Our Walk to Church

Little man checking out his feet before we leave, "why do they put shoes on me?  I can't even walk!"

Walk by the neighbors

Pass through Holyrood Park

 Check out Salisbury Crags

Stop and pose for millionth picture

Enjoy the autumn colors

Laugh at Daddy who is donning a French accent and calling him Henri Matisse

Wave hello to the Queen at the Palace

Shake our heads at the ugly Parliament Building that cost 400 million pounds
and looks. like. this.

Home again, home again jiggity-jog!

As the Baker Girls would say, "Happy Nappy Time!"

Unfortunately this phrase denotes a much different meaning in Britain. . .

Happy Sunday Y'all!  

Hope your walk (drive!) was as pretty as ours!

xoxo,

The Inces

What Goes Up...

I am not a hiker. I didn't know this until 3 hours into my first real hike.

Nightmare.

When what was supposed to be a fairly easy 4 hour hike in picturesque Hallstatt, Austria turned out to be a 10 hour one, Taylor feared I was ruined for hiking forever.

I grew up going to the beach. Vacation to my family was synonymous with relaxing in the sun not self exertion (unless it involved strapping boards to your feet and flying down a mountain - for this they make an exception). The Inces on the other hand went toe to toe with Mother Nature.

And liked it.

Enjoying Mother Nature to the Kellams meant taking a dip in emerald colored water 30 feet away from a freezer full of popsicles, a lounge chair, and a NY Times bestseller.

For the Inces it meant driving to Colorado in the middle of summer, the heat blasting in the Suburban (aka Nathanael's Revenge),  camping, and of course hiking.

So when we started talking about moving to Scotland, I dreaded all of the hiking in my near future. Taylor assured me that it was more like hill-walking and that I would definitely enjoy it.

We live close to a "mountain" here in Edinburgh. You can even see it out of our kitchen window if you are over 6 feet tall and stand in exactly the right spot. And believe it or not, I optimistically looked forward to getting "into" hiking despite my previous bad experience which included me crying as I sat down in the middle of the path refusing to go on, Taylor pushing me in the back with his Bible as he read the Psalms aloud and pleaded with God that I wouldn't be so wimpy, and Nathanael finally silently throwing his hands up in the air and sprinting ahead of us (literally) so that he could actually see the summit of the mountain since I made it clear that I wasn't going past the rest stop. To my credit, we had been hiking for 6 hours already and still had to go back down. And going down ended up being almost as hard as going up. . .

Our hike up to Arthur's Seat proved the same.


Call me naive, but I didn't even have second thoughts about going in the first place.  It was even my idea to take advantage of the small window of sunlight Edinburgh had to offer one Tuesday afternoon lest we miss our chance and Edinburgh turn to grey once more.  Taylor of course readily agreed and dropped his studies (knowing he should take advantage of this rare opportunity before I could change my mind no doubt).


What I hadn't anticipated was taking Seth.


I had been given many accounts of hiking up to Arthur's Seat from various people around the city (ok, let's be honest, I drilled anyone I knew or randomly overheard discussing it on the street), and their answers were always the same.


"It's easy.  It took us 45 minutes up and back. No problem."


Yada, yada, yada.


I believed them.  And they were probably telling the truth.  I just forgot the minute detail of bringing a four month old with us.  No, I didn't forget to bring Seth.  I just didn't mentally prepare how I'd handle a hike with him strapped to my fearless hiker-happy husband.



Our trip up the hill was a little steep, but for the most part, the path was wide and grassy - maybe I should have caught on and stopped right there.  Anxious to see the vista of our new city from the top and wanting to show my husband I could enjoy hiking with him, I pressed on.

We reached the top of the first hill and the view was spectacular,






but Arthur's Seat was blocking the best part of the city.  We carried on but not until after running into a septuagenarian Scotsman hiking alone in his loafers, shorts, and not without his walking sticks of course!  He merrily recounted the time he and his wife took their 4 month old son up to the Pentland Hills, and how his wife got quite irritated with him when the baby started turning blue from the cold.  Thanks.



We could see lots of people on top of Arthur's Seat,

and I scurried to keep up with Taylor as he strode up the side of the hill.  This one, however, was rocky and even steeper than the first.

Forget worrying about my own footing. What are we doing up here with a 4 month old (who is totally asleep at this point)?!

I kept looking left and right to see if people were giving us, are you crazy? expressions.  They weren't. So I let that console me and tried not to think about it. We picked our way past elementary school children, teenagers, parents, grandparents, and shortly made it to the top.  The view made me forget my misgivings instantly.

But they quickly came back as we made our way back down.

Taylor spotted some stone steps that led down the mountain on the side closer to our flat (the opposite side from where we climbed up).  The only problem was that we were here.

Not at the top of the actual stairs.  I was scared. Again my head swiveled from side to side to check out those around us to see if people were looking at us incredulously.  Taylor was standing in front of a "trail head." More like a footprint here and there made by some large rabbit and maybe a daring teenager.

"See.  Here is a trail marked out.  I will get us to the stairs," he promised confidently.  I wasn't buying it and began to balk, backing up and tripping over my feet.  Before I had the chance to protest, Taylor pulled me up on my feet, stopped me in my tracks,  and said,

"Do you trust me?" He didn't wait for a response.

"Am I the experienced hiker or are you?" Again not waiting for a response.

"Robin you've got to trust me even though you can't see where you are going."

He wasn't trying to be pastor-y or profound, but the weight of his statement silenced me instantly.  It hit me how that is such a picture of my walk with Christ.  I balk when I reach a trail head that I don't recognize, but I have to trust Him.  Trust that He knows the way better than I do and even though it may be hard, it is good.  It can even lead to an easier way down in the end.



So I decided that I would resist the urge to argue with my husband, and trust that he knew what he was doing better than I did.  And you know what?  We made it to the stairs.  And easily walked down the rest of the way.

A few steps into our descent, Taylor pointed to some colorful dots in a sheer crevice in the rock face.

Upon closer inspection, it dawned on me that those were some of the people we had seen up at the top.



"Aren't you glad I didn't take us down that way?" Taylor laughed.

Yes, yes I am.

Don't worry. They made it.

"Blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose trust is the Lord.  He is like a tree planted by water, that sends out its roots by the stream, and does not fear when heat comes, for its leaves remain green, and is not anxious in the year of drought for it never ceasing bearing fruit."  Jeremiah 17:7-8

Long, Tall Texan

You're probably thinking, awww, what a cute picture of Seth. But actually, in the Ince household, this elicited,

"TAYLOR! You've got to see this!"

Let me back up. I had just put Seth down for his morning nap. He is what is noted as an "angel baby" for those of you who are familiar with The Baby Whisperer; for the uninitiated, you can probably figure out what that is by the name. So obviously Seth is a great napper. He goes in his crib awake, talks to his "friends" on his mobile, squeals with delight, and then almost immediately gets quiet and falls asleep.

This particular morning, I heard him laughing, so due to my "FOMO" complex (that is Fear Of Missing Out - dubbed by my brother-in-law, Jason), I had to spy on him to see what was so apparently hilarious.

And. I. See. This.

Now you're probably thinking, what's the big deal?

And it wouldn't be a big deal unless you knew that this is how I put him in his crib originally (notice the placement of the "Sleep Sheep").

He turned completely in a circle, on his back, with one arm out of his swaddle! This may not seem like a big deal, but the cribs here are miniscule leaving little room for our ridiculously tall 4 month old.

So I sat in his room (in the dark) to see how he accomplished such a feat. Here are my discoveries:

I hope you're noticing how he doesn't take his eyes off of his friends :)

That is until he realized he had an audience. Related to Taylor Ince much?

Somebody is pretty pleased with himself!

So I leave him like this to begin his nap. (above)

Come back to check on him and he is like this! (below)

What am I going to do? Has my angel baby flown away?

Incorrigible.

Going.

Going.

Gone.

And this is how he was when I went to get him up.

Time for the Inces to invest in a circular crib...

Culture Shock Part I: The Blue Kitchen

Math is not my friend.

And it's all because of that guy in America who decided we wouldn't be on the metric system like everywhere else in the world.

Thanks a lot.

He is the bane of my existence in Edinburgh.

The math comes in as part of my job. I never thought I would need to use math as part of my job and have avoided it at all costs. I was totally that kid who complained during math class.

When am I ever going to use this?

I'd like to take the time now to apologize to all of my former math teachers who had to answer this question (or at least hear it) innumerable times over the course of their teaching careers because, it's true. I hate to admit it, but I do need math.

Wow, that was a really big step for me.

No, I am not getting my PhD in electrical engineering. No, I did not get a job as a banker at Royal Bank of Scotland. No, I am not teaching Seth his numbers...yet.

I am just a mom trying to keep my family fed.

And for those of you who know Taylor's metabolism, well, this is not an easy task.

So the question of the day in the Ince household is not, what's for dinner?

But, will we eat before 9 pm?

This is not because I am a particularly slow cook...anymore (I can hear you laughing in disbelief all the way from Charlotte). No, it's because my recipes call for cups, ounces, pounds etc, and I'm pretty sure they've never heard of those in the UK. It's maddening! I've resorted to having my computer in the kitchen with me while I fix dinner. I either have to google a conversion calculator or skype my father-in-law when it says I can't convert grams to cups. (Thanks Popsie!)

Secondly, the oven is, of course, in Celsius not Fahrenheit, and even when I calculate the difference, it still messes up my food.

Case and Point:

This is supposed to be banana bread.

Sad.

Here is my assortment of measuring utensils:

Thank you IKEA for anticipating my dilemma (though I still haven't figured out what DL is used for).

Yes, this is a blender. What?! It's the only thing in my kitchen that has measurements for ml!

Side note: This blender is basically the UK version of a Vitamix. We got it from a resale shop for 15 pounds. Score! Except for the fact that it takes up way too much space.

These yellow ones make me the most crazy as I thought it was a cup, 1/2 cup etc for cooking with dry ingredients. Not the case. So basically I use the big one to get the flour out of the jar. Please somebody send me some measuring cups!

The silver ones actually measure T and t etc. Needless to say I had the wherewithal to bring those with me from the States. Thanks Becky - I smile every time I use these cute spoons!

So mostly this post was to let you in on some of the culture shock, to show you how my foggy brain is being challenged, and especially to post pictures of our flat since y'all keep emailing me for pictures of our flat. It's not homey yet hence the dragging of the feet.

The kitchen is the only room that is presentable at this point. Though, the blue curtains are definitely not acceptable and will not be living here much longer.

That's right. You see a washing machine in the kitchen. Where the dishwasher should be.

But that's a whole different post.

Chopping blocks courtesy of IKEA make for an optional kitchen island or offers extra seating when bar stools are added. We can seat 10 in our kitchen - great for having students over for dinner!

Come visit us.

You could eat in this very kitchen.

Soggy banana bread, but you could eat it in this very kitchen.

In Edinburgh.

With this ridiculously cute baby.

The Clampits Move to Edinburgh

I never expected my first impression of Edinburgh to be similar to being on the campus of Texas A & M. I don't mean that the architecture was a throw back to the 1960s (an age where building construction should have been outlawed), or that I saw cowboys in big trucks (big cars don't exist here let alone pick up trucks). It was more in the spirit of the city. And that my friends, was a very warm welcome to a girl far from home.

Picture this, we get off the airplane, flying high on our excitement as the panorama of the city came into view, but our excitement quickly did a nose dive once we reached the baggage claim area. No, we did not lose any of our eleven pieces of luggage - praise the Lord - thank you for your prayers! But we realized, we have eleven pieces of luggage. This does not count the four carry-ons we had as well. Not to mention a 3 month old, his car seat, and his massive stroller (excuse me "pram") the size of what the Scots consider to be a compact car. Apparently even strollers are bigger in Texas.

Taylor expertly pulled each piece off of the baggage merry-go-round (the name is escaping me at the moment), and we stared dumbfounded at our home that now amounted to 7 dish barrel boxes tightly wrapped in blue cellophane, a little bruised and battered from their transatlantic journey, 4 hefty suitcases, and 4 very heavy carry-ons stacked into a small mountain that rivaled Arthur's Seat.

Can you say excess baggage?

Still staring dumbly at our belongings, we were shaken back to reality by a red-headed, Scottish accented, tartan clad angel. Her name was Lauren, and she was working at the Lost Baggage counter. She saw our dilemma and rushed to our rescue after calling down to check-in to recruit another girl to help the Inces through customs and out to the car rental area. You may be thinking that isn't that big of a deal, but the car rental place was at least a mile away. In a separate building. And we had six carts piled high with luggage.

So here we are Taylor, Lauren, and Check-In Girl pulling one cart behind them and pushing another in front of them each loaded to the brim with our belongings, and myself wearing Seth in the Baby Bjorn, and pushing the massive stroller packed with carry-ons. Hello Edinburgh, here come the Clampits!

After making it through customs and finally out to the street to the walkway that would lead to the car rental center, I thought, how are we going to do this ? We could each barely manage our loads with the wonky wheels on the carts and the blocked visibility caused by the sheer height of our stuff. But the Scots pressed on, and so we followed.

Lo and behold people started coming out of nowhere to lighten the load. Check-In Girl was relieved of one of her carts first - just as one of her high heels was about to snap off, and then a man wearing a neon yellow "Taxi Security" vest grabbed one of Lauren's and started pushing. I kind of fell back behind the group and watched our little Scottish army in disbelief. Taylor saw my amazement and whispered, "it's like God raising up Gideon's Army!" I felt as if I needed to shout "Howdy!" to all of the passersby as I was now endeared to the Scottish people forever (and they were obviously glad the Inces invaded their city). I couldn't get over the feeling of being in College Station. Edinburgh had such a similar vibe.

So the Lord again confirmed our call to be here in Edinburgh.

We were a motley crew for sure, but we did indeed make it to the car rental center. I wish I had a picture of our Scottish army in front of our mountain of baggage, but, "I can't believe we forgot to pack our camera in a carry-on!"

Here are some cute pictures of Seth to make up for it!

Seth's first Sunday in Edinburgh

Tummy Time on his new Ikea play mat. He's checking himself out in the mirror.

Worn out from Tummy Time!

"From the lips of children and infants You have ordained praise..." Psalm 8:2

I will write a post on our flat soon. Love and miss you all!! Thanks for the emails - keep them coming!

XOXO,

The Inces (aka The Clampits)

"I Can't Believe I Forgot..."

I know everyone is dying to see pictures of our new digs, and the last post was probably a let down since I actually wrote it back in August and just never posted it (too busy "Shredding"), but I am still not delivering the goods. This has to do with a little syndrome Taylor and I both have. Sorry Seth. It's called the "I Can't Believe I Forgot..." It applies to losing stuff and leaving stuff.

We realized this summer, much to our chagrin, that this had become a family mantra though the onset of it started once we were both old enough to leave the house without our mommies. Taylor's item of choice to lose or forget was his belt, and mine, my watch. It is good that we both suffer from this condition as there is much grace.

Here are a few things we've recently had to use the dreaded phrase for:

Scenario #1: We've just arrived in Edinburgh and want to contact our parents who are waiting to hear we've made it.

"Taylor, I'm going to text my parents," I say as we wait for our rental car to be ready. I dig around for my cell phone and try to turn it on. Nothing.

"I can't believe I forgot to charge my cell phone!" Taylor just smiles because he certainly can believe it.

Scenario #2: We've just arrived at our flat 4 hours later (little mishap with the car rental) and still want to contact our now anxious parents that we've made it to our new home across the Atlantic Ocean.

"Robin, I'm gonna grab the cell phone charger so you can call our parents," Taylor says as he rummages around in the bag where he stored the power converter, plug adapters, and other electronic paraphernalia. Nothing.

"You're not going to believe this, but I can't believe I forgot the cell phone charger in Houston," But I can believe it.

Scenario #3: We've been driving all over Edinburgh trying to run errands we can't easily do without a car while we still have our rental. All the while feeling guilty that we haven't been able to call our parents who are even more anxiously awaiting (and probably not sleeping at this point) since it has now been 48 hours since we left Houston, we've just moved across the Atlantic Ocean, and brought their beloved 3 month old grandson with us.

"Robin, I am going to set up the computer so we can at least email our parents that we made it," Taylor pushes the ON button. Nothing.

"I can't believe I forgot to charge the computer," Taylor says as he rummages for a second time through the electronics bag.

"Uh Robin, you're really not going to believe this but..."

Say it with me Readers, "I can't believe I forgot the power cord to the computer!!!"

I mean seriously. It's a very advanced case and the prognosis does not look good as living in Edinburgh hasn't cured us. Case and point:

Scenario #4: The bike shop owner running down the street to catch up with Taylor.

"Sir, I can't believe you forgot this," he says in a thick Scottish Brogue. Taylor reaches out sheepishly and grabs his ID and credit card from the honest Scotsman. He can believe it.

All of this to say, I can't do a proper blog post of our time in Edinburgh because I Can't believe We Forgot to bring the power cord to the computer that has our photos on it (not that we've taken any photos yet: Sight-seeing day #1 "I can't believe we forgot the camera." Sight-seeing day #2: "I can't believe we forgot to charge the camera!")

Good thing this phrase only seems to happen with things and not people.