So, we spent a month (or just a little under) in the United Kingdom: Loch Lomond, Edinburgh, Surrey, Farnham, Brighton and Central London. Though at times, travelling with a picky eating toddler was tough, we really enjoyed ourselves. The scenery of Scotland, particularly Loch Lomond, was amazing, and reminded me of our very own mountain range, the Rockys. We spent our days making short little trips out from our cottage, and little A was introduced to a new variety of cow: the highland cow. She also enjoyed seeing sheep, regular cows, swans and ducks, on a daily basis.
My little girl's language really took off on this trip. Starting with 'this one' before we left, she expanded her sentences all the way to include: "no papa, move feet, dirty" giving her daddy's feet a shove off of my lap, and making us both burst into laughter. She also regularly used 'I sigh' to alert me when she felt uncomfortable around strangers, and more endearingly "I sigh papa" when she didn't want to go to her dad. Despite her previously sleeping issues, and all the sleeping she had to do in different locations, she did a fabulous job sleeping on this holiday (especially in Scotland, which I attribute to all the fresh air and the time she spent in it).
There were some big things that happened while we were on vacation. Before I went to bed one night, P informed me that Farah Fawcett had passed away. When I woke up in the morning, he told me that Michael Jackson had also died. The second passing far eclipsed the first in my mind. Oddly enough, we had been discussing the set of concerts he had scheduled the day before, with P expressing interest in going. I shrugged off the question of whether I wanted to go or not, and said (in a pre-cognitive kind of way) that I didn't think Michael would go through with the concerts; I had already read he was extremely stressed about the prospects of performing so many in such a short period of time (I believe it was 50). I told P that it was likely they would be called off due to 'exhaustion' or some other reason. However, the death of the artist was not one of the reasons I considered.
Like most, I found myself deeply saddened by the passing. I have always felt that Michael Jackson was the only wealthy person that I could feel sorry for. He had lived this amazing life, created some of the best music in the history of the world, and done a lot of positive things for mankind, and yet, he was doomed to live an unhappy life. He could never really enjoy any of it, as all of the sacrifices he made to get where he was, extracted a great toll on him. We spent some time watching the memorial in Brighton, while little A slept, and I found myself deeply moved by the sentiments expressed by some (Brooke Shields, Smoky Robinson and finally at the end, Marlon Jackson). Obviously, I feel sadness and fear for the 'Jackson 3' that Michael has left behind...as messed up as they would've likely been being raised by MJ...I think the prospects of being raised by Grandma, without the anonymity they used to have, is far more frightening. I guess only time will tell...perhaps she will have learned something from the past, and will do right by these children.
Where ever Michael Jackson may be now, I wish him the peace that eluded him so much in this life.
There are so many more things to share about our holiday...but I am feeling a little tired myself now, and since Little A has finally gone to sleep (at least I hope that's what the 30 minutes of quiet is indicating), I think I might go and join her. Although there is so much I want to do in this 'me' time (while little A sleeps) I feel the best thing I can do is rest, for the little one that is growing and relying on my body to fulfill its needs.
