And I’ve been thinking a lot about the pros and cons (of being away that is)… I mean why did we stay?… and is feeling overcome by homesickness a good enough reason to book tickets and start selling off our UK appliances?
I finished work the other night and spent 15 minutes checking my emails. In that time I found out someone in my family is very sick….. It is about 12 hours before we are due to sign the lease on our new flat… a month long work in progress and a much anticipated event. Despite wanting to, we just can’t go home.
I’m feeling emotional talking about this, but it’s worth talking about. How do you cope with a family sickness when you are so far away?

And while we’re on the subject, how are you supposed to handle missing all the good stuff too? It feels like everyone went and started having milestones just after we left.
One of my best friends in the world turned 40, my brother got engaged, my uncle got married, 4 of my ‘best girls’ have had, or are about to have babies, my cousin got engaged, my cousin turned 21, my brother turned 18 (and 19), long time family friends got married, and all the kids have just keep having birthdays…… the list is as long as a piece of string.

I know it sounds like I’m having a large sook (I am), and I guess since the day I left home for a life of travel, I chose to miss out on things. With that choice however has come a large sense of guilt and longing. Torn between where I think I want to be, and where I feel I should be….? Does that even make sense?

Moving ‘away’, especially with my family has given me a sense of independence, pride and somehow a new freedom to be whoever I want to be. The complete lack of history that brought this freedom has also fed my isolation at times, and left me feeling unsupported (no free nights out when mum’s on the other side of the Earth ).

The fact is friends and family back home do carry on with life. Babies are born, milestones are celebrated and people even get sick. They have not stopped their lives awaiting our return (did I expect that I wonder?).
Where will we pick up from when we do return? Will we just slot back in or have we set ourselves up to always be missing someone, somewhere?
How do you ‘cope’ with being away?

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New Friends

For inviting us to your weddings, parties and for more cups of tea than I can count. For welcoming us into your homes and providing friendship and support (and lots of ’stuff to loan!!)

Old Friends

For just being there and staying in touch. For not taking it personally that we’ve extended our stay, but still asking regularly enough ’so when are you coming home?’ (You could’ve stopped having fun completely, stopped acheiving milestones and just waited for us…. but then we’d have nothing to talk about when we do get home) And for the most precious gifts, hand written letters and photos of the kids.

Family far Away

For still being as helpful and ‘there for us’ as you possibly can from the other side of the world. For the letters and parcels in the post. For the hour long skype calls even though It’s really late. For  making sure the insurance company coughed up when the shed burnt down! And for everthing else too.

Family here

For being my biggest joy, and my biggest challenge. For seeing the best and worst of me and loving me anyway. Simply for being you.

Here

For the experience. Because we are here my boys have played under the sprinkler in the backyard (no longer allowed in Melbourne). For the challenges, and rewards they have offered. For the opportunities… I certainly wouldn’t be a budding blogger on expat life, had we never left!!  For the glorious spring days, and the bitterly cold winter mornings, orange leaves in Autumn and the summer of festivals.

There are so many things!!

When you really start thinking about it, if you have a family, home, food (and an internet connection) you’re pretty wealthy in the whole scheme of things…

Life is good

What are you thankful for?

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Yesterday though…. My heart was breaking….

To avoid a long story of Doctors appointments, waiting lists, sleep studies and lots of snoring, yesterday I took our little boy into the hospital to have his tonsils and adenoids removed. An operation that we elected on his behalf and an operation we’re pretty sure he needed.

As I sat, 4 year old on my knee listening to the story of how he was going for his ‘big sleep’ while the doctors looked at his throat, I silently bawled, tears streaming down my face as I wondered how on earth I could choose this for my son.

While I am logically aware that this is a straight forward operation, that he does actually need because his tonsils are so big he can’t breath properly at night, and in the overall scheme of illnesses, one night in hospital really isn’t that much.

(How could I choose this for him?)

Over the last 2 months, I have stayed overnight in hospital four times… 2 with each child… 2 emergency… one sleep study… and now one adenotonsilectomy (go on try saying it).

What struck me this time is the fact that we chose it. It’s the first time in my life as a mother I have felt personally responsible for my childs… um…  life…. You know?

The emergency visits didn’t feel so personal. I was there to support and protect him, for mummy cuddles and to answer all the questions and fill in all the forms… But it wasn’t my fault… was it?

(How could I CHOOSE this for him?)

Logically I know he’s going to be fine…

(But what if he’s not?)

Over the course of the day, my logical mind starts to take over. We are spoken to by the play specialist who explains with pictures and words, exactly what the experience is going to be like for D. Then the anaesthetist gives me the grown ups version and finally the surgeon begs consent…

Then the waiting.

The premeds.

Watching the little boy (same age and same problem) head off before us and his mummy and daddy with the same look in their eyes. (How could we choose this?)

And then it’s our (his) turn.

We walk down to the theatre, where D gets to choose a special book, (distraction) look at the fishies and then drive Lightning Macqueen around to his special bed. He meets the theatre staff, hops on the bed, and about 2 minutes later I’m hearing ‘OK mum, give him a kiss and out you go’  (GULP)

Now It’s my turn for some distraction (TV, Coffee, food) and 45 minutes later he’s out.

I find him sitting up in the recovery room dazed from the morphine (and absolutely not prepared to lie down for anyone). I am so happy I could almost laugh.

The next 12 hours are a daze. He is starving and can’t wait to eat, but everthing he tries comes back. After some anti sickness drugs he finally keeps his pain meds down, and settles into a fitful sleep.

I meet the morning with a blend of relief and disbelief (just FIVE more minutes!).

Daniel wakes with gusto. After his cocktail of drugs overnight he’s feeling great.

They wear off though and my grumpy, sore, post-op boy comes back.

He does everything right and we are off home just after lunch.

A day later he’s talking back and wrestling his brother… All is well.

Now I know as far as operations go, this is a small one, and one night in hospital is not much, but it felt like much. I think it was handing my boy over to the hands of another (all be it a professional), and electing to put him at risk that really struck me.

What do you think?

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Buses in Edinburgh are regular, frequent, clean and  go just about anywhere you need to go (plus the littlies are free). There are some things, some little rules that make them….. well annoying. Things you’re better off knowing before you huddle under a bus stop waiting for one.

• Firstly you require the exact change. The Lothian bus drivers do not handle money, if you take a five quid note on board, that is how much your ticket will cost.
• There can only be one unfolded buggy on board at a time. This means if your bus comes past and there is already one on board, you have to fold up or wait for the next bus. Although I can understand the logic, (over crowding etc) the whole process is very annoying.

Take today….. we’d had a pretty tiring day out for two little boys and being a Sunday we had to wait longer than usual for the bus. This was not so bad, as it wasn’t quite raining but R was getting pretty cranky. The bus comes, we get on and put the exact change in to get our ticket. Meanwhile the bus driver is telling the couple in the ‘buggy section’ to move and make way for us (in not the most pleasant tones). “But our daughter is asleep” they say….. oh no… they have a buggy too. The bus driver hasn’t seen them, and so failed to tell me I couldn’t get on. My ticket is only valid for this particular journey! I could stay on, but I would have to unload my cranky baby and all the crap we seem to need for a day out just to fold the buggy up for a 10 minute bus ride. No Thanks. So there I am yelling to D who has already made himself comfortable in the back of the bus to come, back we need to get off. The bus driver kindly printed me a ‘day ticket’ so I wouldn’t waste my money and we started to back out…..                         … Then, not surprisingly the little sleeping girl wakes up from all the commotion, and her parents very kindly decide that they (being two parents with one child) can happily fold up their buggy and make way for us! By this point I can feel the driver swearing from the hold up! I guess he wasn’t having a good day……

Then…

…Because little people and moving buses generally don’t mix we wait until the bus is completely stopped before we try to head for the door. I pressed the button, yelled to D at the back of the bus that “The next stop is ours” and waited….. The bus slowed… drifted towards the footpath and then accelerated again… What? …This guy really wasn’t having a good day! I stood up then, just to make sure he stopped at the next one!

Deciding to make something good from all this, I gave my free day ticket to someone waiting for the next bus. Hopefully their bus ride was better.

A Few Facts

Prices

Single Adult ticket 1.20

Children (5-15 years)  0.70

Adult Day ticket     3.00

Child      2.40

• You can also purchase weekly, monthly and annual tickets too, which is a great idea if you have to catch 3 or more buses in a day.
• There are over 60 bus routes
• They are very User fiendly, with low doors (no steps) for both disabled access and buggy’s

Do you have any public transport stories?

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I was nervous at first………… Walking to meet an old school friend I had only seen once or twice since school finished (About 15 ears ago). All nerves washed quickly away when we started what turned out to be a fabulous day of touristy fun and non stop catching up.

I dragged the boys along for lunch at the Filling Station (actually I couldn’t have kept them away if I’d tried) along the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, and then they left us too it, to explore the depths of Edinburgh’s underground in The Real Mary King’s Close. We had a small wait for the tour to start so we strolled down to The Elephant House to check out the birth place of Harry Potter, and then walked to the top of ‘The Mile’ to the gates of Edinburgh Castle…… Then back for our tour……….. Back into the daylight (notice I didn’t say sunshine!) we headed off to visit ‘Bobby’ (Greyfriars Bobby), Edinburgh’s most famos dog and Master D’s favourite place in Edinburgh, and then into Greyfriars Churchard where Bobby and his master are both buried.

It just so happened that the church itself was open, so we wandered inside for a look (meanwhile B called to say Baby R has jumped in puddles, so they’re all going home before he gets too cold.). This meant a rare child free afternoon for me!!! Completely randomly the volunteer at the church that day was also the organ player, so we were treated to some live tunes on the 3500 tube organ! It was truly magnificent. As my friend said, it is random moments like these that make your holiday really special.

Back to her hotel room for a cuppa, some teacakes and a long chat about traveling, and old friends. What a fab day.

Another Aussie I know who is also ‘accidentally’ here asked if it seeing a friend from home made me feel homesick. I can’t say it did at all.

It was lovely to spend the day with a friend I had more than one year of history with, sharing a similar humour, and an understanding that comes from growing up in the same place. It didn’t make me miss home though, instead I started seeing Edinburgh again with ‘tourist eyes’ remembering how beautiful the city is, and just how much there is to do. I felt more excited about where I am rather than sad about where I’m not.

Have you run into an old friend in a far off place?

What random events have ‘made’ your trip?

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You’re probably wondering what that has to do with eggs…

It’s all part of the story. You see I took the kids shopping today, not the best idea, but the family’s got to eat.

It started quite well really; the boys were still getting along at the bottom of the stairs as we made our way out the communal door.

We have an impromptu stop at the city farm for the fruit and veg, and of course the eggs. Six freshly laid eggs all in different colours and sizes and still covered in dirt.

The boys are still doing OK as I run the bags upstairs and rush down again (the bananas they are inhaling certainly help)

We head off for our second try for the supermarket and make it all the way, and out the other side to the recycling depot to drop off our glass bottles and jars.

Finally we enter the glass sliding doors.

With one hand I am pushing a double pram with two not so small and progressively agitated boys inside (and a scooter hanging off the back), and with the other I’m pulling the shopping trolley.

Through the meat the whingeing has already begun, a short pause at the fish as the fish man is nice and fish are very interesting and then back into it as we travel through condiments.

The kicking and fighting has well and truly started by the time we get to bread, only one more stop for cereal and we can get outta there. (I’m feeling a little flustered at this point).

The checkout is where we reach boiling point and I have to have the biscuits scanned straight away so we can crack ‘em open.

Yes, we’re out the doors, the sun is shining, and the shopping is over…. But this is Scotland so before we rounded the first corner we are in a downpour. Coming from Victoria where rain is a rare and precious commodity I love walking in the rain.

Still we arrive home like drowned rats ready to begin the trek up the stairs. This is a circus in its own right.

Master D holds the door open while I take the bags from the pram (which is still sitting outside in the rain with Baby R in it) and rush them to the bottom of the stairs) I then lug the pram up the three stairs and into the bottom hall way (here they call it ‘the stair’) and park it next to the shopping.

I then lug 4 heavy shopping bags, 2 children, and 1 scooter up the 2 flights of stairs.

And what has any of this got to do with the eggs?

Well lets just say at the end of all this I was a little tightly wound, and when I heard the ominous “oh ho” from Baby R and walked in to find the egg carton on the floor, and beautiful freshly laid organic eggs broken on the floor, I really did want to cry!

I think the 6 quid delivery fee for online shopping could be the best investment I will ever make!

Do you have any funny ’shopping with kids’ stories?

www.freedigitalphotos.net

More Stories?

Leaving Australia

Midnight Snacks at the Hilton

Halloween is over I know but…

Or Maybe some Photos?

Edinburgh in Winter

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1. A Day In Our Lives

Daniel fell asleep on the bus from Heathrow to Stansted, not so late in the afternoon.

Did not wake up through two transfers.

Sound asleep through dinner….

Then at 4am I’M HUNGRY MUMMY!!!
Ok little man…..

I drag myself out and fumble around to find the snack box we saved from the flight.

In the soft haze of the night, on his cozy bed by the window, we sit together eating cheese and crackers and watching the rabbits hop around the car park…..

I wonder what tomorow will bring?

The Previous Day

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I am woken for the first time around 5.30 am by Brendan’s alarm, and kept awake by him clambering over me (he sleeps on the wall side) to get ready for his work day. He generally sneaks out around 6 am, and if Baby R doesn’t wake with the sound of the front (only) door clicking shut I can get another blissful half an hour or even a whole hours of sleep.

I am woken for the second time much more abruptly, torn from my slumber by loud, very cranky screaming that loosely translates as “FEED ME NOW”. I unzip his bed (the baby’s bed is a tent/ travel cot) scoop him out and make my bleary eyed journey to the kitchen. As long as we haven’t run out of any key ingredients, weetbix, honey and milk are the order most days. I prepare it (along with my morning coffee) amidst constant noisy complaints. An inhalation generally commences. Around 7am baby is fed, happy, and telling me its bath time now. (I use the term bath loosely as it is actually a bucket in the shower recess!)

Master D has woken up by now, hopefully not too moody, and eats his “breaky” at a far more leisurely pace (with the noisy complaints of “hurry up” coming from me)

By 8.30 am we are all fed, bathed, dressed, brushed and out the door to Nursery. I’m just about to open the door and I realize its raining…. you know… Scottish RAIN. Trainers are exchanged for “wellies” and rain coats dug out (it is still summer) and off we go again.

Thirty minutes to Nursery.

I wonder what winter will be like and I feel for the workers in the food van selling hot food to cold pedestrians.

On a nice day the walk is broken by the need to save the snails from ‘death by squashing’. Each one is gently picked up and placed in the cracks of the large bluestone wall flanking the footpath.

We arrive and huddle with the other parents and children under the small shelter waiting to be ‘let in’ and discuss the weather (a favoured pastime over here). The kids don’t care, they’re just having fun playing with their umbrellas.

2.5 hours till pick up….. Time to take the baby to play group. A couple of relaxing hours sitting round, talking, watching the little ones play. Who is play group for exactly….?

On other days I could go home and do housework but as my health nurse told me, that is a complete waste of time, so I opt for taking myself out for coffee instead. (if the baby falls asleep I can also fit in a read )

Pick up time often involves the receipt of handmade gifts or art work and often a bag of drenched clothes from the indoor water play! He might have stayed drier outside.

We visit a friend for the afternoon. There’s nothing like someone else’s house and toys to keep the boys amused. At home I’d be finding toys in the toilet, Baby R raiding the fridge and Master D complaining about…. well anything he can think of.

Here they just play. The Baby R even crawls up on my lap and quietly falls asleep…. ooohhh

After some superb hours company, and a semi difficult extraction we wander home. Both the boys fall asleep on the way, and Brendan and I spend a peaceful half hour chatting outside the building before either wakes.

Upstairs in time for dinner and bed time.

My mummy day is over and now my ‘work’ day can begin

After a quick tidy, and a cuppa I sit down to my computer and……..

Find out more about me here

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