has been sailing, I have been a full-time mother, cooked lots of food, read more books than I can count, swum in the ocean with my children, laughed, played, learned about numbers, and held all the tears and unfairness too. All in all I have truly enjoyed it. They are what really matters, the ones I want to spend my precious time with.
We homeschool, so there is no school we have to rush to get ready for, no lunchboxes to prepare, no children to pick up. Instead, the whole day has simply unfolded. The children express when they are hungry, I work a bit here and there, have meetings in the evenings when they sleep, and turn down everything that is not truly necessary work wise.
I pinch myself while I look at my children. How did I get this lucky? Look at this life we have created. I am proud, not least that we dared to create the life we dreamed of, but also that my children are already wonderful little human beings who move through life with care and thoughtfulness for others.
They are not the children who sit the nicest at the dinner table or always do what their parents say. But they have something else: a core that is warm and open. I want to protect that core. My most important job is that they should not be forced into a box; they should move through life in the way they feel is right for them.
My dear husband is now back again. Time flew by, and I am proud of both him and myself, and that we made everything come together. It should not sound like everything has just been fun and easy, now we also need to find our shared routines again. Dad does not know that Maja now only eats from the green plate, and that Matteo always wants five cashews and the tall “adult” glass.
I feel really happy. I know that can seem provoking for some to hear. Many of the choices we have made can seem confronting to others. It was harder in the beginning; I doubted whether what we were doing was right and sometimes tried to adjust so it looked more normal. But then we were not living in line with our own values.
For us, time, freedom, presence and adventure are the words that describe our values right now. And maybe it is the contrasts in our unconventional family life that make us appreciate what we have: Bali, Denmark, and this island, three different kinds of lives and routines, but all of them feel like home.
The quiet island life might give cabin fever if we did not have breaks from it and the luxury of going to a supermarket or a playground. Many would probably dream themselves to where we are right now, but at the moment I dream of Denmark and a slow morning with homemade bread, chocolate spread, family visiting, and time with the children. Thankfully we will have that soon, and I long for it.
