Snow and Other Pishy Weather

We have been here for four months already!  It doesn't seem possible.  Tonight, I want to write about the weather, since it seems a fitting topic this time of year. 

It appears that the Scottish love to complain about the weather.  That goes for people who aren't native Scottish, but who have lived here long enough to have inherited the complaining gene.  Even when it's sunny, they will do a preemptive complain about the rain that is forcasted to arrive next week.  When they hear I'm new to the country, I can pretty much quote them verbatim:  "So, how are you handling this weather?" 

What they fail to understand completely is that they are complaining to a northeast-Ohioian.  There is no winter weather that I haven't watched from my window, walked through, or driven in.  Cleveland averages 160 cm per winter of snow, and I would say there is more where we lived.  Here is some evidence of what I have endured:

Okay, so now you understand a bit better.  The house on right was ours, buried in snow.  The benefit of living in Scotland is that instead of seeing one of the images above for four months, you get to see this:

Now, okay, I know it's not always this idyllic, but having mountains and castles surrounding you does tend to spruce up the landscape.

And when they're not complaining about the two inches of snow, they are moaning about the rain.  I do see now that it can get pretty miserable weather-wise, but it appears that people here have built an entire identity around it. 

What many Scottish seem to forget is how incredibly beautiful their country is.  It is.  It's stunning.  I try to tell them this in between the "it'll pish down rain for days on end" and "you should have seen the amount of snow we had last year."  Sometimes people will listen.  I got my painter reminiscing about boyhood days and working at Stirling Castle as a teen.  I try to remind them, and sometimes they remember.  Of course, I know how easy it is to take things for granted, but perhaps having a newcomer looking with fresh eyes will help them to see what they have.   

And what I see is this:  every day it looks different here.  On rainy days, the mountains can be barely visible, covered at the top with clouds and fog.  It can look downright eerie.  Other days, the mountains are covered with snow, which makes them look completely different and gives them a definition that the green cannot.  The snow here tends to perch on the branches of the trees, giving them a celestial, icy appearance.  They look delicate and breakable.  Some days, I mistake the low-hanging clouds for the mountains, and realize that the beauty is in the fact that it's impossible to distinguish which is which. 

It is stunningly gorgeous here in any weather.

I will give the Scottish this, though....I've driven in a lot of winter conditions, and nothing's worse than driving when it's icy.  Scotland appears to get snow, then freezing rain a lot.  I watched out my window recently and happened to see a driver on my street slide right up onto the sidewalk.  There's a lot of black ice here, and that's never good.  But for goodness sake, brighten up, people!  It could be worse!  You could live in northeast Ohio.  Weather is just weather.  Enjoy what you have:  beautiful, bonny Scotland.

Settling In

Now that we are in our new hoose (I did that on purpose), life is beginning to settle.  The boxes are almost all unpacked, and it's beginning to look like we live here, not like we're staying for a few weeks.

Moving in was incredibly hectic.  The day the movers arrived was one I won't be forgetting soon.  The boxes just kept coming in....and coming in.  Since we had a finished basement in Madison, and since there are no basements in Scotland, I obviously hadn't accounted for the serious lack of space here.  By about four o'clock, the boxes were piled to the ceiling, the furniture was crammed in, and I was seriously sweating it.  The last straw was when they lugged in a huge armoire that I used down in our basement for a television.  "Where should we put this?" they asked, and we all couldn't help but laughing (me...I felt like crying, but I laughed instead).  At that point, I did the only thing I could do:  I started giving things away.  Lucky for me, one of the movers had just bought a new place and needed furniture.  I gave him a lot.  I even found out that he had a daughter and started giving him toys, too, whether he wanted them or not.

Of course, this got me thinking about "stuff".  I thought I'd done a fairly decent job before we left of purging a LOT of stuff.  What would I have done if I hadn't?  I wouldn't have been able to fit it all in here.  I also noticed how many things I've been lugging around with me since god-knows-when, like certain books.  My college yearbook weighs a ton, and I've been moving that damn thing around with me since I was 22.  I looked at it again and realized that out of 2,000 pages, I was on ONE of them.  A tiny little picture of me, and not even a good one. 

I brought over a roll-top desk that my parents got me for Christmas when I was a little girl.  I love the desk, but when it came in the house, I was cursing myself over and over for not bringing it to my parent's garage loft before I left.  Now I have this desk....and no where to put it.  Two rocking chairs....do I really need two rocking chairs?  Do we really need all those pillows?  How did we get so many shoes?  And the toys....my GOD, the toys.  My kids barely even touch them.  I'm not sure that Christmas shopping for the girls is going to hold the same appeal for me this year. 

So I gave a lot to charity, and will probably continue doing so with all these little things that I can barely stand to look at any more.  The buck stops here, after all.

Another shocker is the amount of work we'll have to do to the house.  Our last house was built just for us, so we didn't have to contend with holes in walls, bad paint jobs, and broken-down appliances.  I forgot just how lazy people can be when it comes to taking care of their houses, and especially with doing jobs around the house.  In the laundry room, there are two shelves on adjacent walls that were drilled in at completely different heights.  Now really....come on.

My favorite room in our new house, however, is the sun room (or the conservatory).  Windows from wall to ceiling, bright, beautiful.  It looks out onto our little backyard (sorry, "garden") and all the trees behind it.  I love to have my cup of tea out there in the morning.  My second favorite room is the guest bedroom, because now that my mom is back home, I can slip out of our bed when David is snoring and slip right into peace and quiet.  Ahhhhhh.

I am enjoying the new and making this house ours.  Eventually....gradually.....settling in.

Merging In

I have decided that moving to a new country and setting up your life is like merging into traffic on a highway.  It's already flowing without you.  You just get on the sliproad, step on the gas, hope that they move over and make room for you, and start driving. 

Life is going on all over the world, with or without me.  People are living their lives, experiencing what they are meant to do.  I am doing the same.

I haven't made any friends here yet, but I'm not worried.  When I am meant to meet someone I can have a deeper connection with, I'll meet her.  In fact, I have quite enjoyed my time alone.  Many days I take the girls to a soft play area, toting my ipad along with me.  They play, have a blast, and I get a cup of tea and read my books.  I have finished so many books since I've moved here, and as of now, I consider them to be my friends....my company.  Well, the books and my girls.

My girls and I are closer than we've ever been.  I am more in tune with them now, and I feel like I understand them better.  That's because we spend every day together and don't have many distractions.  I am stressed out less here.  I'm not sure why, but I am.  I like walking to the store for milk and bread, my girls tagging along beside me.  Cameron got a bike for her birthday, and we like riding it around town, Madison and I in tow. 

We love going for walks in nature, and that is a completely new discovery for me.  I never knew I loved walking and enjoying the outdoors so much, and the one I thought would enjoy it the least (Cameron) is the one who gets down-and-dirty the most (I love that she surprised me on that one).  We gear-up with our wallies, coats and hats, and we set off onto the trails, picking blackberries, splashing through mud puddles, and pretending to fish.  I pack picnics and we sit in fields overlooking the mountains and eat together.  I love them so much during those moments, and can appreciate them for the beautiful children they are.

I enjoy observing life around me and people-watching.  I like seeing how life is different here and how it's the same.  I realize, when we can go to the store and buy ipads, microwaves and blenders, that culturally, life is very similiar here to American life.  However, the pace of life, the people, the landscape....all very different. 

I can also appreciate how quickly humans adapt to change.  Just a few weeks ago, I was struggling with driving, with finding the grocery store.  Now, I not only know where the stores are, but I can manuever in and out of those tiny parking spaces with a confidence I didn't know I possessed.  When I get gun-shy about pulling out of an especially cramped space, I can actually hear myself saying, "Just do it, Trisha!"  It's quite cool.

So, I'm learning.  I'm watching.  I'm especially watching myself adjust to this place, and am in awe of how quickly and easily it's come to me.  It's like I was meant to be here, and when I go inside myself and look honestly, it seems that I've known all along how much I would love it.  And every time I merge onto that highway, stick shift in my left hand, I am reminded of how grateful I am that I've had the opportunity to join life here, in Scotland.

Just in case any of you are planning a visit to bonnie Scotland, I feel that it is my duty to prepare you.  When you are sitting in a pub in Edinburgh, drink a few pints, and feel like striking up a conversation with the natives, you'll be able to keep up with the best of them!  You can thank me later :-)

Slang
bairn/waine:  kids/baby
peelie wallie:  pale-looking ("The waine looks pellie wallie today.")
groceries:  messages
day care/babysitter:  creiche (pronounced "cra-sh" with a long a)
boot:  trunk of a car, or a bitchy woman
ken/I dunnie ken:  know, or I don't know ("I dunnie ken how she gets up so early.")
how?:  why?  ("How no?")
aye, right then:  not likely
blather (with a long a):  gossip ("That yin likes a blather, does she no?")
salad dodger/coffin dodger:  fat person/old person
auld yin:  old person
cheeky:  someone with a smart mouth (used to describe sassy children a lot).  Also used to describe someone with balls ("She had the cheek to charge me five pound!").
pished:  drunk
wallies:  you MUST own wallies to reside in Scotland.  They are the heavy, plastic boots you'll see everyone here wearing in the rain.  There are songs written about these ("If I didn't have my wallies, where would I be?  I'd be in the hospital or the infirmary")!  My girls are already suited up.  Pronounced with a long a.
mokit:  gross
boggin':  same as above
yooz:  short for "you all".  "How're yooz doin'?"
cheers:  bye or thank you.  Most people say this instead of goodbye on the phone.  You'll also hear it when you pay for something ("Cheers, thanks"), along with "lovely" ("Just punch your pin number in....lovely, thanks.")
shite:  shit
greet:  cry ("Trisha, the bairn's greetin'!")
hen:  an affection term that older women use ("Would you like some tea, hen?").  David warned me before I met his mother the first time that she would call me hen, and not to be alarmed.
howfin':  stinking
dreich:  pronounced with a long e, with the "ch" sounding like you're coughing up phlegm.  A lovely word used to perfectly sum up a rainy, gray Scottish day.
jag:  anything sharp.  It can describe a shot from the doctor, or something in your shoe that's poking you, in which case it would be "jaggy".
keech:  again, the "ch" should be said like you're coughing something up.  This word means rubbish, shit, garbage, and is very commonly used.  In fact, I turned a certain program on recently, and my daughter declared it "keech".
lorry:  semi truck
maddy:  to take a huff, or throw a tantrum.  This is not why we named our daughter Maddie, but the similarities are eerie ("She threw a right good maddy").
crabbit:  grouchy ("He's a crabbit bugger").

Good things (words to describe things that are good in life)
belter ("That lassie's a right wee belter!")
brilliant/pure dead brilliant
galto
berries ("That film was the berries, man.")
crackin' ("We looked at a crackin' hoose today.")
ya beauty:  this is what David's mom shouts when her football teams scores a goal...."Get on, ya beaut-ay!"  In this case, beauty is pronounced with a long a sound at the end.  Say it out loud now....it works, and it's fun.

Beer (yes, there is a whole vocabulary just to describe beer)
swiftie
pint
bellywasher
frothy fella

Words and phrases for sex: (turn your eyes away, those easily offended!)
shaggin'
ride ("She was a right good ride, that 'yin")
ball deep in the pipe (need I explain this one?)
gettin your nat king
hose
get yer hole

Words for female genitalia
fanny
fud
wee man in the boat
meat curtains
flange
fantan
axe wound

General insults
daftie:  dummie
pelter
roaster
ned
wanker
cunt (I know that's bad in America, but it's used quite commonly here)
tit
clown
radge: somone crazy (David uses this word a lot to describe our kids)
thrawn:  someone who is really stubborn (again used to describe our kids...."She's thrawn, that 'yin.")
bam pot: silly person
cow
muppet (I heard this one today while driving with my friend.  She got upset at a truck that cut her off in traffic and yelled, "Yae daft muppet!" Nice.)
foosh toosh:  not sure.  It's just not nice.

Everyday words
oot:  out
doon:  down
broon:  brown
toon:  town ("We're goin' oot to the toon to do some shoppin'.")
heed:  head

Okay, that should get you started at least.  If all else fails, start watching the great Scottish comedy "Chewin' the Fat" and that will get you right intae it!  Here's a clip for you.  Or you could always just come to Scotland and stay with the Lawries!  Cheers!

The Old and the Beautiful

Sometimes I forget how far away I am from where I came.  I'll be thinking about something else, and then suddenly, "Oh, my God!  I'm in Scotland!"  It's strange how that happens.  Normally, though, all I have to do is look up at the mountains.  That reminds me not only of where I came from, but where I am. 

I love the mountains here.  When I lived in Seattle, that was my favorite thing about that city.  Many details about living there have faded from my memory, but one that never will is riding the bus into the city as the sun was coming up through the mountains.  I don't miss how flat Ohio is.  Being surrounded by such a beautiful landscape makes every day more interesting. 

I also love driving around and seeing castles, ruins, and old buildings.  For those that have lived here their entire lives, such things are commonplace and probably quite boring.  For those of us that haven't, these extraordinary buildings are awe-inspiring, and I still have a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that these places are everywhere.

Just down the road from us are the well-in-tact remains of the Cambuskenneth Abbey, founded in 1140 (that's right, I said 1140....).

Anywhere we go, we can see two beautiful buildings:  the Wallace Monument, and Stirling Castle, perched high atop the Ochils.

The Wallace Monument is quite young by Scottish standards....only 150 years old.  Stirling Castle, however, dates back to 1124, and was the site of many famous battles.

Walking down from the castle is an adventure in itself.  That area is Stirling Old Town, with the Holy Rude Church dating back to the 12th century, an old schoolhouse dating back to 1593, and many other fascinating places.   

This is what makes living here so special for me.  It feels like I belong where old things are.  Walking through these places stirs something deep in my soul that has longed to be fed.  Standing atop Stirling Castle recently, I read a sign that said it was the exact spot where the queen went to look at the views.  There was something magical about standing there....something that makes me feel part of a larger whole.  I wonder, what was it like to live then? 

I really love it here.  It is so beautiful, so dramatic, so lovely.  The only time I have felt a pang of sadness is when I saw a woman with young children out playing, and her mother was along to help.  Another small pang watching two women chatting over tea while their kids played together.  I do miss my friends and my family, but do I regret coming here?  Never.    

Driving Adventures

I know how difficult change is. Every time life changes, especially in a major way, something inside must shift to make room for the new. If nothing shifts, then new changes are experienced in old ways. Pushing myself to be uncomfortable for a while, to do things that are hard, is important to me.  Driving in Scotland was one of those hard things.

There was no avoiding learning to drive.  I did, however, enjoy the safety of sitting in the passenger's seat with David driving for the first four or five days.  He kept asking if I wanted to take the wheel, but I made excuses (the main excuse being that I needed some time to simply observe and get a feel for the rules of the road).  Eventually, especially with him back to work so soon, I had to get tough and do it.

My first real driving experience was testing out cars.  I was scared, but the universe provides.  The saleswoman at our first stop (Toyota) was about the sweestest person I could have encountered, and not only was she understanding, but she took me to a nice, deserted area where I could comfortably test drive the car.  By the end of the day, I took a Ford Fiesta out onto a busy road, and although my hands ached from clutching the wheel, I made it back to the dealership in one piece.  Aside from a small mishap involving a VW Polo and a curb, I didn't do too badly.

Wrapping my head around driving on the other side of the road physically made my brain hurt at first.  My biggest fear was having the girls in the car and experiencing a momentary lapse of judgement....would I pull out onto the wrong side, would I look the wrong way and not see an uncoming car?  What helped me the most was always remembering that I would be sitting closest to the middle of the road, no matter which way I turned. 

Having the stick shift in my left hand was also difficult at first, and I must admit to putting the car in reverse instead of second gear a few times (that grinding noise sure does wake you up).  By the way, people here think it's funny when you call it a "stick shift".   Saying it makes you reeeaaalllly American.

Most of all what strikes me about driving in Scotland is just how alert I need to be when driving (or even walking).  The streets are narrow and you are required to fit into and drive through spaces that would make most Americans sweat bullets.  You have to dodge cars, watch out for people (because people actually walk around here), and decide which exit you'll be taking on the roundabout before reaching it.  Add pouring rain to the equation and you'll surely understand why, on more than one occassion, I have broken down into sobbing tears after finding a spot to pull over.  "What's wrong, Mommy?"  I normally answer, "I'm okay, girls....Mommy's just getting used to driving around Scotland."  Luckily, my two biggest cheerleaders are in the back seat.  Whenever I get stressed and warn them that I might not find where we're going, I hear, "You can do it, Mom!"

So I know now why talking on a cell phone (okay..."mobile") while driving is illegal here, and why I may never drink another cup of tea in the car again.  There's simply too much going on between the figuring out and the shifting.  I'm just going to convince myself that cutting down on caffeine is a good thing.

And when all else fails, I remind myself that being uncomfortable sometimes is okay.  These are the experiences that will make me more open-minded, more understanding, and will teach me to be more patient and kind to myself....a quality that is sorely needed.  I hope to teach my girls to be independent and take chances.  I also want them to know that it's alright to cry, too.  This is what it's all about...the "down and dirty" of moving to a new place, a new country. 

Here's to shifting my car....and shifting my thinking!

Touch Down!

We touched down in Edinburgh at about 7:30 in the morning on Monday, August 15th (not a smooth landing, but we were all alive....what more could I ask for?).  We were home.  We got off the plane, Mommy a bit bleary-eyed and only slightly worse for the wear, and headed into immigration.  David and I crossed our fingers that my visa and the girl's passports would check out fine.  After a few minutes of questioning, we were wished good luck by the immigration officer, and were on our way.

We picked up our luggage and headed out.  In the Edinburgh aiport, there is a long, winding walkway that leads you to a large automatic sliding door, which is where you exit.  Since it took us a bit longer to get our bags, take the girls to the bathroom, fuss around, etc., we were one of the last from our plane to walk out.  Some people several hundred feet in front of us walked through the doors, and we got a peek at the people waiting outside.  What we saw was so wonderful.

We emerged through the doors to our waiting family, who were holding a sign that said "Welcome, American Lawries".  David's parents, his sister Pauline and her partner Scott, and our niece Larissa were waving Scottish flags and yelling lots of "hooray"s.  Amid goody bags for the girls, lots of hugs, and a few tears from me, we slowly moved toward the doors and out into the beautiful Scottish weather ("beautiful" and "Scottish weather" are normally two words that don't go together, but the day we arrived was gorgeous).  

It took a while, but we all managed to get our luggage and ourselves into two cars, and we were off.  We headed to my in-law's for some breakfast and possibly a rest.  I felt a strange mix of adrenaline and utter exhaustion that's difficult to explain.  Luckily the girls were doing fine in the back, and even managed to point out a few castles along the way (exciting to them only because they think Cinderella might live in one).

After some food and chat, I was ready to go and check out what would be our home for the next few months.  A quaint town with a beautiful main street, Bridge of Allan is a small neighborhood in the larger city of Stirling.  Our apartment is fully furnished, and although a bit cramped with only two bedrooms and not much space, we would make do.

We arrived and unpacked but decided not to sleep.  We would stay up and attempt to get the girls to bed at their normal time, if possible.  Our little troopers slept hard that first night, and neither woke up until about 10 am.  Unfortunately, David had to work the next day, so his Dad came by to take me to the grocery store and keep us company.

When everything is new....every street, every sign, each person....the world changes.  That's how it was for me those first few days.  It was like being reborn.  I was able to see the world with a child's eyes again, and I'm grateful that I was aware of such an awesome personal transformation.

Packing It Up

Just when I thought I was ready for Scotland, the movers came. 


They knocked on our door, inoccently introduced themselves, and then wreaked havoc upon my life. 


Within an hour, I was having trouble finding things I still needed.  These people were packing machines. I realized quickly that I should have set up a designated area of items that would be "off limits" for the movers....things like tea bags, my phone charger, and a few extra pair of underpants.  By the end of the day, I was opening empty drawers and seriously stressing.  Twice I had to have them open taped boxes. 

The first day was a complete shock, so the second day wasn't nearly as bad.  They came in and wrapped up every piece of furniture we owned.  On the third day, they loaded up a huge semi, and by two o'clock, that was it.  The house was empty.  Just like that.

David was at work and the girls were with my parents, so walking through the house for the last time was strange.  Once I confirmed that everything was out, I signed off, and the found myself standing in the kitchen in the quiet.....alone in the house on Kensington Court.

David and I built the house in 2006, when we were first married.  We chose everything together, and for those of you who have built a house, you understand that includes everything from the light fixtures to the color of the tiles on the roof.  Building a house is a process of love and labor, and making it into your home is the best part.

I went upstairs to Cameron's room and recalled standing there during construction, six years prior, engaged and soon to be married, knowing for certain that I would be looking out those windows some day with a baby in my arms.  I walked down to our bedroom and remembered the magic of birthing Madison in that room, and the love that filled it that beautiful evening.  I peeked into the nursery and recalled the hours rocking my children until they slept, holding them close in my arms.  In the living room, I could picture both my girls learning to walk, David and I cheering them on as they teetered for balance.  Down the basement, I sat and took in the marks we made on the wood by the door, preserving forever how our kids had grown in the past four years.  I stood in the kitchen and could almost hear the laughter of Cameron and Madison.

I walked over to one of the built-in bookshelves and saw two scratches in the wood.  I remembered how angry I was the day that Cameron had done that.  Then I thought of Tom, David's friend, who came to see us soon after.  I was complaining to him about how children destroy your belongings, and gave the example of the scratches in the wood on the bookshelf.  Tom, in all his wisdom, said simply, "Some day you'll look at that and remember how precious childhood is, and how quickly it goes by.  It will be a good reminder to you of how much you love Cameron."

For a moment, I thought I would break down, but I didn't want to go there.  I was starting fresh, and a house was simply wood and dry wall.  The memories there were all about my beautiful little family, and I would see them in a matter of hours.  As long I have them, I don't care where I live.

I closed the door behind me and never looked back. 

We're Not In Kansas.....

Well, I never was in Kansas, but Ohio is pretty close. 

Our journey to Scotland was one we won't soon forget.  After we finally got on our flight to Newark from Cleveland after delays, we were informed by the captain that due to weather, we were in an indefinite holding pattern.  David was in the row behind me, and because we had already been passing Madison back and forth (neither of us wanted a fussy, kicking two-year old, I guess), we could only just peek at each other through the crack in the seats and mouth, "Oh, God, no." 

After an hour and a half of the plane circling (and circling), we were told that we would be landing in Buffalo to refuel.  At this point, we had been on the plane for over two hours, less than the length the original flight was supposed to be, and I was beginning to worry about the girls not having anything to eat.  Their last meal had been lunch, and aside from snacks, they were running on empty.  The flight attendant offered us a granola bar.  Thanks.

In the end, we landed in Newark at about 9 pm, three hours later than it was supposed to arrive.  Needless to say, we missed our Scotland flight by an hour.  The silver lining was that there was another leaving at 10:20, so we would get on that flight and have something to eat in the meantime.

I must rewind here and say that Cameron fell asleep on the Newark flight.  Highly unusual, and very suspect for either of my children to fall asleep unexpectedly.  Madison had been sick earlier in the week, and I had my fingers crossed that it would skip Cameron....

However, when David was in line with Madison to get food, I looked over and Cameron was puking all over the food court in Newark airport.  I mean, it was everywhere.  All I could do was helplessly cup my hands together and catch some of it.  Not too sure why, but I guess that's just what Mommies do.  We catch puke.

The day had been incredibly long already, and included difficult goodbyes, long waits, missed flights, and restless kids.  But I must say, I felt so confident in my decision to move that nothing was going to faze me.  Until Cameron threw up.

David ran over and I looked up at him, hands filled, tears in my eyes, and said, "David, heeelllppp!"  After that moment, I pulled myself together and busied myself with the task of discreetly cleaning up my mess without fellow eaters noticing (luckily it was quiet that night).  David immediately marched over to the gate and cancelled the flight that we had just booked several minutes prior, and like a sign sent from God, happened to speak to a sympathetic employee who booked us into a Ramada Inn that night for free.  After ensuring we would be on the Edinburgh flight the next evening, she wished us luck and we were on our way.

We had to wait about 45 minutes for a shuttle from the hotel to arrive, and much to my dismay, Madison was still wired for sound.  After about two minutes on the bus, however, I looked over at my little trooper sleeping soundly on my arm.  We arrived around 11 pm, sleepy and a bit smelly.  We put the girls to bed, cleaned ourselves up, and I headed down to the store in the hotel to bring back some well-deserved alcohol for my love and I.

The next day, we killed as much time as we could at the hotel, but checkout was at 12.  Our flight wasn't until 8pm. 

Do I need to repeat myself?  We had eight hours before our flight, two toddlers, and nowhere else to go but the airport.  I was still feeling quite emotionally strong, though, so I put on a smile and we headed out.

The girls were amazing.  I'm not sure when I've been so proud of them, but I will stick to my belief that "as long as I'm okay, they're okay."  We walked around, looked at the shops, had snacks, ate lunch, played games, watched movies on David's computer, and took lots of rides on those cool escalators that make it seem like you're walking on air.  David wasn't sure if we should risk putting Cameron on the plane with her still not feeling 100%, but the thought of another night in a hotel was less than appealing, and I was ready to go.  Aside from a moment before boarding when we thought there could be more puke, we confidently got on the flight and said our last goodbyes to America.

The girls fell asleep quickly, but I don't know how.  It was probably the bumpiest flight I'd ever experienced, and I wasn't a happy camper.  All my emotions came flooding in...the stress, the reality of leaving the life I have known for so long, a deep need to protect my children from harm....all topped with this shitty flight.  I happened to have Rescue Remedy in my bag, and trust me, I was putting drop after drop under my tongue, waiting patiently to be rescued.  Although the whole flight was bumpy, I managed to relax enough to get there (again, with the help of some wine).

I hadn't slept the entire flight, but that wasn't unusual for me.  I don't sleep on airplanes.  This flight, however, I had my babies with me, and I was in Mama Bear mode for the entire six-and-a-half hours.  It was an emotional journey.

When the sun peeked through the shades of the plane, I knew we would be there soon.  It was a new beginning, a new day, and the light coming through the clouds was breathtaking.  We would be landing soon, and the girls woke up with the commotion.  When Scotland came into view, I marveled at its beauty...the deep green, the mountains, the lakes (or lochs, I should say)....all becoming clearer the further we descended.  It's so different here, I thought, and different is good. 

Our wheels touched down, and we were home.  For now.  Until life takes us in another direction, on a different journey somewhere else we're meant to be. 

Until then....Scotland it is.