24 March 2019

Three Marches

March 2018 - The Beast

In early March 2018, we were hit with The Beast from the East. The storm brought a lot of snow. More snow than I’ve ever seen in the UK. The image I have of the storm is this one:


Our kid, who was 5 1/2 at the time, in snow that was waist high. Every time someone brings up that storm, I think of of where the state of our family was at that time.

A couple of weeks before the Beast from the East hit, we were to meet our little boy for the first time. We drove the long distance to meet him, only to find out he had gotten ill the day before we were to meet him. We did meet him, but he looked awful; not the best way to meet your son for the first time. After a couple of days of hoping he would get better, Introductions was postponed until further notice. We drove back to Edinburgh.

Then the storm came.

When I think of that storm, I think of being in limbo. 

Meeting him the way we did kind of made me question the decision to adopt him. He looked so ill. It was also very unclear when we would start up Introductions again. He had somewhat recovered after a week, but had lost a lot of weight and everything just seemed...in limbo.

When I think of that time, I think of our older kid, in her last hurrah as an only child.

She loved the snow and, looking back on it, if we had been able to bring the little guy home as scheduled, she would not have been able to spend as much time out in the snow, getting all the attention an only child gets. That week of the storm is about as close to our older kid as I’ve ever felt, and I think that, for me, it was my last hurrah of giving her all my attention, and I loved it.

A couple of weeks after the storm, we were the family we are now; a family of four. When I think of March 2018, I think of that storm, I think of being in limbo, I think of both of our kids; the older one being an only child for the last time and the younger one not knowing how much his life was about to change, by gaining a forever family.

March 2014 - The Plane

In March 2014, I felt like I could go nowhere without hearing about MH370, the plane that seemed to disappear into thin air.

We were not parents at the start of March 2014, but were at the end of the month; March started like a lamb and ended like a lion.

We went through Introductions with our first kid that March and were staying at hotel near her foster family. We would go to breakfast in the morning and all we would hear about was that missing flight. As sad of a story that flight was, it was a distraction to me; I obsessed over reading about it. Not because I was obsessed about it but because I needed the distraction. 

I was very nervous about adopting a kid. I even told our social worker a few weeks earlier that I didn’t know if I wanted to go through with it.

For people who have not gone through Introductions, it’s hard to describe just how taxing it is - physically, mentally, and emotionally. We visited our kid’s foster family just this past weekend, and joked about who we were during that week - how little we knew and the toll it took on us.

Ever since March 2014, when I hear the occasional news story of MH370, I think of that week of Introductions and I think about our kid; who she was as a person then, and who we were to her - complete strangers. I think about her now, and how she is probably the person that feels least like a stranger to me, and how life can turn a stranger into a father, or daughter. 

March 2010 - The Madness

On March 20 2010, I dozed off watching a basketball game; March Madness. I love March Madness. The NCAA tournament is my favourite annual sporting event. 

I was sitting on a sofa at the Gilchrist Hospice, in Towson, Maryland. I was jet-lagged, having arrived from the UK a couple of days earlier.

My mother was dying.

I was woken up by my sister at some point later that night. She told me that a hospice worker had said that it was nearly time. 

My mother was leaving us, and soon after, we watched her take that last deep breath. Then she was gone.

My mother’s funeral was a week later. The day after her funeral, I drove Lauren to Dulles Airport, for her flight back to Oxford. On the way home, I listened to Michigan State (I’m an alum) beat Tennessee to make it to the Final Four. MSU wasn’t expected to do that great that year, but the team made all the way to the Final Four, which was something to be proud of.

Every March since then, I consume the tournament as best as I can from a distance, and I think of my mother. It’s odd to think that a game played by giant men reminds me of a very small woman (my mother was no more than 5 feet tall), who knew almost nothing about basketball. 

I also think about who my mother was, and who she had hoped her son to be.


08 March 2019

Ready to Run


I don’t like  running. 

I do like sprinting; I have very quick pick-up speed, even at my older age. I notice this every time I’m on my bike at a red light, next to another biker, and the light turns green. I don’t think I’ve ever been in that situation (without kids on the bike with me) where I haven’t just left the other biker in my trail. My legs can move very quickly, but not for long periods of time.

I don’t like running. 

For me, running is moving your legs for a long time. Sprinting is not. I don’t think I’ve ever liked running for long periods of time, partly because, I get winded. I can’t pace myself. I want to sprint - all the time; which is an insane thing for anyone to do, unless they are in a short race.

I don’t like running.

I signed up for a 10K a couple of weeks ago. Why, you may ask? 

I signed up for the shirt.

A year ago, I signed our kid up for a 1K kids' run, thinking she would like it (she likes running more than I do), and she did. She got a shirt. I liked that shirt. I wanted a shirt, partly because I had to run with her for the 1K, and why shouldn’t I get one? Turns out adults can’t get shirts for a kids’ race, and adults can’t sign up for a 1K run.

This year, I signed up for the 10K race that is happening that same day, as part of the Edinburgh Marathon Festival.

After I signed up, I realised the only shoes I own that could be called ‘running shoes’ are at least 12 years old, and pieces of the sole have been coming off for the past 2 years. I got new shoes.

I then realised that I have no idea how to prepare for a 10K. Part of me thought of doing nothing - I ride a bike 50-75 miles a week, so why train? Riding and running are two very different things. I need to train. I found a website with a 10K training plan.

I started training on Tuesday. As I jogged that first day, and then again two days later, I had to constantly remind myself not to start sprinting. I don’t like jogging; I don’t like running.

But I’m going to be ready to run this 10K; so I can get a shirt.

01 March 2019

4 Weeks


In four weeks, the UK is scheduled - possibly, maybe, maybe not - to leave the UK. Nobody knows if it will happen, what it will look like if it does happen, or the repercussions if it happens.

On the radio, I hear an ad where you hear a ‘European’ asking what life will be like post-Brexit, you also hear a ‘Businessperson’ and a person ‘married to a European’. These people say they don’t know what life will be like for them post-Brexit and don’t know how they will be affected. The ad directs them to a website that will help them through this.

The thing is, nobody knows what life will be like for these people. No one knows this, because there is no real plan in place. I work with international students. We have no idea how Brexit will affect these students, and we should be people that know this sort of thing better than Joe Schmoe on the street. 

I’m not going to comment on if the UK should have voted to leave the EU in the first place; I wasn’t a UK citizen at the time, so I couldn’t vote, and as a resident of a country, I feel like I should accept the will of the people who have welcomed me to live amongst them.

My issue is, there seems to have been no real plan on dealing with the outcome of the people voting the UK out. It’s been nearly 3 years since the vote happened. To now be 4 weeks away and not know what will happen is kind of scary, and is utterly ridiculous. 

I hear the ad on the radio and talk about Brexit at work and I can’t help but laugh because what else can I really do? Cry?