Post #7: Feeling Pinspired

I promise that my next post will bring me back to my blogging roots and actually focus on the sightseeing and cultural components to our hockey-lifestyle. Despite how it looks, I have not been a hermit since my arrival over a month ago. Scotland is GORGEOUS, and deserves way more blogging-rights than I’ve given it. So here’s just one more motherhood musing…

When Brayden was a newborn, I spent many a late-night hour snuggling, feeding, and pinning. In line with the baby books, I tried not to interact with the little babe during his midnight feeds because “too much stimulation at night interferes with the development of a natural sleep cycle” or something like that. But I often needed some sort of stimulation to prevent from nodding off myself.  I’m not a fan of infomercials and I only had so many recordings of Cupcake Wars on my DVR. Therefore, Pinterest was a much better mindless alternative to television at 3am. And so I pinned. A lot. I happily organized my pins into categorized boards and built enthusiasm for all the projects that I’d collected for myself to carry out… And then, I never looked at them again.  With the exception of a few recipes, I didn’t re-visit my account for months. Christmas passed without even a cursory glance at my “Jingle Bells” board, and Brayden move into toddlerhood before I’d had the chance to use my collection of infancy tips stored in my “Oh Baby” folder.

For whatever reason, (new desire to become a domesticated?,  pregnancy cravings for cheesy or chocolaty deliciousness? Good-old-fashioned-nesting?, peer-pressure from my sister to check out the hilarious board she’s made for me?) I’ve been feeling Pin-spired. When Baby 2 wakes up at 11pm with a serious case of the hiccups, I spend the next hour in bed kick-counting and exploring the Pinterest universe. Unlike during my last Pinterest craze , I click on the links and read before actually pinning. Then, soon after, I put some of my pinning to practice. Brayden and I crafted colorful bowling pins with plastic bottles and a little bit of paint poured inside. I made vegetarian chili, a quinoa and chicken entrée, and chocolate chip cookies. I looked at book recommendations for one-year-olds and used them as guidance during library trips. And, most recently, I bought a bunch of little craft supplies necessary for the plethora of wonderful toddler activities I’d found during my midnight pinterest prowls.

There is only one problem. My toddler son STILL puts everything in his mouth. So I have to forget about all those cute smiley face stickers, mini pom poms, crayons, paint brushes, and, well, rocks, leaves, and sand. As it turns out, he’s not quite ready for anything even remotely inedible or that could potentially function as a choking hazard. So much for that really awesome moon sand made of baby oil and flour and so much for all that crafting paraphernalia. I needed something else, and fast. Why was this so urgent? You wonder…

Well, for anyone who doesn’t know Brayden, he likes to GO. He always has, especially since he started walking at 10 months old. And when he’s on the go, running from room to room, practicing his slapshot, climbing on castle ruins, following big kids around at the park, and riding his Lightning Mcqueen push car, he’s REALLY happy. And a happy baby is a LOUD baby. When he’s not on the go, happy and loud, he often gets bored. And a bored baby is a LOUD baby too. This is a problem for a daddy that often has practice until 12:30 in the morning and classes at 8:00. There is a two-hour window after Brayden’s 6am wake-up where mommy is on duty and daddy needs to sleep. As do our neighbors for that matter. Since it’s much too dark to go outside and the 24-hour Wal-Mart-like store is quickly losing its appeal, we are stuck in the apartment. And we need to be considerate. i.e. we need to be quiet. i.e. we can’t be running around i.e. we can’t be bored. What’s more is that I can’t always be 100% dedicated to making sure those three conditions are met. I need activities that aren’t entirely dependent on my involvement. While we love cozying up with a book, building ramps for his car, playing with his kitchen set, and making/demolishing block towers, sometimes I need my 17-month old to be quietly AND independently engaged. Like when I’m making breakfast, for instance.

As I wait for Brayden to grow out of his put-everything-in-the-mouth stage and grow into all of those fantastic crafty activities I’ve pinned, I’ve stuck to a few that are Brayden-proof or could be made so with a little modification. They achieve a little free-time for mommy AND quiet-time for baby. I figured, should there be another toddler like mine out there, I should share those ideas and save some other mother the learning curve. I will include the links that provided inspiration to give credit to those amazingly creative mommies that have enriched our morning routines.

1. Baby Word Book: I made this for Brayden before leaving for Scotland so he can remember his loved ones back home, and learn all their names. I chose to use a small three ring binder I found at Staples because it fit a half-sheet of computer paper perfectly. Each page simply has a picture with a name in large print underneath. I popped each word-page into a sheet-protector with a sheet of cardstock paper to make it sturdy and Voila! I’ve since added a section for “animals”, “things that go”, “food” and “the outdoors”.  It’s basically just a flashcard system, but I like that it’s personalized for Brayden, and that I can add words of new things he likes in 10 seconds flat. He’s pretty happy flipping through the book himself. But, sometimes, I will remove a section’s worth of pages, spread them on the floor and ask him “Can you find me the monkey?” or “Where’s the lion?” and he’ll bring me back the match. I'm happy to give you the template for my cards so that you only have to right click the image and select "Change Picture" to make your own. I'm just not tech-saavy enough to link it here, so you'll need to message me your email. 
   
2.  Water Play: During the summer, with the luxury of having a back deck, Brayden was easily entertained by a large plastic tub of water and an assortment of various-sized cups, spoons, and water toys. I don’t know why I never thought to bring water-play indoors, but thankfully someone from Pinterest did.  I cannot believe how content B is with pouring water between a few plastic teacups and little yogurt containers. Beyond keeping him entertained, he’s gotten really proficient at drinking from a cup. So, if you want a happy, well-hydrated baby, throw a towel under the high chair and serve up a bit of water.
   
3. Penne Pasta: Stick kebab sticks in a piece of foam or, in my case, a cardboard egg carton. Have baby put pieces of dry penne pasta on the posts. Since we usually do this after breakfast, B isn’t very interested in eating the uncooked pasta. “Yuck”. But, if he is nearing meal-time, threading cheerios onto pieces of thin spaghetti is an edible alternative. Such clever ways to promote motor skill development in your toddler while you’re doing the dishes or folding laundry (or writing for your silly little blog).
   
4. Flour Power: ‘Sensory Table’s are all the buzz in early childhood development. I know because I have a sister who works in a Pre-K center and happens to be incredible at what she does. Her sensory tables are always suited to the week’s learning theme. Of course, I can’t steal most of her ideas because, again, my baby can’t handle manipulatives like sand, dried beans, or acorns just yet. But what about flour? It sure doesn’t taste good by itself, but it’s harmless for B who inevitably tries it EVERY time we use it. Put a little scoop of flour in front of baby and give him a few props. It’s really that simple.
   
   Sometimes he ends up a bit of a mess, like when he sneezed directly into the powdery mound in front of him. But it’s super easy clean-up. Done and done.
   
   
   
   
   
5. Baker Baby: I’m not the first person on the face of the planet to let their baby, pour, measure, and mix while baking. But, I also didn’t need Pinterest to plant this wonderful idea in my head. My momma did that for me a long time ago when I was just a wee girl. I love to bake. Babies love to bake. It’s the perfect activity to do together. I will happily play with cars, splash in mud puddles, wrestle and play hockey with my dear sons. But they will bake with their mommy, gosh darnnit, however boyish they may be. For at least as long as I have a say in the matter… How long is that, anyway? I’m hoping for a couple of years, but maybe I’ll get lucky and it’ll grow on them. This activity clearly requires supervision because, despite my efforts, B hasn’t quite gotten a grasp on reading recipes or understanding fractions ;-) However, I’d be baking anyway. And baking together checks something off my list while also accomplishing the goal of entertaining the toddler. Most recently we made easy, but yummy biscuits to go with our beef stew dinner. Brayden played with the left-over dough while the first batches were in the oven. He loved it!
   
   Look at his tongue hanging out there in concentration while he’s using the canteen-bottle rolling pin. 
   
   I chose the recipe because it only called for a few ingredients, and an egg wasn’t one of them. (It’s funny that I’ve joined the Raw Egg Police when I think of all the cookie dough I’ve consumed, laughing off my mom’s fears about salmonella poisoning. Things really do come full circle, huh?) Obviously eggs are an integral part to baking. But, when baking with baby, I use this handy substitution: 1 egg = 1 tbsp flaxseed + 3 tbsp water. I’ve also tried subbing apple-sauce for oil with great results just to make it a bit less sinful and messy.

And there you have it. Five things everyone probably already knew about babies, but took me nearly a year-and-a-half of mommyhood and several hours of pinning to learn for myself. Oh, and by the way, when all else fails, there are Baby Einstein videos on YouTube. They might not make geniuses out of babies like the creators had claimed, but they are inexplicably captivating to my little guy when I’m desparate for 15-minutes of calm. A mommy’s gotta do what a mommy’s gotta do. And where’s the harm in letting him watch a montage of short clips portraying ocean creatures, farm animals, or ‘things that go’? (Set to classical music no less!) It’s not like I’m using the Kardashian brood to entertain my impressionable son. They’re for my amusement… at the end of the night while he’s sleeping soundly in bed and I’m sweeping up the flour, cheerios, and pasta off the floor. The end of another lovely day. Be well, mommas!

Here are some links to more toddler activities! (I'm especially excited about the make your own paint and playdough recipes.)

http://www.notimeforflashcards.com/2012/06/2-activities-for-kids-under-2.html

http://www.funathomewithkids.com/2013/09/the-ultimate-list-of-baby-play-ideas.html

http://handsonaswegrow.com/no-setup-toddler-activitie/

http://handsonaswegrow.com/50-toddler-activities/

Post #6: Confessions of a Stay-at-Home Mother

Today I was a veggie mom. And I don’t mean this in the sense that I was an enforcer to my son’s daily consumption of vegetables. (I’m actually very fortunate that he loves his veggies, enforcement unnecessary. )I mean it in the sense that I myself was a vegetable. I was a casual observer as opposed to an active participant in my son’s day. Laying on the couch watching him run in and out of his fort, sitting with a cup of tea while he was engaged in one of the sensory activities I’d found on Pinterest (More on this in a later post). As nap-time crept closer, we cuddled in bed to watch an episode of Barney. (During which, by the way, I made the ultimate IMDB-worthy recognition of a young Selena Gomez in the cast!)

I know that my baby was fed, cleanly diapered, and well-supervised for the day, but I couldn’t help but feel guilty as the day progressed and I was daydreaming about my next opportunity for a nap. I mean, I even stooped low enough to plop the little man in front of the TV. Super moms everywhere are shaking their head in disapproval.

I blame my mediocre day of parenting on the strong probability that I overdid it yesterday. That walk into town. That damn woman at the bank that totally called me out… she’d be so smug right now to see me this way… unshowered, tired, uncomfortable.

4:00 rolled around and I was still in my pajamas with a night plus two-naps worth of bed head. I’d moved so little that I was slightly worried that my muscles at atrophied. I felt like I’d done nothing all day, and I was feeling guilty about it…

And then I re-read a blog post* my friend had shared on her facebook page. It was written to scrutinize the stay-at-home mom vs. working-mom debate, questioning why the debate exists in the first place. Interestingly enough, it was written by a man. I find what he wrote to be really romantic in an untraditional sense. I think it’s because feeling appreciated is a close cousin to feeling loved. The author defending his wife in her sometimes under-valued role as a stay-at-home mother demonstrates his appreciation for her, which equates his whole post to a sort of love letter. (Any guy that stumbles upon this page should take note: earning big points with the love in your life can be as simple as saying “thank you” or “I appreciate you”, and meaning it, of course.)

In particular, his closing passage really resonated with me….

“I’m not looking to get into a fight about who is “busier.” We seem to value our time so little, that we find our worth based on how little of it we have. In other words, we’ve idolized “being busy,” and confused it with being “important.” You can be busy but unimportant, just as you can be important but not busy. I don’t know who is busiest, and I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I think it’s safe to say that none of us are as busy as we think we are; and however busy we actually are, it’s more than we need to be.”

Spot on, Mister Blogger who loves his wife. What is “busy” anyway? What activities do you have to be partaking in to be considered busy? If it’s managing a multimillion dollar corporation or running a marathon before performing life-saving heart surgery on one of your patients, then I wasn’t busy in the least. But if it’s ensuring that your 17-month old doesn’t close his fingers in any doors, choke, run into sharp corners, or that he doesn’t feel hungry, tired, or bored, then I was actually very busy.

Anyway, I think that very few mothers look down on their stay-at-home peers (just like very few women bash pregnant ladies in the queue at the bank). But I think I relate to what he’s saying on a different level, not so much as a problem of Working Mother vs. Non-“Working” Mother, but as a problem of Woman vs. Self. Why are we mommies so hard on OURSELVES?

Now, being home with Brayden, I often feel like I’m not doing enough. At the end of the day, even if I never set foot outside of the house, I’m exhausted. Then I feel guilty about being tired because I don’t think I have an excuse… I mean, I’m not even teaching! I didn’t grade papers, organize lesson plans, manage a classroom full of oftentimes incompatible personalities, and maintain enthusiasm while teaching Integer operation rules for the millionth time. What did I even do all day?

Fast forward to me being back at work, putting my degree to use, writing lessons, and enriching the mathematical minds of society’s youth. I’m certain, even in this new situation, I will find myself in a different line of reasoning that leads to the same conclusion. It might look something like this: I didn’t change a diaper, kiss a boo-boo, take my kiddoes to the park, read Tugga-Tugga-Tugboat for the millionth time… what did I even do all day?

Either way, I think I’d find a way to make myself feel inadequate in some way as a mother, wife, human. Whether it be my perceived lack of time with my family or my unused college degree/lack of financial contribution. Despite my husband’s love, support, and appreciation for what I do, I put enormous pressures on myself. And I think, to some extent, that all women do this.

Which leads to the question of why are we women so quick to compare ourselves to others? Everybody has flaws, insecurities, or moments where they feel that they aren’t doing their best. And so what if they don’t! Does it even really matter? I am surrounded by countless women who do all sorts of wonderful things inside and outside of being amazing mothers. I am in constant admiration of them all. I don’t hold anyone else to impossible standards. So why do I do it to myself?

And so comes the little epiphany I had at the end of my day as a veggie mom. Maybe we all need to focus on what we ARE doing instead of what we AREN’T doing. Maybe I didn’t shower, do the dishes, exercise, or make any money. But I did make my baby laugh, read him stories, showed him love, and kept him safe. Busy or not busy, important or unimportant, none of that really matters. I was one little boy’s favorite mother in the whole wide world. And I guess that’s not really nothing after all. 

* http://themattwalshblog.com/2013/10/09/youre-a-stay-at-home-mom-what-do-you-do-all-day/

Post #5: Bear With me While I Overreact

It’s been one of those rainy weeks in Scotland that all the locals warned me about. Rainy days are often lazy days, and so when I saw the somber ten-day forecast, I took an oath to vigilance in making sure that I was consumed by laziness. And I did well! Brayden and I went to the library, I finished a few projects around the house, cleaned, and even squeezed in a couple of strolls and park visits when the weather wasn’t too bad. Then, yesterday, it was the brightest of the gray days I’d seen all week. With a seemingly diminished threat of rain, Brayden and I set out enthusiastically to the walking street for errands and a lunch date. Kevin had the car, and so we packed up the stroller and marched the mile to the shops at the center of town.

After a lovely lunch at a coffee shop, we stopped at the bank to complete our afternoon’s checklist. There, a lady in line behind me looked me up and down, and inquired as to when I was due. I said the end of November with another little boy. That’s when she said it, the three words that marked a change in the tone of our conversation: You look tired. Stop here for a second. Whether I’m pregnant or not, I hate when I hear this, especially from strangers. I think that this phrase is confused as the polite way of saying “You look like crap” when in reality there is NO POLITE WAY of saying “You look like crap”. In this particular case, the most annoying part of it all was that I had actually done my hair and put on a little makeup before heading out that morning. I’d looked in the mirror, and thought to myself, not bad Sarah, not bad at all. Well, clearly I had been mistaken…

Anyway, it gets worse. You’re carrying awfully low, she went on. Well, I carried my son like this too, I replied, trying to remain friendly even though I was becoming increasingly agitated by the woman’s expression of… what was that, disgust? Pity? You look like you’re really uncomfortable, she continued. Thankfully, the next teller called for me and I was gracefully excused from anymore discussion/insult. Truth of the matter is, I was uncomfortable. More about my urge to punch this lady in the face than I was about bearing the “burden” of carrying my sweet innocent baby…

As I trudged the mile back home, I was tired. And, yes, I was uncomfortable. And even though the lady had probably made an accurate assessment of my well-being, it still bothered me that she made an assessment at all. Don't get me wrong. I don’t want people coming up to me marveling at my “pregnancy glow” when I’m well-aware that my skin’s reaction to the hormones doesn’t permit me to have one. I don’t want anyone complimenting how well pregnancy suits me when I’m the first to admit that it doesn’t. I’m perfectly ok with it all because babies are worth it, bottom line. I don’t want people lying to make me feel like a pregnancy goddess. However, I don’t need people stating the obvious either. No one should ever tell a 35-week pregnant lady that she looks “tired” and “really uncomfortable”. Unless maybe they are willing to do something that helps rectify the problem, like fund a prenatal spa day or massage therapy session. Otherwise it’s like telling a starving person “you look really hungry”, but not offering them any food. Am I overreacting? Yes. But, am I wrong? I’ll let you be the judge. 

Post #4: Meet Dino

As part of getting ready for Baby 2’s arrival, I thought it would be smart to prepare Brayden for the role of Big Brother. While he knows the association between my belly and the word “baby”, I doubt that he grasps the idea that the “baby” will soon be vacating the belly to steal his toys and mommy and daddy’s attention. I thought, like many moms before me, that getting him a doll might help with preparation for this reality. At the very least, we could use the doll to model positive big brother behaviors to hopefully keep eye poking and pinching to a minimum. We could practice being “gentle” and “quiet” because those are two difficult words for my 16-month old to put into practice.

And so the search for Brayden’s doll began. I thought it would be a one-stop shop because baby dolls are everywhere. But, as it turns out, baby BOY dolls are not. It’s not that I’m opposed to my son playing with a pink dolly, but it’s the fact that I couldn’t find a blue one that prevented me from buying one at all. It’s the principle of the whole thing. Sure, dolls might not be popular toys for little boys. And that probably ties in with the whole sociological vs. biological debate of toy preference between the two genders. A bigger, more complex issue I will leave for someone else to blog about. For the purpose of this post, let’s assume that dolls are for little girls. Even then, why aren’t there boy dolls? What are we teaching our little girls if all of their dolls are also little girls? Many will have little brothers. And many will grow up to be mommies of little boys. (Like me, for example.) And, though I may not get to dress my babies in those adorable headbands and frilly dresses, and even though the baby boy’s clothing department is a quarter of the size of the one for baby girls, I love having a son. Wouldn’t a little girl feel the same way about having a boy doll?

Disappointed that I couldn’t find a somewhat realistic baby brother model for B, I decided to think outside the box. There weren’t any boys to accompany the Mollys, Kirstens, and Samanthas of the doll world, so I had to make a compromise. Which is where a $5 Kohl’s Cares for Kids stuffed animal comes in… Meet Dino. A plush, likeable T-Rex from a Curious George story who doubles as a training device for brotherhood. And Brayden loves him! He speaks to him in the soft cooing voice he reserves for when someone has a “boo-boo”. He knows that “gentle” means patting Dino’s head. He gives his dinosaur brother hugs and kisses. He shares his toys and even rocks his pal in the rock and play sleeper. When he sits Dino beside him to watch Blue’s Clues, and brings socks to Kevin to put on Dino’s feet, I can’t help but think he’s getting the hang of it. That maybe, in spite of toy-manufacturer’s prejudice against boy dolls, my son is learning to be a good big brother. To a soft, mute, cuddly toy dinosaur, that is. Let’s just hope he gives the same care and attention to his little sibling even though he isn’t green with a scaly tail and a toothy grin. 

Post #3: No Such thing as an Old Hat in the World of Babes

Today, I was scrolling through my photos and I stopped here…

I thought to myself, remember this?

The answer, if I’m being completely honest, is not really. As I watch Brayden run around making tractor sounds and playing with his new toy truck, it’s hard to fathom that baby is this baby. I watched it happen with my own two eyes, and yet I still can’t believe it. I know that parents have these thoughts when their children start kindergarten, graduate high school, or get married. But to be in such disbelief about my baby growing up when he’s only 16-months old is a bit surprising. I can see why it would be hard to remember your child as a newborn when he’s standing on a podium receiving a diploma 18-years later. But how could I have forgotten so many little moments like these already? After less than a year-and-a-half, I should be able to look at that picture and feel warmth on my chest in the place he was snuggled. But I can’t. It is such a distant memory that I can barely believe it happened at all. Maybe I was really THAT tired. Or perhaps, from a parental perspective, the stages of early childhood are just too short for the monumental changes that take place.  It seems that, just when I figure things out, Brayden undergoes some fundamental change. It is a continuous learning process where my own adaptation is just barely on pace with his growth and development. Routines evolve before they are even established so that the details quickly blend together. It’s a phenomenon that I will soon be experiencing all over again.

The very idea of having another little love in my life astounds me. I suppose I thought that reflecting on Brayden’s first months would make what lies ahead with Baby 2 more tangible. That seeing him as an infant would remind me of what I have to expect, to look forward to. That maybe it could prepare me in some way. I mean it was only just yesterday. Wasn’t it? Apparently not. In baby days, it was an eternity ago. Basically, just because I already have one baby doesn’t mean I’m not going to feel anxious about having another.

Needless to say, looking at pictures of Brayden’s newbornhood didn’t have the effect I was looking for. It didn’t leave me thinking “Oh, I remember that. No worries about number two. It’ll be like riding a bike”. It didn't prepare me for having a new baby, especially when I have another slightly older one running around, threatening chaos at every turn. 

Though my picture perusal process didn’t necessarily inspire the comforting feelings of familiarity that I expected, it served one purpose other than to remind me of Brayden's adorableness: It offered a compelling reminder of how fast time goes. And maybe that’s the only preparation I need: The understanding that in two months, I will be holding a new baby. A baby that, 16-months later, I will hardly believe existed. Whose older brother will seem another light-year away from than the tractor-bearing little man he is now. So while I am battling through exhaustion and the trials that come along with being a mother, I don’t have to feel guilty if I’m not “enjoying every little moment”. (Because, let’s face it, some mommy moments just aren’t enjoyable.) I can, however embrace the fact that those moments of frustration or self-doubt will dissipate. Very quickly. Together with the love and cuddles, they blend into nothing more than a strong sense that something wonderful happened. And I am so excited that it will be happening all over again. 

Post #2: Hiya! from Scotland

We’re here! And between Kevin’s two-week headstart and the familiarity of the  language, we are on pace to settle in quicker than we have before in our international relocations. Car, check. Bank account, check. Phones, internet, preliminary health insurance paperwork, check, check, check! Probably the hardest part of the transition this time is the driving. Moving the driver’s seat to the right and driving on the left isn’t easy. Just ask my father-in-law! wink wink.

As expected, this week was a bit of a whirlwind. The time-change didn’t affect us as much as I expected, but I’ve yet to recover any sense of what time of day it is, or what day it is in general. This is particularly tough on a pregnancy brain like mine, and so the primary goal for this week will be establishing a routine. Getting my hunger cues on pace with a clock and regulating Brayden’s napping schedule will undoubtedly help me keep our lives in order.

While we haven’t done much traveling yet, we did spend yesterday afternoon exploring the golfing oasis that is St. Andrews. Kevin’s father, who so graciously escorted/carried Brayden and I to Scotland, has been on a golf tour of the area since we arrived. He wasn’t able to play the famous course because it was limited to the public for an upcoming tournament, but we decided to visit nevertheless. I’m not much of a golfer, but I would be if I lived here. Situated virtually atop an endless beach in the center of a quaint, gray-bricked historic town, the scenery is beautiful. Contrary to the supposedly typical rainy Scotland weather, the sun was shining on our backs as we walked along the 18^th hole and onto the beach. The beach, where, by the way, the famous scene from Chariots of Fire was filmed. The tide was impossibly low, and Brayden happily collected seashells by the shore while we all took in the panorama of lush green fairways, a dunes-lined ocean, and ancient Scottish architecture.

Strolling through the town center, I felt that I was in golf’s equivalent of a ski town. Pro shops lined the streets, golfing apparel and merchandise was displayed in every window. Restaurants were aptly named to suit the sport and pubs were full of golfers grabbing a drink after their rounds. After a nice dinner at a local hotel restaurant, we contentedly headed back along the narrow windy roads to Kirkcaldy.

In all honesty, I didn’t know what to expect coming into this season. It all happened so fast, and I was so focused on getting everything organized to go, that I hadn’t even looked on a map to see where we’d be living.  Embarrassing as it is to admit my weaknesses with geography and history subjects, I couldn’t think of one defining characteristic of the country. Beyond what I’d seen in my forty viewings of Braveheart, I didn’t know much of what to expect from the landscape. Was that even filmed in Scotland? (Partially). My only reference for the accent came from Liam Neeson. Is he even Scottish? (No.)  I couldn’t have even told you that the country was situated along a water body. (I told you it’s embarrassing).

The fact that the United Kingdom sits in my educational blindspot has one benefit, however embarrassing it may be. I may not be a good candidate for “Are you Smarter than a Fifth Grader”, but I’m surely in a good position for some wonderful surprises. What other beautiful sights await in the year to come? What fun adventures lie ahead for me and my boys? I’m going to resist using Google, and relish in the experiences as they come. I’ll focus on making a healthy, happy, comfortable home-away-from-home for our family, and I’ll let the rest of those details figure themselves out.

Beach Baby

Kev and his dad on the fairway of the 18th hole with the Clubhouse to the left

A little St. Andrews side street

A shot from another course courtesy of Barry

Post #1: Life, Love, and...

Buh-Bye, See you Soon!

After 28 years, one would think I’d know how to pack for a September weekend at Lake Sunapee. And yet here I am, bundled in a borrowed sweatshirt to wear over my tee shirt and pair of leggings for under my cotton PJ pants. My calf-high Smartwool socks sitting in a drawer at home would be far preferable to the little ones on my feet but at least I have my toasty “preggo” slippers.  I guess I packed one thing right…

Though my wardrobe doesn’t fit the weather, I am grateful for the cold front that’s made it’s way up north. It gives me a taste of the New England fall season that I love so much, but usually miss due to the start of hockey seasons spent elsewhere. I’m able to enjoy the crisp fresh air, the scent of a late-night fire on the dock, and the comfort of a cup of tea on the porch overlooking the lake. Not a bad way to close out this summer’s Goodbye Tour. 

As always, prepping for a season away from the places we call home has taken some time. The usual logistics of moving like storing belongings we’ll leave behind, packing and transporting what we’ll bring along, and organizing bills and insurance are amplified by the fact that we’ll be headed overseas as opposed to across the country. And, we have a 15-month old and another baby on the way. Not to mention the fact that we are planning on an extended season of nine months instead of six so that Kevin can finish out the masters program that is a part of this year’s contract. Despite the fact that we had lists of lists of things we’d need to get done, this August was surprisingly less stressful than some of the last. Maybe practice really does make perfect and we’ve finally developed a good system of being nomads. Or maybe we have just accepted the inevitability of a little chaos and learned that those logistics really do sort themselves out. Whatever the case, we’re ready for our next (and final?) season. Including the years at UNH, this will be our tenth hockey season together. And what better place to cap off a decade than Scotland!

This year, like the last two, Kevin headed out early to start pre-season training. He got things situated over there while I tied up loose ends back here. Since B, Baby 2, and I are joining him in two days, we’ve spent most of the week on a hug-collection tour of the East coast. We made it to Norwood for a breakfast with my father’s family, to the Cape to see the Regan relatives, and now New Hampshire to see my mother’s side. As always, these visits are bittersweet. While I’m excited about the adventures that await us, it’s sad that they will bring us away from so many people we love. I guess that’s the one and only unfortunate side effect of having such loving family and friends… it’s never easy to say goodbye, even if it’s just for a little while. But, like my wise Grandmomsa always says, you have to say “goodbye” if you want to experience the joy of a reunion. So, to all those we’re leaving behind, thank you for a wonderful off-season and I’m looking forward to the epic “hello again” that comes nine months from now. xoxo