Double X's Emily Bazelon has been writing an ongoing "recessionitis" series on how the recession is affecting family, work, and life. At the end of her last piece, she asked readers whether they'd been forced to move homes, cities, or even countries because of the economic downturn. She'll be posting her piece with the results next week, but there were too many moving stories to include in one article. So this week, the On-Ramp will be running serialialzed excerpts of emails from readers who were kind enough to share with us their stories of the recession and mobility.

"I am a native New Yorker and marketing and communications executive. I was recruited in 2001 to go to Hong Kong to work for a huge multinational agency. It was right about the time the dot-com bubble started to burst in the U.S. and I figured it would take a while to hit Asia. It did take a while, and in 2003 I left that position to study Chinese and picked up work as a newspaper copy editor in Taiwan. Until recently I was the country manager for the Taipei office of a different multi-national communications consultancy. Several months back, on an optimistic bender (I had a few interviews lined up), I decided it was high time to give New York another try. Well, I've been back in the city for four months now. Those opportunities all went away. Have had very few leads of value. Now, this 15-year P.R. and communications veteran is going to go BACK to Taiwan and work as an English teacher (something I had dabbled in previously) because at least it's a paycheck. I will also be able to join my fiancee there. We had applied for a K-1 fiancée visa for her to come here, marry me and for us to start a life in New York. But of course that was just a silly dream. If I don't have a job, I can't get her the visa. I wouldn't even be able to support myself, let alone her for a while, in the U.S. anyway"—Jon

 

"Until 3 weeks ago I had lived in Delaware all my life. I moved to Maryland, away from my family and my fiancé, in order to accept a job. It's just a retail position, but it seems like a godsend to me now. I had been working for a temp agency since July of last year, quite happily filling office positions throughout New Castle County. Then, a few days before Christmas, my last assignment ended. I waited a week or two for a call about a new assignment that never came. I stopped calling the agency after about a month, thinking that I had pestered them enough, and that if they couldn't find work for me I'd have to find it for myself. I went through the newspapers, online job search engines, Craigslist; every resource you could imagine, and I couldn't find a job anywhere. I put in an average of three applications/resumes each day for months. I am so lucky that my wonderful fiancé, Jeff, was willing to help me pay my bills while I tried to find work. By March I began to believe that there was no work in Delaware. That's when I went to visit my cousin in Maryland and began to pepper my resume throughout the Gaithersburg area. Within a week I had a job interview, and within two weeks I had a job. Jeff and I absolutely hate being apart, but we're getting married in September and we both need to have a steady income in order to pay for the wedding."—Sarah

 

"I am a 25-year-old college grad living and working in Ukraine on United States Government-funded technical assistance projects. My job security seems high and the income tax-free nature of my compensation makes my salary very good. After being in the region doing this kind of work for the last three years, my long-time girlfriend finally laid down the law. I must return to the U.S. if this were going to continue to work (yes she is a very very patient person). I was all set to move back to New York, and take any job I could find while I waited to get into law school. Then the economy tanked. Now there is no way I can support myself living in New York. I could burn through my hard earned savings, but I will need every penny of it and more for my law degree. No, your last article hasn't deterred me from following my dream. My position is too good to give up in this economy. So instead of moving back, I have accepted a new posting and will be moving to Paraguay in a few months after my project here closes. My girlfriend has managed to survive the first round of layoffs at her firm. She has very little work experience and rightly doesn't think now is the time to drop out of the job market to move with me to Paraguay. So it seems the job market in New York is just good enough to keep her there, but bad enough to keep me from getting back. After a recent trip to visit her, she has finally decided that this won't continue to work long distance. In any other economy, I could pick up, move, and try my luck in New York, but not in the worst economy in my entire lifetime. While my bank account and job prospects seem like they are still in the year 2007, my emotional state is closer to the Dow the day Bear Sterns went under. "—Ryan

Tags: family, homes, mobility, moving, recession, relocation, work

Double X's Emily Bazelon has been writing an ongoing "recessionitis" series on how the recession is affecting family, work, and life. At the end of her last piece, she asked readers whether they'd been forced to move homes, cities, or even countries because of the economic downturn. She'll be posting her piece with the results next week, but there were too many moving stories to include in one article. So this week, the On-Ramp will be running serialized excerpts of emails from readers who were kind enough to share with us their stories of the recession and mobility.

"I have quite a history with living overseas due to economic circumstances. My mother raised three children with no outside support and only a high-school education. My siblings and I all earned scholarships and college degrees from reputable schools (the first in our family), but none of us have earned more than $30,000 per year. Living overseas was the only feasible way I could support my brother's education and my mother's bills. I worked for seven years as a teacher in Korea, as an actor in the Philippines for one year, and for several months teaching in Japan as well. I recently decided to attend law school and have returned to the U.S. for the first time in 8 years, but now I have to go back to work in Japan in order to make my mother's mortgage payments; she was laid off last year; my sister last week. Korea's exchange rate has bottomed out so badly that I would need to double my paycheck there just to make the same amount in dollars as I did 15 months ago. My sister has followed work from Chicago to North Carolina to Arizona. I have followed work from Seoul to Manila to Tokyo and back again. Almost all of my extended family has dispersed in order to find work which barely puts them above the poverty line, if at all. —John

"My husband and I are actually stuck in a place we don't like because of the recession. We're both originally from Maryland, and when we graduated from college there three years ago we decided to strike out. I got a job in New York and he got one way out in New Jersey, so we settled in a New Jersey suburb. Our jobs are okay, but we hate New Jersey and miss Maryland. We had planned to stay in our current jobs for about 2 years to get some experience under our belts, then start looking for jobs in DC. Right after we hit year 2, the economy went into free fall mode, and now there are no jobs to be had. We might be able to get one back in DC, but can't survive on one of our incomes. I know that we're lucky to have jobs, especially because more than 20 percent of the workforce at my company has been laid off, but to look at the foreseeable future in a place that we don't like that's a four-hour drive away from our families and friends is really bleak."—Marie

"I have been looking for a job in Atlanta, GA (my hometown) for months now. I grew up in the suburbs of Atlanta, went to the University of Georgia, got a job in Atlanta and moved 25 miles away from my entire family. Next week I am moving to Baltimore, MD. It is the only place that was actually hiring. It was a horrible decision. I had to choose a job over my family, all my friends, and my boyfriend who has a great job in Atlanta and can't even consider moving anytime soon. In this economy, though, I had to take the job. It was an increase in salary for essentially the same job I was doing. And I didn't know if anything would present itself in Atlanta. So this Southern girl is packing up and moving above the Mason-Dixon line to Maryland where I know no one. It was economic stability versus people, and in these times unfortunately I had to go with the job."—Jennifer

Tags: family, job hunt, life, mobility, moving, recession, relocating, unemployment, work

New York Times reporter Edmund Andrews wrote a doozy of a story in a recent issue of the paper’s magazine, about how he went from a beaming homeowner and newlywed to an anxious debtor who owed hundreds of thousands of dollars on his mortgage. He described the trials and headaches of borrowing and, throughout the story, a basic disbelief that he, a reporter who covers economics, could have been caught up in the same overzealous swindling and poor decision-making that he wrote about for the Times.

His story may have been cause for a lot of rubbernecking and tsk-ing among readers, but Dana Goldstein and Megan McArdle have perhaps hit on the real reason why Andrews had such a hard time: chicks.

Over at TAPPED, Goldstein writes:

The precipitating cause of Andrews' financial problems were a divorce and a rather hasty second marriage, to a woman named Patty. Andrews and Patty dated bi-coastally for one year before Patty and her 10-year old daughter moved from Los Angeles to Washington, D.C. The couple merged their households and bought a half-million-dollar suburban home immediately, despite the fact that Andrews was paying his first wife $4,000 each month in alimony and child support. That left him with just $2,777 in take-home pay—and with a new wife who hadn't held a full-time job since the early 1980s.

Unsurprisingly, at first, Patty was unable to secure a middle-income job. When she finally did, she was fired less than a year later. Patty's ex, meanwhile, was in arrears on his $700/month in child support. That meant Andrews was attempting to support two women and four children, essentially maintaining two totally separate households.

Megan's interpretation is that Andrews "couldn't afford to get married. At all." In fact, what Andrews couldn't afford was to marry women unprepared to participate in the work force.

Goldstein and McArdle make fabulous, if slightly divergent points. And this is as good a cautionary tale as any—but is it for men or for women? Goldsten calls this “A Good Argument Against Opting Out”—meaning women opting out of the workplace—but I tend to think the real “told you so” goes for the brothers.

Sure, I believe women should seek meaningful breadwinning opportunities, even if they don’t necessarily have to work. But shouldn’t men like Andrews steer clear of the trophy wives? I recall an article from the Wall Street Journal just after the fall 2008 collapse of the housing market about men who were having to give up their mistresses. (And who could forget the DABA women?) I don’t mean to call Andrews’ former and current wives gold-diggers, but maybe recession stories like his will cause an unintended and welcome consequence—the demise of arm candy.

Andrews' story also seems to have a second dose of spinach for its readers, male or female. Recall that even on his own, Andrews made a comfortable $120,000 annual salary, more money than the majority of American families could dream of, which placed him squarely in the upper middle class. So shouldn't his true-life fable teach us to live within our means?

Tags: family, finance, foreclosure, mortgages, new york times, stay-home moms, working families

With American college costs rising, and the American dollar strong against the Canadian currency, more and more high school students are looking to Canadian universities for their college education. (New York Times/The Choice)

Treasury Secretary Timothy Geithner is feeling the effects of the recession first-hand: Having moved his family to Washington, he has found himself unable to sell the family’s suburban home in New York — and now is renting it out instead. (Associated Press)

High-rolling broker to waiter: Some former Wall Street employees, highly trained and accustomed to comfortable salaries, are finding themselves forced to accept low-wage work. (Wall Street Journal)

Several large banks that received bailouts are “eagerly awaiting” an okay from the Federal government to pay the money back. (Washington Post)

The impact of high food and fuel prices in early 2008 and the deepening recession later in the year  made the world more violent and unstable in the last year, according to a new study. (Reuters)

The biggest challenge confronting marketers is how to deal with the Meineke mind-set — “I’m not going to pay a lot for this muffler!” — consumers have adopted as a result of the recession. (New York Times)

Retailers have already begun aggressive advertising campaigns, but consumers say they are planning to spend less on their dear old dads this father’s day. (Reuters)

Cutting back with class: “Being frugal involves skimping on yourself and being cheap means skimping on others — whether in terms of money or thoughtfulness.” (Washington Post/Small Change)

MillerCoors sees beer sales growth slowing less rapidly in the downturn than that of wine and spirits. (Reuters)

For some families, tough economic times mean more time spent together. (Associated Press)

Tags: applying to college, family, father's day, frugality, recession, Timothy Geithner, Wall Street

It would have been so much easier for me to find the time to write this post if I had voice-recognition software, a sophisticated self-built database with all my contacts including my Double X blog posting instructions, which I keep losing, and most of all if I had an administrative-assistant-type of husband who handled all the household bills and dental appointments and child-care challenges and playdates and grocery shopping and left me free to spend more time at the keyboard.

But I don't have these things. I mean, I do have a husband, and he does what he can, but he leaves for work earlier than I do, so this morning I was the one who took the cat to the vet. Despite the resulting time crunch, I am posting anyway to say that I was fascinated by David Pogue's column in the New York Times revealing his work efficiency secrets. In addition to high-tech solutions like software that completes the typing of certain words, enabling him to get to the next word faster (what if Jack Kerouac had had that? Would it have been possible for him to write On the Road even more rapidly than he did? Is it possible to write so fast that your words spontaneously combust?) and a cellular laptop modem stick that enables him to keep working in the X-ray line at the airport, he also has another, rather more low-tech productivity secret weapon: his wife.

"I’m lucky enough that I don’t spend time on bills, taxes, travel arrangements, kid-activity scheduling, and so on; my sainted wife takes care of all that administrative overhead," he allows at the end of his column. I read that sentence and wondered what that sort of life would be like. It's so hard to imagine, being a wife myself. Like reading about a distant country, or Antarctica, or a very, very expensive restaurant, or any place that sounds exotic and sort of wonderful but that you are pretty sure you will never visit. It must be pleasant living there, though risky; though I'm sure they both have strong and extremely functional marriages it does strike me that both Pogue and Dan Baum (whose wife helps him plan and edit his reported pieces) have a lot to lose in the event of divorce, so I hope they are very nice to these wives who assist them so readily. I am sure they are. Flowers, guys, tonight! It's a good thing neither of them married Sandra Tsing Loh—they would be so up a creek, right about now.

Reading the column, I was moved, as I periodically am, to reflect on the lasting brilliance of "Why I Want a Wife," the 1971 essay by Judy Syfers that ran in Ms. almost 40 years ago. Go back and read it. Feminism never gave us that one thing Syfers put her finger on, the spouse who smoothly takes care of your personal life and enables you to maximize your professional potential, did it? The wife? I know, I know—lots of men don't have that level of assistance, either. But so many of the women I know literally run from the office to the bus stop to take up the second shift of driving to hockey practice and preparing dinner; while driving home, they conduct business discussions using hands-free cellphones. I was also interested by the fact that Pogue works at home, but unlike women I know who work at home because it enables them to more easily dash out and take the kids to doctor's appointments, etc., he works at home because that way he can work more.

But how beguiling is this foreign country? What if feminism had given us full-time domestic and logistical helpmeets? Would we react well? I sent the link to Pogue's column to a colleague who knows all too well the experience of juggling child care and work assignments. Her first comment was that she had no idea what most of the technology he was talking about even was. Just the other day she could not figure out why her Internet was not working, and discovered that her modem had been unplugged so her son could plug in something or other.

That's the way I live, too. But thinking about it she also felt a life devoid of domestic distractions had little appeal. "Chained to a home office, to all that technology ... and no breaks to schedule a vacation or think about a kid's activity? Much as I'd like to jettison some logistical responsibilities, I'd go nuts without those interruptions." Me too. The column raises that hard to answer question: If I had somebody to free me from filling out school forms and planning the kids summer activities, would I want that? If I could write more words each day, would they be better words? Are there any women who get that level of support from their husbands, and if so, can you name them?

Tags: husbands, marriage, productivity, technology, wives

Last Friday, the State Department issued a travel alert for China, citing “random” swine flu quarantine measures and noting that the U.S. Embassy will be “unable to influence the duration of stay in quarantine.” Not everyone listened, and among the approximately 200 U.S. citizens currently quarantined in China, you’ll find me; my 7-, 5-, and 3- year olds; my mother; and my husband, who—against all odds, according to our docs at home—actually caught it from someone seated behind him on the plane, thus increasing our “duration of stay” from seven days to 10. We flew in on June 17. If all goes well from here, we’ll finally see the Great Wall on June 27.

We’ve been given everything we’ve asked for. DVD player? Here you go. Internet connection? Done. Chips and candy for the spoiled American children? We have more than we could eat. There’s badminton. There’s a fountain with koi fish. There is pingpong, or there was, until my youngest son smashed what was apparently the only ball. There are special soft cotton masks for the children to wear in public spaces. There were french fries for breakfast.

But—and this is a big but—we can’t leave. That’s the thing that tears at my Jeffersonian soul, that has me yowling for my embassy, e-mailing everyone I know and banging my head against the wall. We can’t leave until China says we can, no matter what.

I refused to accept it. (I really need to e-mail the embassy person and apologize.) I was infuriated. (Maybe I should send flowers?) I tried to negotiate—couldn’t it just be shorter? I bawled. I was warned. I “knew” what we could be getting into—but I just didn’t believe, deep down in my soul, that a government could (or would) scoop my family up, put us under guard, and refuse to let us out. I’ve reached acceptance, helped out by the dwindling number of days ahead of us here. China can quarantine us, and it has. The really galling part: It seems to be working.

Again according to our embassy, 80 percent of H1N1 cases in China are coming from outside its borders. China has reported only 519 confirmed cases as of June 19. Australia, with about 1 billion fewer people, has reported more than 2,000. China’s preventative measures are a huge pain in my personal ass and must be costing a fortune, but for now, they seem to be working.

Photograph of Chinese airport security workers by Liu Jin/AFP/Getty Images.

Tags: china, quarantine, swine flu

Do you think that Michelle Obama and her mother ever have run-ins in the White House kitchen? Do you think they ever battle about whether the girls get to stay up and watch a movie or not? No matter how helpful it is to have two sets of mothering hands involved in the transition from Chicago to D.C., Mrs. Robinson and Mrs. Obama are still mother and daughter. Don't you think that must back up on them every so often?

I wonder.

Around the time of the election I had just finished a stint of living with my mother and my two children in the apartment I was raised in. I had been living in Ohio in my own house with my own life when my marriage abruptly came to an end. I had nowhere to go with my two sons, very little money, and not much to do in Ohio except be someone’s ex-wife. My parents instantly and very generously invited my family to move back home to New York, where I could begin again.

This unexpected turn of events put my mother and me on a road we never thought we would travel. (Do you ever think Mrs. Robinson thought that her daughter would ask her to move to the White House to help get her grandchildren ready for school?) For us, at first, probably the most complex and worrisome aspect of our new living situation was not the divorced-daughter bit, but that we would have to share a kitchen. We were forced to share a small, New York kitchen for two years. There were generational challenges, style conflicts, aesthetic clashes (I like flowers by the stove, she DOES NOT), and wildly out-of-control micromanagement issues. It does seem small now that I write it down, but we would rather try to solve the health care crisis than have to collaborate on a stew.

If someone woke me up in the middle of the night and said, “Quick! What’s the best thing about your mother?” I would sit straight up and yell, “Food!” It’s not just that she is a marvelous cook, or that she loves food in an uncomplicated, easy way, but it has been a large and important part of how she mothered. My mother worked full-time running a foundation, but she found all the time in the world to have supper ready every night, feed us shirred eggs on the weekends, and produce a leg of lamb for my fourth-grade Bedouin feast at school. She even survived having two teenage stepsons—mostly by feeding them mountains of good food at every turn. Lots of my own mothering takes place in the kitchen, and that comes directly from her.

My mother’s kitchen was made for her, not me, and we were in each other’s way. For my mother, the mornings were quiet, solitary affairs of NPR and Muslix. My boys and I destroyed all that. The sun still streamed through the windows, but suddenly there was bacon frying (I had a theory that if the boys smelled bacon in the mornings they would believe they weren’t from a broken home), toasters popping, and milk being spilled. Quiet was replaced by a symphony of manners taught, juice demanded, and songs sung. I was a stressed out single mother and my kids were little. My mother had to rethink when she ate.

We soon decided we didn’t have to eat every dinner together, and if we did, we didn’t have to cook the same thing. I have heard that Mrs. Robinson has developed quite an independent life at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, and I had to do the same thing. Even though my mother always made enough for me, I often would create something of my own. Something to keep me connected to the woman I had grown into and not the child I felt reduced to.

I bet watching your adult child up close, going through a transition over which you have very little control of is frightening and quite moving at the same time. So different than when the child was 7 or 12. Mrs. Robinson must be in awe of what is happening to her daughter. She must feel protective and proud, but she also must know that she has very little to do with it. She can help with Sasha and Malia, and be there for the late-night chat, but it isn’t she who is the very first black First Lady of the United States.

Yes, mothers help, and it’s right to include them when life throws you (and your children) a curve ball. But at the end of the day, those small children were mine. I was the one who was changed. We were not mother and daughter as much as we were two grown women living together. It surprised us not to fall into the assumed roles, the ones we had known, but we didn’t.

Apparently Mrs. Robinson is having a wonderful time in the White House, and from where I sit, Mrs. Obama seems to be thriving. But under that roof, they must have their moments, even if it isn’t over the stove. They must have run-ins about something small and technical, Malia’s clothes, Sasha’s chores, or too many cookies. And maybe, just like with me and my mother, those run-ins replace the anxiety. The anxiety that comes from the overwhelming, monumental, responsibility of changing history.

Photograph of Isabel Gillies courtesy of the author.

Tags: kids, Marion Robinson, Michella Obama, mother-daughter relationships, parenting, The White House

The Horsted family, from St. Paul, Minn., believes in taking mini-sabbaticals every few years. On their latest adventure, parents Kirk and Kyia took their eleven-year-old son, Jesper, and five-year-old daughter, Elsa, through the islands of the Caribbean for over three months this winter. Kirk created a website to chronicle their trip. Make Your Breakaway. The family is sharing their experience with Your Comeback today. We begin with a timeline that Kirk put together.

On December 17, 2008, our family of four set off on a 69-day Breakaway to the West Indies to escape Minnesota winter—and continue a tradition of radical sabbaticals. We ventured to five islands. Stayed in eight different places. Traveled by air, land and sea. It was the best of times, mostly—with the occasional meltdown and snafu.

September 28, 2007. I present the sabbatical vision—a “someday” dream—to the kids’ elementary school principal. She not only approves, she wants to come along!

May 5, 2008. Mom and Dad sit down Jesper and Elsa to seek their (symbolic) buy-in; no problem, mon.

September 16, 2008. I launch makeyourbreakaway.com and begin blogging about sabbaticals by asking, “What’s the Big Idea?”

September 17, 2008. Planning is impossible, big "buts" are everywhere, and blogging feels embarrassing. But I toil away anyway.

October 9, 2008. This journey is simply NOT coming together. Doom and gloom loom while the odds-of-going meter plummets to 33 percent.

October 20, 2008. No turning back now: We’ve bought tix to St. John, and will fly home from San Juan. But where to go in between—who knows!?!

October 21, 2008. A HUGE day! Serendipity strikes when an old travel article falls in my lap: Grenada, we must invade!

October 28, 2008. 50 days before takeoff, the the costs and worries are piling up.

November 9, 2008. Another Breakaway breakthrough day: An itinerary of five alluring islands gets loosely set, and the odds-of-going meter hits a new high (90 percent).

November 29, 2008. The anxiety is getting relentless and I find myself seriously doubting this idea, not to mention my own sanity.

December 13, 2009. With only four days till takeoff, emotions and panic run high—but so does the odds-of-going meter: 95 percent.

December 15, 2008. 29 hours before takeoff, everything hits the fan: two are very sick; sewer backs up; sleeplessness and a storm rage on.

December 18, 2008. Yes! It’s day one of our 69-day sabbatical, on familiar St. John. We hunker down into a state of liberation and bliss.

December 19, 2008. We are not alone! We befriend a couple who throws a dart to determine the destination of their annual Breakaway.

December 21, 2008. This solstice brings less winter and more warmth—so it’s easy to find 11 reasons to love this pagan holiday.

December 27, 2008. Breakaway bummer: Requisite medical emergency occurs when our daughter, Elsa smashes her finger in a heavy door.

January 3, 2009. 18 sweet days have flown by. Now we must fly away too, on a 14-plus hour journey to the isle of St. Vincent.

January 5, 2009. St. Vincent surprises with unspoiled beauty and lost-in-time authenticity.

January 8, 2009. We ferry to beautiful Bequia, an unheard-of island that will be our home for 17 days; it’s love at first sight!

January 17, 2009. Paradise lost: Gnarly neighbors, nasty insects, and more problems conspire to inspire a rant about a Breakaway’s dark side.

January 19, 2009. Home schooling is well underway, and we parents receive a solid “B” for effort.

January 21, 2009. “Obama” is the word as we join ex-pats, Bequians, and the world in watching the inauguration of a new era.

January 26, 2009. The most challenging travel day features three boats, seasickness and storms, and (eventually) a dramatic landing on Grenada.

January 31, 2009. Dreams come true: Grenada is like Harry Belafonte’s gentle Caribbean, and it’s our “home” for a month.

January 31, 2009. Home schooling is great, but the kids are learning more from locals, okra, and conch.

February 17, 2009. With only ten days left, it’s time to focus on the important stuff: The First-Ever Great Caribbean Beer-off!

February 20, 2009. Isle of Grenada, I’ll miss you and your passion most of all.

February 21, 2009. This hellish travel day includes Grenada’s revenge, a customs nightmare, and LOTS of islander stinkeye.

February 25, 2009. Help! We’re “home!” To “reality!” Where cultures, climates, and agendas quickly clash! And yet…the kids are giddy, and life is good.

April 7, 2009. I end the travelog with a heartfelt letter to my children, whom I now realize made this Breakaway perfect—just like they are.

Kyia Downing is a creative strategist, copywriter and branding consultant—and one-half of 2 Heads Communications, a miniscule Minneapolis marketing consultancy.

Kirk Horsted is a sabbatical advocate, avid dad and part-time hedonist—and the other half of 2 Heads Communications.

Photograph of Jesper and Elsa Horsted courtsey of the Horsted family.

Tags: Bequia, Caribbean, family travel, Grenada, Puerto Rico, sabbatical, St John, St Vincent, vacation

Read Part 1 of the Horsteds' adventure here. To launch a slideshow of Horsted family photos, click here.

How does a person—make that a family—get to take almost three months off in the winter?

Kirk: It helps to save some money, of course, which we do (in part) by preferring big-time experiences over big-ticket items. Planning IS key—and takes discipline—but once you have a vision, keep your eyes on the prize.

How long did it take to plan, and what was that process like?

Jesper: The day before we left I threw some swimsuits and clothes into a suitcase, zipped it up and went off to play. At the time 69 days seemed like a week.

Kyia: I think we floated the idea around for a few years and began saving the money. We didn’t kick into serious planning and actualization mode until pretty late in the game—about September of 2008, approximately three months before we left. Which made the process very condensed and intense—not exactly the best approach to something that is supposed to be fun and inspiring to plan. Putting together a journey like this is a LOT easier since the internet has happened.

What were some of the hardest parts about making it happen?

Jesper: It seemed more stressful around the house. I think my parents had more arguments about little stuff. Maybe it was a little hard to leave my basketball team and friends, but not very.

Kyia: I was so busy with work that I could hardly spare the mental energy to envision—let alone plan—the trip. I felt too overwhelmed with daily life to get in the “space” of dreaming and scheming. Doing the destination research and coordinating all the reservations and arrangements and logistics (typically my role in the process) felt like too much to add to my already-full plate.

Kirk: Some of my roles seemed endless and thankless: Procuring the right stuff (including medical, watersports, and technology); dealing with the home schooling details; arranging care of the cat, house, security, cars, insurance, bills, end-of-year bookwork for our business, and on and on

What were some of your fears and concerns about going somewhere new for so long?

Jesper: I was a little nervous about being away from my friends for so long. And I was also a little bit worried about there being poverty or crime in some of the places we were going, and being the only white people.

Kirk: The biggest worry beforehand, really, is just that you won’t get everything done and make the plane! I fret more about the uncontrollables: lost luggage or theft , stranded; serious illness or injury (it has happened on these trips). And frankly, I was concerned for the kids’ contentment and basic needs—food, good water, sleep, entertainment, social life, and equanimity. But one of the many cosmic benefits of a Breakaway is that it makes you face down your fears—and tap into your trust.

Did the trip have a particular purpose; did it mean different things to each of you?

Jesper: I knew the trip would change me, but I wasn’t sure how. I wanted to deep-sea fish, snorkel, and try new foods. But I was mostly just looking forward to missing a few months of winter and school.

Kyia: I had been working REALLY hard all year so I was looking forward to some serious downtime—and the opportunity to really reconnect as a family. I also wanted to simplify life and escape all the responsibilities and “stuff” of our life at home.

How did you pack; what was useful and what was useless? Did you ship anything?

Jesper: We brought a basketball and it turned out to be pretty useless. There were hardly any hoops or courts on the islands we were on. We brought baseballs and gloves and didn’t use them much. It wasn’t baseball season and there were always other things to do on the beach.

Kyia: Our packing was limited by the stringent restrictions of the island puddle jumper airlines we were flying. So we really needed to streamline. We were deliberately visiting a diverse range of accommodations—from local guesthouses to luxury boutique resorts—which came with different wardrobe expectations and requirements. That said, I still had more clothes than I needed—and so did the kids. Beyond clothes and my computer, I really didn’t bring much. I figured I’d find books and diversions and stuff along the way. I let Jesper make his own decisions about what gear and “toys” he wanted to bring but I took a pretty controlling role with our daughter to make sure she brought the right (condensed) combination of paperback books, art supplies, PollyPockets, cards and games.

Kirk: The clothes part comes pretty easily, since you don’t need much warm attire! But from there, I’m in charge of some complex gear. Sports: beach stuff, snorkel equipment, baseball gear, toys. Music: guitar and accessories, iPod, dock. School stuff: many books and papers. Medical: a bit of everything anyone might need. Food: With kids and travel uncertainties, one must always have at least water, snacks, and fruit handy. Technology: two computers, three cameras, one camcorder, countless cords and chargers. All of this had to fit into strict requirements. I vividly remember repacking and weighing and measuring bags for days. What was useless? Probably 10 percent of it—but you don’t know what’s unnecessary till afterward.

How did life on the islands compare to life back home; was it easy to find a groove and feel comfortable?

Jesper: It took a while to get in the groove. Getting used to the slow island lifestyle. Some places we walked into and instantly I could tell it would be a cool place and I would like it. Other places we arrived and I thought, “Oh boy, this is going to be an adventure…”

Kyia: I had a hard time decompressing at first. The weeks before departure were so intense, and I was really running in overdrive. It took a few weeks for my heartbeat to slow and my mind to quiet. To realize that this wasn’t just a vacation but our “new life” for the next few months

Kirk: Moving from island to island—and place to place—was often tedious, with some adjustments necessary each time. But it was worth it. Caribbean life really doesn’t compare to life in Minneapolis/St. Paul, especially as we went further south and to relatively non-touristed locales.

What were some of the challenges you faced in your new life amid new cultures?

Jesper: Sometimes it was really hard to understand people who talked fast and pronounced words differently. There were times, especially on the more remote islands, when the local people would just stare at us. We were driving around and people would look at us like they had never seen anything like us before. Sometimes they would point, or glare, or even laugh.

Kyia: Everywhere we went we had to figure out how to take care of the basics: find groceries, get around on public transportation, do laundry—just day to day stuff like that. Or good local restaurants, nice quiet beaches. I also had a hunger to meet new people—both locals and other travelers—that wasn’t always easy to satisfy. And finding playmates for the kids wasn’t as effortless as we had hoped it would be. Aside from the Christmas break, there were very few families traveling, except for a few European families who were on extended sailing trips.

Kirk: Internet access and technology problems were nonstop, which wasted my time and drove me nuts. “Island time” and waiting for everything can test the best, though it rarely bothers the natives! Negotiating with macho people wasn’t always fun; that’s so NOT Minnesotan. And sleep can be a challenge—keeping the kids rested and adapting to new beds and environments.

What about communication?

Jesper: I brought my iPod touch and was able to get wireless at some places we stayed. I got some new games and apps before the trip and added more along the way. Sometimes I’d chat with my friends and try to describe what I was seeing and doing but they couldn’t really get it.

Kyia: Every place we stayed had internet service—or at least it was advertised that way. I usually had pretty good luck getting online with my laptop, and kept in touch with family and friends via e-mail. Skype came in handy for a few client conference calls.

Kirk: Staying in touch enough was easy enough. But let’s just say the information super-highway is still under construction down there, and was a major, unexpected annoyance for me. I especially got perturbed when a resort or hotel would say they have wireless everywhere, but didn’t—and then have a “don’t worry be happy” attitude about it.

Did you try homeschooling? How did you prepare for that, and was it successful?

Jesper: Before we left I set up a plan with my teacher to read several novels, write some papers, and get through about 130 pages of math. I also agreed to create a blog to share my experiences—that counted for my social studies and science requirements.

At the beginning of the trip we weren’t very disciplined about the school part so we fell behind, and needed to work extra hard at the end to catch up. I’ll admit that there were many times that I would have much rather been building sandcastles or snorkeling but after coming back I really wish I would have written in my blog more often.

Kyia: I must confess that I played quite a bit of hooky when it came to the homeschooling piece of the trip, as I’m rather more of an “unschooler” at heart. I couldn’t take the kindergarten “syllabus” very seriously, and I didn’t feel qualified to assist Jesper with math, which was his biggest responsibility and challenge. I did help him create and maintain a blog and encouraged (nagged?) him to post on it.

Kirk: To be honest, there were some lackadaisical attitudes and family conflicts. So while this experiment was successful, my memories of having to play Bad Cop and Math Master are not all pleasant.

After 69 days of fun in the sun, what was the comeback to reality in Minnesota like?

Jesper: It was kind of like starting over because all my friends had kind of lost respect for me while I was gone. They kind of forgot about me, I think. Plus they thought I was getting home four days later, so they didn’t expect me. I play center on a traveling basketball team. We had a big tournament right away, and it was hard playing so much without even learning the new plays and stuff. But within about a week, I felt at home again. It all turned out well in the end, and now people barely remember that I even went on a trip.

Kyia: Honestly, it was pretty ugly. We arrived home late in the evening on February 24 (in the thick of winter) after a long day of travel. The kids were ecstatic to be home, but I felt a sense of heaviness—facing 2-plus-months-worth of mail on the counter and a very loud and unhappy cat. Outside, the world was stark and grey and completely devoid of all the vibrant colors, smells and sounds that I’d been basking in for so long. And everyone seemed so depressed. The harsh winter—and even more brutal economic meltdown—had really beaten people down. The next few weeks were a combination of culture shock and re-entry challenges—reluctantly jumping back into the work/life jungle.

Kirk: It was hard to have to live indoors again—and wear umpteen oppressive layers to stay warm. The “high” of the trip did carry on for quite a while, though. Whenever I return, I’m always awash with gratitude for our blessed life at home. And there’s a lingering sense accomplishment and appreciation for completing a safe and successful trip. But the comeback may be the most taxing part of a Breakaway.

How did you pay for such a journey, and—long-term—what does it mean to you financially?

Kyia: We live beneath our means and made lifestyle choices that allowed us to save for this goal. We set a budget in advance, and used credit cards (paid off in full every month) to fund most aspects of the trip—before, during and after.

Kirk: We’ve had decent luck. But we also work hard, are good savers. The trip depleted our savings—which could have long-term implications if our investments and business don’t turn around. But we’re still sitting on a fairly comfortable cash cushion (as I advise everyone to do). I’m happy to say that I don’t worry much about money any more. It doesn’t help.

Photograph of Jesper Horsted courtesy of the Horsted Family.

Tags: breakaway, Caribbean, kids, Minnesota, sabbatical, St Paul, travel

This week Kat, a physical trainer from New York, will undergo Intrauterine Insemination (IUI) using sperm from a donor. She has agreed to describe the process and her decision to undergo it, although she would like to keep her identity private. In this first installment she tells us of how she came to make the choice.

The decision to become a single parent was not my first choice and probably wouldn’t be something I would choose if my age hadn’t crept up on me. Soon after turning 39, I started to really panic about my age, my eggs, meeting someone, getting married. Getting close to 40 was like a magic turning point, where either your life dreams come true, or your life takes a very different course than the one you always thought you were going to have.

People start talking about your fertility and the quality of your eggs. Men get that look on their face, like “Nice knowing you, now that I know you are 40.” This is when you start not wanting to tell your age…before that, who cared!

I was determined that I would beat the odds and somehow find a guy quickly. So I went into this crazy search for the right man, who would get in a relationship fast and save me from this horrible, looming idea of using a sperm donor and having a baby by myself.

I even started looking for baby daddies—slightly older guys who hadn’t found the right girl, had never been married, who were successful, and wanted to have a child. At least my kid would have a father. I found a few who were interested, including a successful anesthesiologist, but they all chickened out. Apparently they were more interested in getting me into bed than really sitting with a lawyer, drawing up a contract and giving sperm, money and time.

I found another guy who wanted to be exclusive for two weeks to see if we were compatible and then decide quickly if we could have a child together—he already had one. But unfortunately, he had no income, and I had the opportunity to hear him on the phone with his daughter. I just didn’t like the way he sounded. If you are going to do this with someone who isn’t your husband—they need to offer something more than you have. For me it was financial help, and some help with raising the child. But if the person isn’t going to provide you with much, it’s not worth it. Then you have to have this person in your life and I would much rather be the sole decision-maker for my child than have to consult some guy who isn’t really helping me and who I don’t know very well.

So these are the decisions I am making, all the while going on—seriously!—100 dates or more in a year and taking a class on Finding Your True Love in 90 Days. The course was great. But when you have your biological clock ticking in front of your face every minute, guys have supersonic ears and hear it, no matter how silent you think you are keeping it. And their first instinct is to run. Don’t get me wrong, I am pretty good at getting guys interested in me, getting asked out etc., but you throw this time pressure in the mix and it is like spraying mace full blast in their face. So I knew in the back of my mind that the only thing to do was stop worrying about my clock, be cool, relax, and take it easy.

I was not giving up on my dream of a husband and kids. But meanwhile I was able to convince myself that I should go to a fertility specialist and find out my options and what the deal is, rather than base everything on hearsay. While waiting to go to the fertility doctor, I dragged myself on a very hot Sunday to a Single Mothers by Choice meeting where I got thoroughly depressed. I sat with the "Thinking About It" group. Here I am with a bunch of smart, pretty, very together women, who are fed up with not finding the right guy or who just got divorced and don’t want to let their child-bearing years go by. A lot of these girls had already started their testing and the process of picking a sperm donor (I was seriously having heart palpitations at the thought of this). Afterwards I went and ate pizza feeling sorry for myself and cried to my dad for an hour. I’ve heard this from many people—my friend Maryanne cried to her mom so hard about it, her stepdad told her to leave the house. Recently she just gave birth to a healthy little girl who came from an egg and sperm donor. It’s a process you go through until you get whole with the idea.

So then I go to the fertility doctor and—guess what?—another delay. I have a fibroid that needs to be removed. My OBGYN had missed it two years earlier and I need surgery. Yay! A delay I can’t do anything about! More time to keep searching for the right guy in time!”

Photograph of woman by Photodisc/Getty Images.

Tags: family, Intrauterine Insemination, IUI, single women, sperm donor