In response to an Outpouring of Love...

To be completely honest, this time last night I was tortured by the idea of our horror story spreading throughout social media. It was so surreal, so devastating that what I was feeling seemed too personal for Facebook. No status or wallpost could rightly capture the beauty that was my baby sister or actually describe the impact of her being gone. I dreaded the moment the news would seep onto my page. I knew once it happened, it would spread exponentially. There was no taking it back.

In retrospect, I don’t know why I was so concerned about stopping time in that moment before everyone knew. What did it matter when the moment that really mattered, the one that changed everything, had already passed?

I would not wish the past 24 hours or what inevitably follows from here on anyone. This is the beginning of what will likely be one of the hardest times of my life. But I will say this: Social media ended up bringing me, not the torture I’d anticipated, but a small dose of comfort. In a time where I am much too far away from the people who I need and who need me most, it brought me a bit closer. Pictures slowly started appearing as people’s profiles. People from everywhere that know me personally and others I’ve never met started sharing stories. More people than I could ever hope to thank individually offered their sympathies.

None of this keeps me from breaking down with each flicker of a Stephanie-memory and each phone call with my parents or middle sister. But it does remind me that I’m not alone. Even though it might feel like I am from a geographical standpoint, I’m not. And, until everything is sorted and I can get to my family, I will be grateful for that. Thank you from the very bottom of my broken heart for thinking of me and my family. And, most importantly, for thinking of Stephanie.

Post #13: 10 Things for the New Mom-of-Two-Under-Two

We’re one month in, and when people ask me “How are you doing?” my response depends on the day, and sometimes even the hour. One moment I will think, I’ve got this. The next, I will feel on the verge of a breakdown, bogged down by exhaustion, about to drown in the sea of this responsibility. The one thing that keeps bringing me back up is the relentless faith that this rollercoaster is all normal. Even if it isn’t, I am telling myself that it is, and my mom tells me it is, and Kevin’s mom too. That this is all part of the experience. That being said, I have learned a few things about being a new mom to two babies under two years old. I figured I would share them here for any woman that finds herself in my shoes. And for myself should I forget my own advice.

1.  Never pass up the opportunity for a nap. EVER. Five minutes for me now can be as refreshing as 5 hours was in my college years. If at any point during the day both babies are asleep, I am too. Any time I’ve opted to get something done, I’ve regretted it later. Making Applesauce and Cinnamon ornaments when you could be sleeping isn’t heroic. It’s stupid. Just buy yourself a scented candle and get your butt in bed.  

2. Never pass up an opportunity to shower unless it conflicts with your opportunity for a nap. Which it probably does. So stock up on dry shampoo and educate yourself on how to use baby wipes for a runner’s shower.

3. Simplify, simplify, simplify. This can mean anything from doing your grocery shopping online to buying yourself some paper plates and bowls. I especially like the concept of freezer meals. I cannot tell you how much I appreciated this one feat of my nesting. We have since used up our reserves, but I’ve started to restock them by doubling up a meal a week and throwing one of the pair in the freezer.

Anything you can do to make managing a household a little easier, do it.

4. If you can’t find the milk, check on top of the fridge. I thought pregnancy brain was bad until I got my new-mommy-of-two-under-two brain. To accommodate for a new degree of mindlessness, I strongly recommend having a designated place for your keys. A very specific place like “in a bowl on the counter five inches to the left of the toaster”. If you don’t get in the habit of ALWAYS putting them in the same place, you run the risk of 1. Forgetting where you put them or 2. Letting them fall into the hands of your toddler. I don’t know which is a worse scenario, but certainly neither one is ideal.

5. Ask for help. I’m working on this one. The fact that you have no time for anything except changing diapers, feeding babies, and getting acquainted with the new little person in your house works to your advantage here. Anyone in your company will gladly watch your little monsters for you because your taking a shower is doing EVERYONE a favor.

6. Quit being so hard on yourself. Another toughie for me. Apparently, you are delusional if you think you can do it all. And delusional doesn’t mix well with hormonal. So, especially that first month, cut yourself some slack. It’s not the end of the world if the floor doesn’t get mopped this week.

7. Prioritize. Picture this: You’re dealing with a pooptastrophe. Little baby just defied the laws of physics and pooped sideways, out his diaper and onto your arm. You didn’t notice so now it’s on your hand. Meanwhile, big brother has dropped the Parmesan cheese onto the floor (which is dirty because you’ve quit being so hard on yourself) and he’s now scooping it up with a spoon and eating it. Sure eating spoonfuls of Parmesan cheese off of a dirty floor is gross. But a poop-covered hand is grosser, and so that becomes the priority. Besides, it’s the first time all day you’ve seen your toddler so quiet, so engaged. Who would’ve known spilt Parmesan was so entertaining?

8. Take a step back from the chaos and laugh. Preferably out loud. There’s probably some aspect of humor to the situation if it involves two tiny humans. Like the fact that Brayden always eats with his hands when he’s sitting at the table, but uses a spoon perfectly well to eat grated Parmesan off the floor. See. That’s funny.

9. Take a deep breath. Finish up that laugh will an inhale….. and an exhale…. Ahhh…. Feel better already, don’t you? Forget about Lamaze breathing for labor. Parenting classes should teach you about this breath. The one you take when you feel like you’re in the midst of chaos. When you’re nursing baby 2 and baby 1 pees on the kitchen floor. Or when baby 2 finally settles in for bed and you’re ready to do the same, but then baby 1 wakes up. This breath saves your sanity. The simple rush of oxygenation reminds you that you’ll survive this, and one day, probably even look back on it fondly. You’ll wish to trade a good night’s sleep for a chance to cuddle the newborn version of your grown son. Or a clean kitchen for a chance to play with his toddler-self.

10. So follows my final note: At the end of your seemingly crazy day, when both babies are sleeping peacefully (at least for the next few minutes), and you’re ready to collapse into bed , be sure to tell your other half you love him. Because you do. Even though it may not feel like it at times, you love him for getting you into this mess in the first place. Somewhere in the densely settled fog of exhaustion, far less tangible than the sticky film on your un-mopped kitchen floor is your baby’s first smile and your toddler’s first unprompted “I love you” as you’re settling him into bed. As it turns out, this “mess” carries with it a whole bunch of wonderful. 

Post #12: Welcome Tyler!

He's here! But this post isn't. At least not yet. I'm working on it though, so check back sometime soon. If I'm lucky it'll be done sometime before 2030.

xo-Sarah

Post #11: Happy Hundredth!

Today, my blog is one hundred posts old. Somewhere between #1 and #100, I went from newlywed to mother and then mother of two. Kevin calling me “wife” then was as novel as hearing Brayden call me “momma” now. We’ve spent two seasons in Italy, one in Wichita, and we’re in the midst of another in Scotland. Our scenery has changed, our family has grown, and our network of friends has expanded to new countries and states. Through all the ups and downs, wins and losses, opportunities and challenges, wanderlust and homesickness, I’ve been consistently grateful for the love that surrounds our little family. Looking back on posts from these last three-plus years that love has been the most/only consistent element to our lives. Suffice it to say, wherever we find ourselves over the course of the next 100 posts, I’m pretty sure it’ll be a wonderful place to be.

Season 2010-2011
Life, Love, and Gelato

Season 2011-2012
Life, Love, and Second Helpings

Season 2012-2013
Life, Love, and Diaper Rash

2013-2014 Season
Life, Love, and Scotland

Post #10: A Letter to Big Brother Brayden

To my sweet baby Brayden,

I’m sure you’ve noticed I’ve gotten bigger, slower, and a little more tired, but I doubt you realize the significance of these changes. Since I first learned that you, my little boy, would be made less little by becoming a big brother, I’ve wondered what it all would mean. For you, for me, for our family… Especially these last few weeks, I’ve found myself worrying about how you’ll feel when a new little love is brought into our family. There’s so much I want to tell you about the wonderful chaos that is waiting just around the corner, but I don’t know how. As we cuddle up with our books, collect colorful leaves on our walks, practice our hockey passes outside, I struggle to find the words. So, I guess I will just write them here. Maybe someday you’ll find them and you’ll understand. You’ll nod your head about how smart your mommy is. How she knew so well the things you’d need to know as you made your way into the Older Sibling Club…

First, you may not always like your little brother, but you will always love him. Always.  This is the reason why you might say something mean to him, it might even be true, but when someone else says the exact same thing, you might morph into a Hulk-version of yourself. Being protective is a natural instinct when it comes to your siblings. And your unconditional love for him will excuse a few minor not-so-niceties that, coming from anyone else, would be unacceptable.

Second, he will look up to you from the moment he is born. Yes, it will get annoying when he wants to follow you around and play with your toys and do whatever you do. But, you will always have a sidekick, a playmate, a friend. A cowboy to your Indian, a bad guy to your good, a forward to your defense (unless you somehow both become goalies like your Daddy and Uncle Mike.) This trade-off works in your favor, I promise. But have no doubt there will come a day where he confides in you. Not in his dad or mom, but in his brother. Be it with a personal struggle, a girl problem, or the request for you to buy him and his underage buddies some beer. When this happens, you are under no obligation to tell him what he wants to hear. Let his friends do that.  He may not like what you have to say, but he will trust that whatever you advise will be in his best interest. He will know, whether he admits it or not, that you know him better than anyone else. You will either have the answer or the tools he needs to find it within himself. Don’t take this responsibility lightly. And don’t forget that he will be there for you to do the same, minus the beer. This will be one of the greatest gifts of your brotherhood, worth more than all of the annoyances and disagreements that come with the territory.

And, finally, no matter who your little brother turns out to be, your daddy and I will always love you. And while we won’t love you more than him, we won’t love you less either. Despite what your Aun-T might tell you about her being Gramma and Grampa’s “favorite” daughter, there is no such thing as a favorite child. You’ll have to trust me on this one, because you might not fully understand it until you have a baby of your own some thirty years from now. Even though I have always felt loved immensely, I couldn’t truly fathom my parents’ love for me until you were born. The reason that there won’t be favorites is that my love for you is immeasurable. My love for your brother will also be immeasurable. And you can’t compare infinity to infinity… you just can’t.

I remember before you were born feeling overwhelmed by the reality that our lives were about to change forever.  I have the same feeling now, but I know, thanks to you, just how wonderful that change is going to be. So, my little Knight, no matter what lies ahead, have faith that your brother will be as great a gift in your life as you’ll be in his. And please don’t ever lose sight of how much I love you…

xo - Mom

Post #9: The Scot on the Cot

It’s funny how, even after nearly a decade of friendship and love including over three years of marriage, Kevin still surprises me. There's always more to learn about the oft-perceived quiet Bostonian I’ve been calling my other-half since the fall of 2004. Our new adventures in parenting have definitely given us the chance to learn more about ourselves, about each other. Things we want for our children, things we don’t. When it comes to the big important things, he is as steadfast in his beliefs. But these are the things that we agree on, like our values, morality, and what it means to be good parents... we wouldn’t be married or at least not happily so if we didn’t have these things in common. When it comes to the little things, however, that’s where we sometimes run into disagreement.

Being a really laid-back guy, Kevin usually relegates all small decisions to me. He knows full well that I might agonize over simple little choices about which he (or most normal people) wouldn’t care. Black or brown picture frame for this photo? Should the couch be on this wall or that wall? Should I buy this shirt in a color other gray, black, or brown? Needless to say, he happily takes a back seat to most interior design, organization, and shopping decisions. Which explains my amusement when he actually DOES have a strong opinion about something that I would have otherwise categorized as a simple little decision in my territory. Take v-neck tee shirts for example. I mistakenly bought him v-neck undershirts a while back. Despite the fact that any undershirt would have been a vast improvement to the holely, miss-shapen ones in his dresser and regardless of the fact that v-necks had long since become a trend in male attire, this package of v-necks needed to be returned. Non-negotiable. He would NOT wear v-neck shirts. Here’s a guy who wears most whatever I buy for him just because it means he doesn’t have to shop for himself and he hates shopping. But he wouldn’t wear a v-neck. He’s since caved, as I happen to really like them on him and I’ve casually mixed them into his wardrobe the last couple of years. He concedes when laundry gets low, but I can’t say he’s thrilled about it.

Anyway, last November I learned that there is something else that, much to my surprise, Kevin has a very strong opinion about: The Elf on the Shelf. In my excitement for our first holiday season with a baby, I was all about establishing some fun traditions. Having a cheerful elf come around to cause a little mischief and bring some fun Christmas activities from the North Pole seemed, to me, like a marvelous idea. I did not expect in the slightest that my Christmas-loving husband would disagree at all, let alone so vehemently. But, he did. “Absolutely not” were his exact words when I suggested we adopt an elf. I thought that maybe it was just the v-neck he was wearing making him grouchy, so I decided to bring it up again later. But he stood his ground. He argued that the elf was creepy and the whole concept was unnecessary while taking away the true meaning of Christmas. And that was that. Well-played Kevin. Spend 95% of the time letting me make the little decisions so that, when you DO put your foot-down on something, it really counts. Yes, Sarah, you can decorate the mantle with whatever your little heart desires, you can choose the hotel and itinerary for our vacation, you can order your own meal but eat mine when you decide it looks better, but NO, you CANNOT bring a little elf into our home every December.

Now, sometimes my darling husband gives me a hard time just for the fun of it. He really agrees with me on whatever it is I’m suggesting, but he pretends to disagree with me anyway. He thinks it’s amusing to see me plead my case on things that are probably ridiculous to him and rest of the world. I brought up the elf again recently in hopes that maybe this was one of those things. That maybe he’d forgotten his joke from the year before and he’d back my idea. But, he didn’t. Same reasoning, same “Absolutely not”. Humph… I really loved the idea of hiding the little activity-bearing elf every night for my boys to find. And maybe I loved it even more now that Kevin was so against it. Why does it work that way?

So, there I was. Defeated. I couldn’t just go get an elf because it was supposed to be something for the whole family to enjoy, Kevin included. But did that mean I had to give up entirely? Marriage is all about compromise… if I could just find a way to meet in the middle. But where was the middle of “creepy, unnecessary, takes away from the meaning of Christmas” and “adorable, fun, adds to the meaning of Christmas”.

That’s when E-bay saved the day. I’d ordered a trainset for Brayden for Christmas and so a list of other things I might like popped up at the bottom. It kind of freaks me out how the web can do that, but without this stalkerish technology I never would have found him… the little plastic Scottish man, dressed in a kilt, and donning a bagpipe.

Ta-daaaa!! What if we had a little Holiday Scotsman instead of an Elf? That addresses the creepiness factor. And what if the said Scotsman brought activities that embraced the spirit of love and holiday giving. Sometimes, crafts, yes. But also activities like “Donate a toy to a child in need” and “Give daddy a big hug”. A glorified advent calendar of sorts! I could concede on having a fun storyline behind his presence in the house like the Elf has with helping Santa to make his naughty or nice list. The Scotsman didn’t have to tie in with Santa at all as long as I could hide him somewhere fun on a nightly basis and use him as an excuse for some holiday activities. Kevin shouldn’t have reason to disagree on those terms!

A click of a button and 5 quid later, the little toy Scottish man was ordered. And, when he arrived Kevin decided he was welcome in our home for the upcoming holiday season. To all of you in my very small but lovely lifeloveandgelato community, I’m very happy to introduce little Hamish from the Kingdom of Fife.

He’s no Elf on the Shelf, but he sure is one fine Scot on the Cot. Can’t wait to see the fun and cheer he will bring to my boys and I this Christmas!

Post #8: The Fife Coastal Path

Here I am, over a month into my stay in Scotland, finally getting around to talking about Scotland. To give you an idea about where we are in this lovely country, I’ll say very generally that we’re a bit South and very East. To my North we have the picturesque Scottish Highlands and to the South we have the great city of Edinburgh. To the East, and, by that I mean two blocks East, we have the ocean. Farther South is where Scotland turns into England, and just beyond the Western coast is where you’ll find Ireland. Outside of Scotland’s borders is where even my most general geographical awareness ends. Hopefully traveling about throughout the season will broaden my scope of the entire UK. For now, you’ll have to refer to our friend Google for more specifics.

Like Italy, Scotland is divided into regions. Here, the region’s names sound like they are straight out of  a Tolkien novel…Ayrshire and Arran, Loch Lomond, Trossachs and the Forth Valley, Aberdeen City and Shire (to name a few). We happen to be located in… wait for it… the Kingdom of Fife. Yes, it’s really called a Kingdom. I don’t know why, probably the geek in me, but that makes me smile.  We are in a town called Kirkcaldy directly situated on the water. Which is, for any New Englander, a happy place to be. A short walk from our apartment flat in almost any direction brings with it views of ocean. And, even on a rainy day, the ocean is beautiful. What’s better is that they’ve made it really easy to appreciate its beauty by maintaining a 117 mile-long coastal walking path. It’s an ocean-loving outdoorsmen’s paradise. The path winds you along the waterfront, bringing you from one quaint Scottish town to another. Green sloping pastureland, tree-lined parks, ancient stone sea walls, tiny fishing communities, all emerging from the sea.

I’d hoped to explore more of the path before reporting on it, but, by Doctors orders, my hiking days are over until baby comes along. Fortunately, I think the few miles of the path that we have traversed are enough proof of its impressiveness.

Ravenscraig Castle to Dysart Harbor

As promised, I didn’t browse the internet for details on where we’d be living prior to our arrival. Which is why Brayden and I were splendidly surprised when our short morning walk led us to a castle overlooking the ocean.

Ravenscraig Castle was built in the 1400’s.  It sits perched on a grassy cliff above the water with views along the coastline of Kirkcaldy. On a nice day, you can see out to Arthur’s seat, a walkable peak in Edinburgh from which you can view the city and it’s castle. (On our to-do list this Spring!)

Kirkcaldy’s little castle happens to be situated on part of the coastal path running through the town. From there, an upper set of trails extends through a beautiful wooded park and a lower set passes directly beside the water. Low tide uncovers a vast rocky beach and high tide brings waves up to the stone-bricked seawall. 

After reaching a grassy opening via the lowermost trail, you come to a tunnel passageway that leads to little Dysart Harbor. There, old fishing boats bob gently beside their moorings. Cute little old men, likely the proud owners of the boats, tinker with their engines and wash their decks. Faithful canine companions sit patiently by, watching from above.

Crail to Anstruther

While we would have been perfectly content to walk from Ravenscraig Castle to Dysart Harbor every day, Kevin and I decided we shouldn’t forget about the other 99.5% of the Fife Coastal Path. One particularly sunny day, we packed up a picnic lunch and drove the windy country roads north to Crail. We’d been told that the roughly 3-mile stretch from there to Anstruther Harbor was a notable walk.

We learned the hard way that, while the coastal path in Kirkcaldy is stroller friendly, the same can’t be said about this particular route. We’d forgotten our hiking backpack, and couldn’t expect Brayden to walk 3 miles, so we opted against doing the entire stretch on foot. Instead, we walked a bit out and back from Crail, and drove to Anstruther to do the same. These segments, we figured would give us a good idea of what the route was all about. We weren’t disappointed in the least...

Starting from Crail, the path took us along the water through grassy pastures. Looking forward put Ocean, rocky beach, and lush sloping hills within the same peripheral. Behind us, the little village of Crail sat atop the water, it’s harbor and old buildings providing a unique companion to the sight of ocean below. Ocean feeding into grassy hill, then sloping up to little town. I’m no stranger to the ocean, but the fluidity between these three elements is different than the ocean views I’m familiar with. While beautiful in their own right, the beaches from home have less dramatic changes of elevation and the greenery is, well, less green.  

After having our lunch in town, stopping in a small family-run pottery shop, and a nearly buying more vases and teacups than we could ever manage to transport home, we jumped back in the car and drove down the road to Anstruther.

While only a couple of miles south of Crail, the drive took about 10 minutes. Pastureland is prioritized over roadway as evidenced by the barely two-lane road winding along the shore. We’ve traversed similarly narrow roads in Italy, but never from the left side. At least from a passenger’s perspective, it feels like every curve is going to bring you crashing into an embankment. To distract myself from worrying about this possibility, I focused on the pleasant views of the drive. As we pulled into the harbor, we realized a significant change in the beautiful weather we’d experienced only minutes before. Blue skies were now gray, and a damp cool replaced the warm dry air coming off of the water. Scotland weather has proven quite unpredictable. You can’t ever leave the house without an umbrella AND a pair of sunglasses. You might run into a shop using one and leave a few minutes later using the other.

Despite being overcast, there was an intrinsic charm to the little town. Café bars and restaurants lined the waterfront and streetside benches were filled with an assortment of locals and coastal path visitors. We happened to be there during school dismissal and so Brayden was happy to watch/admire herds of “big kids” walking through. In their school uniforms, one would think that they were enrolled at Hogwarts. (I keep trying to inconspicuously grab a photo of the little witches and warlocks, but, as it turns out, being inconspicuous is not in my nature.)

At this point, we were quickly approaching afternoon nap time, and this momma doesn’t like to miss her nap, so we piled back into our little Passat to get home. Not before devouring a plate of fish n’ chips, of course. Afterall, who are we not to try arguably the best fish n’ chips in all the Kingdom of Fife? And coming from ice-cream loving families, what kind of example would we be setting for our son if we denied him a lick of gelato after that? 

Good, old-fashioned family fun. In Scotland. :-)