It's late Friday afternoon, and I've holed up in the kitchen with a simmering pot of spaghetti sauce, Spotify, and my laptop. My tendency to turn to food in celebration, to seek comfort, to find joy, is no less true here in Edinburgh. Sometimes, it's the take-out that Ben brings home. Other nights, I figure out what and how to cook a meal without my cookbooks or familiar brands of ingredients. I did cheat a bit and brought a small number of photocopied favorite recipes, or took snapshots of my well-worn favorites with my phone camera. Last week, we stuck to the basics, using just salt and pepper. While wholesome and good, I yearned for those, well, spicier spices. My local contact, D, told me about a Chinese market nearby which ended up having my familiar brand of curry paste and a few others necessities to make Thai yellow curry with chicken and potatoes. It lacked a bit in flavor, as I didn't have chicken broth or fish sauce. Next time, I will not repeat the same mistake.
N got her favorite mom-made chicken tikka, even though every block around these parts has Indian take-out. Ben made meat balls earlier in the week. Tonight, after another week of wandering the city with very little savvy, I'm ready for pasta.
I sort of thought, after a week or so, I'd feel less clueless, possibly more comfortable navigating the normally mundane happenings of life with two kids. Not so. I'm still screwing up all kinds of things, and it's good for me. It is humbling, as an adult, educated, capable individual, to be thrown into the unfamiliar. Why? Um, not sure, but it's good.
I concentrated so fully yesterday on making sure the kids get their bus passes in the correct slot, I received a reprimand from the driver about leaving my bus pass card on the reader too long. What a doob. So, in humility, I thank him politely and sincerely. At the grocery store, I separated a two-pack of chorizo, only wanting one. The clerk had to send someone back to the aisle to retrieve my other half. Duh. Read the sign, people. Apparently, I took home half of what I paid for last time. Live and learn.
Used to having public restrooms at most places back home, A almost had an accident at Sainsbury's Local. Fortunately, we were able to make it to the park facility, with the help of green lights at the intersections without waiting. Then back to the store.
And, the kids. Our obviously American kids. They usually get to make a lot of their own choices. We give options with many things. But not with Scotland. Ben and I made the decision, and they are still very much coping with all the changes we've thrown them into. Yes, it's for the best, and yes, it's a wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But they're still trying to figure things out, just like I am. We have many discussions about walking safely on the narrow sidewalks, pointing out how close to the curb the cars have to drive. We are working on voice volume, behavior. We are trying to figure out ways to wait for the bus that don't involve flailing around loudly in the stream of passers-by. We talk about "how kids behave in Scotland". If I get these two back home to Minnesota in once piece, I will count this whole experience as a success. They are learning. Grumpy Safety Mom needs to chill out.
They got to go to an indoor playground today, which they loved. We met Ben there for lunch. It turned out that they didn't have much available for lunch, or so I thought until we were ready to leave, and hungry again after sharing a cheese sandwich and fruit drink and soup. Yup. They had a full menu sitting on the tables. Not our table, obviously, but other tables. Super smart of me. Well, now we know for next time. And I bought everybody cookies to make up for it.
So, polite humility in the face of meeting our new town with eager anticipation. It's the way to go. Having a good laugh once in a while helps, too. There will be a comfort zone again one day and, until then, I will embrace the adventure. And the pasta.
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