Something's Gotta Give

I’m on a flight back from Boston, where I attended a management conference. Four days of symposia, meetings with colleagues, and going out for drinks and dinner with old friends. Not to forget, 3.5 nights of sleep (the half night due to a red eye flight), free reign to decide when and what to eat (chocolate croissants for breakfast), time for writing, and a squeezed in run.

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Lieke ten Brummelhuis
A Weekend Gone Wrong

This weekend my husband and I were home with our little one. My husband had been under the weather since Tuesday, and our little one as well. I was the only one who miraculously had avoided the virus thus far. I had been so preoccupied with a deadline to resubmit a manuscript, that I simply had been going on adrenaline so far.

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Lieke ten Brummelhuis
When a Workaholic Takes a Vacation

When I’m at my parents’ the days follow the same routine. It is predictable, perhaps boring at times, but it offers a strange form of comfort. It was around 10:30 in the morning. I had just finished another game of soccer with my son. The church bell sounded once, confirming the half hour. My son, growing up in Canada, didn’t understand why the bells were ringing.

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Lieke ten Brummelhuis
Old Habits Die Slowly

I’m on a 9-hour flight back to Vancouver from Amsterdam. My 8yo and I visited my parents, brother, and friends for ten days. Although primarily meant as a vacation, my dad had asked me to share some insights about my work with what I’ll call his gentlemen club by lack of better label.

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Lieke ten Brummelhuis
Best Birthday Gift Ever

My husband gave me the best birthday present I can imagine. A weekend to myself. He is taking two of the kids to our cabin in Whistler. My son is with his dad this week. This means an empty house for me. Sleeping when I want to sleep. Writing when I want to write. Exercising when I want to exercise. Eating what I want to eat. Ask any parent – the feeling of being able to do whatever you want to do for 48 hours straight is magical.

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Colleen Daly