Well, my friends (yes, you) I have now been with WP for a whopping three weeks. This was my first official post (if you missed it) and I’m loving it here already. To celebrate, I’m staying up late and composing this as I hit my sarcastic peak–usually after midnight. Plus, it’s depressing to head to bed when you’ve become second only to a week-long ISO 9001 certification.

Thank you, MSN Spaces for helping me see the light. It took me a while - just 2½ years of blogging torture and misery - but I moved on mentally and physically. I shall no more feel used and cheap, nay! No longer discarded and unwanted–tossed aside like a Commodore 64 in a Pawn Shop.

1. Now, I know you made me Space of the Week twice and even included me in a snazzy booklet you distributed at a technology convention blah, blah (which technically makes me a published writer–Ithankyou!), but it’s all too little too late my friend. We’re done. Over. No moooooore.

2. Don’t come crying to me begging me to reconsider: I left no forwarding address. For good reason.

3. The last straw was when you disabled <a href> functions. Gone was my clickable banner. You’re Suckingham Palace my friend.

4. I can publish a post here anytime I feel like it. I can archive all my old stuff and put it in this shiny new place.

5. But - WORDPRESS! - I cannot, canNOT transload it from MSN, you don’t support it. Cheers for that. That and my gazillion old comments from my wee lovelies. I have to painstakingly publish. One. At. A. Freakin. Time. Lovely biscuits.

I forgive you though.

6. Okay, maybe one sincere thank you. Thanks for posting me on the MSN Homepage. I got 95,000 hits that day. I also wet my (British) pants. Twice.

7. I can have as many categories as I please. Read them and weep. No, really.

8. And, I don’t even need to publish with a category, you pedantic fools.

9. How many ex-pats did you introduce me to? Hmmm…let’s see. None. I now rub shoulders with seven, and three Anglophiles.

10. I can e-mail WP HQ. How bloody cool is that?!

11. I can propel myself (if I so choose) to my own website. Kiss that MSN.

12. Sandboxes galore. That’s all I’m saying.

13. You still have (a year-and-a-half of) my stuff and I’m coming back to get it. You can keep the Cindy Lauper CD though.

ma, mammy, maw:

All of these are used locally to mean mother.

“Couldny be better Ma!”

“Hey Maw, whit’s fur ma tea?”

Many Glaswegians are particularly sensitive to their mothers (apparently it’s admissible to pan fathers), and this has given much rise to barbs such as yer maw’s a big man, yer maws a brickie, yer mammy’s a bun and so on.

Hear it. Here.

Disclaimer: This one is long-winded wordy. Bear with me.

There are few things in life that spark a tangible memory, a feeling or deep-rooted emotions–something that whisks us back in time filled with intrigue and curiosity. One - which I’ve mentioned before - is music; the other (and arguably much more intense) is a scent.

It’s amazing how just a slight fragrance of something can transport us to a time we thought we had long forgotten or buried in our past: a person, a place or a product (ahem–unintended alliteration). We’re hurtled away beyond our control where our capture is not content to stop quietly at contenting us with a vague memory.

I experienced this five months ago after we visited a British import store (not in MT, unfortunately) and I bought my husband and brother-in-law some Irn Bru. Irn Bru is a soft drink made solely in Scotland concocted in 1901, and it is the only red-headed pubescent schoolboy-coloured drink in the world that outsells Coke (I wonder if that ticks them off no end?). For years it was only available in Scotland, but can now, in the last decade or more, be bought in the rest of the UK, Australia, (sparsely in the US) and the Soviet Republic (don’t ask).

I stopped drinking my caffeinated beverage of choice - Dr. Pepper - when I became pregnant with Ian, I decided to make the change, no one asked me to. And anyway, I soon noticed that if I didn’t have one every day, I’d experience excruciating headaches - as close to migraines as I cared to get.

I didn’t buy one for myself, but opted for Ginger Beer (and definitely not alike to it’s North American cousin, Ginger Ale. This ginger drink has “chungas”) and happily chugged it, burning the tender lining of my esophagus and nether regions.

On returning to my mother-in-law’s place, I opened up my brother-in-law’s bottle and took a sniff. I was suddenly standing in my Mum’s living room, loitering right next to her chair. It threw me for six. Mum drinks it like it’s going out of fashion, and for a brief moment, I’d forgotten that. Home sickness, a longing, emptiness–whatever you want to call it, swept over me like a cold unwanted blanket. Silent tears fell and I realised how much I missed my family, and how guarded and reticent I’d let myself become.

Similar instances of this have occurred since then, but this one I find much more intriguing. It happens every time I walk through the heavy mental doors leading to Ian’s pre-school class. I don’t know what it is: it might be the art supplies, kid friendly glue or the disinfectant floor cleaner. There is something innately familiar (and comforting) about the smell, and it smells just like my pre-school did way back when. I pause as I walk in and take a deep breath, soaking in all the care-free, clay molding, easel painting innocence.

I recently sat in on the class and helped out with their craft project (she made it look like helping her was my idea, I was impressed, but really, I wanted to help). They’d pre-painted some paper plates brown and were going to put monkey faces on them. The other teacher was gone for the day and had remarked how she’d completed the homework only to find it chewed by the dog the following morning.

I sat and made a template on deep cream (construction) paper with a large oval disc, adding two small circle discs to the top, slightly joining. I then preceded to cut out eight of these for the class. Following that, I cut sixteen brown ears adding a straight edge and sixteen circle inside parts in deep cream. As I neared the competition of the last ears the teacher said, “Do you have a template I could copy?” “Yeah, I have it right here.” “OK good, I need to make some for the afternoon class later–” “I can do it, how many more do you need?” “Oh, another eight.”

I enjoy walking into the world of a pre-schooler where life is simpler and familiar. Despite the struggles I have trying to reason and explain motives and actions with Ian, I am careful to take the time to enjoy it. I know all too soon, it will be gone in an instant with only a faint memory to draw on.

I’m in a bit of a predicament and it’s driving me crazy. To those who just made a snide remark about my current level of sanity, I say: SHUT IT!

Bryan bought me an iPod shuffle for my Christmas (I really don’t need anything bigger, just something to drown out the kids…and plus, I’m so pedantic when it comes to listening to music that they’re perfect for me) and I received a duplicate from my in-laws. They also sent me a sandwich toaster, sadly Ian had bought me one for my birthday early December (it also makes waffles, it’s brill). So, I sent those back and got a sweet refund–minus the bloody shipping because it “wasn’t their fault”.

That’s the predicament.

I sat and poured over amazon.com’s pages for about 3 hours one night looking for things to replace them with. Nothing. I couldn’t find one single thing that I really wanted. I’m at a total loss. Bryan bought me a sewing machine (I’ve never personally owned one), so nice scissors or how-to books would be great. Other than that, I don’t really NEED anything. If I could just cash it in, I would be happy.

What would you buy with $112.06?

It’s come around all too fast again.  I’m left feeling empty, alone and down right bored.  The house seems to echo with the quietness reverberating off every wall, even though the boys are playing happily.  It gets worse when it’s dinner time, no one to bother feeding but me (Ian rarely eats what I put in front of him).  What’s the point of making the effort?  When next Saturday rolls around, the clock will tick again–until then, everything’s still and quiet.

Any time Bryan and I are apart, I worry enough for three women.  I always dread something bad is going to happen because we’re not together, like that would somehow prevent a tragedy.

He’s in Quebec as we speak at the Company’s Canadian site, taunting me with finding a Curry House and showing me the bill.  I wonder what nicety he’ll bring me home…until then, I’ll scuff my feet and sigh loudly.

The decision’s made
No regrets this time around
A huge, happy step

Ten, Three, Twenty-five [10-25 March]
The deed done, no looking back
Scotland, here we come

A babe? No worries!
Apprehension for Ian
Eighteen hours on plane

*Sigh* “Are we there yet?”
He’s wound tight, I’ll go insane
Moaning kid on plane

March, a Spring prelude
It’s also Easter this year
I want me some choc

I recorded the conversations of me telling my Mum. I downloaded free software to do it. Now if I could just figure out how to add it to this blog, you could all finally hear my fake Scottish accent.

Kidding.

We were gone most of the day in Missoula getting passport photos taken of the boys (picture Cameron sitting on a high, no back stool. He was easier than Ian though. He kept doing the 3-year-old scary grin. If you have or have had one you know exactly the look I’m talking about), getting a copy of Cameron’s birth certificate (how sad is it that we never got one when he was born?) and filing the applications with the post office–hence the late posting of this blog. It’s nice to know it’s all done now, I can’t believe a kid’s passport is the same price as an adult’s though. Oh, the humanity!

Not to be confused with last week’s post.

1. It’s bloody cold here in the winter. Friends pre-warned me of the Arctic temperatures that last for two weeks in January last year. I laughed. I’m not laughing now. I’m freezing my freakin’ she-nuts off.

2. Lack of Technology: Just as one example, Bryan walked into a print shop two days ago with a disc in-hand full of documents he wanted printed and spiral bound into fifteen booklets. They wanted/needed the paper copies. “Well, I have my laptop with me–” he offered. “I’ll print it off on mine”, the owner growled, snatching the disc. “He probably won’t charge you for the copies…” said the lady. He came out, 30 pages later (for one booklet) and said, “that’ll be $0.20 a copy.” “Fine.”

3. Mullets: Now, I’m no expert, but hair doesn’t grow that way naturally. I think there needs to be an amendment in the Constitution that bans them. There are five people in my congregation at church with a mullet. And. They’re. Women. One of them has a natural wave/perm too.

4. This one’s for Bryan. He calls them Horse Women. He knows one personally. They don’t have enough food to feed themselves and can barely make their mortgage payment, but they board, tend and take care of their horse–all for a hefty $1500/month price tag.

5. Commuting to Missoula. I’m totally used to it now, but sometimes it’s such a task. We have to pack provisions just to go shopping at the stores “in the big city”. We moved from a prime shopping area where Target, Michael’s, Toys R Us, Barnes & Noble, Old Navy, Pier 1 and restaurants galore graced our lives just a sweet 5-minute drive away. Now it’s all 45 miles from us.

6. That said, there are local stores, but if you stay, you pay. Usually. Sometimes they have amazing sales, but you can generally pay anywhere between $0.50-$1.50 more for any item. They encourage locals to shop local on adverts on t.v.–I will if I’m desperate. We bought frosting one time at Super 1, it expired 4 months previous. We have one Big Box store: K-Mart. Why does every K-Mart smell like an animal up and died in the premises? Sick. And other thing! You would think living in the midst of a meat and dairy euphoria that it would be reflected in the prices. No. I’d rather pump petrol and drink it, it’s cheaper than the milk here.

But I suppose that’s nothing compared to the housing market. Thankfully we made a 20% profit on our last out-of-state home. We paid almost $100,000 more here for a smaller home. Thanks to the influx of Californians (well, that’s who they’re blaming) over the past 5 years, the housing prices have shot through the roof. It’s pure nasty.

7. Road conditions. Thanks to the washboard Interstate road all the way to Missoula for my pre-natal doctor’s appointments, I enjoyed 50 minutes of contractions every trip, there and back. During nasty winter conditions, local roads and pavements (sidewalks) are covered in sand, not salt. It’s disgusting after the snow melts.

8. There was a time in Montana history not too long ago when you could drive any speed you cared to. Those days are well gone. I can’t help but wonder who posts the speed limit signs here. Obviously someone with a good sense of humour. The back country 2-lane - sometimes windy - highway speed is 65 mph. It changes to 35 mph with no warning and no gradual decline. What’s up with that?

9. I’d love to have a bike. I’d love to go rollerblading. I’d love to walk more places when the weather is nicer. I can’t, there’s a drastic shortage of pavements. That ticks me off.

10. You’re sick. Well, I mean hypothetically, not in the head. So you head to the local pharmacy in Albertson’s. “We don’t have that in stock, can you come back in 2 days?” No further comment.

11. I could have lumped this with No. 6, but quite frankly, this deserves a room all by itself. Okay, so I admit this should be something I am used to from the UK, but I’ve been here for eight years and I was converted pretty early on. I can’t stand it that businesses close and 5 and 5:30 p.m. Bryan gets off shift at 6 p.m. and sometimes needs things at the last minute. Tough luck, Jimmy. We’re closed.

12. Amenities, or lack there of. No zoo (it’s in Bozeman), museums, bowling alleys, kid-friendly pools, etc. We have an indoor pool 6 miles away, but they cater specifically for adults. I really don’t care to drive an hour just to entertain the kids. By the time we get there, they’ve been asleep for as long.

13. Environmentalists. I say conserve what we can, use the resources we have and recycle if possible when you can. They were against putting in a local Wal-Mart (not my fave, but I prefer the grocery prices) and had them do an environment impact study. They changed their minds because it would have set back everything another year. The thing that gets me is there are loads of log homes here (probably filled with environmentalists). Where’s the conservation there?

oot scoot:

A phrase of dismissal, usually said to children who are in the speaker’s way:

“Here, let me in that cupboard weans. Oot scoot, beat it!”

This probably comes from a children’s game in which players are eliminated in turn by means of a chant ending “oot scoot, you’re oot.”

After 2.5 days of wallowing, neglecting the wash (should I mention there were wet clothes in there? Nah. But, I will say how much I love the wonders of baking soda and vinegar), ignoring the kitchen sink (and the treadmill), not showering for 3 days and walking around in the clothes I wore to bed for as many days; I feel better. All I wanted was to be left alone with my thoughts do a lot of serious contemplation. It has sunk in and now I can think clearly. Surprisingly, I still made room to laugh, giggle and chortle. Guffaws were off limits.

Now I have two choices: Go it alone or whack out $3500 for all four of us.

I’m thinking I need to phone my Mum.

My sweet little Cameron, I can’t believe I brought you home a year ago. Where has the time gone? It has disappeared all too quickly and I can’t believe I am here already. When I arrived at the hospital, I had six names for you in mind, but I think in my heart I knew you’d be Cameron, but I wanted to see you anyway–just to make sure. My eyes danced across your little face, and with each movement I offered the unspoken name and stared. None of them seemed right until I ended with your name. And anyway, it was the only name your Daddy and I could agree on.

OK, fine, I’ll admit it, I fell in love with you the moment I saw you: The perma-scowl was so endearing, the gentle cooing and squeaks, the soft downy hair, the tiny uncoordinated fingers and toes. Despite my insecurities and diffidence, with a soft smile (or was it gas?) and loving sigh you made my heart expand and make room for another child. I felt it change with every soft tear that graced my face.

I love you explicitly. I knew who you were after just a few months; but now, especially, I can see your big personality shine through your pint-sized body. You are lead by your heart, you will be my Mr. Sensitivity and I definitely recognise this trait in myself. Don’t ever change because here’s a little secret–women love it! Always go with your feelings - your gut, if you will - it’ll fair you well in life.

I love watching you interact with your older brother. I marvel at the love you have for him, your eyes light up every morning as he greets you. You have been saying his name for a long time and I know this delights him too. “Ee-ah!” I hear you call. At his tender age of 3, he sees you progress and learn too, and he gets excited when you take on a new skill.

I am amazed at how much you have accomplished in such a short time. I asked you not to take your first steps as quickly as your brother (9.5 months), so you obliged and waited. One. More. Week. I even made sure I didn’t encourage it! You were so determined and here you are now–running! At seven months you had eight teeth. Not content at sprouting one at a time, you push through two and three all at once. What amazes me is that you took it in your stride; you stayed content and happy. You are my happy, smiling little boy.

Thank you. Thank you for having a healthy curiosity. You see something once and you are satisfied with it. The cupboards in the kitchen are locked on the outside, you see this and are content to leave them alone. Thank you for that. It is a small mercy, and a difference from your brother I am so happy to live with.

Maybe I should tell you. I think you’re beautiful. OK, fine. I think you’re handsome. I entered you in a Beautiful Baby competition online. This is my favourite shot of you:

You have reminded me that tiny, generally unseen things in the world are a delight: A tree swaying in the wind, our cockatiel when he takes flight, a warm bath filled with bubbles and toys, the wonders of being outdoors, hiding under blankets and little games of hide and seek.

I’m grateful for the head butt love taps, the soft open-mouth wet kisses, how you stop in your tracks to wrestle me as I lie on the carpet taking a moment. You make me smile with toothy grins and laughs, an amazing love-filled hug when I need it, or when you reach up and gently stroke my hair. I’ve learned that I need you just as much as you need me.

My favourite moments? When you come up to me and pat my legs to get my attention. You almost say, “Lift me up! Hold me, it’s time for my nap.” It’s those quiet times as you fall asleep in my arms, your little body cradled naturally around my waist as we sit together and just dream. The soft sighs as your breathing slows rhythmically and your arm drapes over me. I silently stare at your beautiful face and just marvel that you are mine, mine to take care of and nurture forever. I’m still learning all this Mummy stuff, but I love every minute of it.