I am feeling very Scottish this week. It’s hard to define what that actually means, but I am.
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A New Table
Ooh, it’s been a bit quiet on here recently, hasn’t it? Sorry about that! My blogging mojo is lying fairly dormant at the moment because I’ve been so busy trying to get everything sorted out in our new house. I don’t even want to think about how much time I’ve spent on hold to utility companies and filling in change of address forms in the last fortnight…
We’re still making good progress though! We’ve found a nursery just along the road that is absolutely lovely, so hopefully DorkySon will be starting to do a couple of mornings there in the next few weeks. It’ll be great for him to get back around other kids again and doing some fun activities – much as though we love each other, and have been trying to get out and do something interesting like go to the park every day (see above!) the hours have been passing quite slowly with just the two of us.
I’ve also been discovering the seemingly endless joys of online grocery shopping. We got a fruit and veg box and some organic eggs and meat delivered from Abel and Cole last Friday, which was absolutely brilliant. We also had a delivery of tasty American goodies from Lupe Pintos (crucial stuff like Hersheys syrup and jalapeno slices), and after discovering that Ocado sell Irn Bru, even in Hertfordshire, I think I’m going to be placing pretty regular orders with them too.
I can’t get over how much warmer it is down here, even though we’re only a few hundred miles further south. I haven’t worn a jacket since I got here, and at least half the time I’ve been able to wander round in short sleeves (leading one of our elderly neighbours to comment that I must have moved from Scotland since every time he sees me I seem to be half naked). Sigh. It seems that we are destined to attract bizarre and slightly rude people wherever we are. We definitely need to invest in some wellies though – the playgrounds are all lovely but they’re complete mudbaths.
Anyway, we are all doing grand. DorkyDad’s job is enjoying his new job (although the commute is taking a while to get used to – especially on those days when there are delays!). We are missing some of our Edinburgh buddies (and indeed our American, Canadian and Australia buddies!), but feeling happier and more at home every day. The various ways of keeping in touch – email, text, Facebook, Skype – all make the miles seem a lot shorter.
We got the spare room sorted over the weekend, in preparation for a visit from DorkyGranny, and we’ve found a new dining room table to replace the one that wouldn’t fit through the door. Now we just need some shelves to store DorkySon’s trucks, and a bookcase for the living room, and we’re sorted!
Normally at this time of year we’d been in the States for Thanksgiving, but with DorkyDad starting his new job that hasn’t been possible this year. We’re looking forward to ‘christening’ the new table with a big family Thanksgiving meal in a couple of weeks. There will be turkey. There will be pie. And there will be a very long list of things that we’re thankful for.
Settling In: a Butcher, a big pink slide and Benny plays the Blues
We’ve been in our new place just over a week now, and it’s starting to really take shape. DorkyDad spent much of the weekend putting pictures up – how could we not feel at home with Benny the Blues Harmonica Player on our living room wall – and DorkySon and I took advantage of the good weather to get out and explore some more.
We are in a residential neighbourhood; it’s very quiet and feels very safe. There is a beautiful wee park right beside us, filled with crunchy autumn leaves, squirrels and dog walkers. That makes me happy. There is a petrol station across the road, so DorkySon has spent a lot of the last week standing in the window, mesmerised by the constant movement of cars, trucks and tankers. That makes him happy. And on Saturday we finally found two very important things; a wine store and a butcher right beside each other. So that’s DorkyDad happy now too.
DorkySon and I joined the library last week. It took quite a long time… while I sat trying to fill in our forms, and the very patient woman on the desk entered our details into her computer, DorkySon sat and worked his way through a copy of ‘What Car’ magazine, announcing to everyone in the library (at full volume) what his favourite car was on each page. We got there eventually though, and it was well worth the wait. All the children’s books are stored in the ‘carriages’ of a red wooden train, with little benches for sitting on between each carriage. I think we’ll be spending a lot of time in there this winter.
We also found another playground, and met up with two brilliant mums and their kids in an indoor adventure play area. DorkySon spent all morning scooting down an enormous pink slide. Graceful he was not, but his enthusiasm couldn’t be faulted. Later this week we are off to meet another mum (another Edinburgh exile) at something called the Kangaroo Club. I am assured that it doesn’t involve any actual marsupials – just lots of toys and a big space to run around, with unlimited coffee and friendly chat for the parents.
So yes, in short, DorkySon is in toddler heaven. He’s spoilt for choice with fun things to do. He’s also working hard to get his head around DorkyDad’s new job. Earlier in the week he asked if Daddy was out reading poetry all day. ‘No,’ we said. ‘He’s working in an office, asking people for money so that other children can have food and be happy like you are.’
DorkySon let this ferment in his brain for a day or two, and then over the weekend he said ‘Maybe next week I could go with Daddy to his office and meet all the children that he is looking after…’
Bless.
Transition
This time a week ago, we were tucked into a wonderful – really wonderful – room at the Malmaison in Edinburgh. DorkyDad was using the free WiFi to check his emails; I was chilling out on the massive bed. Our request for breakfast in the room was hanging outside the door.
Our ‘last supper’ that evening had been at Fishers in Leith. DorkySon tasted sticky toffee pudding for the first time in his life. We drank wine, and had a wee wander along the Shore before heading back to our room, which looked out onto the twinkling water. Someone, somewhere, was setting off fireworks.
Earlier that day, a big truck had pulled up outside our house. DorkySon was beside himself with excitement. He said hello and shook hands with Andy, Mickey and Norrie – three perfectly named removal men – before I took him to spend the day down in Portobello with his Granny. I didn’t think he needed to see his life being packed into boxes.
We didn’t need to see that either, really. I distracted myself by making the guys endless cups of tea, and hoovering the empty rooms. DorkyDad and I went to say cheerio to some of the shopkeepers in Marchmont who have become good friends. There was a lot of backslapping and ‘it’s not goodbye, it’s see you later’.
I can’t believe that was only a week ago. Tonight we are sitting in the living room in our new place. I haven’t committed our new address to memory yet, but when I emailed it out to friends I got several replies saying that even Eliza Doolittle would struggle to say it correctly. There are a lot of aitches.
It has been a busy week. Two hotels, two trains, too many taxis to count, DorkySon’s first sighting of a red London bus, several large glasses of wine, and a lot of Peppa Pig videos on the iPad.
Mickey came back tonight – and packed some of our stuff back into the truck. Our table wouldn’t fit through the door of the new flat. Nor would my wardrobe; and there is no room for most of our books. They are going into storage for six months, somewhere near Dartford, until we find our forever house.
This is not a forever house, but it is fine, for now. It is comfy, and cosy. DorkySon has already taken over the hallway with his trucks. We have music in the kitchen; fresh flowers in the window (thanks Mum), and some of our pictures are up on the walls.
A new place always takes time to get used to. I planned today’s activities around a trip to the library, and DorkySon was jumping up and down with excitement at the thought of finding some new truck books. When we got there we discovered that it is, inexplicably, closed on Wednesdays. But instead we went for a walk and found a duck pond, and then a grand wee playground with a pirate ship.
I have been bowled over by the generous welcome of other mums in the area. We only got our internet connected yesterday, and from the one email I sent introducing myself on the local NCT list, I’ve already had a dozen replies with offers of coffee and walks to the park. I got chatting to someone in the queue at WH Smith this morning, and came away with a nursery recommendation.
God knows there have been a couple of wobbly moments. I am trying hard to define this new place by what it is – and the kindness of strangers makes that so much easier, I can’t wait to hear some personal recommendations for places to go – but I have had one or two moments when I’ve only been able to define it by what it’s not. It’s not the house I’m used to. Michael is not my butcher any more, Eddie is not my fishmonger anymore, and after tonight, the removal men are not coming back. It’s not Edinburgh. Not Scotland. And my Mum doesn’t live down the road anymore.
As DorkySon would say, that smells like poo.
But I think if we get some more pictures on the walls, and I reply to all those lovely friendly emails, and we go to the library on Thursday next time instead of Wednesday, we might just be alright here. It’s a big old adventure, and I’m willing to give it a shot.
I was planning on having a load of photos to go with this post – I kept my camera away from the removal men, with the intention of documenting our journey – but then I left it switched on all night by accident and ran the battery down before we’d even left the hotel in Edinburgh. I discovered that on the train, just as we were passing Cockenzie and DorkySon jumped up, pointed out the window and said “Look, look, it’s Granny’s ocean!”
That was the first of the wobbly moments. I’m hoping there aren’t too many more to come.
The One Where My Son Says He Doesn’t Love Me
‘I don’t love you, Mummy.’
‘That dress is ugly, Mummy.’
‘My dinner is disgusting, Mummy.’
‘I don’t want any more of this horrible juice.’
Last week, I spent a couple of nights down in London, continuing our flat-hunt. DorkySon stayed up in Edinburgh with my Mum, and by all accounts had a brilliant time. She texted me a picture of him on the first day, sitting on a bench, smiling and clutching an ice cream, and a picture on the second day of him sitting in the big red tractor at Gorgie City Farm, waving brightly at the camera. There is no one on earth he loves more than DorkyGranny – they are incredibly close – and I knew he would be absolutely fine.
But I don’t spend nights away from DorkySon that often – this was only the fourth or fifth time ever – so it always takes a bit of readjustment when I return. And this was by far the most difficult time ever. I’d brought him back a wee George Pig keyring that I spotted in a shop and thought he’d like.
‘It’s rubbish,’ he said, walking over to the bin and dropping it in.
Where had my sweet wee boy gone? It was as though I’d just skipped ahead fourteen years and was living with a short, angry teenager. He kept coming up to me as though he wanted a cuddle, and then swerving, pushing me away at the last minute.
It was a new thing for DorkySon to be deliberately mean – that’s just not his nature – so it hurt. But I also recognised myself in him. My parents separated when I was eight and, although I would never have seen it in myself at the time, I can admit now that I used to be completely horrible to both of them at changeover times, when I was switching from one house to the other. It was as thought I thought I would miss them less and find it easier to go if I fell out with them first.
DorkySon is doing brilliantly during a very unsettled time. He has had all manner of new people coming to his house, his belongings are being given away or packed into boxes around him, and his Mummy keeps disappearing for days at a time to ‘find a new house’.
I can at least try and articulate everything that’s in my head – all those mixed feelings of excitement and anticipation and nervousness – but even so I’m pretty tense and crabby and tired. It is no wonder that he has been feeling a little off too, and it’s expressing itself in a negative way. I take it as a compliment that I am the person he trusts enough to let off some steam with.
DorkyDad says that when he looks at me and DorkySon we are so close you couldn’t slide a sheet of paper between us. It is true. We love each other fiercely. Sometimes we are all tangled up in a mess of laughing and cuddles, other times we are pressing our foreheads against each other, locked eyes, trying to out-stubborn each other. ‘No,’ we say to each other. ‘No, no, no, no, NO.’
I had always imagined that I would be the calm parent, compromising, breaking up arguments, providing the necessary voice of reason. Not so. DorkyDad is the diffuser, the diplomat, and the joker who comes into the room to distract us both from whatever nonsense argument we are engaged in.
Anyway, it has taken a few days, but we are back to normal. DorkySon has returned to his usual, joyful self. When I threw on a scabby old fleece to drop him off at nursery yesterday, he said ‘You look beautiful in pink, Mummy’. Today I fixed one of his broken trucks with a dab of superglue, and he said ‘It’s great to have such a clever Mummy.’ And tonight, when I tucked him into bed, he smiled up at me and said ‘I love you so much.’
His language skills, his sense of humour, and his crazy wee brain are all developing so quickly, right now. He sings all day, and then lies in his cot before he falls asleep and recites as many letters of the alphabet as he can remember. He loves jokes about sausages and bananas. Yesterday he was very disappointed when he found a shoehorn in the wardrobe and it didn’t go ‘beep beep’ as all good horns should. He has discovered the word ‘why’, which is every bit as bad as I had been warned about. When we walk along the street he can identify a dozen different makes of car by looking at their badges (his favourites are Volkswagens and Mercedes, I’m not sure why). Today, in the space of a few hours, he asked me if it was winter yet, called me to the window to look at the sunrise, and greeted the rep from our removal company by saying ‘Hello man, I like your red tie!’
I wish I could bottle his laughter, and gift it to people to make them smile.
I am deeply, deeply sorry that DorkySon has learned at such a young age that he can say hurtful things. But I am so glad that all it takes to teach him that that’s not necessary is a couple of quiet days, reading books on the sofa with his Mum, remembering how much he is loved. And thank goodness I finally found the new house; next time I go away, he’ll be coming with me.
Sorry this was another very long post! The recommended length for a blog post is around 500 words, and this one was nearly 1000. Well done if you made it this far. If you’d like to keep up with me in a more concise way, then why not like my DorkyMum Facebook page for some shorter updates.
Dorkymum | Stories from Tasmania 