Big birthday bash?

Here's a photo of my parents' wedding, 51 years ago. On the right of the picture is my dad's dad (William Buchanan) and my mum's mum (Jean Stirling). They would both have turned 100 years old this weekend, had they still been alive. That would have been quite a party! Maybe we should throw them one in their absence, or at least bake them a cake.

Something that is important to me

Given my husband has worked here paying taxes for 14 years and his kids have UK citizenship, I am beyond appalled (though not surprised) that he can't have a say in his own future and that of his family. Thanks David Cameron for dumping EU citizens out of the Brexit vote.

Self deprivation

With Pancake Day on Tuesday, and Fastelavn last Sunday, I think Amaia has being hearing a little about Lent over the past week from various sources. Though not from us, as we don't observe Lent, I suspect she's been hearing about the concept of depriving yourself of something up till Easter.

Today she came in from school and announced 'I've decided not to eat chocolate till Easter'. When we inquired why, the answer was simply 'Because'. Fair enough, we left her to it. An hour after school, however, she asked if she could have a drink and a chocolate biscuit. Anyone who knows Amaia knows this was presented as 'Can I just have one last bar and then I'll give up chocolate'! Half way through a caramel Rocky, she reconsidered... 'Maybe I'll give up crisps instead.' Of course later again, walking past the crisp box she reconsidered that too! Finally over dinner, she came up with a real gem. 'I've thought about giving up chocolate or crisps, but I just like them too much, so I have finally decided what I'm giving up for Easter'. I figured she was cunningly going to come up with something she's not fond of such as cold meat or maybe sandwiches, but no she stunned us with. 'I don't like being cold, so I'm going to give up cold weather till Easter!' Good luck with that one in Scotland, pet!

Potential Oscar candidate?

Driving to school today, Anna came out with a very sweet attempt at emotional blackmail!

Anna: We had PE yesterday, mum.
Me: Was it fun?
Anna: (Sighing dramatically) Well, I really struggled, not like the others...
Me: Why do you think that was?
Anna: I think it had to do with sugar... their blood sugar.
Me: (concerned) What?
Anna: Well, Tuesday was Pancake Day mum, so they'd all had pancakes. We forgot to make some this year!

What's your name?

Charlotte has been going by the surname Buchanan since she was about twelve but without her (absent) biological father's consent she couldn't change it legally till she turned 16 last month. Needless to say, when that date came, it was her top priority to finally get a passport and bank account that matched everything else that she had already managed to change over the years.

The younger kids have obviously overheard bits of conversations about 'I'm 16 now', 'I'm old enough to change my name' etc. So with the absolute clarity of a six year old, Amaia got it into her head that you had to change your name at 16! One day over dinner, I heard Amaia ask Charlotte (who, of course, she has only ever known as Charlotte Buchanan) if she had thought about a new name for herself. She suggested Sophie, then Holly (the two most common names in her class). Charlotte decided to have some fun with it and told her she was going to change it to Baby-Magic Buchanan. (When I was pregnant with Lots, Marcel was two years old and had insisted two things throughout my pregnancy - 1) that she'd be a girl (I didn't know what I was having) and 2) that she'd be named Baby-Magic!) I couldn't guarantee the gender but there was never any way she was going to be Baby-Magic. When she turned up and we named her Charlotte, Marcel cried for two days solid. I even asked if he wanted to choose between the final two names on our list: Charlotte and Élodie. Nope, he still wouldn't talk to me, feeling I'd betrayed him!

So the surname changing came and went without Amaia noticing any change in Charlotte's name... but it is still leading to some rather odd questions and conversations. Tonight I was lying in the bath minding my own business when Amaia burst in: 'Mummy, see when granny was six? What was her name?' 
Me: 'She was called Ann, even when she was six'
Amaia: 'So did she change it back then?'

This is starting to get surreal!

Sibling love

I had a very sweet conversation with Anna yesterday. She's eight now and becoming aware of boys. She came in and announced: I think one of the boys in my class likes me. He keeps following me about and talking to me, yuck!

Me: Do you not like boys, then?

Anna: Well, I don't like him! He's boring and just not very clever. When I grow up the only kind of boys I will be interested in will be nice, clever, good-looking, kind boys... just like Marcel!

Awwwwwh!

My caring little fraudster

I was at the optician today with my mum. She and the kids go every January for new specs. Every other year I join them for new reading glasses but as an adult (as opposed to an under-16 or over 65), I only get a free sight test every second year, so I don't bother paying for one unless I feel my prescription has changed noticeably. While mum was having her eyes tested, I played around with the glasses, deciding what I'd buy if I won the lottery (which I don't play) at the weekend. My prescription feels ok, but my glasses are loose and annoying and constantly falling on the ground when I bend over. To be honest, they're driving me batty at the moment... So, I found a lovely blue pair, tried them and felt how nice and tight they were, then put them back. When I picked Léon up from school I was recounting my afternoon to him. 'Would you really like them mum?' he asked. I told them it was fine, I could live with my current ones. But he's a sweet boy, so he suggested 'They always do two for the price of one in that shop so instead of me getting a spare pair, or sunglasses this year, I'll pretend I want the blue ones (even if they are meant for ladies!) and order them as my spares, then when we get home, I'll give them to you! They'll never know!' I can see one wee flaw, given they'd make up both sets of his glasses the same - he needs +5.00, as he's really long-sighted, but my reading glasses are sitting around +1.50. I'm not sure his kind-hearted, if fraudulent little escapade is really going to help either of us! But he has a good heart, the wee soul.

A missed opportunity, a regret

When I divorced my first husband, my biggest regret was losing his family. Old-fashioned, more rural and from an earlier generation, there was to be no modern 'staying in touch with the ex-inlaws' as enjoyed by everyone else I knew who'd divorced. Of course, the children continued to visit them all for the first six years but I no longer existed. I was a non-person - she who should not be mentioned! Nevertheless, I sent my ex-mother-in-law a photo of the kids every year on her birthday and although it was never acknowledged, my kids reported back that it had appeared on her wall. Over the years I found my brother-in-law, his wife and my three nieces again and I now talk to them often. I've watched over the years as each of my nieces has added two more children to the family. It was easy to talk to them as they were online. My old mother-in-law was in her 70s and had never used a computer so we never spoke again. I told my niece, her granddaughter, about my life and she spent afternoons telling my old mother-in-law about me, showing her photos of my kids and so on. I always hoped that one day I'd see her again. But time was not on my side and when my brother-in-law texted me at 2am last Saturday, that opportunity slipped away, forever. I know why she felt she had to side with him, even although there never needed to be sides between her and us, but I hope she also knew we still loved her. From my niece's accounts of her meetings with her, I believe she did.

Fusion cuisine

I spied this in Asda the other night while I was shopping for culinary items to celebrate what the kids fondly refer to as 'the night daddy talks to a haggis'.

I love the inclusive way Scots are open to adapting their national dish to move with the times!

Creamola Foam

Growing up, I loved Creamola Foam. We went to visit my gran on Friday evenings and the first thing we'd do was check what flavour she had in stock each week. A minimum of one was a requirement, two was a luxury! In the early days I remember only lemon and raspberry, but orange became a favourite once we discovered it. I never really took to the 'cola' variety though. The last evidence I have for its existence is a photo from a 1990 camping trip with my ex husband, and two of my uni friends.

It made me smile when I came across this ebay entry the other day. I wish I'd stocked up back then!

Birthday dinner

Like all six-year-olds-to-be Amaia had fixed plans and ideas for her birthday. For about ten months she'd been telling me which kids she wanted to invite round for cake, and her gift ideas came in around Xmas. But unlike most children her age, she seems to have quite grown-up tastes too. When asked what she'd like for dinner on her birthday we didn't get a request for a trip to the local Mcdonalds for Happy Meal, or even a Pizza Express offering. She wasn't content with a homemade kiddie favourite such as mac and cheese or burger and chips. Nope, she asked for rabbit stuffed with pancetta, rosemary, sage, wild fennel and garlic, rubbed with olive oil and oven baked in white wine!!! It's a meal she's only had once before when she was four at her grandparents' Italian friends' house in Tuscany, but it definitely impressed her. Fortunately, we managed to track down two bunnies in Makro and we managed to get the recipe from Enzo and Franco. So when it was served up on Monday evening she was very impressed. So impressed in fact, she told us that she'd have one of the rabbits and the rest of us (including granny) could share the other!

Marcel

On the Sunday before uni began, I drove my eighteen year old son to Edinburgh to move into university halls. He was upbeat and excited but also a little apprehensive and quiet for him. He would never have admitted it at the time but mums know their boys. Once he'd checked in, he got his key and went to his third floor room. He dumped his stuff and sat down. Thomas and I asked if we could have a wee look in the kitchen too. That was the first time his mask dropped. The usually enthusiastic boy dragged his feet and took about ten minutes to pluck up the courage to walk to the other side of the flat and enter the kitchen. Of course, he was psyching himself up for a possible encounter with an unknown flatmate or two for the first time - a daunting prospect even without mum and stepdad in tow! I remember it well from my own student halls days in Germany and Italy. You dart into your room and sit silently trying to find the courage to visit the communal areas! But he did it. We walked into the kitchen and sitting there was one other boy, about the same age. He was motionless and reserved at the breakfast bar. His shoulder-length was hair tied back and he lifted his eyes but not his head as he nodded silently to us. We left the two shy and quiet boys behind without a chat.

That was four months ago.

On Saturday, not Sunday this time, Marcel decided it was time to go home. As we drove into his street in the dark, our tiny four seater bursting at the seams with food and washing, he jumped out and shouted into the darkness 'Tony, my bro!' I hadn't seen anyone in the street but he'd noticed a figure in the darkness. A young man came running towards Marcel, hand outstretched, before grabbing him in a bearhug. He talked ten to the dozen in a vaguely American-sounding accent about his holiday 'back home in Macau', his hair loose and wild as he gesticulated excitedly. He laughed about their new flatmate who'd moved in since he returned three days earlier and his OCD (and more than welcome) cleaning habits! He helped us empty my car and three trips up and down the stairs later, I felt it was time to leave as the boys discussed getting a pizza for dinner. I struggled to recognize the quiet motionless boy from the breakfast bar in September and my quiet son and they spoke warmly, sparkling with the exuberance of youth. Both Marcel and his flatmate Anton had visibly transformed and grown up since their first meeting. I suddenly wished I was that age again, just for a moment. They looked so full of life, and it was truly beautiful to see. I wish I could have caught that moment on film, rather than just in my head. It's a special time in life.

Suddenly Charles Aznavour sprang to mind - Il faut boire jusqu'à l'ivresse, sa jeunesse!

Why do we buy presents?

...when the box is always so much more fun?

Me: What are you up to guys?
Anna: Oh, we're just sitting in this box and I'm reading Amaia a story.

Humans of New York

If you've read me before, you know I'm a big fan of Humans of New York. Once again, Brandon's left New York and is currently interviewing families of refugees from Iraq and Syria. By putting a face to these people, you can see that the only reason that they are in that situation instead of you, is simply the postcode lottery of birth. I defy anyone to read their stories and not feel a connection.

And if you have a moment, please read 'Aya's story' and help Brandon with his call for her to be helped.

Danish Xmas in Scotland

Last week we went to Ikea's Xmas party to celebrate St Lucia in true Scandinavian style. The kids had a ball as always, as they danced round the tree, in a way you just don't in Scotland - our trees tend to be found in the corners of rooms or against a window with no room to dance at all. We try to attend it every year, in a vague attempt at Scandinavianizing our Xmas!

At the weekend Charlotte helped the little ones make Danish Xmas biscuits. After all she has been part Danish since she was just six years old. She's even introduced her own personal touch (coconut pandan from the Chinese supermarket) and that has added a streak of green through everything. But it is weird really, when you consider that this is our tenth Xmas as part of a Danish family, and we have never spent Xmas in Denmark. Thomas's parents don't tend to spend Xmas there so there's no home base to return to. Thomas does his best to tell us of their traditions and we do our version: we bake the cookies, we make gingerbread houses, the kids make Scandinavian decorations for our tree. The kids watch their daily episodes of their own imported Julekalender DVDs and have hand-wrapped gifts every day unlike their classmates whole tend to have a chocolate calendar. We have real candles on our real tree while all the neighbours cower in terror at the thought of naked flames on a tree. We have no Santa and we give our gifts on the 24th, not the 25th. The children have always known there's no Santa so spend their childhood keeping their guilty secret from schoolmates, neighbours and even the cousins they see on Xmas day. Their eyes twinkle when they greet them with the question: What did Santa bring you? and they play along, knowingly. In fact we sleep late on Xmas morning when every other house in the street has been up and bouncing since the wee small hours. Half tenish is a normal enough time for us to stir on Xmas morning and that is a whole lot more civilized than the 5ams my friends report! We force down the obligatory herring and rye bread with Schnapps for lunch on the 24th, because Thomas assures us that's what we're meant to do, though only so we can secretly get to the duck as that tastes a whole lot better! But is that what Scandinavian Xmas is like? I don't really know because I've never tried it. All dreams of a log cabin in the snow are just that - only dreams.

I wonder if he has managed to make it real enough for the kids to carry these traditions on into their families when they are older or if the fact that we never made it to Denmark during their childhood will eventually lead to them losing that connection? It would be a real shame given the huge effort Thomas has put in over the years, but will they manage to connect it to their roots in a country they sadly rarely visit or will they simply see our traditions as one family's idiosyncrasies?

Ikea Xmas party

As honorary Scandinavians, we made our annual pilgrimage to Ikea canteen last week for salmon, meatballs and a selection of Swedish desserts, topped off with Swedish entertainment and gingerbread tree biscuit decorating for the kids. It's funny how many of the other guests you start to recognize when you go every year (both to that and their August crayfish party) - from some of the staff from Charlotte's school to Glaswegian Chinese woman with possibly the most ostentatious specs in the West! Even the lady who sells the Xmas trees greeted us with 'Oh hello, you're the Danes who come every year!' - creatures of habit, that's us. If our kids have as many kids as we did, we'll be able to fill their ticket quota single-handedly in about 25 years time!

Xmas jumpers

"Listen Mummy, I can play my jumper!"

Kids will be kids

Thomas: Come on kids, let's tidy up, granny will be here soon! 
3,4&5: Awwwwh! 
Thomas: Don't you want granny to come? 
3,4&5: Yes we want her to come... we just want her to come to messy!

A child's view of our world

Anna: Mummy, you know how Lily is a Syrian hamster?

Me: Yes.

Anna: Are the hamsters going to be ok? I heard there was a war in Syria. Will there be no more hamsters any more? Are Lily's family going to be ok?

Where do you begin?

Birthday planner

Children really know how to make you feel guilty! 

Today Anna came bouncing up to me: I think it's probably about time I stopped coming into your bedroom without knocking!

Me (searching my recent memory for any time we might have been a bit too loud and terrified to ask!): Really?

Anna: Of course, I'd hate to walk in and find (Gulp, what's she going to say!?) you in the middle of wrapping all my birthday presents. I figured you must have everything bought and organized since it's December now!

Me: (I'm not sure this one has sussed her parents' organizational skills! If it isn't birthday eve (ie 18/12) then the chances of anything being wrapped, or even bought are slim, and slimmer still with poor Anna as her birthday is way too close to Christmas for comfort!) Oh yes, Anna, good idea!

Suggestions on what you buy an 8 year old whose main interest at the moment seems to be human anatomy on a postcard please?!