Hidden Treasure

After spending the afternoon clearing out Fiona and Isla's room for the Table Top Sale on Saturday, I decided it was finally time to get stuck in to my own room.  Realistically, I knew it was only my bookshelf and dresser top that really needed a good sort out, but the task was daunting - probably because it would be MY stuff I'd have to get rid of.  Not as easy as getting rid of someone else's (like the kids').

It was easy enough, actually, once I got started.  I still have the bottom shelf left to go, but I got sidetracked when I found an old jewellery box, covered in dust.  It was more like an old treasure box, for inside, I found many treasures!

 

Here we have two of my dad's old Air National Guard coins (the second one for when he was Command Chief Master Sergeant, the highest position in the State), my badge from when I worked at the University of Arkansas, along with two 'Campaign for the Twenty-First Century' pins from that time, my Saint Agnes necklace I bought as a sophomore in high school, my 'Foxy' necklace which I wore my senior year in high school (and swore it got me better tips when I wore it waitressing), my Star of David from my trip to Israel when I was thirteen, and numerous band badges I collected in college and wore on my handbag (I wonder if that's still hip with the kids?), with local and indie bands such as Tyko, Aqueduct, Pedro the Lion, Sharkie, Pity Sing and Ester Drang, plus KXUA, the student radio station, and Clunk Records and Good Records.  Wow.

What a blast from the past!  I have a big smile on my face.

50 Things I'll Miss About Scotland (A Non-Inclusive List)

1. Irn Bru
2. Looking out my window onto the Clyde (and at the cruise ships in summer)
3. Slice rolls
4. Waking up to the sound of seagulls. Filthy creatures, I know, but I love their sound.
5. Hogmanay (which is never as exciting as it's built up to be)
6. Steak pie with mash and mushy peas the day after Hogmanay
7. Christmas day with Andy, Marion, Kate, Faisal and Adam (and it soon would've included Adam's baby brother/sister!)
8. Massive chocolate Easter eggs (OKAY enough with the holidays)
9. (Please just one more) BANK HOLIDAYS
10. Scottish words so descriptive they need no explanation, like 'drookit', 'glaikit', 'minging', and 'scunnered'
11. Yummy cheeses
12. A good slice of Plain loaf toasted with butter
13. The atmosphere of utter joy and excitement and goodwill when the sun comes out. No one appreciates the sun like Scottish folk.
14. Gaelic sign postings (and being able to read them somewhat accurately)
15. Cheek-kiss greetings and farewells
16. Humour
17. Using the letter U
18. A full Scottish fry-up breakfast
19. Jaffa Cakes
20. Weetabix
21. Scottish banter
22. Dairymilk and Galaxy
23. Mackie's Honeycomb Ice Cream
24. Trains, ferries and taxis
25. The smell of coal fires in winter
26. Church bells on Sunday morning
27. Sheep and coos everywhere
28. Aggressiveness
29. Craft Night every Tuesday (which includes missing Heather, Elaine and Paula)
30. The Gaelic Unit at Whinhill Primary (which includes Laura, Catriona, Sharon and all the other Gaelic mums, including...)
31. Robyn and Sheila and the Mount Kirk Church, which I wish wish wish I'd found sooner.
32. Childminding by day and cocktails by night with Maria
33. ...and Carol's summer visits from Abu Dhabi with Mick and the boys
34. Writing for SearchScotland
35. Scottish Blend tea with the perfect Scottish water
36. The lack of poisonous creatures
37. Foxes
38. The NHS
39. Multiple political parties to choose from (like the SNP!)
40. BBC 4 radio dramas and programmes
41. Spelling 'programmes' like that
42. Pipers at weddings
43. Kilts at weddings
44. Greenock's amateur dramatics clubs
45. Christmas pantomimes (and the Parish Players... Arthur, Lynda, Pauline, Sylvia, etc etc etc)
46. Drinks at the Spinnaker with am-dram folks, like Gordy et al
47. Friday afternoon lunches with Marion and Andy at the Mid Kirk Cafe
48. Sunday dinners with the family
49. Kate's cakes
50. Wine and Whine Nights with Lee

...to be continued...

"Love Is All You Need?"

I know this video is long, but it is worth watching to the end. I'm so glad I did. I'm speechless.

I am not making any religious or political statement by sharing this video; this is about individual people and how we treat them. Whatever you think of homosexuality, whether you think it is right or wrong, try to set that aside for a few minutes while you watch the video. I'm not trying to change anyone's beliefs; this is just about how we treat other precious human beings... one of whom may one day end up being your own child.

The Hardest Goodbyes

I'm starting to feel a little bit sick.

Packing up my house is proving difficult, stressful and emotional. Packing usually is an unpleasant task, but when you are packing things not knowing where it will be going - but just knowing it must go - the unpleasantness is doubled. Several rooms in the house are half packed, with suitcases containing 'keep' items and boxes and bin bags containing 'sell' or 'charity shop' or 'bin' items (and I don't know which is which at this point), but there are other rooms that haven't been touched... and we've got a moving goal of approximately four weeks now. (Assuming all things go to plan with Scott's visa.)

I decided yesterday that today would be THE day to tackle the hardest room in the house, the study. Or rather the study/guest room/shop/junk room. And in this room-of-all-rooms are my most prized possessions: my books.

I have so many books. Scott has so many books. Together we have so, so many books. I love books, and not just the reading part of it; I love the actual book itself. I'll never be a Kindle person. I love holding the book, smelling the book, remembering moments with the book. Many of my books are the very same copy I held when I read them the first time, in high school or university. Some still have my pathetic class notes in them, obvious and naive comments like 'red imagery' or 'foreshadowing?'. I love this about my books.

But the down side of books? They are heavy. And lots of books together are VERY heavy.

So I've put myself to the task of sorting through them, choosing which ones to take now, which ones to store for later and which ones to sell at our Table Top Sale next weekend.

This is what is making me feel sick.

I don't want to part with any of them! Some I didn't actually enjoy so they can go, and one or two are nothing I'll ever read again, but even some of those are glowing with memories. As I placed my fifteen year old copy of The Canterbury Tales in the 'sell' box, I just couldn't do it. What if I DO decide to read it again? Maybe I'll enjoy it more the next time around. I was so young when I read it (and had never gotten the Britishness of it), maybe I'd laugh at it now. That copy of One Hundred Years of Solitude still has the pressed flower in it from when I mailed it to Scott while we were dating telling him to 'read this book, it will change your life'. I know Anna Karenina is such a thick heavy book, taking up so much space, but it's one of my favourites and ONE DAY I'll get a chance to read it again, when kids are older and I have more spare time. And I've been meaning to read Angela's Ashes and The English for ages and don't want to get rid of them before I've had a chance to.

And these are just the problems I've encountered on one single shelf. I have about twenty more shelves to go.

It feels like saying goodbye to yet even more friends to say goodbye to these books. I've got more than enough sad goodbyes to deal with, without adding these long-time companions to the box.

Reading To Children (And Reading For Grown-Ups)

I have always enjoyed reading. Since I learned to sound words out, I've been reading and writing. I don't know if it has always just been natural to me, or if someone instilled the love of books in me.

My big brother, Danny, introduced me to The Babysitters Club books when I was quite young. (Sorry, Danny, for outing you on that one!) I remember poring over them, flying through book after book, at least as early as third grade (that must be aged... eight?), if not before. I just loved reading.

Scott was a big reader too. Scott was reading The Lord of the Rings in Primary 5, along with 'Choose Your Own Adventure' books and lots and lots of sci-fi. His dad was very good at passing him books to read beyond his 'normal' age bracket.

Reading is something Scott and I are desperate to pass on to our own kids. We want them to love books the way we love them. Fiona, who reads and writes solely in Gaelic at school, is about to move into an English classroom in her new school in Arkansas, where I worry all the kids will be reading and writing in English much more fluently than she currently can. She has a summer reading list for her new school, with the likes of Dr Suess, AA Milne, and Beatrix Potter, so today I got out Dr Suess's ABC: The Amazing Alphabet Book for her to work through. It thrills me to see how keen she is to read and how hard she works to figure out words. She gets frustrated at times because she can't read fluently, but she is eager to figure it out.

Despite the bilingual issues she has with still trying to implement Gaelic blends into English words and not recognising English blends, she is still doing a really amazing job learning to read English. Tonight, she read their first bedtime story, Where's My Teddy?, with very little help. Then I read a few chapters of Matilda to them.

Is this the way to get kids to learn to love books? I hope so. I know a lot of parents are better than we are at bedtime stories and reading to their kids, but I really do struggle with finding the time and patience amongst all the housework, cooking, and daily stress of life to sit down and read a lot with them. Yet I think it's one of the most important things we can do with our kids, one of the best gifts we can give them. Over the past week, I've been making the effort of reading for a good half an hour at night time to get the girls ready for bed. It sounds easy enough, but after spending all day long with children, by bedtime, I am desperate for some peace and quiet time, all to myself. At about 7pm, I start to lose all patience for small people and really need a break. But I've been finding that (as long as Isla is behaving) this half hour of sitting quietly on their bed reading to the girls has been really good for us. Scott's been doing Cailean's bedtime, which means I have time for uninterrupted Fiona-and-Isla time. It's been good for our relationship, and it's been good for our quality reading time. We recently pushed back their bedtime an hour, which is tiring in one way but has helped a lot in another. Now, while we must endure an extra hour of noise and madness (at a time of evening when both of us are really finding our patience wearing thin), we are getting much better compliance at actually getting them to go to sleep. It's now at this later bedtime that I've been sitting with them and reading, and now that they've had an extra hour of energy-release, they seem to be much more relaxed and willing to sit still for stories.

(Scott used to be the Bedtime Parent when Cailean was smaller and needed me most of the time. Scott used to make up stories for them every night, and the girls loved 'Daddy Stories', which usually involved two princesses coincidentally named Fiona and Isla, and often included some unicorns, fairies and talking woodland creatures. I loved this too, as I'd love for the kids to develop wild enough imaginations to become writers as well as readers!)

As for me, I'm currently working my way through the Harry Potter series (about ten years behind everyone else), as they are easy to read, fun, and light, which is just the kind of books I need right now, when everything else in my life feels so heavy and intense. Thus one of my main reasons for loving books so much; I love the escapism of some and the solidarity of others. Some books take you away from your world, and others draw you deeper into your own.

Which reminds me, I've been doing a 'Book a Month' book review here on the blog, and need to write about the last 'proper' book (nae offense, JK Rowling) I read, my March (and part of April) book, Silence by Shusaku Endo. However, I first need to check with my online book club to make sure everyone has finished it before reviewing it!

And that review will be tough... Silence was *definitely* a book that dragged me deeper into my own world, and it won't be easy to write about! It would be much easier to review Harry Potter, that's for certain!

Friday Friendships

This morning was wonderful.

My friends from my Friday morning TinyTalk class invited me around 'to make tea for me for a change' (because during TinyTalk classes, wherever in the country you attend them, the teacher - in this instance, me - will offer you a cuppa tea and a biscuit of some sort), and when I arrived, I didn't even notice the table with the 'Good Luck' banner and helium balloon in the middle of the room. It took me about fifteen minutes after arriving to realise they had organised a leaving party for me. I was so touched!

It was really great to see everyone and let my kids (both the biological and 9-5ers) play with all the other kids, while I was offered a cup of tea and a cake myself. Several of the girls have babies nearly the same age as Cailean, and it was amazing to see how much they've grown in just the few weeks since our last class together.

After the tea was served, they brought out a plate with two cupcakes and two fountain candles 'for all the birthday candles I lit for them' (and all the embarrassing Happy Birthday songs I sang to the mums, let alone the babies!). It was so sweet, and by that point, my eyes were welling over. Just when I thought that was it, they gave me gifts too! The girls had gotten me a handmade lavender bag with a Scotty dog applique on it and a hand-crafted wrist cuff. And they all signed a card.

The card.

I should've waited until I got home to read it, but I read it there, and once again, it had me in tears. Not only had those present at the party signed it, they'd gotten a few people from the class who weren't there to sign it too. The sentiments inside were so kind and heart-warming. I felt so loved.

I have made such a lovely bunch of friends from that group, people I will miss and never forget. My heart is truly heavy today with the thought of moving and leaving them.

Thank you, Kate, Susan, Ruth, Lynn, Morag, Zara and Elspeth (and Debbie and Yvonne, in absentia), for such a meaningful and thoughtful send-off. We really need to make sure we meet up again before June (and before our family's official leaving do' on 31st of May - hear that everyone? Mark that in your calendars, and more details coming soon.)

Now. Enough, Lori, with the tears. As Susan has said on Facebook: "No more tears just big smiles x" Yes, good advice. I have many exciting new adventures coming.

I love you girls, and thank you.

April Showers Bring More May Showers

It's the second of May.. and it feels like February. Did you know that traditionally, 1 May was considered the first day of summer? (The summer solstice in June being 'midsummer'.) And in Iceland, they celebrate the First Day of Summer on the first Thursday after 18 April?

And here we are, into May already, and the trees are only just starting to bud, and the lambs have only just been born. This is ridiculous.

And as always here in 'Grianaig' (the Gaelic for Greenock means 'sunny', half-hearted LOL), tha i fluich agus fuar agus glas (it's wet and cold and grey). (Why I suddenly felt like speaking Gaelic is beyond me.)

This isn't supposed to be just Spring. This should be approaching summer. So why are we all still in heavy coats, boots and, if we can bear the thought, woolly hats?? The temperature in my car today read 9.5C all day long. (That's 49F in people terms.) Yo! Weather! It's MAY, dude!

Well, complaining about it won't make it any better. And looking on the bright side - literally - in about five weeks, we'll be in Arkansas, sweating like an agateophobiac in a coalition government. Then, maybe then, we'll look back on these times in Scotland with endearment.

Or maybe not. Probably as long as we have air conditioning and a vat of ice, we'll be all right.

Happy May, Scotland. I'm off to turn the heat up higher and pull on a second pair of Long Johns.

So Long, Farewell, Chewbacca

It's been an emotional day.

Well, the emotions started running a bit high yesterday when we watched Fiona's black wrought-iron daybed leave the house after being sold. I loved that bed. I bought it when Fiona was two years old, because it wasn't babyish, and she'd be able to keep it well into her teen years. To see it go was like watching another little opening in our lives here in Scotland close up.

Then today we said goodbye to Chewbacca.

Chewbacca is our pet rabbit. Or shall I say, was. He is a sooty fawn mini lop and one of the grumpiest animals I've ever come to know (and love). Still, I've enjoyed watching Chewy skip and hop around the living room for the past two years and have felt very honoured on the few occasions he's actually approached me for some pats and attention.

Today, my dear friend Sheila (and Isla's dear friend Eden) along with Eden's dad and two brothers, became Chewy's new family. Sheila and her husband Francis came over this afternoon and took the large two-story hutch, the box of food/hay/treats, and our little Chewbacca home with them.

It was emotional enough for me, but oh, when the kids got home...

They knew Chewy was moving in with Eden's family, but I'd forgotten to mention this morning that he was leaving today. The girls came in from school and upon seeing the missing hutch both burst into hysterical tears. I had the hardest time consoling them, for I too was feeling upset. Isla kept crying, "I don't want to leave Scotland! I want to stay here forever and get Chewy back!" I just held her in my lap (which proved difficult as jealousy took over Cailean and he wouldn't stop trying to push her out of the way to get in my lap too) and rocked her and let her get out all her sadness. After a while, I gently asked her, "Are you not wanting a pool in your garden then?" and she dried her eyes and said, "Okay." "And sunshine?" She smiled. And the two girls seemed to be back on the mend.

I spent the rest of the day today (my day off, I'll add) clearing out their dresser drawers and wardrobe, my dresser drawers and Cailean's dresser drawers. It feels so close now, so real, that in just over a month, we will be leaving this house and this place behind.

My head is throbbing. I feel overwhelmed, cranky, tired and sad. I know there is much to look forward to, but on days like this, everything just gets on top of me. Add to my day the fact that the car was in the garage, costing us a neat little sum of money, right before we are looking to sell it, and then that Isla decided to foolishly stick her newly bandaged finger into Cailean's bathwater, necessitating an emergency trip back to the A&E again for a new dressing (wasting precious hours of clearing out time), and I just feel wiped out. I'm only blogging now instead of folding the immense pile of clothes on the couch, because I promised myself I would attempt another Blog Challenge, this time a 'Blog Every Day in May' one.

The topic for today's challenge was '5 Lines'. I'm supposed to sum myself up in five lines and include a photo. So let's see if I can do it.

In 5 Lines
I am a mother, a wife, and a friend.
I lived in the US then Scotland, and soon back again.
I love to write and draw and make;
I love to read and sing and bake.
I'm scattered as can be, which drives me (and Scott) around the bend.

Hospitals, Singing Austrians and the Spiritual Upbringing of Little Children

So, what have we been up to this week, you ask? (No, really, you asked. Just... you asked, okay?)

Well, this week can be divided into three parts.

PART ONE: HOSPITALS

Well, for starters, we spent Monday through Wednesday in hospitals with Isla. Hmm, how do I go into this story with the best impact?

Isla severed her finger in a door and had to have it sewn back on.

Yeah, that sounds like a good way of starting.

Isla got her finger shut in a door. I assumed at first it would just be a little sore, a little bruised... until I looked at it. People with weak stomachs, stop reading now. The end of her right ring finger was pretty much dangling off, with the bone protruding out the end and the finger and nail just sort of hanging there. Needless to say, there was a lot of blood too. And screaming.

Isla chuffed with her special sticker and bandage

I rushed her to Accident & Emergency, where they took her right away. Without even looking at the hand wrapped in a blood-stained kitchen towel, they weighed her and administered painkillers. I sat with her in my lap, singing whatever soothing songs could come to my head ("Mairzy dotes and dozy dotes and liddle lamsey divey...") , for what felt like ages. I kept asking when they were going to DO SOMETHING, but they said they really needed to wait until the painkillers kicked in before anything else. They all seemed so calm, like this was normal. (I guess to an A&E, it is.) Finally, the doctor unwrapped her cloth, bandaged up her hand, and sent us for an x ray. The x ray, thank God, came back clear, no broken bone. They then cleaned her up, put on another bandage, and delivered the bomb.

She would need to go the children's hospital in Glasgow to get the finger surgically stitched back up. And she would have to go under general anaesthetic to do it. And she'd have to wait until the following morning (this was around 4-5pm on Monday evening).

So we took our little girl, now feeling quite pleased with all the attention she was getting, home for a nerve-wracking night.

Early Tuesday morning, Scott and I drove Isla (with Cailean in tow), up to Yorkhill Children's Hospital. Because she was getting a general anaesthetic, she had to fast. She was a good sport about not getting breakfast. They quickly got a bed for her, and she had fun playing in the play room for a while. But as the hours passed, and she still didn't have a theatre slot for surgery, she started to complain about being hungry. She didn't complain much; she was actually an incredibly good sport, but I felt for her.

At about 2pm, they got her ready to go into theatre. Scott took Cailean home, since Scott had a doctor's appointment booked and there was nothing we could do at that point anyway, and I took Isla to the theatre ward. I held her hand while they gave her the gas to put her to sleep (the "sleeping potion", we called it) and then played the waiting game outside for about an hour and a half.  At least I got some of my Harry Potter reading done.

Groggy but cheerful

When she came back up to the ward, her entire arm was in a bandage, and she was still asleep. I kissed her, stroked her hair and waited for another hour or so for her to wake. When she did, she quietly looked around the ward and said, "We're back...?"

Scott and Cailean returned around that point. The nurses told us as long as she was able to eat and drink all right, she could go home after four hours. At this point, that made leaving time 8.30pm. She'd also been without food for nearly 23 hours. She had some juice and toast.

Then she threw it up. Three times.

So we got dropped another bomb; she'd have to stay in overnight.

Obviously, this was not what we expected. In fact, we expected to have been long gone by then. We thought she'd get her operation before noon, and be home in time to pick up Fiona from school. We had no change of clothes for her, nothing. Scott and I both had work the next morning. I couldn't stay over night because of Cailean. So in the end, Scott got to be Super Dad and stay in the hospital over night with her, sleeping in a little fold out cot in a busy, sad, sick children's ward, and I went home in tears, missing and worrying about my baby, to collapse in bed with Cailean.

Oh and Fiona. We'll get to her in a moment.

The next morning at about 8, the doctors said she was free to go home once the nurses finished the paperwork, so Scott called to say I should come up after the school run. Knowing how these things take ages, I took my time getting up to the hospital, and arrived after 10. The paperwork was done, but someone still needed to take the IV out of the back of her hand.

Two hours later, we finally got the IV out and headed home.

Isla's operation went well. The bone, as I said, was unharmed, and luckily, the tendon was in tact. The only lasting issues may be some nerve damage and a slightly deformed fingernail. It could have been so much worse, and we are so thankful she is okay. We know we had lots of people praying for her, so thank you!

PART TWO: SINGING AUSTRIANS

Uncle Max kissing Gretl's hurt 'fingah'.

So meanwhile, as all this was going on, Fiona was having dress rehearsals for The Sound of Music, in which she is playing the part of Gretl von Trapp. She has been rehearsing since January for this, and last night (Wednesday) was Opening Night. Sunday, Monday and Tuesday were all rehearsal nights, so Monday and Tuesday were a bit, oh, shall I say, hectic? Especially Tuesday. Luckily, I've got great friends who have helped us out so much this week (and great families for whom I childmind, who arranged alternate care on Tuesday so I could be at the hospital with Isla). Sheila, Robyn, and Lee all helped out with childcare and getting Fiona and Cailean to and fro as all this was going on. It's wonderful having friends who are there to help at the drop of a hat, and I am so thankful for all of them (including all of the friends who offered their help, like Catriona, Laura, and the list goes on and on). And oh, I'd be incredibly remiss not to mention family; Scott's mum and dad went so out of their way this week to make everything work out smoothly - thank you so much to you too!

Okay, anyway, back to Fiona's debut.

Little Actress

Last night was Opening Night. I dropped her off at the theatre at 6.30pm, and took my seat in the house at 7. A huge group of staff from her school were there last night, including her two teachers, Mrs MacLeod and Mrs Bannerman, and the Head Teacher, Mrs Ruddy. Also there were friends from the Parish Players, Pauline, Malcolm, Natalie and Arthur. Fiona had a good turn out of 'fans' (as she referred to them) last night.

And folks, let me just tell you, she was superb.

Okay, yeah, she's my daughter, so I might be a little biased, but seriously, she was so good! And the rest of the cast were amazing too. All the von Trapp kids were excellent, Maria was excellent, and the Captain was excellent. The nuns were excellent. Uncle Max was excellent. The Mother Abbess was excellent.  It was just fab all around. More than once, I had to wipe away a little tear!

She still has two more performances, tomorrow night and Saturday afternoon. There are two casts of children, and the other children are on tonight and Saturday night. I really want to see them, too, as they are all really amazing also. I just can't believe the amount of talent these kids all have!

But, as if hospital trips and musical performances weren't enough happening this week...

PART THREE: THE SPIRITUAL UPBRINGING OF LITTLE CHILDREN

Barefoot in the sunshine

This Sunday is Cailean's Dedication at church. It's similar to a Christening, without the Baptism. (Scott doesn't agree with infant baptism.) It's basically just a committment to raise our children in the Christian faith, kind of how Hannah dedicated Samuel to God's work, without the leaving him to live in a temple thing.

With our moving date growing closer, and Fiona's musical, and then Isla's accident on top of all that, I've hardly had a moment to even think about Cailean's dedication. It's not going to be a big, elaborate ceremony or anything, but I feel badly for not having at least planned something special for it. I have ordered a big cake, which is at least something. And he's got a kilt to wear, which he better not poo all over right before church, so at least the photos will be cute. But that's about the extent of the planning for that.

Incidentally, anyone who wants to come along to the church on Sunday to see him get dedicated, you are welcome! (That is, assuming I know you in real life and you aren't some weird, creepy internet stalker.) I'll give you details if you ask. (Don't want to leave the details here for all the weird, creepy internet stalkers I apparently think I have.)

By Sunday afternoon, ya'll, I might just collapse. Until Monday when the work week starts all back up again.

And that's what I've been up to this week.  Phew!

Conflicts of Feeling

I just needed an image... & I'll miss this bread.

The countdown is on. It is really truly on.

Sad as it is that we will be leaving the country in about seven weeks exactly, it is finally getting to the exciting stage. And the OH MY GOSH THIS IS FOR REAL stage. And the HOW AM I GOING TO GET EVERYTHING DONE?? stage.

There are so many mundane things to take care of. We need to cancel utility services (gas, electricity, internet). We need to pack what we are keeping, sell what we can, and dump all the rest. How?! I am starting to collect boxes, pack suitcases (and I need to get my hands on more suitcases, as we don't have enough!), and throw away junk. Scott has been watching plane tickets. We are now simply waiting on the Embassy to send us Scott's interview date. We are so close.

It's overwhelming.

The kids are doing great with it. They are excited about America and are coping okay with seeing stuff get sold out from under them, but there are still heartbreaking moments. As I tried to help them this morning clear out some stuff from their room, Fiona spotted some teeny tiny Happy Meal kind of toy, and as I started to put it in the trash bag, she flipped. 'I LOVE THAT! IT IS MY FAVOURITE TOY! YOU ARE TAKING AWAY EVERYTHING I LOOOOOOVE!!!' she wailed. It was a stupid toy I've never even seen before. So I let her keep it, and she spent the rest of the day fondling it, playing with it, and loving on it. It breaks my heart to be doing this to them, even though I know it's going to be a great experience for them. I just hate that they can't have it all: their toys, their Scottish family, their school, their friends AND America too.

I myself have come to terms quite well with a lot of my feelings regarding moving. I am feeling a freedom in handing over my belongings, whether it be to friends or to the bin. Part of me is excited about owning extremely little and letting go of my material things. The hard part will be fighting that urge to refill my life with more pointless things when I re-establish myself in our new home. Like losing weight quickly, I'll have to be careful not to pile it all back on. But I'm excited and feel liberated in this.

Saying that, Scott and I both felt a pang when Fiona's toy kitchen sold today... She got that for her first Christmas. Scott spent the whole day building it for her after she opened the box on Christmas morning. It kind of has some memories attached to it there, which is a bit sore.

I'll miss this more.

Next week, or thereabouts, we will be saying goodbye to Chewbacca, our rabbit. That's going to be a sore one on all of us; I think even Scott might miss the wee bugger just a little bit. Luckily, he is going to a great home, where we will be able to visit him several times before we actually move away, hopefully making the transition easier on us, Isla especially. Isla loves that rabbit so much. It's going to hurt me seeing her say goodbye to him more than it will hurt saying goodbye to him myself. These are the swings and roundabouts of moving.

I'm looking forward to the move now. My little trip over last week made such a difference in my heart. I'm an emotional person, and while I'm also rational, it's hard for me to get behind something I don't feel anything for along with the rational decision-making part of me. Rationally, we decided to move to the States but emotionally I wanted to stay here. Thankfully now though, after spending time with my brothers and their families, and my Dad and Denise, and my Mom and David, and the rest of my family, and my dear friend Devon, I am so looking forward to being over there with them. And after enjoying the wonderful weather, including an exciting thunderstorm, I am really looking forward to this. It's helped me feel emotionally compelled to do this, rather than solely intellectually.

But still, it all swings back to... goodbye to my mother- and father-in-law, who in reality are now closer to me than my own biological family, goodbye to my sister- and brother-in-law and nephew, goodbye to my dear wonderful friends, too numerous to name (but it is too hard to say goodbye to you, Maria, Heather, Carol, oh the list goes on...), goodbye to the Gaelic unit and the excellent teachers I have so much respect for, goodbye to this new church that I have so quickly found a home in (thanks to you wonderful women, Sheila and Robyn)... it's too much, too much.

I'm glad this move is only seven weeks away. I need these conflicting feelings to culminate, erupt, boil over and start to cool. I need this in-between time to end.

But I must end on a happy note. I am going to be so happy once we are settled into our new lives. Fiona is going to a great school. We are going to make great new friends in Northwest Arkansas. I will be only a few hours away from my family instead of a few days. We will be closer to Scott's brother's family. Scott is going to have a new job. I am going to decorate a new house. We are going to play outside in the sun and watch thrilling thunderstorms out our windows. I'm going to have ceiling fans.

It's going to be good.



*I just really want to add that I drew the images above, and I'm pure proud of them. :)