P goes to America

Thanks to a lovely long maternity leave courtesy of the British Government, P and I decided that a trip to the United States of America was in order.  It has been four years since I've celebrated Christmas in the States with my family and I have been looking forward to this for months.  It has been so sweet to see my family love on our Pumpkin.  And she has been experiencing a lot of new things...

First Army-Navy Game - watching history as Navy beat Army for the 10th year in a row.

Cutting down her first Christmas tree with her Pop Pop, cousins, and Auntie Cate (sadly she fell asleep before we could decorate it!).

First basketball game - cheering her cousin Cassie Peck on at AACS, where her Mommy used to play!

                  And last, but not least, her first bath in a kitchen sink!

These are a few of *his* favorite things...

If Rupert could have everything in his life as he would like, he would own a cafe that had the best artisan bread and coffee.  He would have to own this cafe because he would want to occasionally work out some frustration on the bread.  The coffee would have to be exactly to his liking, the espresso weighed out for each shot and each shot timed to ensure the best taste.  These are habits I have watched him perfect in our own little kitchen.  And there would have to be an endless supply of portugese custard tarts, or Pasteis de nata.  I had never tasted these little tarts till I came here to the UK.  How to describe them?  Creamy goodness baked into a small pastry pie.  All of its deliciousness can be devoured in two bites.  Only the best and coziest cafes here in Glasgow have them. 

And then a crisis occurred - one day, they were all gone.  The tarts had vanished.  You couldn't find one anywhere.  And Rupert seriously considered giving up the ministry  to pursue the preservation of their existence.  I could see the wheels start turning in his head, how long he thought it might take him to learn this sacred art and turn it for profit.  How could Glasgow live without the portugese custard tart?  Then one blessed day, they reappeared.  The little tart fairy had returned to Glasgow to shower its gooey creamy goodness on us all.  Rupert's ministry was safe - there would be no reckless abandonment to the life of a baker. 

The dream of a little bakery cafe will still resurface and get turned over for a bit of fun every now and then.  But until then, we have picked our favorite deli/bakery/cafe to satisfy our own desires for good bread, coffee, and delicious little goodies - Cafezique.  So, if you are ever in Glasgow, and you think you would like to see the closest materialization of our craziest fancies, check it out.  You can read a newspaper and have breakfast there all day long.  And if the little tart fairy ever decides to run away again, the saintly people at Cafezique are determined to learn his secret before he goes. 

http://www.delizique.com/

Rain rain go away...

A trip to Ikea is made all the more cute and fun because P has to begin the joys of living in a city where it rains all the time!

A gift

Adoption - a wonderful and tremendously challenging gift - seems to be a theme in my life right now.  In my family, I have cousins who have recently adopted from Ethiopia and Tanzania.  I have friends in the States hoping to adopt locally and from abroad.  It has been such a blessing to hear their stories and how others are helping them and supporting them.

The prevailing thought in the UK regarding adoption is very different.  Is it a cultural difference?  Is it because of legislation?  I have been trying to figure it out for the last 3 years.  I try to ask questions, but you have to be careful how you ask and who you ask.  Adoption just isn't as prevalent. 

I am not an authority or (at this time) a participant.  These are merely observations about the differences in the practice of local adoption in the UK versus the US. 

1. Legislation - The law here holds to the philosophy (I don't know if it is evidence-based or not) that it is in a child's best interest that they are in the home of their blood relatives, preferably mom and dad.  I think all of us would agree with that.  This means that for families that struggle with alcohol/drug addiction, abuse/neglet, the children will be sent to 'respite' foster care while the social services work with the parents.  Then the children are brought back into the home until the next episode occurs.  In extreme cases this can go on for years before someone finally says, 'Enough.'  By the time most of these children are then 'released' for adoption, they are much older and can be very troubled.  I know someone who adopted a little girl who, years on from the event, still struggles socially due to her chaotic upbringing.  These types of stories unfortunately become sensationalized in the tabloid media about 'damaged' children and the ruin they bring on their unsuspecting adoptive families.  Of course, no one wants to adopt after a reading a story like that.  (Another note about laws here - there is no such thing as a 'private adoption.'  It is seen as 'buying' a child.  All adoptions go through the state.) 

Well, that's the state taking children from their families.  What about women who would freely give their children up for adoption?

2. The issue of adoption v. abortion.  The UK has much stricter laws on abortion than the US.  Ironically, however, the abortion versus adoption ratio is 7 times higher than the United States.  Is this because of the pro-life movement in the States?  Or Christian conservatism?  Or the lack of information regarding adoption here?  One thing is clear, if a woman decides to keep her pregnancy, then the government provides huge resources for her to keep her child.  A single mother in the UK will be given a home that is rent free, money for food and clothing, her internet/phone/tv paid for, as well as given enough money each month to look after her child so she can stay at home, even if the child is in school. 

3. Race and religion have unwillingly played a part.  Up until very recently, those in charge of the adoption process were instructed to not allow cross-racial or cross-religious adoption.  The sad reality is that the majority of families looking to adopt are Caucasian, while the majority of children needing homes are Afro-Carribean and Asian.  Thankfully, new legislation has come out to discourage this practice, reasoning that a child adopted into a loving home who will have to work through the very real issues of identity will still fair better than a child who is shifted from one foster home to another.  And yet, I heard on the radio (BBC Radio 4 - the equivalent to WNPR) less than a year ago a woman explaining the state of children born to Muslim parents who were needing homes.  I could not believe my ears when she came out and said that if there were parents out there who were really desperate to adopt, they should convert to Islam and then an adoption would almost be guaranteed.

4. In this country, as I'm sure in the States as well, there are far too many sad stories of young women who fell in love, became pregnant out of wedlock, and were forced to give up their child.  Before the 1960s most of these women were taken to a home, usually run by people of faith, to have the baby.  As soon as the child was born, it was whisked away and given to another family.  Their whereabouts were never revealed to the mother.  These women did not have much choice.  There would have been pressure from their families, their communities, their churches.  The government did not provide much for them.  Stories like these have rightly caused changes in society.  However, it has also put a very negative connotation on the word 'adoption' for many people.  They do not see it as an incredibly loving, self-sacrificing gift on the part of both the biological mother and the adopting parents.  Instead, they can only see a hateful and monstrous society or belief system that would make a mother give up her child.

I met a woman recently who had grown up both on the west coast of the States and the west coast of Scotland.  She had adopted a little girl from Scotland.  Because she was both American and British, I wondered if I could ask questions that I wouldn't be able to freely ask otherwise.  Thankfully she understood that I meant well.  She was incredibly positive about the experience.  She and her husband had chosen to adopt locally because they had seen what some of these children go through.  She agreed that adoption here is not as highly looked upon as in the States.  Because this child would inevitably be from a deprived part of the country, those in charge of the process were most concerned with how this woman and her husband would feel when her child didn't achieve like their other children.  Not 'if' this child didn't achieve, but 'when' this child didn't achieve.  'They had already damned this child before it was born!'  Three years on, her child is happy, healthy, and head of her class.

There are many sad stories of adoption, and there are many amazing stories.  Lord willing, there are many sad stories that will, in time, become amazing stories.  In the meantime, I will be praying for my family, and for my friends. 

"In love he predestined us to be adopted as his sons through Jesus Christ, in accordance with his pleasure and will --  to the praise of his glorious grace, which he has freely given us in the One he loves."  Eph 1:5-6

Crisis of the blogger

Blogs are a funny thing. I started writing one so that friends and family back home could get a glimpse into life here. But then I found I was running out of things to say. I am not a cook, gardener, baker, decorator, sewer. I have no passionate hobbies or incredible insights on the world of today or theology. In general, I am not a very interesting person. At the core, I am a daughter of God, a wife, a mother, and a nurse.

I guess what I’m wondering now is why should I keep a blog at all? I like the idea of challenging myself to write creatively and thoughtfully - to engage my brain and be forced to communicate clearly and effectively. Perhaps I should get a few ideas from my friend Catherine Zadoretzky. As we grew up together, her letters and emails got progressively longer and longer, as well as funnier and funnier. (On one of her many trips to Europe, I believe it was France, she wrote back emails about her time there - pages and pages. I printed them off for her and gave them to her as a keepsake when she returned. I wonder if she still has them...?) She is now getting her masters in creative writing in Baltimore. (Oh how I miss that city sometimes!!)

Would commenting on the world around me be helpful, to me or to anyone else? I’ve been in Scotland now for three years. I never really understood things (ie - politics, etc) in the States before I moved, so I certainly don’t understand them now. I do feel as though I have a bit of a grasp on things here thanks mostly to my husband’s addiction to BBC Radio 4 (the British version of WNPR - talk radio). All of the radios in the house are automatically tuned to it. Our poor daughter is going to grow up knowing more about the House of Parlaiment than the latest kiddie show on TV.

There are plenty of places online where you can read the rantings and ramblings of someone more interesting and well-informed. So if in your kindness and curiosity you find yourself reading this one, thank you.

P.S. My husband started reading this while I was writing and asked, ‘Does this mean you’re quitting your blog?’ I would have said yes, until I saw the smile of anticipation and satisfaction on his face. Now I think I’m more determined to keep writing. Maybe I should add ‘stubborn’ to my list of core traits?

37 Weeks

We have a wisteria plant that grows on the back wall of our house. A week ago (when this picture was taken) it was in full bloom, and the best part about it is that it sits just underneath the window of the nursery. I love to think about the fact that our baby will, at least for a little while, have that amazing smell as being familiar, being home. Now, if only the baby would decide to show up! :)

Babymoon

I know several people who have decided to, before the baby comes, take some time out as a couple and go away somewhere. I have no idea where the term originated, although it is most certainly an American-ism (not a single person that I asked in the UK had heard of it), but Rupert and I thought it was a fantastic idea. So when baby was about 33 weeks, we decided to take a 'babymoon.' It started with a family wedding just outside London. Then we spent a couple of days in a village called 'Lavenham' in the county of Suffolk. Rupert described it as a 'chocolate box village' - old Tudor-style houses that looked as though the Fox from the Three Little Pigs could do some damage. The village was surrounded in green countryside and oyster-rock churches. It was gorgeous. From there we visited some friends in Cambridge and some old haunts from when we dated (for those that don't know, Rupert and I dated long distance - I was living in Baltimore and Rupert was doing an internship at Cambridge University), which included a tea garden and punting down the River Cam. There is so much to say about the trip, the people we met, the things we saw. It was such a good decision to get away! So, to whoever came up with the idea of the babymoon, I salute you!

Learning a new language

They say when you have a baby, you learn a whole new vocabulary. Whether they meant the number of new terms you have to learn for all the gear that goes with having a little one; or the fact that you end up sounding like your baby, once you've figured out what they've been trying to say all along. An example of that last statement is that my family still calls a pacifier a 'badah' after my sister's oldest decided that was the name of the object he just could not live without.

But just to mix things up, I thought I would share some of the weird and wonderful words that Americans and Scots use for the same object (There is some debate as to whether these words are really British, Scottish, or Glaswegian. Either way, if I want to sound as though I know what I'm talking about, I've had to learn them!):

American -- Scottish
Stroller -- Pram (short for perambulator)
Crib -- Cot
Bassinette -- Moses Basket
Pacifier -- Dummy
Diaper -- Nappy
To bounce/rock -- To schuggle
A small bump -- A 'neat' bump
Onesie -- Vest

And there are many many more! If I think of some more, I'll be sure to post them up!

Oh, and just by way of keeping up - here's a picture of me and bump at 28 weeks, which was last week. (And a slightly more messy kitchen!)

21 weeks!

So about a month late (I'm actually currently 25 weeks) - but here are baby and I at 21 weeks!!

(and my kitchen)

Baby curled up into a ball...

... and then a great big stretch!!

Now, I know I'm biased, but how cute are those feet?! :)

There will probably be some more preggo pics to come, but I thought I'd go ahead and get these up before the kiddo actually shows up! :)