SUMMER OF LOVE /  by Micaela

I suppose everyone has their first summer romance at some point in their lives, so maybe it was inevitable.  Sam's oldest friend Will, his lady Jam and their kids Lorcan and Maeve came up to the croft for a few days while we were there.  A lot of silliness ensued.


Lorcan, Sam's godson, is a whimsical and imaginative five year old with incredible drawing skills and a penchant for vikings.  Roan followed him around a lot and basically annoyed him.


Lorcan



Then there was Maeve.  She makes our little intrepid athlete Roan look like a nail-biting milquetoast.  She is a totally fearless white-blonde otherwordly Nordic warrior child.  She doesn't get cold.  In Scotland.  She will turn blue but not be bothered. Not even two years old and she doesn't use a highchair or a bib and sleeps in a big kid bed.  Roan was besotted.




We kept catching them off snogging or cuddling (once in Maeve's bed no less!)  or getting up to other shenanigans.  They seem to be able to get into so much more trouble in together than on their own.

 Kissing aside, they seemed to be very intuitive of each other, very connected.  I had so many strange moments where I saw what Roan's life could have been as a twin, how focused and attuned these two little people were to each other with so little language but so much of the same perspective on the world.  It was, as so many things are, bittersweet.

For Roan is was nothing but a joy to have two little Scottish tour guides to show him the ways of the countryside.  Now he will have two familiar faces to return to in the summers to come.

The boys
Reaching for the sky
Lunch in the sun
Hill transport
With Uisdean and Tide
Siesta
Mohawks
Bedtime

THE CROFT /  by Micaela

The croft.  If you’ve ever spoken to me for more than 20 minutes I’ve probably mentioned the croft, a little whitewashed box of a house nudged in the hills jutting up from the North Sea in the Highlands.  Going there is as close to a spiritual pilgrimage as I’m likely to get.

On the way up we always stop in a town called Aviemore for fish and chips and to stock up on provisions we won’t find up north (on the list of things you can’t get near the croft: diapers, bath mats, bagels)

Not the healthiest lunch ever

To get there you basically go north on endless single track roads winding through hours of rugged grazing pasture peppered with sheep and cows. The last quarter mile can hardly be called a road.  You feel as though you are about to drive off the jagged rocks and fall off the end of the earth at every turn.

And then you are here.

Heaven

First cup of tea by the sea

Sunset

The house is a traditional crofting farm house that has been in Sam's family for nearly 50 years.  The walls are a foot thick of solid stone.  There is no phone or television, and the house is heated with peat in a small cast iron stove in the kitchen.  There is nothing whatsoever that is precious or excessive. 






I come here to reduce myself to a basic search for sustenance and warmth.  It is not my place here to think or to have opinions.  I am nearly like a child here, fairly helpless, slower to catch on, not so capable as all of my strengths - obstinance, organization, resourcing information - are fruitless here. I am of no use herding sheep, wincing at my arthritic foot at the age of 36 as people twice my age rush past me.  I am easily lost. I lack a sense of direction as one is colorblind.  I can catch mackerel but cannot smash their heads on the side of the boat to put them at rest.  I wrestle with the stick shift and flinch as cars whip past my right side on the single track roads. I cannot build a fire with wet wood and peat.  I am the first to get cold, the first to get tired.  I find it a wonderful relief to be someplace where no one expects that I am capable of very much at all.

So mostly, I take pictures.

Jawbone on the beach
Chatting with Aunt Cis
Reading with Granny
Afternoon tea
A Loch
Roan and I checking the egg box - Photo courtesy of Sam
Roan with his collection of jawbones
Makeshift wagon
Dandelion
In the middle of the best nowhere ever



PHONE BOX /  by Micaela

As it is said "necessity is the mother of invention", one could conversely say that "invention is the surly teenager of what was once necessary".  Hence, things like the charming red phone boxes standing idly like awkward hitchhikers on roadsides across the UK, having become obsolete in the age of cell phones.  Or have they...

We came across this phone box in the nearby village of Cleish, who have reconstituted their old phone box into what is aptly called "Information Exchange".  It held everything from Tom Clancy page turners to Rachmaninoff CDs.  All free I believe.  Genius.

Cleish Information Exchange

Is that a bootleg copy of Downton Abbey I see in there?

THE BIRDS /  by Micaela

The first adjustment on arrival to Sam’s folks house is always to the cacophony of birds.  Brooklyn is a hyperbolic chamber compared with the racket of Cleish.

Weary with jetlag and achy from 8 hours of being folded like an umbrella into a coach seat, we are welcomed by an army of marching Guinea fowl screaming at us like nasal, honking day traders. Their intelligence is betrayed by peanut sized heads angled atop grey speckled football shaped bodies. They yak away at anyone that comes within 50 feet and sidewind around the yard in a fit of ordered nervousness.

Guinea Fowl (and a soccer ball.  Can you tell the difference?)

Never heard a Guinea Fowl?  Here's your chance (turn up the volume for full effect):



Followed by the Guinea Fowl are the chickens.  Is there anything more inherently comical than a chicken?  They sound like a chorus of tattletales, whiny and alarmed.  The Cleish chickens, however, are extremely friendly, too friendly, and they constantly try to invite themselves into the house, the garage, and the car.  All doors must be opened and shut quickly or you will find yourself with a stowaway. 

Photo courtesy of Sam

This was Roan’s first chicken experience.  He wasn’t quite sure what to do with them.

Aunt Cicely explains the finer points of a chicken

Nope, that's the wrong end!

Watering them won't do much either



Are they pets?  Not really, but they were way friendlier than the cat who disappeared at the first sight of Roan. He got to collect the eggs every day - usually about 4 at a time. “Delicate” is not a word in Roan’s repertoire or manner so we had several spontaneous omelettes being made following the egg run.

Then he would let them out of their coop so they could roam the lawn.  Peck and walk, peck and walk.

Photo courtesy of Sam

These are the happiest chickens I’ve ever seen.  A charmed life for a bird, really. They get to eat spaghetti and sit in the sunshine on the patio. They lay eggs with nice hard shells and luminous yellow yolks that are delicious.

Grazing

Sunning


Despite having such wonderful fresh specimens at our fingertips Sam couldn’t wait to get a jar of pickled eggs.  They are foul. (get it? foul? fowl? ha!)




COUNTRY LIFE /  by Micaela

Since coming back from Scotland I seem to be trying to return there every day.

Today I took Roan to the Prospect Park Zoo.  Behind the sea lion exhibit is a petting zoo abuzz with about 50 kids pawing at 8 sheep and goats.  There were chickens encased behind glass like Hannibal Lecter.  Anticlimactic doesn't begin to describe how pitiful this meager display of husbandry is compared to life in Scotland.

To whit: city sheep...



... and country sheep


This Saturday I've planned an outing to the Dutchess County fair, complete with a goat pavilion and Rosaire's Racing pigs, an improvement I hope.

WHERE TO BEGIN? /  by Micaela

We are back from Scotland and, after three weeks almost entirely off the grid, I am simply not sure how to tackle blogging about such an epic trip.  Therefore I have decided to begin at the end, or ends, so to speak.  Behold, a traffic jam in northern Scotland...


WHO CAME FIRST? /  by Micaela

We three are currently on vacation in Scotland and about to head up to the North Coast where there is nary a computer to be seen.  I am signing off for a bit, but first a taste of the good life here in the Kingdom of Fife, as Roan tries to answer the age old question...


TODDLERS SONGTIME /  by Micaela


My very first friend in this world was Matthew.  We were born a few weeks apart to two moms who were themselves great friends.

My mom (left) and Delores 3 days before I was born.  Hello 1970's!

Thanks to their friendship I got to spend many a weekend in the bucolic suburbs of White Plains and thus got a taste of what a real American childhood was like (not that I was Little Orphan Annie or anything, but rent strikes and pigeons roosting in the airshaft outside of your bedroom window isn't quite Norman Rockwell territory). It was like my own little Fresh Air Fund.

Me and Matt Circa 1980

One of my favorite things about being there was Matt's mom Delores.  She sang, played guitar and piano, and taught music classes at their house.  You've never met anyone so attuned to the mind of a child in your life.  Their house was top to bottom kid fun and adventure. She would also bring the fun to the city for birthday parties.

Delores performing at my sister's 4th birthday.  That's Caitlin scowling in the party hat.

I have been wanting so much for Roan to have that same magical experience so my mom, sister, and I took him up to one of her music classes last week.  I mean, really, can you handle this cuteness?

Roan with Tippy, music class assistant

With Aunt Caitlin and classmate
As usual Roan could not stay seated for even a minute of class
Checking out Betsy, the guitar

After class Delores set up the kiddie pool using an ingenious rigging for the hose.  We sat outside with some other class moms and grandmas and kids and cooled our kicks in the water. 

Pitchfork!

Delores chilling with an icepop

This little guy had quite a mosquito bite

Squirt fish attack

catching fish
At the end of the day I persuaded Delores to give us a private encore performance.  It was so surreal and wonderful to see Roan literally reliving my childhood verbatim and having such a great time.



The rhythm is gonna getcha!


SO THIS IS HELL: FLYING WITH TODDLERS /  by Micaela

I am dreading dreading our flight to Scotland, which is happening next week.  I hate flying under even the best of circumstances because I can never ever sleep on planes.  I have been known to polish off 2 Ambien with a glass of wine and still sit there twiddling my ever agitated thumbs for the 7 hour night flight. The last time I flew may have been one of the worst flights in my 15 years of pond hopping to and from Scotland. I was 4 months pregnant and my flight was delayed by 7 hours for half an inch of snow, most of it sitting in the plane on the tarmac in Glasgow airport. 

Flying seems to encompass the worst elements of a doctor's office, the DMV, and rush hour on the F train. I hate sitting still.  I hate waiting.  I hate lines.  I hate canned air. I hate jetlag. Hate hate hate.

Add to this a two year old who has never flown and spends relatively little time in the car (or any place where he has to sit still for extended periods of time) and I have no hope of anything short of torture.  Nonetheless, I have been amassing tips from other parents on how to survive:

TIPS FOR FLYING WITH CHILDREN

• If possible try to get them to skip the nap before their flight (especially a nighttime flight). They will be cranky but more likely to sleep on the plane.

• Make sure they have their own carry-on bag that's completely separate from your stuff so if the parents need to separate in the airport all the stuff stays with the kid.  Try to make them carry it throughout the airport if it's not too heavy.

• One parent should board the plane with all the stuff and get everything ready while the other parent hangs back with the kid and waits until the last possible second to board.

• Don't let them drink for a while before getting on the plane and give them a sippy cup just before the plane takes off so they are sure to drink it and their ears won't pop.

• Buy a bunch of tiny cheap toys (Goodwill might be good for this) and wrap them in tissue paper and lots of tape.  You can dole them out throughout the flight as needed.

• Office sticky tabs and a small notebook are a cheap alternative to sticker books.

• If the kiddo does seem like he will sleep you can make a nest of the floor under your feet for him to curl up in (unless you get a crabby flight attendant - you're not really supposed to do that)

• Buy earplugs in bulk from Home Depot and hand them out to your neighbors (Sam's idea).

• If all else fails, Benadryl for them and a Xanax for you.


BABY IT'S COLD OUTSIDE /  by Micaela

I found this old video of Lula in my email.  She would often hyperventilate when a cold rush of air came across her.  I think of her every time I feel that, something I miss in the summer. 


NEW YORKER OF THE WEEK /  by Micaela

My friend and inspiration, Eliza, founder of Extreme Kids and Crew, is NY1's New Yorker of the Week.  NY1 is our local station and hopefully this publicity will let special needs families out there know that they have a great place to go.

I make a brief cameo, crafting sea creatures with some of the kids in the background.  Lula's L is there, which I'm sure is no coincidence.

http://www.ny1.com/content/164815/nyer-of-the-week--eliza-factor-creates-safe-space-for-special-needs-children-and-their-families

I was on a crafting frenzy of sorts for two weeks, hot gluing the shit out of my fingers one too many times than I'd care to remember, in preparation for the filming.  The kids were fantastic and did a great job completing various gluing and painting tasks.  Here are the final results.

Wall of sea creatures

The jellyfish were my favorites

SUMMER MEDLEY /  by Micaela

Days here have formed into a dreamy summer pattern that usually revolve around Roan's outdoor activities.

Bball boy

Water balloon filling station

Water balloon dance

Hydration

Water shadows

Rooftop visit with Sam

The Parks Dept guy very kindly let Roan check out his tractor

A rare moment indoors with watercolors

Trying out his new kick board

Rowing with Caitlin (under the hat somewhere)


LONG BEACH MEMOIRS /  by Micaela

The past two Sundays we have filled the Odyssey with friends and hauled our pale asses out to Long Beach.  A miraculous fact of NYC that is all too easy to forget on a daily basis:  We are spitting distance from the Ocean.

This is, however, a fact that some 8 million other people do not forget on a blisteringly hot weekend so the beaches can look a bit like an umbrella parking lot. The key to an enjoyable beach day, therefore, is to go early so we've been aiming to leave before 9am. Really it's no problem since those of us with kids are up anyway, it's packing all the gear that's a challenge.  By the end we look like the Joads setting out for California in The Grapes of Wrath.

Once you find your waterfront spot you stake out your territory and then construct all manner of beach gully around you so the eventual encroachment by trolly toting suburban dads is kept at bay.  By 1pm it it's a sea of plastic chairs and unfortunate tattoos as far as the eye can see.

The first week I think we overdid it because after 4 hours at the beach we went back to Tim and Libby's to watch the World Cup final and eat burgers and didn't get Roan home until after 6pm at which point he promptly threw up all over the couch. Lovely.

**I found some old old unused Polaroid film kicking around last time so I brought it along for our first foray out last Sunday. There are real polaroids not an iPhone app!
Long Beach

The boys

Say "hello" boys!

Our encampment

Boardwalk shadows

Roan and Charlie

Charlie was a good boy and wore his hat

Sand mascot

Relocating

Busy day at the beach

This Sunday we got to the beach even earlier and practically garroted Roan with a large Aussie-style sun hat, followed by obscenely good lobster rolls and clams at Jordan's Lobster Farm.  Apparently, the place has a line around the block by 5pm but when you eat dinner at 2:30 you've got no problems.  It was us and old people.  Perfect!

Sand toes

This hat didn't last long

Charlie and Roan

People eating humongous lobsters

Roan with his new wee friend


I am normally not the early bird but I have to say the worms made it worthwhile.

HOT STUFF /  by Micaela

With yesterday's temperatures surpassing 100º we didn't leave the house except to go in the back yard. 
Aunt Caitlin helps us all cool off

TALES FROM THE ER /  by Micaela

Don't panic.  This is a tale in which it turns out there was no need to go to the ER at all.  I cut my finger Friday night while slicing onions and bandaged it up without much thought.  It was bloody but didn't hurt. 

I took the Bandaid off tonight after cooking dinner and it was still gushing blood and it stung. It had sort of splayed open. Sam very kindly offered to stitch it up himself, which I declined, thank you very much. 

The thing is, due to a bureaucratic snafu which I will not bore you with my health insurance is going to expire tomorrow until they decide whether or not they in fact should not have cancelled it after all in two months time.  Hooray for the American Healthcare system!!!  When I asked the woman at the health office what I should do if something happens to me while my paperwork sits on someone's desk for the next two months she said "got to any ER and they'll treat you". Um???  This is exactly what is bankrupting our healthcare system.  And I'm pretty sure that ERs don't administer chemo or prescription meds so I have to avoid any illness that involves either of those.

The irony is that I don't even care.  I had such an atrocious experience when my health insurance refused to pay for Lula  after I diligently paid my premiums for a decade that it seems pointless to have it.  Insurance is supposed to provide you with security but it seems more like a scam akin to  3 card monte.

But I digress.   I worried that my finger might get worse and that I would feel stupid for not taking care of it sooner so I walked down to the ER.  I brought my iPad.  I watched a movie.  I peed in a cup (unnecessarily, it turns out).  3 hours later I saw a doctor who looked at it and said " oh, we might have put a stitch in there yesterday but because it's been 24 hours we won't do anything to it".  Turns out the risk of infection is worse when you do get stitches at that point than if you don't. 

I didn't want to leave empty handed so I asked for a tetanus shot and I got a wonderful parting gift from the nurse:


TATTOO YOU /  by Micaela

I've been meaning to post this photo for eons.  I found Roan after a nap some months ago and he had managed to smuggle a blue marker into his crib and given himself a tattoo.  Busted.