Full Circle

It's been another year where my offerings here have been fairly thin on the ground, but this is still my place to come when I want to look back and reflect, if only for my own amusement. 

Having lost my elderly grandmother just before Christmas, 2019 began with a funeral and return trip to my hometown. The funeral was actually a very uplifting start to the year as most of the family came together for the occasion, and I met with cousins I hadn't seen in more than ten years. In the fortnight that followed we had a snowfall and made our first snowman of the year. This was swiftly followed by my thirtieth birthday in February. My parents came up for the occasion and even took care of the children for a day so Sewel and I spend the afternoon in Edinburgh and see a performance of Les Miserable in the evening. 

Winter turned into spring, and there were more birthdays to celebrate, as Ever turned three and Moth five. The school term was rapidly coming to an end, and in June we went on holiday to Mull with my parents. We spent a wonderful week exploring the island, as well as taking day trips to nearby Iona and Ulva. Then the summer holidays truly began, with many fun-packed days at home with Moth and Ever, including a first cinema visit, and a night spent camping in the garden, followed by ten days in the East of England visiting Sewel's family. 

The school term was underway again before we knew it, and suddenly we found ourselves with three hours to spare each morning as Moth started school full time and Ever attended nursery part time. We have watched both children flourish in their new routines, especially Moth who joined the Additional Needs class and never looked back. He was even presented with the Head-teacher's Award for learning to read, in November. 

Autumn also saw Sewel relaunching our candle-making business, after receiving notice that his office would be relocating to the city centre in the new year. Not wishing to undertake a longer commute to a job that he finds boring and unfulfilling, he has decided that he will leave and run the business full time. We are in a good position for him to do this and hopefully 2020 will see our business continue to grow successfully.

We have just returned from a lovely Christmas with my in-laws in the East of England. One of the main reasons we chose to return for Christmas was that Sewel's grandmother had grown incredibly frail, and we knew it would be our last opportunity to see her. We actually stayed with her for the week, which meant we could take care of her, not that she really wanted much at all, as she was barely eating and drinking. She passed away the day after we returned to Scotland, so it looks as though 2020 will begin in much the same way as this last year come full circle. Hopefully, though, getting the family together to celebrate the life of a very special woman, will prove to be an uplifting occasion that sets us in motion for 2020. 

A Week on Mull

A month ago we drove up to Oban and caught the ferry across to Mull for our family holiday. While a much larger island than Bute, which we visited last year, the population is less than half. The roads are mostly single-track, and areas of civilisation are quite scattered across the island, giving it a much more rural feel. We stayed in a lovely holiday let, which was set back from the road and surrounded by woodland, but with a view through the trees across Loch Cuin. We watched the sun setting over the water, and I was completely taken away by the beauty and tranquility of that moment. 

I think the first day of the holiday was our favourite. We spent the first part of the day on a beach further along the coast, and then stopped at Croig for the "Sometimes Annual Daft Raft Race" that Sewel and I had spotted advertised on a poster. It was quite a spectacle and certainly proved to be an interesting experience, even as a mere spectator. We watched as an array of rafts set off from the shore and raced to the pier further along. We followed their progress on foot and were there to meet them at the other end. We were completely drawn by Croig, and were struck by the view of what we believe to be Rum in the distance.

We visited Tobermory twice. The town, with its iconic colourful houses set along the seafront, is the setting for the children's television programme Balamory. Moth and Ever loved visiting the aquarium, which was small but still kept us occupied for over an hour. We enjoyed the touch-pool session and Ever was brave enough to hold a starfish. We also did some souvenir-hunting in the wide range of touristy shops, and were also able to stock up on food supplies at the local Co-op. 

We spent a day driving all the way to the South-West point of Mull, where we caught the ferry from Fionnphort across to Iona. It was nice to spend a day exploring a little of the island and getting a feel for it, although we didn't venture into the abbey, with two small children in tow. We spent another day on another small island called Ulva, which has a population of just five people! It would certainly be an experience living for a time in such a remote place. 

We visited Duart Castle, although this was a little challenging with the children as they wouldn't let us hang around for long, ever eager to move on to the next room. Because we shared the holiday with my parents, Sewel and I were able to go out for a meal together one evening, which was a real treat! At our encouragement, my parents joined the Staffa tour on the final day. We decided against it, as we weren't sure about how the children would react to the three hour boat trip. When my parents returned they said the trip was one of the highlights of the holiday for them, as they had been lucky enough to see a pod of dolphins during the trip. 

Apart from the Staffa trip, which we'll save for a later date, I felt we ticked everything off our Mull "bucket list", and really got a good overview of the island. We all really enjoyed the week, especially Moth and Ever, who coped with being away from home and in a different environment much better than they did last year. 

 

Little Echoes

There she spoke her first word. Here she learned to talk. Very shortly after moving day, I returned home from work to the delighted chorus of "Mummy, Mummy!" Moth charging through the hall to greet me, and Ever following in his wake, giving voice to her new found word: "Mummy." 

Soon the little echoes became a regular occurrence. With two parents and a younger brother to imitate, Ever quickly rose to the challenge. Now that she had found her voice, she was determined to speak just as competently as those around her. 

Whenever I spoke, no matter how quietly, I was guaranteed to hear the words echo. Almost effortlessly single words merged with others and expanded into basic sentences and expressions. "I enjoyed today," she would say every night before bed.

Then came the day that she spoke of her own accord. I recognised the words and expressions as my own, but this time she was not merely repeating what she'd heard me say seconds beforehand. She had quite literally taken the words out of my mouth and was using them appropriately to say what she wanted. 

Now she subjects us to questions, and an endless running commentary of all that's going on around us, her observations and interpretations of what she can see. "What are you doing?" she asks me repeatedly, even though often she knows the answer already.

As someone who's sometimes afraid to speak up, I cannot help but marvel as I listen to my little echo, imitating no more but discovering her own voice, and not hesitating to use it.

Moving Moth

I know it was a lot to expect of my children, a move so far from all that was familiar, the place that to them was home. Ever found the transition relatively easy. Her view was more simplistic: for her, home did not so much concern the surroundings as it did the people in it, namely, Mummy, Daddy and brother. 

For Moth it was harder. Moth had begun to grow familiar with his surroundings. He was in a comfortable routine and had established relationships beyond our home. Moth was old enough to know what he was leaving behind. We tried to prepare him in advance, but it's hard to explain the unknown to a child with delayed speech. We tried, but he didn't understand. 

We had a long drive ahead following a day that involved a lot of hanging around while two strangers loaded our belongings into a removal van. I don't remember the children being difficult though, despite the change that hung forbodingly in the air with the potential to infect their behaviour and wreak further havoc on the day. In fact, they seemed to welcome the adventure, the lack of routine, and the novelty of their grandfather and uncle's presence to help oversee our preparations for departure. We visited the little park around the corner a couple of times, but mostly watched the comings and goings of the removal men, the furniture gradually diminishing around us.

It was a relief to finally close the door, leave the spare key for the new owner, and get into the car, adrenaline pulsing through us and temporarily postponing the sheer exhaustion of the last few days. Moth and Ever were happy to sit in their car seats and watch Charlie and Lola and Stuart Little, on the DVD player, while we put miles between us and our first family home.

Moth's cries on our arrival, just before midnight, pained me. We had turned the DVD player off at his request an hour or two before, and he went to sleep, blissfully unaware that his world was about to change. He stirred as we were unloading the essentials from our car, his howls drawing attention from the open window of the flat opposite. I carried him into the house and he seemed to resist. "Back to car! Back to car!" he repeated over and over again, until, too tired to protest any more, he let me settle him to sleep in his new bedroom. 

Everything was different the next day. Moth and Ever were refreshed after a good night's sleep. I'm afraid the same can not be said for myself after an uncomfortable night on a damp mattress with no coverlet, and then the arrival of a small army of removal men at dawn. The adrenaline rush from the day before was ebbing, but my two small children were unrelenting, so I pushed onwards. 

Moth and I ventured to the local shop, a two minute walk away, and we restocked our fridge and freezer. His face lit up when he saw the community garden opposite, a place that would soon become a favourite haunt of his. After lunch we walked to the big park, just half a mile down the road and as beautiful as I remembered from our first visit nearly a year before, when we went to view the house that was now ours. We played and explored for the rest of the afternoon. 

While Moth's behaviour proved to be a challenge over the next few weeks, he didn't express any further distress towards the move, but seemed to settle in his own way, and by the time he joined the nursery class at the local primary school, a few weeks later, he was familiar with his surroundings and comfortable with his new routine. 

What he will remember of our former home is uncertain. When we returned to visit family two months later, he did not show any recognition, especially when we attended our old church which had been a big part of our weekly routine. Now he seems completely at ease with life as it is, and we have received more support than we could have hoped for from his school who recognise his need for additional help. 

Moving Moth was never going to be easy, but I believe it was a move that came at the right time, and I am confident this place has so much more to offer him and Ever than the town they were born in. For the last eighteen months I have watched them flourish and grow into themselves and I am so incredibly proud of them.

First Visitors

They arrived eighteen days after we did, and on their departure, they had been with us for a third of the time that we had ourselves lived there. 

I wasn't sure that I was ready for a ten day visit from my in-laws, but they were doing us a favour after all, by bringing up our second car. 

And for all the chaos of our newly moved state, it was pleasant spending time with them. In ten days we made memories that could not be made over a cup of tea, once or twice a month. We were able to explore and share a whole new world together, and watch the children bonding with their grandparents and uncles. 

And such a joy it was to behold the care and attention of Moth and Ever's youngest uncle, and in return their delight in him. As the time progressed I saw the youngest uncle lay aside his electronic device more frequently, and instead lose himself in the games of his nephew and niece, just seven and nine years his junior. Moth would call for him, searching the house for his new playmate, and it was his hand that he sought when we were out for the day. 

But as enjoyable as the time was, their departure came with a sense of relief. My in-laws have a tendency to fill up the space around them, something that my claustrophobic self has found difficult over the years. I often find myself closing up in their presence, making myself smaller in order to accommodate them better. That evening Sewel and I basked in the stillness again, thankful for the memories but equally grateful for the calm and space that followed. 

Change of Scene

It's not really a holiday when you've got a young family in tow, but a week away, a change of scene. Where holidays are concerned some level of relaxation is expected, a little more sleep, and some relief from the grind of work and everyday life.  

But then again, a holiday presents the opportunity to explore somewhere new, have different experiences, and see things you've wanted to see for a long time...

And things you never expected to see. 

It's the chance to have an adventure with the people you love the most, and ultimately, when you look back these are the things you'll remember. 

Not the oppressive heat and humidity, the hours spent each night trying to settle restless children, nor their agonising wake up call by six each morning. Not even your camera bouncing down a flight of ancient steps.

But Moth's excitement as he climbed to the top of the castle tower (twice), and Ever's determination to walk forever. Those moments of tranquility and elation, brief, yet profound when Sewel and I chose to embrace them. 

And of course, there is the relief to be back home again, even though it won't be home for much longer.