Wherever Ewe Go, There Ewe Are

Four

2011-03-09T17:14:00.001Z

Happy Birthday to my darling BooBaaa.

Things Continue to be Awkward . . .

2011-03-08T13:47:00.003Z

. . . but I don't care about annoying neighbors this week.

Why? Because my not-so-little BooBaaa is turning four years old tomorrow.

Yes, today my middle child is enjoying his last day of being three.

His grandparents were here over the weekend, and the weather was decent, so we did give him his big surprise present a few days early so they could share in the excitement: a new (secondhand but excellent*) bike just like Ramekin's with a slightly smaller frame.

I've noted before that BooBaaa has always been a very physically-gifted child. A couple weeks after Lambchop was born, not long after he himself had turned two, he taught himself to ride a bike. When he turned three, the training wheels came off. He spent all last summer going on various biking outings, frequently leaving bigger kids in his wake. And two weeks ago he did a stunning eight miles around a local reservoir, on a route full of mud, hills, declines, etc. And yes, he got back on his bike when he came off it a couple of times. And now?

Now, with his new bike, he has gears:

So he's faster than ever, as he's quickly worked out that popping the bike into 4th or 5th gear means he can go super fast with a little more work. And his legs will do the work. So he easily stayed with his brother in impromptu races at the same reservoir this weekend where we went to try it out. Which also means G and I are going to have to work seriously hard if we want to keep track of them on our biking expeditions this year.

But he's worth it, my remarkable little BooBaaa.

I only wonder what other talents four will uncover this year...

One more day,one more da y to enjoy three. Then we will see where four takes us.

(*Is*la*bik*es Because of the search factor, I will break up the name of the bike. They are beyond brilliant children's bikes, aluminium (light) with child-sized cranks and brakes to make them safer and easier to use for small hands. But very expensive new (you can only get them new from their own shop), and even the second-hand market sees them going for roughly 2/3rds of 'new' value. We got dirt lucky finding this one secondhand for an underpriced buy-it-now ebay option, and it was worth every pence, especially since it will pass down to Lambchop eventually. I can't recommend these bikes enough if you live in the UK.)

Would you say something?

2011-02-21T23:53:00.002Z

Say your over-excited child, while helping post all out neighborhood holiday cards back in December through the front door letterboxes during an *extreme* cold snap which has left the cheap, plastic bits that hold them together creaky and fragile, accidentally snaps one off. (And I've noted a couple of other broken letter boxes in our neighborhood alone this winter; ours was sounding ominous during the negative temperatures, too.)

Say said child screams when it comes off in his hands and is very upset because it truly was an accident.

Say the woman you considered a friend (she was getting a Christmas card from us!) is byond annoyed, and her husband, generally unsociable under the best of circumstances, basically wouldn't speak to us.

Say you apologized profusely, had your over-excited child apologize, then left as there was nothing we could do on the spot, to finish delivering cards.

Say that *immediately* upon returning home, you did some internet searching, found what looked to be the best option for standard replacement letterboxes, and facebooked your friend the link showing all available options. And, of course, offering to order a replacement or reimburse if they wanted to order their own. And aplogizing again.

In response, you get a very grumpy 'we wasted an hour putting the inside door plate on the outside' temporary hold message.

(Note here: I would never have held a small child, especially a child of a friend I knew, accountable for an accident like this. And it was an accident. He'd been putting cards through letterboxes without incident all along our route; they were all creaky from the cold; and the way it immediately came off in his hands, making me think the weather/previous user had already weakened the plastic bit at the corner. We checked ours when we got home, and it, too, was creaky in the cold. So while I would have expected a child's parents to offer to reimburse m for such an accident, I never would have accepted. But maybe that's just me?)

Anyway... and then say, in response to your apology again, etc., you receive another facebook message saying please deposit £15.30 through their door, and to be gentle with a ';-)' face, as they were leaving on holiday the next day.

And after an hour or so, she deletes the facebook 'conversation' about the incident.

Say you had your five year old handwrite a letter of apology and a promise to be more careful in the future to go with the £15.30 the very next day.

Say you do indeed put the money and the five year old's handwritten letter through the mailbox.

I'm wondering, what would you expect from your friend when she returned home from holiday?

I would have expected things to be a bit awkward briefly after the holidays, but assumed it would all blow over. Especially because I personally thought she'd have realized she'd rather overreacted to the whole thing. Because, hey, things happen, especially when there are small people involved.

On the other hand, her daughter, while lovely, is a little too lovely; never a hair or foot out of place. Overly cautious and not much, well, fun. So maybe she doesn't realize that things can just happen if her daughter never actually does anything.

But I digress...

I assumed it would blow over, primarily because (a) we live on the same street, (b) her daugher and BooBaaa will be in the same class at school next year, (c), heck, they now attend the same village preschool for a few hours each week, and (d) we have a number of friends in common because of (a) and (b) and (c).

Apparently, I assumed wrong. Because without ever saying a word to me since, instead she defriended me on facebook quietly. So I guess this will make our children starting school togther next September 'fun', huh?

Seriously. Am I missing something here? Should I say something? I am going to have to see her on a daily basis come September regardless, plus I am a Board member of the primary school, so I'm not going anywhere. And this rather sucks for the kiddos I think...

Would you say something?

Baby Love

2011-01-03T00:37:00.006Z

Lambchop is not a 'dolly' girl. In fact, I suspect she thinks she's a well-dressed boy who just happens to adore shoes. Up until the two weeks before Christmas, she showed exactly zero interest in dolls. So, when asked by relatives what she might like for Christmas, I discouraged dolls and pointed them in other directions.

And then there were the Christmas pageants at BooBaaa's nursery; at one of her playgroups; and at Ramekin's school. All the toddlers, especially the little girls, would eye up the Baby Jesus dolls in the manger at the front of the rooms/on the stage. They wanted those Baby Jesus dolls; it was written all over their little faces. But they all resisted the urge to steal them ... they listened to their mothers ... except for Lambchop.

Yep. Lambchop seemed to realize that the Baby Jesus dolls were the coveted items during the Christmas pageant season, so she took them. All of them. She would march up to the mangers, pick up the designated Baby Jesus doll from under the watchful, desperate eyes of the other hovering little girls, remove its swaddling cloth, then run off with the naked doll.

So embarassing. And yet, so typical of my terribly cheeky little girl.

And yet she still showed zero interest in any other dolls. The Baby Jesus dolls she'd parade around with, knowing they were highly coveted; indeed, a little trail of toddler girls would follow her about post-pageants hoping she'd relinquish the Baby Jesus. She'd ignore them and hold onto the doll until she decided she'd had enough, then the poor naked Baby Jesus doll would be dumped unceremoniously on the floor and she'd continue on her merry way without so much as a backwards glance.

So no dolls for Christmas.

But she did get a little Jellycat bunny. A soft adorable Jellycat bunny. A bunny with its own cute little outfit and matching shoes which I thought might appeal to her. (Seriously. We should have called her Imelda, the way she covets and adores shoes.)

And, sure enough, we had immediate Lambchop bunny love:

Upper Left: Lambchop excitedly hugs her new bunny she's just unwrapped.

Upper Right: Lambchop thoroughly inspects and pats and cuddles her new bunny.

Lower Left: Lambchop puts bunny up on her shoulder like a baby and cuddles her some more.

Lower Right: Lambchop immediately takes bunny for a ride on her new Scuttlebug.*

I hope everyone found a little something to love under the tree at Christmas.

Happy New Year.

*Her new scuttlebug was also a huge hit. Lambchop now scuttles everywhere around the house and won't let the boys near it; highly recommended.

Another year, another photo shoot...

2010-12-13T22:54:00.006Z

A particularly amusing four-shot sequence from our Christmas photo shoot yesterday . . . . And, no, I did not manage to get "the" shot, but what I did get will have to do, because they each seemed to have their own theory about when to sit still and smile, not grit teeth, with their eyes open . . . sigh.

Upper Left: BooBaaa and Lambchop decide to perform one of the Christmas songs that BooBaaa has been rehearsing for his Christmas pageant, much to Ramekin’s dismay. He wanted to sing a different song. (Note the hands; Lambchop has clearly been watching BooBaaa practice his song this last week.)

Upper Right: Ramekin is increasingly unhappy that he does not know this Christmas song that BooBaaa and Lambchop are now throwing themselves into.

Lower Left: Ramekin starts to perk up as the song nears the big finale…

Lower Right: … Lambchop’s can-can high kick! Along with a very pleased BooBaaa, who has sung his Christmas song, and a trying-not-to-laugh Ramekin because I have given up* and am now laughing at them.

*I became rather frustrated during our little photoshoot because I got lots of nice pictures of the trio this summer and fall on various outings. But yesterday ...um.... not so easy.

One Year.

2010-06-23T20:40:00.004+01:00

Happy Birthday, my darling Lambchop.

For Wordless Wednesday.

3, 2, 1, 0 . . . And we have liftoff

2010-05-17T14:48:00.003+01:00

3 years, 2 months, 1 week, 0 days was how old BooBaaa was yesterday.

My husband noted it in awe / excitedly /proudly.

I think the by chance quirky number sequence made the momentous occasion more ... well, more.

The momentous occasion, you wonder?

The day BooBaaa's training wheels came off his bike.

After a quick spin on the driveway, we went off for a proper bike ride of a couple of miles, and he handled it like a little pro.

My littlest boy is now comfortably on two wheels. My just-three year old. A bit nerve-wracking for me initially, but he is so very pleased with himself.

As he should be.

Look out world, here he comes.

Lambchop in the Middle

2010-05-14T20:16:00.005+01:00

Lambchop turned 10 months old a few weeks ago. Time is just flying by as she closes in on her first birthday. She is my baby, but she is clearly determined to be my toddler. I'm convinced she thinks she's much older than she is based on her sheer determination to keep up with the two people she loves most, her big brothers.

Ramekin and BooBaaa can do no wrong in Lambchop's eyes (save for ignoring her completely when she wants their attention). She adores them. Her smiles are never bigger than when one of them scoops her up from behind and runs her around the house. Her laughs are never louder when one of them rolls around on the floor with her.

I know that she will be absolutely crushed someday when one of them is mean to her in that way that only siblings can be. But in the meantime, it is lovely to see how much she loves them, and they her.

In the meantime, she has no favorite. They are both her favorite.

She loves to sit squarely in the middle of them, knowing they are looking out for her.

She looks like them both; there is no doubt they are all siblings. Yet, she weirdly favors whoever she happens to be sitting with at the time, and people comment on it frequently. Half my friends seem to think she's the spitting image of Ramekin; the other half BooBaaa. All while looking like herself, a little girl who probably thinks she's a boy.

For physical characteristics, funnily enough, she seems to be splitting the difference between her boys. Her hair is darker than Ramekin's blond and lighter than BooBaaa's light brown. Her eyes are a different shade than Ramekins' blue-grey or BooBaaa's hazely-green eyes, even though we're not quite sure what color they actually are. Any of them for that matter.

And she started walking when she turned 10 months old, almost to the day, thereby splitting the difference between her boys' mastery of this skill. BooBaaa was up at 9 months; Ramekin 11 months. It's almost like she didn't want to favor one over the other, my little lovely.

So, yes, she's walking. My last baby is walking.

Toddler, mommy, toddler! Capiche?

All in a day's photoshoot

2010-05-13T14:15:00.004+01:00

Lambchop: "Oh, I feel a ballet move coming on. Graceful arms, graceful hands... ta da!"

Ramekin: "Arrrggggghhhhhhh!"

BooBaaa, sighing: "Do you see what I have to work with?!"

Biking Baby

2010-04-21T20:39:00.000+01:00

And how she loves to ride!

For Wordless Wednesday.

The Wonders of the Backyard Egg Hunt

2010-04-04T15:33:00.004+01:00

Happy Easter to all.

I hope chocolate bunnies, big chocolate bunnies, were a part of your day.

The Thinker

2010-03-31T13:59:00.006+01:00

Pondering the cowlick:

Has anybody seen my cow? I know she's here somewhere . . . she keeps licking my head!

For not quite Wordless Wednesday.

Vaccuuming is Now Impossible . . .

2010-03-26T21:33:00.006Z

. . . because every time I turn the vaccuum on and start to actually vaccuum, I turn around to find little Miss Lambchop holding on to it as she tries to follow me.

Apparently it's even too much to ask to let me at least vaccuum up the disgusting mess she keeps making under her high chair. I am not amused.

Ok, I'm not that amused.

Although she is kinda cute.

And she knows it.

Mommy may threaten, but I know that she wouldn't really pull the vaccuum away and let me go *splat*. I'm waaaay too cute to go *splat*!

Point: Lambchop

What DO They Eat?

2010-03-25T23:26:00.004Z

I recently mentioned that Ramekin loves to have friends over after school, so I generally allow it once or twice a week if the boys have been behaving fairly reasonably. They come over and play for an hour or so, then I serve a child-friendly dinner to all children present in the house, and then they play or watch a short program on television for half an hour or so before heading home around 6:00.

What I didn’t mention is how incredibly picky most of Ramekin’s friends are when it comes to food. It came as quite a surprise to me, initially, since my boys are pretty good about eating their meals.

I have quickly learned that when you have young children as after-school guests, simple and quick is best; preferably something you won’t feel bad throwing out when they just pick at it. As a result, when we have guest four and five year olds for dinner, I usually go with any of the following: fish fingers; chicken fingers; meatballs; sausages; spaghetti bolognaise; macaroni and cheese; toasted cheese sandwiches; lasagne (store-bought unless someone brings one), as opposed to a more formal family meal. Whatever I go with, I’ll also add noodles or oven-baked chips, and a cooked somewhat child-friendly fresh vegetable or two (corn, carrots, butternut squash, for example) or sliced up cucumbers, tomatoes, etc. And we always have bowls of fresh fruit available. (Any guest parents and I generally pass on the child-fare, but they are welcome to have some, too.) I won’t make a child eat the dinner on offer. But I do require them to eat a fair amount to get a small pudding at these weekly events. To do otherwise would set a bad precedent for my boys as they are actually pretty good eaters and I don’t want either of them to think they could get away with holding out for pudding.

Anyway, Ramekin’s most frequent guest, his best friend ‘C’, is a fairly poor eater. I would say roughly 80% of all dinners are rejected for no apparent reason. I don’t take it personally; his mom, a good friend of mine, says he’s the same way at home and it drives her nuts. Another friend, ‘J’, announced he only ate spiral noodles and wanted to make sure we were having spiral noodles. When friend ‘D’ came with his slightly older brother, the brother inhaled his dinner, just like my boys, as D pushed most of it around his plate; their mother just sighed and said it was typical.

But the most entertaining picky food reaction to date had to be Ramekin’s friend ‘Miss A’ last Friday. Miss A is a lovely little girl in Ramekin’s class who had never been to our house before. Her mom brought her over with her little brother after school. I’d already cleared the meal plan with her mom a couple of days prior: my husband’s excellent homemade macaroni and cheese. Her mom said A would enjoy it. Turns out, not so much. Miss A finally took one miniscule bite of the macaroni and cheese and announced that she didn’t like it; her brother refused to even taste it. Their mom, who is absolutely lovely by the way, encouraged them to give it a real try, but they weren’t having it. So we shrugged and watched my boys work their way through seconds. Until …

And I have to say, if you’ve ever seen the cartoon Charlie and Lola, imagine the posh slightly superior way that Lola speaks…

… as I said, until Miss A asked her mother, in a voice very similar to Lola’s, as she sat in front of her untouched plate: “Mummy, when we go home, can we have a proper dinner?”

I immediately snickered because the five year old audaciousness of the comment was absolutely hysterical, even though her mother looked like she wanted to drop through the floor for a moment.

“It’s what they do,” I laughed after we’d set the little monsters up with a half-hour recording of Dora or Diego.

Anyway, you’d think with the limited culinary success I’ve had with Ramekin’s friends, they’d stop coming over. Instead, ‘C’ is always over. ‘J’ is eager to come back. 'Miss V' is owed another visit. Another friend, ‘T” (who I’m not wild about, frankly), keeps asking Ramekin for an invite and has even approached me himself after school about coming over to play. (I said I’ll try to talk to his mother the next time I see her.) And yet another one, “Miss M”, actually colored some pictures at school on Monday and gave them to Ramekin to take home with him, with instructions to give one to me so I would invite her over, too!

Is this normal? Maybe I’ll take an informal poll tomorrow, seeing as I’ll have a couple of the usual suspects here after school with their moms. I've already promised them meatballs.

sigh

Thoughts on Trois

2010-03-24T22:25:00.009Z

Lambchop is our last family member. We knew that when we decided to have a third wee one. And, a couple of months after Lambchop entered the world, we took steps to make sure that she would be the last one, that there would be no surprises. Getting a girl was the last and best surprise I could have had in regards to our family.

In other words, if I get pregnant, somebody is getting sued.

Ahem.

Anyway, as much as I adore the new crop of babies friends and acquaintances have been having left and right (not to mention a set of triplet baby girls down the street!), and babies that friends and family are currently expecting, we’re comfortable with our decision. I have no desire to be pregnant again. My husband is probably relieved the eight or so weeks of night feedings that newborns demand are in the past. And, well, we’re just too darn old to be having more babies.

Three is good. Three is (almost) manageable. Three fit across the middle seat of my car in their carseats.

I am a little sad about two things, however. First, that Lambchop will never know what it is to have a sister. I know I couldn’t have guaranteed a little sister for her had we decided to have a fourth, but I like to think we could have conjured one up for her had we done so. But, life is what it is, and Lambchop will just have be content with her two gorgeous big brothers.

The second thing that makes me a bit sad? That I’ll never get to name another baby, especially that imaginary little sister for Lambchop. Because oh how I love naming babies, even though I always end up torturing myself over finding the perfect name.

This past Friday, the name Genevieve popped into my head out of the blue. I’m not broody or regretting our decision, but there it was. A perfect name to align with Lambchop’s name; a name that never even occurred to me when we were wrestling with the naming of Lambchop. I don’t know if I saw it printed in a newspaper or on the side of a lorry, if I was projecting onto G’s cousin who happened to be due to give birth to a baby girl that very Friday, or if it came to me in a strange dream, and I've never known anyone called by this name, but, well, there it was dancing about in my head.

And not an ounce of French in either of us, I should mention, because my husband surely would ...

Anyway, I kind of sighed and thought to myself, “Oh, well … I don’t suppose G’s cousin A (who is now officially five days overdue with said baby girl), would allow me to name her baby for her? Probably not…". And I thought no more about it. (Unless you count hoping for a 'baby is here' announcement phone call from someone.)

So I didn't think anything more about it. Until Monday, when I took Lambchop to our regular Monday morning playgroup where there were a few new moms and little ones roaming the room. About half an hour in to the session, I started chatting with one of the new moms who had brought her adorable 17 month old girl named ---you guessed it--- Genevieve!

I kid you not. But it gets weirder.

I laughed when I told her I had, just that weekend, decided that Genevieve would make the perfect little sister name for Lambchop, even though we weren’t actually going to have any more children. The new mom stared at me for a moment, then said, “Wait. Did you say that your daughter’s name is ‘Lambchop’?” I confirmed that it was. She then laughed as she told me that she and her husband had narrowed down a potential little sister for Genevieve to two names, one of which was ‘Lambchop’. And 'Lambchop' is not a common name.

And, unlike G and I, she was in fact half French herself…

And, because she was half French, and completely understood how hard it was to find the perfect name for your children, I felt compelled to tell her that another name that aligned beautifully with ‘Lambchop’, and hence Genevieve, a name that was already taken in our extended family (an adorable half-Norwegian, half-French three year old niece): Emmeline.

I think she's mulling it over... okay, probably not. But it's a beautiful name, no?

Life is weird.

Anyway, any day now I expect to be doing (possibly my last) ‘And Then There Were…’ announcement posts, when Cousin A’s baby girl finally finds her way into the world.

And, no, sadly, I won’t be making any naming suggestions. That will be her parents' gift to the little wee one.

I hope it's a good one.

Who needs a baby sister when you have gorgeous big brothers? I present to you Exhibit A ...

... and Exhibit B. I'm such a lucky girl.

Nine Months

2010-03-23T13:53:00.003Z

It goes so fast . . .

* * * Pure sweet joy.

Oh no!

2010-03-12T13:08:00.007Z

It seems that Lambchop is the 'pink' version of BooBaaa.

Why?

Because she's just 8 1/2 months old, and this morning she walked a plastic chair across a playgroup hall. Twice.

We're in soooo much trouble. Again.

BooBaaa: Are you holding on tight, Lambchop?

Lambchop: Hit it, BooBaaa! I wanna ride like the wind, just like you.

BooBaaa: Well, it might be fun for you, but not so much for me. Mommy says you're the only chick I'm allowed to take for a ride.

Three

2010-03-11T11:43:00.001Z

My darling BooBaaa turned three this week. Yes, three. Years! I find it so hard to believe ...
. . . . You can call me Robot BooBaaa.

I feel like it wasn't so long ago I was being rushed down the hallway into theatre because he balked at joining us in the world. Only to have him change his mind once we got there and decide to come out without the need for surgery after all. (Thank you, sweet boy!) And once he was out, it's hard to believe he balked, because he hasn't looked back. It's been full steam ahead ever since, and then some. Walking at nine months; running at nine and a half; scootering easily by two years; biking a few months into two; swimming after his big brother; and always, always running around playing imaginary games with his brother ... he's a high energy bundle of sheer physicality.

And yet he's still my quiet cuddler, too. He loves to sit in my lap and read a good book. Or two. Or three. Or have you watch him do his floor puzzles. Or sneak back down the stairs after bedtime just to give everyone another roung of hugs and kisses on the nose. He's lovely and generous with his kisses, and his baby sister adores him

I don't worry about BooBaaa the way I sometimes worry about Ramekin and his need for approval. BooBaaa knows who he is and is happy just 'being' BooBaaa. He's confident and cheeky, cocky even, yet friendly and sociable at the same time. He's well liked at his nursery and is clearly thriving having been thrown in with the older kids at barely two and a half. He likes to do things for himself. He's not bothered by what all the other children his age are doing. In fact, he's not-so-secretly convinced that he's older than he is and demands to be treated accordingly. He doesn't care what people think when he goes against the norm and just goes about his BooBaaa business. And he knows how to be loud if he thinks that he's not getting his share of something, be it time and attention or toys. BooBaaa will never, ever be the overlooked, forgotten middle child. These qualities will probably serve him well in life, making peer pressure a lesser concern yet driving his future teachers slightly insane at the same time.

While I can't wait to see what three brings over the next year, I can't help but feeling it's going by too fast. He was just introduced on these pages within hours of his arrival ... and blink ... now he's three.

I don't think there's any chance of slowing it all down, though, my oversized lovely boy of three.

. . . . My motto: walk loudly and carry a big stick.

Happy Birthday, my darling BooBaaa. I hope all your wishes come true ... as well as my wishes for you.

The Power of Three

2010-02-24T15:29:00.005Z

Barely 8 months old and she's already thrown in with them. We're in soooo much trouble!

POOF.

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

Greetings from the Couch*

2010-02-23T23:14:00.007Z

*No longer with al pictures!

So I’ve been a crappy blogger lately. I keep wanting to blog. There’s so much to say, so much going on, so many wonderful things I want to look back and remember about my wee three. They’re growing up so incredibly fast. But then I just don’t find the time at the end of the day, instead just enjoying hanging out on the couch watching television shows that have finally made it over here, like Glee and The Good Wife, and the new seasons of How I Met Your Mother and The Big Bang Theory.

So, yes, I like trash tv.

Anyway, I have a bit of spare couch time this week, so I thought I’d recap how the trio is doing.

Ramekin.
Ramekin won’t be five until May, but he can’t wait. He tells everyone that he’s almost five. He’s already inviting everyone in his class to his party … which apparently means we’re going to have to suck it up this year and let him have some kind of a party. sigh He’s a very sociable boy and is always inviting friends over after school. Once or twice a week he has at least one friend over straight after school to play and stay for dinner. While this might drive some parents nuts, frankly, I prefer it to sending him elsewhere.

In spite of his self-professed ‘almost five’-ness, after much thought over the holidays, I decided to keep Ramekin on his part-time schedule at school, so I continue to pull him out for two half days a week. I’m the only parent in his class doing this. But I don’t care. He’s one of the youngest boys in the class, and I see no need for a four year old to be at school full time, no matter how confident and independent he is. And it hasn’t done him any harm; quite the contrary. He’s one of the best behaved children in his class, even though he’s also one of the most active. He loves learning. And being creative. And he’s the top reader in the class, in spite of his age and shorter schedule. He’s a number of books ahead of the next couple of readers in the class, well into the ‘third’ set of color coded books, a tier no other child in his class has yet reached. So I do feel rather vindicated in my decision to let him come home and essentially run wild a couple of afternoons a week with his brother, at home or on one of our ‘adventures’ at local parks and national trust properties.

BooBaaa.
What can you say about an almost three year old who is convinced he can do anything his brother can do? BooBaaa won’t be three until next month, but you’d be hard pressed to convince him he’s anything but a Big Boy. And, physically, he is. Tall, solid and extra-coordinated, with a huge amount of cleverness to boot, BooBaaa is going to be a force to be reckoned with. And he knows it. He could care less what other people think about him; he just goes about being BooBaaa.

BooBaaa is thriving at his nursery. Moving him up to the three to five year old room in September, when he was just two and a half, was a stroke of genius. He might have been the youngest for the bulk of the last six months, but it didn’t phase him in the slightest. He just goes about his BooBaaa business, and knows exactly what buttons to push to rile up those who might get in his way. Yes, a button pusher, but also a lovely cuddler who loves to snuggle up with a good book and someone to read with.

The only thing lacking in BooBaaa’s repertoire was to bite the bullet and complete potty training a few weeks ago. So we did. I say ‘complete’, because he was already half way there. Late last August, when Lambchop was about eight or nine weeks old, after watching Lambchop being lugged off to the changing table regularly, BooBaaa suddenly decided that only babies pooed in their nappies. So he stopped. Seriously, he just stopped, just like that. And since his declaration, he has only pooed on the toilet (save or twice when I was completely stuck, had no place to take/send him, and he was not pleased). The amusing part is he was a ‘naked toilet user’, insisting on completely stripping down every time he used the toilet. (A hassle in its own way, since he couldn’t redress himself without help, but a minimal hassle when compared to dealing with pooey nappies on a two year old. But he can now redress himself, so…) Anyway, three weeks ago we decided to finish the job. He picked out his ‘big prize’, the much coveted item he would get for five straight days of dryness, the same way we trained his big brother. In the interim, he got a sweetie for every wee on the potty. And then, after five straight dry days, he got his prize –a much desired Ben 10 watch like his brother’s—on Day 7. And that was it. He’s done.

Needless to say, it’s nice having only one in nappies again.

Lambchop.
My lovely Ms Lambchop turned eight months old today and seems pretty determined to leave babydom behind, even though I keep telling her I’m not ready! She’s babbling away, and adores singing. She’s crawling everywhere, meaning the stair gates are back in operation. She’s pulling herself up on anything and everything she can a grip on and trying to cruise.

Nothing fazes her, and my friends remain in awe of her happy, easy going, sociable personality. It’s probably because of her loud, boisterous brothers; she’s just used to chaos and noise. Which translates beautifully at the playgroups I take her to: I can put her down in front of a dollhouse/farmhouse/cars/whatever, and she’ll play happily, watching all the other little people play around her. Often a handful of little toddlers will seat themselves around her to play with her - she really is just that cute.

So that’s the news on the trio.

As for me, as I said I’m getting some time on the couch this week as G herds the little monsters around. Back in November I tore some cartilage (again) in my knee, so after much foot dragging and grumbling, and intermittent horrible pain, I finally caved and scheduled knee surgery. A quick scope to clean it out. Yesterday.

Yes, yes. I had knee surgery yesterday morning. My sixth one overall, I’ll have you know. But it went really well. The new anaesthetic drugs are fantastic: I didn’t feel at all sick when I woke up, and I was sitting up and eating a sandwich and drinking tea just a couple hours after having it done. And I walked out under my own power a couple of hours after that, no crutches necessary. They really have come a long way on these things. So I’ll be hanging out here trying to give it some time to heal and stop bleeding while I watch the wee three drive my husband bonkers for a change.

hahahahahahahaha

Point of Comparison

2009-12-29T22:25:00.004Z

As in chin point. This picture was taken today in Edinburgh . . . oh yeah, we drove up to Edinburgh yesterday . . . but back to the point: Do you think the wee three have inherited my chin?

(Poof)

Poor things.

Another picture to be going poof in a few days ... not to mention how old looking at it makes me feel.

Sigh.

Merry Christmas Everyone!

2009-12-25T13:33:00.003Z

My trio in the backyard snow . . .

(Poof)

Yes, that last name in the snow is what we finally landed on for Lambchop. Sorry I never did a naming post as I'd planned ... time just seems to race by these days. Hopefully, this will make up for it, but please don't type type it into the comments ... ;-)

And, this year's Christmas photo of the trio under the tree . . .

(Poof)

Yes, those are indeed three identical chins and noses under that tree. DNA is an amazing thing.

Pictures to melt away in a few days . . . just like the snow here.

Merry Christmas.

A Week Shy of Six Months...

2009-12-19T22:46:00.008Z

For the past few weeks, Lambchop has decided to transform into an independent, moving baby who doesn't want to be held back from anything that catches her eye.

She's been rolling across floors at will, forcing me to search her out ... in the hallway, under the playtable, and now under the just-put-up Christmas tree.

She's starting to sit on her own, desperate to grab whatever catches her eye.

She's been sitting in her highchair wielding her own spoon as I try to insert mushy food on mine. She loves apple and pear, banana yogurt. Shes completely unimpressed by butternut squash.

Everything, everything, has to be tasted and chewed on.

She's now remarkably like Ramekin as a baby, without the excess baby chub. She's light, dainty even, but long.

She's still a fantastic sleeper, like her big brothers before her. She started going through the night at seven weeks (don't hate me), was in her own room by eight weeks, and, except for the occasional growth spurt blip, does ten to eleven hours a night without fail.

She's lovely. She is just lovely. And sweet. And loves 'to talk' and be talked to. And sung to. And admired in the mirror.

And she adores --seriously adores-- her big brothers. They can do no wrong. And giggles madly whenever 'her boys' throw snowballs at the window through which she's watching them play in the snow.

Her snowman building boys...

The snowball (listen for 'the thumps') giggles.

Taking Over the Turkey Duties

2009-11-26T17:25:00.003Z

Hello, everybody! My name is Lambchop and I've been asked to take over the turkey hostessing duties this year, because my brothers, who handled it last year, are otherwise engaged.

As you can see we have two cute little turkeys in the house ... well ... four if you count my big brothers. hee hee

Since my brothers never actually managed to name the turkeys, I've decided to name them myself. It's only polite. So please say hello to ... hold on, let me check ... okay ... well, that answers that question ... Fred and Tom. Yes, Fred and Tom, the Ewe Household turkeys.

What? You want to know what they do?

Well, I can tell you that they're not edible. Believe me, I've tried. In fact, I pretty much try to eat or suck on everything I can get my little hands on.

And they're very gossipy. In fact, Fred and Tom can be downright rude when they spend their time gobble gobble gobbling to each other about all the latest turkey news, completely ignoring me!

If they continue to gobble and ignore me for too long, though, I just separate them. That usually does the trick.

And if it doesn't, I play toss-the-turkey. I'm getting really good at it ... although the game does require a second player, someone who will happily keep picking up the tossed turkey and returning it to me for more tossing.

That reminds me, thanks Mommy!

Anyway, I have to fly now ... another thing my turkeys can't do, by the way.
hee hee

Fred, Tom and I hope everyone had a brilliant Thanksgiving and enjoyed their stuffed chicken.

She's Twenty Weeks Old . . .

2009-11-11T00:01:00.003Z

. . . and too cute to be denied anything.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And don't I just know it.

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

What Lambchop Was Thinking

2009-11-02T12:56:00.006Z

"Holy crap! Mommy's making me go out in public in this pumpkin get-up?! Oh, the indignity!"

The Trio is on Holiday...

2009-10-26T20:07:00.004Z

... in Edinburgh.

'poof'

Back in a few days.

She Only Has Eyes for Her Big Brothers

2009-10-21T21:34:00.003+01:00

But they're absolutely lovely to her, so it's hard to blame her.

;-)

For (almost) Wordless Wednesday.

My Family

2009-08-19T09:39:00.004+01:00

. . . will be together again late tonight when the boys come back from their mini beach break.

Poof

For almost Wordless Wednesday.

Some Kind of Holiday

2009-08-17T11:51:00.005+01:00

So . . .

My husband left me this morning. And he took the boys with him.

No, we're good. I just sounds funny to say it like that.

But we did wait too long to book a holiday at the beach along the Norfolk coast. When we decided last week that it sounded like a great idea, we quickly discovered that everything we could afford was full up. And camping in a tent, probably the only available option, was not really an option on account of Lambchop. She does need to travel with a fair amount of accessories at the moment...

But the boys were extremely disappointed at the idea of not going. We'd taken them last weekend and they loved it. And we'd made the mistake of suggesting the idea of renting a beach cottage for a week, of course, and G took this week off to do it... but, after many hours searching all the web sites and making some calls, no affordable cottages seemed to be left.

And the weather is supposed to be spectacular this week, too . . . So on Saturday I suggested G call his sister, as she and her family live on the south coast, ten minutes from the beach. And they even have their own beach hut, a very cool plus. His sister and family were more than happy to have us down for a few days, and her girls were delighted at the idea of their cousins coming to visit.

After much discussion, I decided that Lambchop and I would sit this one out at home. Juggling a baby and all her 'accessories' on a beach holiday, while also trying to keep an eye on my two active monsters in a home that isn't mine, when there's lots of sun and sand and sterilizing to be done on top of it all, didn't really appeal. Plus, the boys wouldn't be able to get their bikes in the car if we had to pack a stroller, basket and sterilizing equipment, etc. (whereas we could have just taken both cars to the Norfolk coast, as it's only two hours away). And the boys wouldn't have to schedule around Ms Lambchop's needs at all if we didn't go . . . . So I suggested G take the boys and have a few days of wild beach and park time with their cousins while Lambchop and I relaxed at home.

So early this morning I helped G pack up the boys and the car and they were off! The boys were a little sad that I wasn't coming, but I suspect they'll be over it in no time once they land at their cousin's.

I suspect Ms Lambchop and I are going to be just fine on our own for a few days. For an almost eight week old, she's been sleeping really well the past ten days or so --from 6-8 hours of straight sleep a night, every night!-- and fairly easy going in the mornings after she wakes up. Afternoons and early evenings, she can be a bit of a handful, as that's her primary 'wake' time, but we'll manage. Primarily because of those 6-8 hours of sleep every night....

So we'll be putting around here while the boys are frolicking at the beach for a few days... maybe I'll actually get to catch up on my blog reading and on my own posting! Who knows?

Road Warriors

2009-07-29T11:40:00.005+01:00

The little pink bike has been put away for Lambchop's future first-bike use. Why? Because a couple of weeks after I brought it home, I saw an adorable, sporty little boy's bike in the same smaller size in front of a pawn shop. It was in nearly perfect condition, and a mere £15 pounds (instead of the £80-90 it apparently retails for new... shudder). So home it came for BooBaaa.

It turned out to be great motivation for BooBaaa to really focus on his pedalling: he was so excited and kept asking "For me? For me?". And after a couple of short (Boo-imposed) frustrating sessions on the driveway, it all suddenly clicked and he was off, pedalling furiously up and down the driveway with his brother.

Racing . . .

And always with a big smile when his adoring audience applauded his new skill. . .

The only problem now is when we go biking in our neighborhood, the daring duo have a tendency to just take off, forcing me to work to keep up with them, even though I'm usually pushing Lambchop in her stroller . . .

I suspect I'm going to need a bike trailer for poor wee Lambchop sooner rather than later, so we can all go biking at the weekends!

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

First Bath

2009-07-22T10:19:00.001+01:00

And, remarkably, not a tear in sight.

I'm going to be a fish when I hit water, just like my big brothers!

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

Making it Through the Week

2009-07-17T14:54:00.006+01:00

Or, perhaps more aptly titled: How To Survive the Week After Monday's Stupid Mommy Trick, Especially When The Universe Tosses in a Few Curve Balls Along the Way

Tuesday: Help pack up boys and have husband deliver them to their private nursery before 9:00 a.m., as this Tuesday session happens to be their long-awaited all-day field trip to the zoo! Have husband pick them up the boys at the end of the day. In the interim, strategically set up camp in the living room with the baby and all required baby-accessories so you can spend the day on the couch with your ankle up. Get up only to get necessary food items for baby or for self and to put dinner in the oven. After the boys' return, be regaled with all the exciting stories about the animals at the zoo. Look appropriately impressed when your littlest boy demonstrates repeatedly how the big tiger roared at him through the fence. Opt to sleep downstairs on the couch, with baby nearby, to avoid having to deal with stairs during the night.

Wednesday: Cancel private nursery afternoon session as husband can't deliver or pick them up. Instead, call friend down the street and take her up on her offer to take the boys for most of the day to play with her own kids. Repeatedly thank her when she insists on keeping them for meals because she knows you're trying to stay off your feet. Spend most of the day, again, in the living room, foot up, with the baby, save for the twenty minutes or so it takes to put another decent dinner in the oven. When boys return, they are still oozing excitement from having spent the day with their friends down the street. As husband is working late again, decide giving the boys a long bubble bath before bed is a fantastic idea because it only requires you to sit there and watch them play happily in a contained area. After they're in bed, opt to spend one more night on the couch yourself because the stairs are still a bit tricky.

Thursday: Sitting around so much has paid off, because it is now possible to walk carefully about the house with very little pain (although coming down the stairs is still a tricky one-step-at-a-time manoeuvre). Pack up a special lunch for oldest boy, who has Lunch Club before his afternoon pre-school session at the local school, and just manage to get everyone into the car to deliver said oldest boy to his pre-school at the appointed time, 11:30. Limp into the pre-school room with all three wee ones, then limp back to car with youngest boy and baby at 11:40, strap everyone in and go home....

Not. sob

Instead, try very, very hard not to cry when you discover that, once again, your car won't start.

Seriously. It won't start. No matter what you try.

And you know it wasn't, in fact, the battery, like the dealership initially thought and replaced, because (a) your bloody car won't start!, and (b), well, this isn't the first time it has refused to start easily post-supposed fix by incompetent dealership. Only the other half dozen times it has refused to start, somehow you've managed to get it started. And you've sworn you were going to bring the car back in to the dealership to ream them and make them fix it properly this time. Well, once things settled down a bit back home with the baby and all ... only you just haven't gotten around to making the appointment yet... and now your bloody car won't start and you're now stranded in a primary school's tiny parking lot with a 2 year old, a 3 week old, and a sprained ankle!

Call husband, only to discover that he's headed into a meeting and can't come help. He just can't ... but he can pick up and deliver the four year old at 3:00 if that helps...

Start calculating the odds of how much it would set back your ankle's recovery arc by walking home with the baby and two year old. You know, the walk with idiotic curb cuts that initially took out your ankle! Yes, that walk.

Spy a fellow mom you know returning to her car in the parking lot, one of only three cars remaining, and desperately call out to her, "B, can you give us a lift home?" Breathe a HUGE sigh of relief when she says she can, and gratefully load everyone into her car.

Once back home, stew some more about your non-functioning car and incompetent dealership while baby and youngest boy nap on either side of you on the couch. Insist husband talks to the dealership this time and tells them what we think is actually wrong with the car so they'll fix it properly this time! Also let husband arrange with auto club a time to pick up and deliver said car to the dealership after he came home from work.

Upon hearing that arrangements have been made for car to be delivered to the dealership Thursday evening with the assistance of the auto club, ask husband to retrieve stroller from back of car before sending car away.

As ankle is doing better, decide to vacate couch and return to proper bed upstairs for a better night's sleep.

Friday morning. Rush, rush, rush. It's the last day of pre-school for four year old boy, and they're having a Fancy Dress Party. The pre-schoolers are supposed to come as their favorite nursery rhyme character or pre-school story book character. Ressurect last year's Halloween costume, Thing 1, after reminding four year old that Thing 1 and Thing 2 are the Dr Seuss characters who always have the most fun. Have husband drop off Thing 1 at 9:00, knowing you have now committed to retrieving him on foot, ankle or no ankle, later that morning with Thing 2 and baby in tow.

Herd two year old out the door, and strap baby into the retrieved stroller and head off just after 11:00 to collect four year old. Glare suspiciously at the numerous ominous black clouds, and silently curse husband who, when retrieving the stroller from your car, forgot to retrieve it's rain cover. Not to mention the boys' rain slickers which were also in the back of my car.

Feel the first raindrops begin to fall as you head slowly down the street.

Sigh.... figures, no?

Halfway to the primary school, take cover under a bus stop as it starts to pour, pull out cell phone, and call husband so you can tell him why you don't like him anymore. Be glad both you and your husband have a sense of humor about these things. And so does your damp two year old who isn't bothered in the slightest by the rain.

Be thankful at least you had the sun cover for the stroller and a nice towel, as the baby is warm and fairly dry.

Finish the walk, collect an energetic, now-with-colorful-face-paint Thing 1, and walk slowly back home. With both boys asking repeatedly "What's that?!" every time we heard the rumbling thunder ...

Yes, Thunder. And as the thunderstorm was clearly imminent, we were racing, limp or no limp, without rain gear of any sort, to get home before it really hit. We just made it.

So now it's rather dark and pouring outside, with thunder and lightning, the whole show, and I have retreated to my couch as all three of the little monsters are napping. The Dealership has called to say they have actually fixed my car this time, so we will pick it up tomorrow morning first thing. And my ankle will have a fairly low-key weekend to complete it's recovery.

It's actually doing pretty well, helped mightily by being able to stay off of it for most of Tuesday and Wednesday, no doubt.

So that's how we've made it through this week. Hopefully, next week will bring no more curve balls.

Nesting Complete

2009-07-15T21:33:00.002+01:00

Back in May we admired the lovely nesting swan at Haughton Mill.

And in June, we returned and admired their continued vigilance, and we hoped that the duo would have wee ones to celebrate soon.

And last weekend, we returned to see if they, like us, had reason to celebrate.

Instead, we found that the pair had vacated their nest and squatters had moved in . . .

We were disappointed, but as we walked around the river we finally saw the duo gliding in to shore. Seemingly alone . . .

But then we saw the tiny fuzzy grey head peeking out from behind . . .

One precious cygnet . . .

I hope they're as delighted with theirs as we are with ours.

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

And a Happy St Swithin's Day to all. I hope it didn't rain in your part of the world today.

;-)

Stupid Mommy Tricks

2009-07-14T10:22:00.003+01:00

For my first trick --which actually took place yesterday afternoon-- I will over compensate trying to 'jump' our double stroller trying to reach the sidewalk over a curb cut that's still too high to easily manoeuvre onto (oh how I feel for people in wheelchairs in this country, the insanity!), a difficult feat due to my oversized two year old weighing down the front seat, and poor little Lambchop sacked out in the back.

How did know I was overcompensating? Easy. Because we all went down, straight backwards.

I was horrified. Boo crawled over Lambchop to get up and grumble; Lambchop howled because her nap had been disrupted; and, after righting the wee ones and consoling where needed, I checked to make sure the back of my head wasn't bleeding, tried to clean up my scraped up, bloody elbow, and bloody, now slightly puffy knee. Oh the joys.

And then I pushed them the rest of the way home (we were returning from Ramekin's preschool drop off). And sat down. And realized my ankle wasn't feeling quite right, but ignored it while I sat on the couch feeding Lambchop. And then, half an hour later, realized it really hurt to walk on. And then, another half hour later, realized I could no longer put weight on it without wanting to cry. A lot.

Not good.

So after a very long afternoon and early I could, hopping around with the assistance of a kitchen chair, having to keep Lambchop within a few feet of the couch at all times because I couldn't walk and carry her, and 'forcing' the boys to watch television so I didn't have to move far from the couch to keep an eye on them, finally came home around 8:00 pm.

Yes, a truly crappy time for me to have injured myself. G is super busy at work; and I can't carry Lambchop. Ugh!

Anyway, a friend down the street then arrived shortly after 8:00, as requested, so she could keep an eye on the boys while G, Lambchop and I headed off to A&E to make sure my ankle wasn't actually broken. After a bit of a wait, and a couple of x-rays, the good news was it wasn't broken. (I was so very relieved.) The bad news though was it was pretty badly sprained. (Ligaments loosen during pregnancy, and presumably mine haven't returned to normal yet, what with not much in the way of exercise the past couple of months. My awkward fall was enough to tweak them pretty badly in there it seems.)

So I now have crutches I find difficult to use (European crutches are slightly different than the ones issued in the States). We live over three floors. And I can't carry Lambchop about at the moment, which means I have to strategically get everything I need into the living room to deal with her.

Did I mention all the stairs in our house?

And the now three week old that still requires frequent night feedings?

Sigh.

I suspect it's going to be one of the longest weeks of my life . . .

At least the boys are at nursery all day today on a special fieldtrip to the Zoo, so I don't have to worry about them until this evening. G dropped them off on his way to work, and the nursery has already said someone will walk them out to my car when I go to pick them up around 5:00. And then I'll just, well, deal somehow.

Hopefully the little monsters won't run off with my crutches once they're back home!

Heck, maybe I'll even get some of those posts I've been meaning to write/finish completed since I can't do much!

The First Week

2009-06-30T09:25:00.009+01:00

Upon finding both boys down on their hands and knees, peering at a cheerful, kicking Lambchop on the quilt on the floor of the living room, I asked them what they were doing.

Ramekin: Mommy, we're just looking at Lambchop because she's so beautiful.
Me, speechless.

Needless to say, things are going pretty darn well, all things considered.

The boys adore her, and don't seem to mind the attention she requires.

Like Boo before her, she's not a crier, only crying when she wants our attention and usually stopping instantly when she's picked up. My midwife even remarked on how easy she was to calm with a bit of head rubbing by mommy when she was being examined.

The exception, of course, comes when her eyes are bigger than her head and she insists on more food, even though I suspect/know it's not a great idea. Then we get a bit of wind, and resulting upset. It's an occasional issue only, though, and we're working on finding the right balance re when to humor her and when to try to distract her from wanting more.

Lambchop, while a typically confused newbie when it comes to sleep --clearly believing that daytime is for lots of sleep, with intermittant alert cuteness, and nighttime between 11:00 pm and 3:00 am is for a bit of fussing for cuddles-- is actually a good little sleeper. Like all babies, when the option is available, she loves being cuddled while she sleeps. But G and I knew not to cater to this at all times so she'll be a good overall sleeper. And she already is, I think. She's currently sacked out in her moses basket upstairs. And she'll happily sleep in her bouncy chair for a few hours at a time, or on a cool quilt on the living room floor in front of the slightly breezy open patio doors (we're having a heatwave here). And I think I've already cracked the nighttime solution, believe it or not, after discovering she prefers to sleep on her side after feeding.

She's obviously a good eater, based on her grumblings for extra feedings at times, happy to inhale any offered formula or pumped milk.

needless to say, we are grateful that the healthy formula option exists. As for breastmilk, well, mine didn't come in like it should have. Again. Which wasn't really surprising, and almost comedic, since I've done this baby thing twice before and the same thing happened both times. Hence, starting formula within an hour of birth for Lambchop and Boo before her. But I am managing to pump out about a full feed's worth a day now in total, and I think I can get it up to almost two if I keep at it. So at least she's getting the benefit of enough immunity protection to keep her healthy and enough volume to keep her growing.

And if my boys aren't considered the epitome of healthy children, having been started off the same way, then there's no such thing as healthy children. Because save for the occasional runny nose, neither of my boys have been sick since early December (1/2 day, Ramekin), or October (1/2 day, Boo)!

Defensive position over. ;-)

So it's going well. G is still off this week on paternity leave, which is nice. And we putted around with Lambchop yesterday afternoon doing some errands while the boys were at nursery. She slept through the whole trip, except for our mid-afternoon stop at a cafe where we all had a leisurely lunch.

Of course, I fully expect things to get more hectic when G goes back to work next week and I'm left in charge of three little people.

shudder

But I'll deal with that then.

Gratuitous photo op of my lovely, lovely Lambchop.

Oh, and we've almost nailed down a middle name. We're stuck between two, maybe three, at the moment. Once that happens, I plan to do a naming of the Lambchop post of some kind without actually posting her chosen name. I'll see what I can do clue-wise. Or temporary post via comment-wise. Hmmm.

And, if I can find the private time (we have inlaws with us at the moment), I'll post how well her birth went, because it was, hands down, the best labor experience I've ever had. A truly nice, calm one to end my baby-making days on.

Lambchop

2009-06-25T07:26:00.003+01:00

Entered the world safely and quietly Tuesday morning at 3:34 am . . .

Just a few hours old . . .

Daddy's Day

2009-06-21T15:48:00.003+01:00

Father's Day Update: G is still the father of two little boys only at the moment. Which I suspect was more than enough at 7:00 this morning when they roused him to go for their weekly 8:00 swim.

(Side proud mommy bragging notes: During my blog hiatus over March/April, I think I forgot to mention that Ramekin moved up another swim class, passing out of Stage 2 with swimming colors at the end of March while he was still only 3. So now, instead of classes with older 4s, 5 and 6 year olds, he's surrounded by 6, 7 and 8 year olds. It's interesting to watch, especially when they have to remember to raise the bottom of the class pool for him on Sunday mornings so he can reach the bottom. Quite a fish, our Ramekin.

As for BooBaaa, he's following in Ramekin's fin-steps, I believe. He won't be allowed to take actual class lessons until he turns 3 (them's the rules). But as the Stage 1 instructor, whose students didn't show up for some reason, watched him getting tossed repeatedly about the pool by G, and then using a float and noodles to kick himself around the pool, giggling wildly all the while, he commented on how competent our little guy was in the water. G agreed, and said it was a pity he had to wait until he was 3 to start taking classes. Needless to say, jaws dropped when G told him he'd only turned 2 in March, and the instructor stammered, "I thought he was 3!" It's a common mistake. Between his size (big) and his glee in the water, he's probably pretty close to being able to pass out of the Stage 1 class already.

Ok. I'll stop my mommy-bragging now. Please forgive my self-indulgence. I'm just feeling really proud of their progress at the pool...probably because they're napping at the moment and I'm not having to yell at them for driving me nuts.)

But the boys made it up to G when they got home, each presenting him with giant bars of Toblerone chocolate, which he particularly enjoys, and numerous hand-made cards they've been working on at home, at nursery, and at preschool. And a couple of painted pictures by Ramekin.

Of course they immediately wanted Daddy "to share" the chocolate . . . heh heh

So. Anyway. According to the NHS measurements, I'm officially 39 weeks today. By my calendar count, I'm 38 weeks and 2 days. Lambchop is still stubbornly incubating. But no matter. Tomorrow morning, fingers crossed, I'm going to call the delivery unit at 7:00 am on the nose regarding inducement via water breakage. I am on the list for tomorrow. (They only schedule these things Monday to Friday, 9 to 5. Go figure). But that assumes (a) my cervix checks out as ready, and (b) they haven't gotten slammed with other moms in labor.

Which I know could happen; BooBaaa was also induced at 39 weeks via water breakage alone, but we had to wait until the afternoon to have it done because they got slammed on his scheduled morning. Them's the breaks, right?

Breaks. heh heh Breaks. Get it?

Ok. Maybe not actually amusing unless you're a tired, cranky and verrrrry pregnant woman who just wants it all over and done with. And trying to pretend you're not secretly terrified about the whole thing, too.

Oh . . . and still rather annoyed with yourself because you're still struggling with your list of girly names. There are a couple of late runners on the list now, now, names that have tentatively overtaken my previous favorites. Or, I could just be tired and even more indecisive. I.Just.Don't.Know!

What I do know, or highly suspect, is that Lambchop is going to be a much loved but nameless baby for a few days after she arrives . . . hopefully she'll survive the indignity.

Please wish us luck tomorrow -- getting in and getting her out!

Yes, It's Pink. What's Your Point?

2009-06-16T20:31:00.001+01:00

No, no. Not that. Still pregnant. And rather uncomfortably pregnant at that, seeing as Lambchop's head has descended even lower according to today's check by the local midwife. I'm now torn: do I go on a long, long walk tomorrow hoping to trigger her arrival, like I did with Ramekin. Or do I take it easy and attempt to wait until Monday's planned inducement, which will see me safely in hospital with reinforcements in the form of my BIL back at home (he arrives on Sunday to help with the boys).

Hmmmm...

Anyway, the pink I'm referring to is a small second-hand bike I recently picked up at a charity shop for a whopping £5. I couldn't resist it because, well, it was £5; upon closer inspection, the front brakes looked like they could easily be adjusted and fixed (by G, not me); training wheels could be added; and, the big selling point, its wheels were two inches smaller in diameter than Ramekin's little bike, which is just that too out of reach for BooBaaa's feet to reach the pedals. (Which he's desperate to do, despite Ramekin's attempts to thwart him --after all, it is Ramekin's bike.) And eventually, it will probably serve Lambchop's 'first bike' needs, too.

So I brought it home and scrubbed it clean. G adjusted the brakes and attached some new training wheels to it. And voilà! A BooBaaa-sized bike for him to try!

And on Saturday, he donned his bicycle helmet, climbed on excitedly, and tried it out on the driveway.

<---- And if you click on the picture to blow it up, you will see the pure joy on his little face!

Boo was so happy and proud of himself. And also a little frustrated at times as he hasn't completely mastered pedalling, especially 'uphill'. But it's coming, and I suspect he'll be whizzing around the driveway sooner rather than later.

Not to be outdone in the 'trying something new' department, Ramekin wanted to try biking without his training wheels. So, after explaining that he would not only have to wear his helmet, but elbow and knee pads too if we removed the training wheels, G removed them so he could give it a try. And Ramekin happily climbed on and ... panicked a bit. But he insisted on trying in spite of his fear for a few runs, so long as G held on.

I wasn't quite sure he was ready, either, at first. But then G let go and Ramekin actually biked, without training wheels, down most of the driveway on his own, and stopped himself easily by putting his foot down.

And decided he wanted his training wheels back on for a little bit longer.

Which, I think, is fair enough. He did just turn four after all, and we haven't been doing a whole lot of biking this year as we've only just hit the nice weather. I think a few more weeks of summer biking with training wheels will give him the needed confidence to try again without them.

And give BooBaaa time to sort out his pedalling logistics, pink or no pink.

And then I suspect there will be no stopping the duo, who already spend a great deal of time whizzing about the neighborhood on their scooters when we go on our walks.

Oh, and have I mentioned that BooBaaa is not phased in the slightest by Ramekin's new two-wheeled laser scooter, easily manoeuvring it up and down the driveway when he gets the chance? Scarily-coordinated kid, that one. I think I'm a little afraid . .. . impressed . . . but afraid.

Still Nesting

2009-06-15T10:43:00.005+01:00

Just like the pair of swans at Houghton Mill that we went to check on again Saturday evening after we had dinner at one of our favorite family pubs that sits in a marina in nearby Huntingdon.

I was rather hoping to see a flock of fluffy cygnets, probably to give me hope that there is indeed an end in sight to all the nesting that's clearly been going on, both in the waters at Houghton and here at home.

But when the bull swan glided across the still waters towards his partner, I thought I'd be content with a look at any eggs I can only assume are being incubated. Even though it is rather late in the season to still be egg-sitting. And I know how much G and I enjoyed our little peek at Lambchop last week when my Consultant had a quick scan to check her position.

But it was not to be. There was no "changing of the guard" so to speak while we hovered for a few minutes, hoping for a peek at what might lie underneath. Instead, the female swan pulled up a few reeds and pieces of grass while she sat there, tidying up her nest, as the bull guard glided around her keeping watch. It rather reminded me of the cleaning and re-organizing I've been doing around our own house these past few weeks.

So the boys happily ran on to play chase along the river paths. They fed ducks. They threw bread into the sky hoping a handful of little swooping terns would be able to catch them. They watched a boat move through the little loch system on the river.

All in all a nice evening out while we continue our own wait...

Battery Operated

2009-06-12T21:24:00.001+01:00

About a month ago, G and I had (roughly) the following conversation:

Me: Could you take a look at the battery in my car?

G: Why?

Me: I don't know. I think I might need a new one soon.

G: Why do you think that? What's your car doing?

Me: Ummm, nothing specific, really. It's just a feeling I have . . . .

G: Oh....kay....

Needless to say, the subject was dropped.. I had no real reason for thinking my car's battery was on the brink, so G had no real reason to look at it. Especially since I'll be the first to admit I know pretty much nothing about cars run, beyond the turn the key in the ignition bit.

So when the dealership's service department finally got back to me yesterday afternoon, maybe I shouldn't have been that surprised when they said it wasn't the fuel pump line, which is what we thought it might be. No, it was the battery. Specifically, something about a defective cell in said battery, so it needed to be replaced.

Again, I know pretty much nothing about cars --other than how to wield my auto club card when need be-- but maybe next time G and I will listen to my "instincts", or at least give them a fair hearing.

Sigh.

On the bright side, I have transport! We picked up my car at 8:00 this bright, sunny morning, and all is now right with my world. BooBaaa and I "celebrated" the return of the Big Blue Bus by heading off to the cheapie carwash, which he absolutely loves, after dropping Ramekin off at his preschool this morning. And then we went grocery shopping, where he enchanted everyone he came in contact with as he announced he was "help[ing] Mommy shop" with a huge, cheeky smile.

He really was in top form as we cruised the aisles --Mr Happy Happy Happy-- so I was happy to add popsicles to the shopping cart to celebrate.

Because everyone knows there's nothing better than an icy cold popsicle on a hot, sunny day!

Still Waiting . . .

2009-06-11T13:06:00.001+01:00

No, no. Not that. Lambchop is still in utero and, truthfully, I'd like her to come after Saturday morning because I have a long-booked hair appointment that morning. And who knows when I'll get another chance for a while.

No, I'm talking about my car, my Big Blue Bus. On Monday, after the boys and I visited the dentist, we took a quick 'detour' on the way home to put diesel in the Big Blue Bus. I figured I had enough time between the dentist appointment and Ramekin's afternoon preschool session to get us there and back in time to serve up lunch in between.

I'll admit, I've been a little paranoid lately about having enough fuel in the car in the event that I'll suddenly need to be somewhere --oh, say like the hospital-- only to realize that we won't make it there without stopping first to fill up. So my comfort level hasn't been letting my car's fuel level drop much beyone the quarter tank mark.

Anyway, when I got to the Tesco service station down the road, I was quite pleased to discover it wasn't that busy. I went straight to a pump, filled up my car, hopped back in, and ... sat there.

The engine was turning over, but not 'catching'. As in not starting. As in my car wouldn't move. And no matter how many times I tried to get it started, it just wasn't starting.

Crap.

So what does any 9 month stressed out pregnant woman whose car, with two toddlers strapped into their seats in the back, do when her car won't start? She calls her extremely busy husband, of course. You know, the one who's been working incredibly hard knowing he's going to be out of the office for a couple of weeks on paternity leave in the very near future, although we don't know exactly when in the future. That husband.

Poor G.

So with the boys starting to get a little edgy about our extended stay at the service station, I called him. And told him what was going on. Did he want me to call the auto club? Or did he want to come check it out for himself first, before we risked an increase in our auto club premium?

Luckily, he had a 'window' and only works about fifteen minutes from home. So, after confirming I'd done everything possible that I could do to start the car myself, he said he was on his way to have a look. (I tipped off the service station what was going on, and they were very kind about it, putting an orange pylon behind my car so nobody would bug us to move. It's not like the nine month pregnant lady was going to try to push the car out of the way, after all!)

The boys were quite excited at this point, of course. Their Daddy was coming to rescue us! I freed them from their car seats, and they squeezed into the passenger seat together to scribble on paper and await his arrival.

When G arrived, I handed over the driver's seat and watched him get the same 'no go' response that I had. Repeatedly. He checked a few things. And then he checked out the car's 'book'. And then he tried again ... and then, after a few long tries, miraculously, it started!

After much discussion, and turning it off and starting it again a few times, it was decided that there must have been an air bubble or something in the fuel line. I was so relieved; G was relieved and a bit perplexed; and the boys were really impressed that Daddy saved the day. So G went back to work; and the boys and I went home for the fastest 'snack lunch' on record so I could get Ramekin to preschool on time. My Big Blue Bus made the drop off and pick up without incident, so I was happy. And when G got home from work, he went out to start it a handful of times without incident 'to make sure'.

And all was right with the world.

So Tuesday morning, the boys and I headed off to town for our morning playgroup. There was finger painting, messy but happy boys. Then we had lunch with a friend. And then we headed back to the parking garage I was parked in so I could drive them to nursery and then head home for a few hours. I paid for our parking, loaded everyone and everything back into the car, hopped back in and ... you almost guessed it ... the car started. But something wasn't quite right ... and I reversed out of the parking space, feeling a little uneasy about the whole thing ... then moved the car mode into Drive ... moved forward a few feet, but then got nothing, zip, nada when I pushed on the accelerator.

In the middle of the parking garage. So I stopped the engine. Waited a minute. Then tried to start it again and got ... this time you guessed it... nothing.

I kid you not. The exact same thing that had happened at the service station when I turned the key --engine turning over, but not 'catching'-- was happening again. And no matter how long I tried to make it catch, it clearly just wasn't going to happen this time. So I had to call G again. Only to discover that his boss was out, as was another crucial co-worker, so he was covering for all three of them. Which meant he could not leave the office to see if he could get it going.

Now had I gone into labor, that would have been different... he acknowledges that... but being stranded for the afternoon in town? I'd have to sort it.

So I strategically/hopefully tried to start the car again when I saw a rather strong looking man heading toward the garage exit on foot nearby. My desperate ploy paid off. He stopped, turned around, looked at me and the boys stranded in the middle of the aisle, and came back to help. After establishing we couldn't jump an automatic, he generously offered to push the car into a parking space while I steered. I couldn't thank him enough. I then unloaded the boys from the car; pulled the stroller out (thank goodness I had one with me); strapped BooBaaa in; told Ramekin he was to keep a hand on the push chair and walk nicely; and, after tipping off the powers that be at the parking garage, walked the boys to nursery which was about fifteen to twenty minutes away. On the trek back, I called the auto club and explained my predicament, and a really nice man showed up about half an hour later.

It took him a while, but he finally managed to get my car going. I think the advanced state of my pregnancy made him a tad nervous --and who can blame him, it makes me nervous!-- so he insisted on following me all the way to my car's dealership. (My apologies to other people with car issues who were waiting for their turn for help Tuesday afternooon; but, hey, it was the right thing to do, no?)

Of coruse, the dealership service department was swamped. Swamped. And there were no loaner cars available, since those are generally reserved well in advance for routine car maintenance (we do it, too). So I sat there for two and a half hours, reading a book and eating apples, grapes and granola bars for a rather belated lunch. (Luckily, I tend to keep books and snacks in the car for the boys.) G left work in time to swoop by to pick me up, and then the boys at nursery closing time, delivering us home before heading back to his office for yet more work.

So I have no car at the moment, which I do not like. I called to check on its status yesterday, and they hadn't even found the time to look at it yet. Which means I had to cancel nursery for the boys and find a way to entertain them on the wettest, soggiest day of the month thus far. Seriously, it poured most of yesterday afternoon, keeping us trapped in the house.

And when I called just a little while ago, after walking Ramekin to preschool, they said that a technician was just starting to look at it and they would get back to me as soon as they knew something.

So fingers crossed I get my car back later this afteroon ... because I am seriously uneasy about being 37+ weeks pregnant, hixing very frequently, and without instant transportation.

At least my bags are packed. sigh

The Agony Continues

2009-06-04T21:40:00.014+01:00

Back before BooBaaa was born, I wrote a long post about The Agony of Finding the Right Name for my boys. And my naming "rules". Because finding the right name is hard, especially the perfect boy's name.

Or so I thought.

Because picking the perfect girl's name is turning out to be even harder.

Maybe it's because we're only going to have the one girl. Or because it's our last wee one, period. Or maybe it's because there are just so many lovely girl names out there. Or maybe I'm just incredibly indecisive. But I have had baby girl names on the brain for weeks and weeks, and I'm still agonizing over which few names will be the ones we 'take with us' when I go into labor.

And we've barely touched upon middle names yet!

Kat raised the "naming of the girl" topic today over at her place, Seeking Sanity. And I admit I was rather relieved to see I'm not the only one who always thought I'd know exactly what I would name my daughter if I ever had the privilege of having one, but now that I'm actually having one, I'm seriously waffling. There are soooo many lovely girl names out there. And as a result, some of my 'sure thing' name combination options aren't looking so 'sure thing' anymore. In fact, a whole slew of girls names that I have always loved and thought I would give ultra-serious consideration to were almost immediately "off the table" for a whole variety of reasons.

For fun, then, like Kat, I thought I would do a Thursday Thirteen List of Girl Names that I really love. Unlike Kat, however, my list will be girl names that, while loved and admired, we will NOT be using for our impending Lambchop for a variety of reasons.

13 Girly Names We Won't Be Using

1. Freya. I adore the name Freya. In fact, back when I was pregnant with Boo, before I knew Boo was a "he", Freya was at the top of my list for a wee girl. It's a gorgeous name that doesn't even crack the top 1000 list in the U.S., which is a head-scratcher for me because it's a chronic top 20 name in England and Scotland. But, sadly, that's why we took it off our list now that we're actually having a girl; it's waaaay too popular here. I see so many little Freyas everywhere I go here. If we lived in the states, this would be our likely choice. But we don't, so it's out.

2. Malia. Another long, long-time favorite name. One of my sister's best friends growing up was named Malia; and I fell even more in love with it during my six years in Hawaii. It's just so pretty when it rolls off the tongue. But then we elected a new President last year, and guess what? His oldest girl's name is Malia, which means it's going to go straight up the popularity charts. Plus, it's Hawaiian, and my husband isn't quite as keen on the idea.

3. Triona. My love of celtic and irish music led me to this name years ago. It's a shortened version of Catriona or Caitriona. But my husband pointed out that, technically, I was pronouncing it wrong (tree-oh-nah) when it should be pronounced like 'trina'. And he was only willing to consider the full version of Catriona, which faces the same pronuncation issues, which I'm not as keen on. Plus, we already have an Auntie Trina, which violates one of my existing naming rules. (Not to mention the fact that a good friend made fun of it years ago, but I forgive her. She had a good point. heh heh)

4. Audrey. Audrey is just a lovely, lovely name, made famous by the even lovelier Ms Hepburn. But it's been screaming up the charts in the U.S. the past few years, and is clearly headed for the top 20 very soon. An old-fashioned name that is clearly coming back around, and rightfully so. But its popularity means it's not for us.

5. Leilani. Another gorgeous Hawaiian name that I've always admired; another 'no' from my husband.

6. Lorelei. Ditto the Hawaiian gorgeousness. And made even more mainstream in popularity by the quirky television series The Gilmore Girls. And now envision the 'too Hawaiian' name being vetoed by my husband with the addition of an eye-roll. Sigh.

7. Adele. Another lovely, old-fashioned name that I think deserves to make a comeback. But I also can't quite imagine giving it to a baby because it still sounds like an "older" name. I suspect that's the reason it still hasn't re-entered the top 1000 names in the U.S. We'd have to use a nickname, like Ada (and we have one of those in the family already, so 'no') or Addie while Lambchop was little. And, to be honest, I'm not huge on nicknames, so it's an unlikely choice for us.

8. Violeta. Pronounced vee-oh-letta, I think this is a very pretty, sweet name for a girl. A lovely flower name, the prettier version of Violet. But one of Ramekin's best friends on our street is named Violeta, so no go.

9. Annika. On paper, and on the tongue, the name fits all of our potential naming criteria. It's a lovely Scandinavian name (Swedish, though, not Norwegian), which would probably delight my Norwegian MIL. But after much --and I mean much-- consideration while I seriously considered it, I just don't think it will work with our childrens' last names. There's just something not quite right about it for us.... so it was with regret I took it out of serious contention. (I suppose it could make a comeback, though...you never know.)

10a and 10b. Ailsa and Isla. Both names are beautiful, traditional Scottish girl names that my Scotland-born husband really likes. But Isla is incredibly popular right now, so I'm not interested in using it. And, while Ailsa is lovely, the truth is, it sounds foreign coming off my tongue. I struggle to pronounce it properly, and I want a name I can easily pronounce for my own daughter. When I say Ailsa, it sounds more like Elsa, an almost equally lovely Scandinavian name, and, incidentally, the name of one of my husband's (now deceased) Norwegian Aunts. But we know a four-month old Elsa. And I don't like the look of it as much as Ailsa. So it lingers on the discarded names list.

11. Serena. Pretty, but ruined by the existance of the teeny bopper television show Gossip Girl. I can only imagine how many younger moms-to-be will be using this name for their own daughters in the coming years.

12. Joelle. Getting really tired of my husband's eye rolls, which is what I got when I suggested it. And a reminder that we're not French.

13. Arlette. My husband again reminds me that we're not French, the party-pooper.

Bonus round: A few additional lovely, old-fashioned girly names we won't be using because they're just too darn popular over here, all in the top 20: Hannah; Charlotte; Olivia; Lily.

So those are some of the names I really like that we probably won't be using. And I'll continue to roll around our dwindling list of names in my head and out loud when I think no one can see me talking to my tummy. Not to mention continually browsing the internet for names I might have overlooked.

And don't even get me started on our tentative ideas for a middle name ... we can't even begin to address that until we have a first name! Plus our middle name selection is less likely to be 'mainstream'.

Sigh.

So what are your thoughts on girly names?

Focus is Important

2009-06-03T01:07:00.007+01:00

Especially when little pots of yummy strawberry ice cream are involved on a hot day.

BooBaaa, friend 'Abbi' (2, like Boo), and Ramekin at Ickworth in Suffolk on Friday afternoon. The trio had a great time hanging out together, playing in the adventure park and exploring the gardens.

For almost Wordless Wednesday.
...........................................................

36+ weeks and counting ... not to mention a meeting with my Consultant, who delivered Boo, yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon. We now have a Plan, which is probably a good thing seeing as Lambchop 'dropped' into position last night while I was grocery shopping. (My Consultant confirmed the baby's new position with a quick scan at our appointment today.)

It's a very strange feeling when a baby suddenly drops into position out of the blue. Stranger when you know exactly what's happening when it happens. But the sudden change in position was unmistakeable. And I was so paranoid about it --because the boys didn't drop into position quite so 'soon', even though it's late for many at this stage of pregnancy-- that when I got home I packed the duffle bag for the hospital.

Long, short outcome of our appointment: We're again going to try to ensure that I don't face a repeat of the post-birth problems caused by Ramekin's arrival. Because, in spite of a second fast, scary labor that I faced with Boo's arrival, the post-birth problems were minimal in comparison on account of the precautions that were taken in advance. Minimizing them for my third, and last, labor is important, especially since the odds of a third --third! ugh!-- manual (oversized) placenta removal are very high apparently, and we don't want to see a lot of blood come out with it again. Or have my bladder go on holiday. Not to mention the 'new' technical high risk, i.e., my 'advanced' maternal age.

(I'd like to avoid the second degree tear this time around, though. Please that Lambchop has a smaller head then those two monsters I pushed out!)

Anyway, if Lambchop doesn't make a voluntary appearance in the next two and a half weeks, she's going to be induced by water breakage a week early (by the NHS count; it's closer to a week-and-a-half early by mine) on the 22nd of June. Unless the delivery ward is stuffed, in which case we'll play it by ear.

I do love knowing that we have a Plan . . . it gives me something to focus on . . . even though I know we can't really 'plan' these things . . . it's just personally reassuring to know we're doing what we can to safeguard Lambchop's health and my own as much as possible.

And that's important for me to focus on right now.

Nesting

2009-05-27T00:07:00.001+01:00

We discovered the nesting swan at Houghton Mill on Monday afternoon, after our picnic next to the Great Ouse river. Needless to say, both boys were both quite enamored with the mommy-to-be swan who wasn't phased at all by their excited pointing and chattering. I suspect we'll have to check back in a couple of weeks to see the cygnets.

35 1/2 weeks and counting . . . and a fair amount of nesting going on here, too. ;-)

For almost Wordless Wednesday.

Close

2009-05-20T00:01:00.001+01:00

On those rare days I can talk both my boys into having a little rest, BooBaaa will sometimes wait until his big brother drifts off to sleep first so he can then crawl into his bed to nap with him. When he does, I find them like so . . .

It's so sweet. I can't help but smile when I find them like this.

I hope they remain this close, since I suspect they'll be needing each other more than ever in a few weeks . . . .

Nearly 35 weeks and still counting . . .

For (almost) Wordless Wednesday.

Random UK Benefits

2009-05-14T20:45:00.006+01:00

When the post came through my door today, it included a letter from HM Revenue & Customs addressed to me. I generally don't like getting anything from this agency out of the blue, much like I don't like getting out of the blue missives from the IRS back home. But I wasn't too fussed as I assumed it had something to do with our Child Benefits and/or Child Tax Credits, since I'm not currently working over here.

Nope. Not this time.

When I was 28 weeks pregnant, I had an appointment with my midwife, the first time I'd seen anyone since I was about 22 weeks pregnant. She gave me some forms to fill out and told me about the Government's current new program that's supposed to encourage women to have a healthy pregnancy this year, whatever that means. What it boiled down to was they were going to give me money if I met some simple criteria: I had to be more than 25 weeks pregnant; I had to be due to deliver my baby on or after the 6th of April this year; and I had to have received health advice from my midwife or doctor. Oh, and I have to be living here legally, of course. I qualify, so I filled out the forms and sent them off, and haven't thought about them again since.

Until today, of course. Because the letter was informing me that the Government, per its new, Health in Pregnancy Grant program, was planning to deposit £190 (roughly US$290) in my bank account next week and wanted to make sure I knew to look out for it.

My kind of quirky, out-of-the blue state benefit.

Much like the Child Trust Fund benefit that was instituted almost exactly a month before Ramekin was born, wherein the Government sends a voucher worth £250 (roughly US$380) to open a trust fund savings account in the name of the new baby to ensure that they have a savings account when they turn 18. (And if you don't open one within a year of the birth, the Government will do it for you.) Both Ramekin and BooBaaa have such accounts, and Lambchop will be getting a voucher after she's born.

Both random benefits, but much appreciated. Especially since if we were back in the states, we'd be faced with a government that seems to go out of its way to not support parents with new babies and small children. New mothers are all too frequently forced to try to save and then string together their sick leave and vacation days to eke out a few months of unpaid maternity leave, leaving many on the financial brink. Paternity leave, let alone paid paternity leave, is practically non-existent. Good quality childcare is expensive, hard to find, unflexible, and generally unsubsidized unless you're at the very bottom of the economic ladder; everyone else, no matter how much of a struggle, is on their own. And if you don't have health insurance or if you have a plan with high deductibles and co-pays, the cost of just giving birth can be astronomical, especially if things don't go smoothly for mom and/or baby. This is just wrong.

So while I'll be the first to say that I don't think that the UK gets everything right when it comes to traditional families with babies and young children, especially when we compare the benefits here to those of our Scandinavian neighbors, and they get some things flat out wrong, it does seem to be a lot child and family friendlier than my home country in quite a few important ways. Which is why we decided to live here while we have babies and young children.

Things may change in the future, true enough. Especially in the ever-changing economic circumstances the world is currently facing. But for now I'll take the random, quirky, ever-changing UK benefits.

Not to be Overlooked

2009-05-14T00:14:00.005+01:00

My happy, energetic, cheeky, waaaay too coordinated for his own good two year old thinks he knows everything and can do anything he wants. And he perhaps fears that he will soon be an overlooked, woe-is-me middle child. This, based on our discussions about his impending Big Brotherhood that proceeds along the lines of:

Me: Are you going to be a good big brother, Boo?

Boo, laughing: No!

Ha!

BooBaaa's personality is such that he will never be overlooked. He's a handful and a half and knows exactly how to drive me completely insane, not to mention his brother. Terrible (stubborn, bull-headed) twos would be a rather large understatement right now. Being overlooked is not going to be a problem.

Keeping himself off of Ebay, on the other hand, might, because I'm struggling to keep on top of his antics right now.

I don't know what Mommy's complaining about . . . I just like to play and to play hard! What's wrong with that?!

Let's hope Lambchop is big and can hold her own against my littlest gorgeous one very quickly.

Nearly 34 weeks and counting . . . desperately counting . . . and thinking that 37 weeks sounds like a fine week to have a baby.

Sigh.

Four

2009-04-30T16:47:00.005+01:00

Yes, my gorgeous Ramekin is turning four years old this weekend, so starting tomorrow, when his grandparents arrive, this weekend is going to be all about Ramekin.

Needless to say, he's quite excited about it.

Four. Wow. I don't know where the time has gone. He seems so big now!

Anyway, while I don't know where the time has gone, I do know where my gorgeous boy's pictures are going . . . back into my computer. Yes, I've decided that easily identifiable pictures of my biggest boy from here on out won't remain on the blog site for very long. I knew I'd have to draw a line somewhere, and I think I've just about reached it with Ramekin. He's starting reception (kindergarten) in the fall, and he's already starting to use computers in his nursery programs. I don't want my blog and pictures of him to become a problem for him with his peers, even if the chances are relatively slim right now, because that wouldn't be fair to him. So into hiding he will go . . .

. . . one of his favorite games, obviously.

Peek-A-Boo

2009-04-22T00:01:00.002+01:00

We're still here . . . really . . . and I just needed a break more than I realized . . . and I've been thinking about a lot of different things, including what I should and shouldn't be publishing on my blog, especially in regards to Ramekin who is going to be turning four in a few short weeks . . . or how long I should keep things 'up' on my blog . . . I will be back, but I'm still thinking . . . apologies to all in the meantime.

For almost Wordless Wednesday.

Outdoor Boys

2009-03-25T16:05:00.005Z

Ramekin tried out his new roller skates (and protective gear) and BooBaaa cruised around on his new scooter during our trip to Edinburgh last week . . . fear for those who get in their way!

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

Furniture vs Stairs

2009-03-18T23:36:00.005Z

Oops.

We left for Edinburgh a few hours later than we'd planned on Friday because of my rather exuberant secondhand furniture purchase for the boys' room last week. It wasn't the delivery time that got us, although the pieces were delivered about an hour later than I expected (11:20 am). Nope. It was what I quietly feared after I got home and took a good long look at the stairway between the ground and first floor: the bend in the stairway with an 'interestingly' placed stairwell post at the corner.

I saw the charity shop's delivery truck coming down the street in in front of our house just as I was heading out to collect Ramekin from the local preschool. I quickly alerted G to their imminent arrival on my way out the door and headed off.

When Ramekin and I returned home about fifteen minutes later, I got "the look" when I walked into the house and found G in the playroom downstairs with the large two piece double wardrobe.

Apparently, the stairs won.

Although the tallboy and the chest of drawers went straight up the stairs, the wardrobes couldn't make the bend due to the dratted corner post. So there was poor G, already hard at work carefully dismantling them so we could take them up to the boys' room in pieces and reassemble them there.

I felt really bad. But I was also really relieved that they could be taken apart and put back together again by my clever husband. And doubly relieved that he had already promised he wouldn't be (too) mad/annoyed at me if we struggled getting them up there.

He did, of course, point out that carrying them up there 'intact' wasn't even a close option as he struggled to disassemble them without damaging them.

I guiltily apologized and carried as much of the bits and pieces upstairs as I could manage and tried to keep the boys out of his way as he worked. And I helped him carry the half-disassembled wardrobes upstairs, one at a time when they were ready.

And I tried not to hover as he reassembled the pieces in the boys' room, reconfiguring them so that they would fit into the corner of the room I had envisioned.

I was supposed to be packing for our trip after all . . .

Anyway, in spite of his good-natured grumbling ("because I can", he rightfully pointed out as he worked away), my super clever husband successfully took apart and reassembled the lovely blue furniture I purchased without completely thinking the logistics through in just a couple of hours.

And other than having to make a couple of small extra holes in the wardrobe doors, (holes G said we can repair with a little filler and some paint), because we were reversing the corner configuration they'd originally been assembled for, he was able to put them back together perfectly!

It's all in remarkably good shape for secondhand children's furniture (because we all know how hard children can be on furniture)!

The only thing we have left to do to it is re-cut the bottom trim pieces to fit the new configuration this weekend . . . something that should be relatively easy to do as we have all the pieces and then some.

In the meantime, the boys are delighted with their new furniture and keep getting in and out of their new wardrobes. (I moved all their clothes and 'stuff' over this morning.) They now each have a full double wardrobe (instead of a clothing rack over a chest of drawers each), with Boo's tucked halfway behind Ramekin's in the corner. Ramekin has taken possession of the chest of drawers, and we've parked the tallboy next to Boo's bed for his use.

Combined with their little Ikea kritter beds, it now looks like a proper, cute little boys' room.

Although we still have yet to paint the walls in there . . . although we do keep talking about it . . .

One of these days.

Blessed

2009-03-12T13:25:00.002Z

Sometimes I forget how lucky I am. Well, maybe not 'forget', but kind of overlook it in the hecticness that can be everyday life. But I know that I am really am blessed.

I'm blessed because I have a husband that loves me as much as I love him. Even though I haven't completely bounced back from my illness a couple of weeks ago --the first time I've been sick in ages -- and I've been completely wiped out by the time evenings roll around, he's been there 100% for me, even though he's tired, too. When I told him how much I appreciated the fact that he stepped in to cover for me so much recently, even taking time off from work and making extra nursery runs so I could recover, on top of his full-time ultra-busy job where he puts in a lot of hours, he kind of pooh-poohed the whole thing, noting that's what partners do for each other, they have each others' backs. I agree that's what partners do for each other, but, truthfully, it's not something you always see in a lot of relationships. I'm just so thankful it's part of ours.

I'm also thankful that he doesn't resent the fact that every other Tuesday afternoon or so, I've been sneaking off to the movies after dropping the boys off at nursery. I don't invite other people; I just head off to see something fun, something I otherwise wouldn't get to see, and put my feet up for a couple of hours. Heaven. A few weeks ago it was He's Just Not That Into You, and this week it was Confessions of a Shopaholic, both light, frivolous, but quite entertaining flicks from where I was sitting.

I'm also thankful he respects my second-hand shopping efforts for the family. I've been steadily collecting girly clothes for the future Lambchop, seeing as we had stacks of boy clothes but nothing pink going into this, and am happy to rummage through three-clothing-items-for-a-pound bins, or the fifty pence boxes of donated clothes at the local charity shops a couple of hours a week. Twas good enough for the boys; it's been good enough for the bulk of my maternity 'wardrobe', and I use the term loosely as I just tend to buy up a size or two in tops. (I'll never understand last year's longish baby doll top trend, that make non-pregnant women look pregnant, but it's paying off for me now at a pound or two a top on the second-hand circuit.)

And yesterday I pounced on a set of nice secondhand furniture for the boys' room: nice wood with lovely blue fronted couble wardrobe that wraps around a corner, drawers and tallboy with shelves and more drawers. It had just been put out on the charity shop floor that morning, and I couldn't believe my luck when the person who saw it first and put a two-hour hold on the set didn't come back to pay for it in the allotted time. They're very strict about such things in this particular shop, due to the popularity of such items and wanting to keep things moving out the door. So I was there, hovering, when he should have been, check in hand, as the official happy 'back up purchaser', and they were happy to sell it to me. It's all being delivered tomorrow... I just hope it fits up the stairs and into the boys' room so my lovely husband doesn't kill me --- although, to his credit, said lovely husband just laughed when I told him I was more than a little concerned about the fact that I hadn't been able to measure the pieces versus the room in advance and it might not fit as I envisioned it in there ... he just said we'd figure it out, he wasn't worried and he wouldn't be mad at me if we had to reconsider where it would all go. Truly lovely, no? )

But I digress...

I'm blessed because my husband is not only a wonderful husband, he's a brilliant father. Our boys adore their daddy, and then some. They hurl themselves at him when he gets home in the evenings; they rush up the stairs to see him in the mornings and count the days to the weekends when they know he'll be home fulltime. And even though he's been more tired himself lately, primarily because he's been doing more at home in the evenings after long days at work knowing how tired I've been lately, he still does it. And the boys are the better for it, knowing they have two parents who work hard to be there for them.

I'm blessed because no matter how nuts they can make me, and no matter how much energy and patience they often require, we have two extremely happy, lovely, kind, bright boys. Yes, they can be a handful and then some, and I do a fair amount of yelling when they're bent on ignoring me and pursuing whatever insane ideas pop into their heads sometimes. But the truth is, they really are a joy to watch together. They are truly brothers: they play together, they race around together, they stick up for each other, and at the end of the day, they often fall asleep together. I'm incredibly grateful for their current closeness and the fact that they actually like each other, and I hope it lasts.

I'm blessed because we're expecting a wee daughter who appears, by all counts, to be healthy in just fifteen short weeks. I've always dreamed of having a daughter, and I can't even begin to imagine what it will actually be like to have one. And yet, knowing that, I'll also be the first to tell you that I hate being pregnant. Hate it. I'm not one of those people who revels in pregnancy, and pretending otherwise would just be silly; I just want that part to go away. Yesterday. And don't even get me started on how much I hate giving birth; it's a scary, too fast experience for me. But I do like what the end of pregnancy and labor brings, a lovely wee one. And I'm smart enough to recognize that I'm blessed that we've been able to get pregnant so easily each and every time, instantly, without any real scares along the way thus far; and that most of my fears about past labors and my future labor will be handled appropriately and I'll get through it. And even though I expect I'll be doing a lot of whining and b*tching for the final three months of this pregnancy, I do know how blessed I am to be living through it.

Finally, I'm blessed because after the aforementioned furniture (fingers crossed it fits) delivery tomorrow morning, we're getting in the car and heading north for five days. Yep, back up to Edinburgh to spend some time with the extended family and have a little family party for our new big two year old. The boys are quite excited, as they'll be seeing their grandparents and a couple of their cousins, and I'm looking forward to getting a little time alone with my husband for an evening or two while we're there.

So, have a nice weekend, all! See you in a week or so!

Two

2009-03-09T00:02:00.000Z

One Day

Two Months

Six Months

Nine Months

One Year
Seventeen Months

And now Two . . . trying out his shiny new Birthday scooter yesterday . . .

. . . and away he goes, already a pro!
Happy 2nd Birthday, my darling Boo!

I have no idea where the time has gone!

Down and Out

2009-02-27T15:20:00.002Z

So I've been sick.

And I mean sick.

As in, I've been in bed since Sunday with a high fever, consuming nothing, because anything I did try to eat came back up rather promptly. Except for some fluid intake, which I paced myself on.

So sick I didn't even turn on my computer until this afternoon, five days later, to check my emails. (And I've misses some rather important ones, I've just discovered, from my sister; I'm trying to sort those out now. Whatever happened to the phone, anyways, when you don't get a response to your emails?)

So. It's rather sucked to be me this week. Or my boys.

There have been a number of low points. But I think my 'favorite' has to have been me sitting in the bathroom on a little stool trying not to throw up all the sport drink I had just managed to swallow trying to stay hydrated while Ramekin sobbed in the doorway watching. No, he wasn't upset that I was being sick; he was pissed because I wouldn't come and sort out his morning cartoon viewing desires right now.

Fun times.

I think I've lost at least five pounds, not a great thing when you're pregnant, but my doctor wasn't overly concerned since the baby is active and I was doing a fairly reasonable job keeping hydrated through the days of no food. And, as of last night, I'm now eating little meals. yay.

And the boys got their dad all day on Monday, and extra nursery sessions this week when the nursery realized we were struggling and took them. Luckily, they had the space, so I've only had to deal with them on my own yesterday and today.

Needless to say, I'm not going to be visiting yet for a few days, and will probably wipe out my google reader come Sunday. It's looking pretty overwhelming as it stands, and my energy is quite limited right now.

Hope all is well out there.

No Drugs

2009-02-19T11:28:00.005Z

I feel icky. Sore throat, stuffed up nose, gunk, and tired. Not to mention the extremely sore slightly swollen ball of my left foot, which is driving me a tad nuts. I did a lot of walking the past couple of afternoons while the boys were at nursery, which probably didn't help much.

On the positive side, I'm almost 22 weeks pregnant and this is the first time I've been sick --or seem to be working on it -- since I've been pregnant.

On the negative side, and the primary reason I detest being sick when I'm pregnant, is I can't take anything that will make me feel better. No cold medicine. No anti-stuffed up medicine. No anti-inflammatories (my sore foot). Just acetometaphine should I develop a fever. Grrrrrrr.

And of course my boys are CHOCK FULL of energy and there are no playgroups this week, on account of the half-term school break, and they've already had their two private nursery sessions for this week.

sigh

Oh, and did I mention that G's last words to me this morning was he wasn't feeling so hot either (at least he can take meds, I glumly pointed out) and that he has an important meeting at work this evening that begins at 7:00! Which means I'm on my own through dinner with our little energetic, trying monsters, and probably bedtime.

double sigh

So here I sit on my couch in the living room, watching them run around in the wet grass of the backyard via the french doors, playing in the playtents I set up for them, only running interference when someone looks to be in danger of getting hurt or there are tears. Hopefully, they'll wear themselves out so they can have a rest this afternoon and I can stay on the couch....

Oh no! They want to come in! Nooooooooo!

So I can't drug myself, but I wonder if I can drug them...?

Kidding.

Kidding.

Sigh.
You know, if we handle this 'just so' and refuse to nap when we're done playing with our tents and rampaging around the backyard, I bet we can talk Mommy into letting us watch Dora and Diego videos all afternoon!

How Big Is Your Snowball?

2009-02-18T00:01:00.001Z

For Wordless Wednesday.

Bio Blurb

2009-02-16T13:53:00.010Z

The Ewe Theatre is pleased to introduce BooBaaa as a young Huckleberry Finn in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. The Ewe Theatre was delighted to learn that BooBaaa was available for its latest production, as his love of adventure brings a tremendous amount of energy and fun to the role.

This will be BooBaaa's first venture onto the stage. He has previously featured in a series of How To shows on the Fab-Ewe-Lous Network, including his first How To show, How To . . . Gum a Nectarine to Death, and fan-favorite How To . . . Capture a Wild Tractor. His most recent episode, How To . . . Build a Boat from an Ikea footstool aired just last month, and is also destined to become a classic.

BooBaaa would like to thank his older brother and frequent side-kick in his How To shows, Ramekin, for all his love and support in his fledgling career. He would also like to give a shout out to his mom who is always happy to pitch in with the required camera and editing work.

This post has been a Monday Mission. Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to write a post in the style of a brief biography (like a bio in a theatrical program or the back of a novel...). To see more biographies, please visit Painted Maypole.

For those who are interested, my new Febraury header is a picture of some of the delicate snowdrops we saw on our walk this weekend at Anglesey Abbey. There's currently a lovely display on!

Happy Valentine's Day

2009-02-14T21:08:00.001Z

My first Valentine's Day with G took place about three weeks after we first met. I was living in graduate student housing at the University of Edinburgh, and he dropped by fairly early in the morning. When I met him downstairs, he was holding a beautiful bouquest of red roses for me.

I have to admit, while I was delighted, I was also quite surprised. Less than three weeks, remember?

Anyway, as we waited for the elevator to take us back up to the top floor where my room was, another couple walked up to wait with us. A couple who I'd seen before A couple who had been going out for quite a bit longer, I suspect.

The young woman was holding a lovely single red rose with a bit of greenery. And she looked so happy . . . and then she looked at my flowers . . . and then back at her own . . . and then she glared up at her boyfriend . . . who suddenly became fascinated with the wall, the ceiling, the elevator buttons . . .

Awkward? Well, let's just say it was a very quiet ride in the elevator.

But amusing all the same.

Happy Valentine's Day.

Big Brothers: No Roaring and Lots of Belly Kisses

2009-02-13T14:15:00.000Z

Over the past few weeks, G and I have started to talk to Ramekin and BooBaaa about Lambchop and how they're going to both be big brothers this summer when she arrives. In fact, the morning I found out we were having a little girl was the morning I broke the news to the boys that we were having a baby. Just couldn't help myself.

And later that day, when Ramekin and I talked a bit about having a new baby, I told him that he would have the very important job of helping BooBaaa become a fantastic big brother, just like he already was. A look of realization came over his face, and he jumped off the windowsill, which he had been sitting on while we chatted, and called out, "Come here, BooBaaa". He then proceeded to sit on a little stool in his bedroom, with BooBaaa standing in front of him, clearly wondering what was up. And I teared up when I heard why he'd called BooBaaa over:

Ramekin: "BooBaaa, I have to tell you how to be a good big brother to the baby."

BooBaaa: "Baby!"

Ramekin: "To be a good big brother, you can't yell at the baby. Babies don't like yelling."

BooBaaa, appeared to be listening.

Ramekin: "And to be a good big brother, BooBaaa, you can't roar at the baby. Ok? Otherwise the baby might be scared."

BooBaaa: "Kay."

And, job clearly done, they were off.

I was so touched, watching my oldest, who isn't really that old, taking his new job to heart. And I found his particular words of wisdowm to his little brother so sweet.

No roaring. sniff

Before we told the boys that they were going to both be big brothers this summer, Ramekin's longstanding concern about having a baby sibling of any kind was that that any baby "should have hair like his", meaning he thinks any baby should be very blond. This concern hasn't gone away. I've since tried to gently explain that we don't know what color hair the baby will have; that she'll get to pick her own hair color. Ditto for her eyes.

This hasn't deterred Ramekin from trying to make other decisions for his new sibling

On several recent occasions at the dinner table, Ramekin has expressed concern over where the baby will sit and sleep. "The baby should should sit next to me at the table," he's started announcing out of the blue. "She can sit next to me in her chair. And she can have her bed next to mine. Right next to mine."

And he beamed happily when he put his hand on my belly yesterday while we were sitting on the couch ... and the baby kicked him. "Wow! The baby really likes you!" I told him when he looked at me in surprised delight. He couldn't wait to tell G when he got home. "Daddy! The baby likes me! She kicked me!"

G and I are happy he's expressed such acceptance at the thought of a new baby. We're hoping some will rub off on BooBaaa before the baby gets here, that he'll follow Ramekin's lead. Because we're pretty sure he's not entirely clear on what "having a baby" really means, especially since the event isn't scheduled until June.

And G and I agree that we could have done better preparing Ramekin for Boo's arrival almost two years ago... but we didn't have a big brother to help him along then, like Boo does.

But whatever we're doing, seems to be enough for the moment. Because BooBaaa has taken to kissing my belly or making kissing noises at it whenever I mention I can feel the baby. And Ramekin has followed suit.

Yesterday morning, the boys took turn kissing Lambchop goodbye before we headed off for the day. And when we were all together after dinner last night, I told G how very sweet the boys were and how they'd both insisted on kissing the baby goodbye. BooBaaa, ears ever alert, heard the words "kissing" and "baby", and rushed over to demand I lift up my shirt so he could plant a smacking kiss on my belly.

Me: "Is that not the cutest thing ever?"

BooBaaa beamed at both of us. And then he lifted up his own shirt and made kissing noises at his own round little belly.

G, laughing: "Actually, I think that might be."

I just laughed, because he wasn't wrong.

So BooBaaa perhaps isn't quite as clear on what's going on as we were hoping. But at least we have another four and a half months to try to prepare him!

Thursday Thoughts

2009-02-12T12:12:00.002Z

Way back when, three short months after I graduated from University (undergraduate), I was in a fluke accident. Long story short, I shattered my left elbow into a ridiculous number of pieces and crushed the radial nerve in the process. It was an excruciatingly painful trip to the hospital; the people I was with drove me in an open jeep without shock absorbers (or so it seemed) late at night, and I screamed all the way. I was barely functioning when we arrived at the hospital; I didn't want anyone to touch me. It hurt too much, and I had some irrational belief that if I let go of my arm it would fall off. They thought I was just drunk and being ornery; I was neither. So when they finally did get a look at it via x-rays, and saw how bad it really was, they actually did the unthinkable: they called in the Chief of Orthopedics from his home in the middle of the night. And he, in turn, called in another top othopedic surgeon to assist him, in addition to the on duty orthopedic surgery, when they took me in that night.

I'm not thinking about this because of the injury itself. The injury itself was horrible, the worst elbow fracture Kaiser had seen in twenty years at the time, according to the Chief. And it was especially difficult for me to face as an athlete, a volleyball player who'd lived and breathed the sport for the better part of a dozen years to face having an arm of limited function. Plus they didn't know what the radial nerve was going to do; that was a sit back and wait scenario to give it time to repair itself, if it was going to, at it's snail like pace.

But I had the luxury of very good health insurance, which I had continued to pay for out of pocket once I was no longer a full-time student (thank gawd I listened to my parents on that one) and time. The injury wasn't in any way life threatening. Life-style perhaps, but that could be adjusted should the need arise. And it did, but not in the way they had originally predicted that first night. I had enough big pieces of bone left to try to save my elbow without hardware. And we did. We were able to 'save' my elbow without open surgery, without hardware by having surgery via fluoroscope week after week by knocking me out and pushing bone fragments around in my arm back into place. And by the following spring, the radial nerve had fully recovered without needing any surgical intervention.

But I had to spend more than six weeks in traction in the hospital first. My arm wasn't strong enough for a cast; it required traction and no movement, other than how they manipulated it during the surgical procedures when I was unconscious. And it really, really sucked to be there. I cried a lot. I'd been visiting my parents and had been preparing to return to my life in San Diego when the accident happened. So I was alone most days, as my parents worked normal working hours, and far away from most of my friends and my so-called boyfriend (who I kicked to the curb when he complained over the phone that it wasn't 'fair' that he was all alone in San Diego and couldn't date while I was stuck up there. I kid you not.) I had one local friend, though, that used to sail through between midnight and one in the morning to visit me on a fairly regular basis, on the way to or from hockey practice. (Very strange practice hours, I know.) He knew I'd be awake, and the staff quickly learned to look the other way after the first night. And my parents would usually come by in the evenings, and of course they'd come in on weekends. But it was a tediously long, uncomfortable and painful six weeks. And following my stay, I faced months of painful daily physical therapy post-release and another surgery.

But as much as it sucked, it wasn't life threatening. I was eventually going to be released from the hospital. I was eventually going to be allowed to go home. I was going to get my life back. Even though I spent a lot of time in the hospital crying, moping and feeling sorry for myself, and thought that my life was ruined, that I would never play volleyball with my friends again, that I wasn't going to coach the sport when I was a bit older, that life wasn't fair, blah blah blah, I also knew at another level that I was being rather ridiculous. My interrupted life was going to add up to half a year or so out of a lifetime. I had just graduated from University and had my whole life ahead of me, including law school, so how much time was I going to be dedicating to volleyball and other sporting activities for a while anyway? And it all could have been so much worse. As it is, most people would never notice that I can't quite straighten my arm anymore; I have almost full range of use (a medical miracle, the Chief called it). And I can live with that. Happily.

Because life can be so much harsher.

You're probably wondering why I just told you all this. Why my dreadfully long hospital stay almost two decades ago all came flooding back to me yesterday as I sat in the waiting room with my husband, waiting for our 20 week scan paperwork.

It's because when I looked up from my conversation with my husband in the rather full waiting room of the scan department that I saw her flipping through her large stack of scan pictures; the young woman who put all my hopes for my baby and our family into perspective for me when I had my dating scan in mid-December. The mommy-to-be who is simultaneously fighting leukemia.

I hadn't seen her when we initially sat down to wait, but it was clearly her. I remembered her beautiful hair, although it has admittedly lost a bit of it's glow. She'll get that back, though. I'm sure of it. And she's still as positive as ever.

When she held up her arm I saw the medical bracelet indicating she was staying there, so I knew it was her. So I told her I remembered meeting her about ten weeks prior; she remembered me. I asked her how she was doing; that I knew she had to be about thirty weeks gone by now, past the date they had originally thought they'd have to go for the baby.

She seemed surprised that I remembered, but seemed happy to chat. It was true; they'd decided at twenty-eight weeks that they could afford to go at least another five weeks as long as the baby continued to do well through her own treatments. And it turns out that her chemo was going as well as could be hoped for under the circumstances-- in fact she was in remission!! -- and an extra five weeks in the womb -- making it to week thirty-three or -four-- could make all the difference in the world to the wee baby girl she was carrying. I was so happy to hear it; it really is a huge difference in time when you're talking about premature babies.

I asked her if she's been able to make it home at all, as I know she lives a couple of hours away, and she said she'd been allowed to go home on a few different weekends. It was the only way she got to see her little boy, a little boy younger than my BooBaaa. And then she was called in for her weekly scan to see how her baby and placenta were holding up. If all goes well, she'll be giving birth in three to four weeks.

And while I was happy things were looking up for her, I also knew she and her wee one have a long road ahead of them. The chemo isn't over. A premature baby will require special care. And she's so far away from her family.

And I remembered, in a flood, how excruciating a long hospital stay alone can be. How terribly lonely and depressing it can get. And how hard it is to keep your spirits up. And I did it under circumstances where life was guaranteed to return to normal eventually. She's doing it under potentially life-threatening conditions, and a couple of hours away from her baby boy, her husband, and her family and friends. And she'll probably be in the hospital alone with her new baby for quite some time, too, when she eventually arrives. Facing more treatment herself, that will also leave her feeling crap.

And then our scan paperwork was completed and G and I were free to go. And we left the room and started to head down the hallway, and then I stopped. G stopped and looked at me. So I asked him what had been running through my head. "You don't have to wait, but would you mind if I stayed for a bit? I want to ask her if her husband and boy have a place to stay for a when they decide to take the baby. Or for whenever she needs an extended visit... it would be such a horrible time them not to be able to be here for any length of time, especially when their baby girl arrives."

G smiled and agreed that it would be. And that I absolutely should stay and offer up our guestroom if that's what I wanted to to do. (He knows me so well.) So I did.

I was waiting down the hall when she eventually came out of the scan department. And, after warning her that I had an odd question for her, I inquired about whether her husband and little boy needed a place to stay when she had her baby... so they could be here for as long as she needed. Or for longer visits. Because we had the space and we didn't live that far away from the hospital.

I think I really surprised her, but in a nice way (I hope). She thanked me, but said the hospital had been brilliant in letting her husband stay with her on the weekends when he came because she had a private room, and that her little boy stayed at home with his grandparents during those visits. Because of his age, he wasn't supposed to be in the hospital for any length of time due to infection concerns and all the winter bugs going around. So her husband would be able to stay with her when it was time for the baby's arrival.

And we walked while we chatted about 'how' and 'when' the baby would be arriving. So many different things to take into account, so many different worries ... and she's here without her family around her for the bulk of the time while she goes through it. I can't even imagine what it must feel like.

I can't even imagine.

And I say that as someone who has endured a long, lonely hospital stay... but a completely different stay, too. I had family nearby; I wasn't far away from my husband and children; I wasn't facing a life-threatening disease, to both me and my baby; I wasn't trying to juggle my life and health with that of my unborn baby. She is facing her personal health battle under these excruciating conditions, and she continues to do it with a cheerful smile and a positive outlook.

I remain in awe of her strength. I don't even know her name, but I am in awe.

I don't expect I'll be seeing her again, because if all goes well, I have no plans to be in the hospital until it's time to meet Lambchop in June. So I can only hope from afar that the delivery of her wee girl goes well in a few weeks. That her husband is by her side and can stay for a while. That her son gets to meet his baby sister. And that she stays in remission and goes on to have a long and happy life with her family. And that she's long gone, home with her family and loved ones, by the time I get back there in June.

************************************************************************

As for Lambchop, and our 20 week scan yesterday, she looked good. Her organs looked good. Her brain looked perfectly balanced. She seems to be growing at the appropriate rate. And we saw her strong looking little legs, her adorable little hands and feet, fingers and toes, and we watched her wave and play with her nose. Unfortunately, however, she's completely sideways and breach at the moment, and rather squished in there to boot, and she wouldn't cooperate on her photo opp. But we did get this one of her waving her little arm about and the back/side of her head...

Incubating another ornery one ... what a surprise. She'll fit right in here.

Tired

2009-02-10T22:30:00.002Z

I don't know why I'm so tired right now, but I am. I mean I know I'm halfway through a pregnancy, but still . . . I suspect the big cold spell, which has included snow, sleet, drizzle and a lot of ice still lying around on the ground, has a lot to do with it. Especially since my boys like to be outside playing in it, which means I have to keep an eye on them. (Admittedly, I'll stand inside and watch them through the window hoping I don't have to run interference over disputed brooms and shovels, and snowball/iceball throwing.)

By the way, and I meant to say this before today, before I got so tired, your captions were brilliant. When I looked at that picture, I could see so many possibilities: witches; Harry Potter and quidditch; child labor; mischief galore ..., But I have to say, the one that made me laugh the most was kgirl's: "Just wait 'til she finds out what our rates are." Because I can see BooBaaa saying that as Ramekin looks at the big job ahead of them with their little brooms.

Anyway, there's a lot going on in my head right now, much of it baby related. I've spent a lot of time lying on the couch this weekend looking at baby name sites. There are so many lovely girl names out there, but so few I'd be willing to consider for our own wee girl for a variety of reasons. And the list gets narrowed down even further when G throws in his own opinions on The List I'm keeping.

And I've spent a bit of time pondering what our wee girl will be wearing when she arrives, seeing as I have oodles of boy clothes upstairs but relatively little in the way of girl clothes. (Yes, I have some girl clothes now. I've picked up a few handfuls of stuff here and there, second hand of course, over the past couple of weeks.)

And we've been trying to figure out 'when' to ask G's parents to come this summer. They've offered to come help when the baby arrives; we're just not sure when we should ask them to be here, and they're trying to schedule their vacation and travel dates. I don't expect to go past my due date, for medical reasons, but there's still a slight dispute over exactly when that date is (at least at my end; the NHS disagrees with me). We need to know because we need to encourage Lambchop (via sweep if need be) to make an appearance between the onset of Week 39 and my due date. And I can't take a chance on being alone with the boys and half an hour away from the hospital with no help in sight should I go into labor. My previous labors were both under four hours from start to finish, and complicated with bleeding and placenta issues post-baby coming out.

And I know it's waaaay too early to be thinking and worrying about some of these things, but I am. It's what I do. But hopefully our 20 week scan, which is scheduled for tomorrow afternoon, will give us a slightly clearer picture of when everyone will feel comfortable with tentatively planning for Lambchop's arrival time-frame. And then I can narrow down my worry-zone. I hope.

I'm hoping to get a nice picture or two of Lambchop tomorrow for Wordless Wednesday... fingers crossed she's looking healthy.

Chat Note

2009-02-09T15:55:00.002Z

I don't know if anyone else checks into the weekly Chatological Humor chat hosted by Gene Weingarten at the Washington Post, but tomorrow's discussion should be interesting if the poll for the chat is any indication.

Besides myself and DD at Punch Drunk, is anyone else following the octuplet case with, errrr, 'interest', for lack of a better word? Personally, I think the woman is an irresponsible nutcase, as is the sperm donor boyfriend she's been using. And don't even get me started on the fertility clinic's role in all this.

Anyway, the reason I ask, is that tomorrow's Chatological Chat Poll is all about how many kids is too many, and that always hot button topic, abortion rights.

Anyway, I'll be interested in seeing how this week's poll turns out, as well as the follow up chat ... it's already looking rather interesting in the breakdown. If you're interested, this is the
link to tomorrow's chat; you will find the poll links that will be up for discussion tomorrow (as well as a lot of other strange topics most likely) therein.

Caption This . . .

2009-02-04T00:01:00.001Z

So you may have heard that the UK a lot of snow the past couple of days, the most in eighteen years in a number of regions. Cambridge and its surrounds didn't actually get hit that hard; we only got an inch or two where we live yesterday. But it was enough for the boys to play in, and they really enjoyed stomping around in it while it lasted.

I took some pictures of them in the backyard (of course) and, after downloading them, quickly decided that this is one of my favorites . . . primarily because there are so many different things I can just see them thinking:

But my question is, what do YOU think they're thinking . . . ?

Go on. Give it a shot. Caption my boys.

..........................................You know you want to!

For Wordless Wednesday, well, until someone comes up with some good ones!

A Card from Ewe

2009-02-02T00:01:00.001Z

Cover...

Inside...

This greeting card has been a Monday Mission. Links to other posts in the style of greeting cards can be found at Painted Maypole.

Random Madness

2009-01-30T18:06:00.002Z

I have stolen a random meme from Mind of a Madwoman, who in turn stole it from... well, I don't know... but I found it entertaining. If you agree, make sure you check out her very amusing answers.

So here goes...

1.Your ex is on the side of the road, on fire. What do you do?
I suppose it depends on which ex we're talking about; there's a few I'd try to help, call for help, throw some water on.... As for a few others, well it's fun to think I'd fliply throw out a "Hey, anyone for smores?", but truthfully it's not in me not to call for help at the very least.

2.Your best friend tells you she's pregnant. What is your reaction?
I'd be thrilled for her, absolutely thrilled.

3.When is the last time you wanted to punch someone in their face?
Every time I think of the ignominy and contempt George W. both brought to and showed for our country and its reputation in the world, I just want to slug him. I suspect the secret service would have me on the ground before I could do it, though, so I'll just try to imagine the immense feeling of satisfaction I would get from it.

4.Congratulations! You just had a son. What's his name?
Oakley Acorn

5.Congratulations! You just had a daughter. What's her name?
Indigo Moon

You can tell I'm just messin' with you, right? Right?

6.What are you craving right now?
A weekend alone.

7.What was the last thing you cried about?
I saw Bride Wars on Tuesday while the boys were at nursery, and, yes, while ridiculousness and mean-spiritedness abounds through much of the movie, I teared up at the end when they made up. I blame it entirely on pregnancy hormones.

8.When you buy something and your change is a penny. Do you keep it?
Over here that would be a pence, or even a two-pence piece, and of course I keep them. Although they often gets slipped to one of my boys for their little piggy banks.

9.What color is your tissue box?
Who cares? It all comes down to what tissues were on sale and if I remembered to buy them ... otherwise, its TP all the way.

10.Do you have a ceiling fan in your room, and if so, is there dust on that fan?
Let's recap: I now live in the UK where it generally doesn't get all that warm. So, um, no.

11.What is the last voicemail you received about?
Probably from G telling me he was going to be late.

12.Scariest thing you've experienced in the last year?
McCain's running-mate selection and the thought that, if he were to be elected, she would be a senile, senior heartbeat away from the Presidency. I still shudder to think about it.

13.Have you ever had a garage sale?
No, but when I left Hawaii for Europe almost six years ago, I hocked a bunch of stuff on Ebay and via my building's bulletin board, gave a bunch of stuff away to friends and charities, and then sold my car on the way out... kind of the same thing, right?

14.What is the last alcoholic beverage you had?
It's been a while, but I'm guessing it was a beer back in, oh, let's say September.

15. Are you happy right now?
Yes, definitely happy. Excited happy. I keep blurting out "We're having a girl!" whenever I run into anyone I know.

I expect that people will get tired of this very soon.

16.Who came over last?
The delivery guy who delivered my new laptop on Wednesday. He finally showed up around noon. (Yippee!)

17.Do you drink beer?
I'm not drinking anything alcoholic at the moment. sigh But, yes, under normal conditions I'm happy to have a beer.

18.Have your brothers or sisters ever told you that you were adopted?
No, but I frequently suggested that I must have been adopted while growing up.

19.Dark or light jeans?
Defintely prefer the dark side of jean-dom; they're more slimming and can be "dressed up" more easily.

Of course, no pair of jeans if going to 'slim' me down at the moment...

20.What was the last movie you watched at home?
The Bourne Identity and then The Bourne Supremacy, both of which I've seen before, but they were on television this week so I turned them on.

21.What is in your pocket?
Lint, probably.

22.Who introduced you to your boyfriend/girlfriend?
We met at a birthday party of a mutual friend, Alfredo, while we were both doing graduate degrees at the University of Edinburgh. Neither of us had really planned to go, but then we did, and, well, you can read the little tale here if you want. Quite an early post, too.

23. Where do you hurt?
Nowhere at the moment. Although my jeans are starting to feel a bit too tight around my tummy in the evenings ... I may have to make the switch to maternity jeans soon. sigh

24.What is your favorite aisle at Wal-Mart?
I hate Wal-Mart ... its equivalent over here, Asda ... and tend to avoid it.

25.When is your birthday?
November, pure Scorpio.

26.What are you going to do after this?
Head into the kitchen to cook the vegetables I've already cut up, then pull the pork chops and potatoes out of the oven; they're nearly done. After that, I'm going to try to make my boys relocate from the couch and eat these things. Sounds exciting, no?

27.Who was the last person you went shopping with?
Ramekin and BooBaaa, on a trip filled with bribery and pleading for them not to run off as we made our way through the grocery store.

28.What about your favorite dessert?
So many desserts, so hard to choose. Chocolate mousse rates really high, as does ice cream, most types of pie, cakes, cookies ... The only dessert I won't touch is cheesecake; can't stand the stuff.

29.Do you have the same name as one of your relatives?
Nope. It's all mine. And about a bazillion other girls born in the late '60s and early '70s.

I've never quite forgiven my mother for my rather dull first name, can't you tell?

30.Do you like pickles?
Yes, and I've been known to eat them straight out of the jar with a fork. Especially the yummy ones we bring back from Norway. Sadly, I'm at the end of our last jar.

31.Is someone in love with you?
Yes, unless and until I let another soda tip over on my new laptop, or so I understand.

32.What color is your couch?
Funny you should ask. Two hours ago it was a very dirty off-white. I've just stripped off the covers for washing and replaced them with our new blue and white striped set that G recently came home with from the Ikea Bargain Corner. The stripes kind of clash with our curtains and pillows, but, hey, they're clean.

Well, for now. Just give my boys a few days with them...

33.Has anyone ever mistaken you for a family member?
Just my own, and sadly, not a mistake.

34.Does someone like you right now?
I sincerely hope so, seeing as I'm hoping for lots of second-hand girly baby clothes donations being sent my way over the next few months. I've already picked up one small bag of girly frocks this week!

35.Do you know anyone in jail/prison?
I don't "know" anyone in jail/prison, although many years ago I did a fair amount of work on a death penalty appeal that the lawfirm I worked at had taken on. I believe he's still there. And while I won't express sadness for his ultimate plight, as he committed a horrible, horrible crime, I will say that his original attorney failed him miserably and then some and should have been disbarred. And because of the extreme lack of representation, I strongly feel he deserved a new trial, or at the very least, a new sentencing phase that would allow the buckets of mitigating evidence we'd uncovered into the record and possibly allow for a lesser sentence, i.e., not death.

36.Who was the last person to send you a text message?
I'm not a big texter, so it was probably my husband, either to tell me he was going to be late or that he was stuck in a meeting. Those seem to be the norm.

37.How many hours did you sleep for last night?
Not nearly enough...

38.Do you swear at your parents?
Although my mom can really, really try my patience, swearing wouldn't help.

39.Do you think someone is thinking about you right now?
Highly unlikely. My boys are watching In the Night Garden like little zombies while I sit here and G is still at work.

40.What is the last thing you spent money on?
Hot tea, decar, and a very berry scone at Starbucks.

41.Name one thing no one can ever take away from you?
My warped sense of humor.

42.What is the last thing you ate that had onions in it?
Roasted vegetables that I made to go with our salmon supper last Friday.

43.Crunchy or Puffy Cheetos?
Crunchy.... and, wow, I can't even remember the last time I saw these. Wonder if they have them over here?

44.The first person on your friends list just called you a bitch. What do you have to say to them?
What's your point?

45.Have you ever blocked someone on Myspace before?
Don't use it. Ditto for Facebook, in case you're wondering.

46.Do you wear a name tag at work?
No. I like to think my kids know who I am. Besides, they can't read yet.

47.What color is your iPod?
A see-through color, as in I don't have one..

48.What is your favorite key chain on your keys?
My pewter eeyore. I've had it for years and years.

49.Say you were given a pregnancy test right now. Would you pass or fail?
I would only have to think about peeing on a little stick right now and it would show a positive...in pink of course! ;-)

18 1/2 weeks, people!

50.What were you doing at midnight last night?
Sleeping. Until G rudely woke me up with his snoring and I decided to vacate to a guest room downstairs. Grrrrrrr. The pregnant woman needs sleep, people!

So About that Windpump . . . It All Started with the Cuckoo

2009-01-29T13:02:00.001Z

A few weeks ago, one of the BBC channels had a documentary about Cuckoo birds premiering, part of its Natural World series, and how cuckoos successfully con other birds into raising their offspring. Lots of offspring, as it turns out. For the slacker parents of the bird-world, turns out they work really hard at getting lots of their eggs into lots of other birds' nests! EAch type of cuckoo bird, and then are many, even know which birds have eggs that are similar in appearance to their own. (Otherwise the whole thing doesn't work; birds are smarter than I thought.)

For some odd reason, I thought the boys would enjoy the program, especially Boo who loves to watch birds, so I let them stay up and watch it one evening. BooBaaa enjoyed the segments that had lots of birds on screen and kept saying Cuckoo! Cuckoo!

Anyway, turns out, the documentary special was primarily filmed about half an hour from here at a nature reserve called Wicken Fen, an England National Trust property that I've been meaning to visit for quite some time since we're members and all.

So, with our weekend houseguests in tow, off we went on Saturday for a visit, in spite of the fact it was only a few degrees (celsius) out.

It was definitely worth the visit. We saw a small deer on our way into the reserve area. We admired the very old windpump, which still works. (Yes, that is the windpump pictured in yesterday's wordless post and at the top of this post.) And we all went for a long walk through the reserve along the boardwalk trail.

There are lots of trails, and we went with the very-child-friendly all-weather four foot wide boardwalk trail which the boys loved running along. (Ramekin did manage to fall off it a couple of times when he was messing about, dropping the foot or so into the marshy fens; luckily, he was in wellies and didn't get that wet.) And we checked out a couple of the little cabins that allow you to bird/animal watch through windows without spooking said animals. (I think this is more theory than reality, though, when you're trying to do this with two excited loud children who are competing to see who gets to sit on which bench and look at which window!)

And when we'd done the big boardwalk loop and gotten our fill of being cold and chasing overexcited mucky boys, we headed into the reserve's little cafe for a hot lunch.

We'll definitely be taking the boys back for more walks in the future, and hopefully even a weekend boatride through the fens when they start up again in the spring. We stuck primarily to the boardwalk for this trip because we had a week of rain and the non-boardwalk trails were quite mucky. The small groups of trekkers who were also doing non-boardwalk trails that we ran into here and there along the way all had knee-high wellies on. Very mucky knee high wellies. So we knew such treks would be too messy and too hard for little legs for any real distance, and we didn't want to end up carrying tired, muddy boys.

Especially mud. Last thing I enjoy is having mud all over me when it's completely avoidable.

But we'll go back. And I'm especially looking forward to spring visits because I want to see and hear lots of cuckoo birds in and around the reserve! And maybe even get to see them staking out some other poor birds' nests!

The Old Windpump

2009-01-28T23:02:00.001Z

For Wordless Wednesday.

Arrrggghhhh!

2009-01-27T10:26:00.002Z

Well, I had a List.

After our outing on Saturday, on Sunday evening I sat down and spent a fair bit of time drifting around the web looking at various names, the names we'd already agreed we liked, as well as a half dozen new names I found. And I started a new list of names, along with their origin and any other interesting tidbits that I found interesting.

And then G went and did something to his laptop last night, got petty about the Word Office application, and stayed up much too late fussing with it. (Apparently in anticipation of the imminent arrival of my new laptop.) And lost all my documents, including my new List!

Yes, my old documents are safely backed up on my old computer. But not The List. It only holds a very old version of The List.

Needless to say, I am not happy right now. Not happy at all.

Not to mention that I'm at home this morning instead of at playgroup, where my boys were expecting to go, so they're acting up and driving me nuts. Why? Because G was quite adament that I be home as much as possible today in the hopes that my new laptop will be delivered.

Hopefully, I won't kill them before I take them to nursery this afternoon, then come back to wait. . . . although I know they'll try to deliver the d*mn thing while I'm transporting them.

Grrrrrrr.

Dear Diary...

2009-01-26T08:34:00.002Z

Well, it's early Monday morning and our houseguests just left. The best thing about having family for houseguests over a long weekend is their willingness to babysit our energetic little monsters so G and I can have a quiet date night. So Saturday night, the two of us were off for dinner and a movie.

The movie, Slumdog Millionaire, really grabbed both of us. The cast was excellent, especially the three kids that played the young central characters. I can see why it was nominated for best picture Oscar this year and has already picked up so many awards. I have a few more best pic movies noms to see, but I can already definitely support this one winning. I'm sure I'll be recommending it to all my friends this week.

But while sitting in the theatre seeing a great movie with G was lovely, dinner was just as enjoyable. We went to one of our favorite family pubs that overlooks a marina, and lingered while we dipped our toes into the world of baby names. Girly baby names!! Something I think we both thought we'd never get to do.

It was fun tossing out girly names back and forth through dinner and dessert. There were some silly, some just for fun, some "Yeah, it's a nice name but it's not for us", some "Nope, too popular", some "How can you not like the name X"?, and a few requisite "Veto! No way, no how are we calling our daughter that!" suggestions. And there were also a handful that actually made it to The List, as in The List of names that we're both willing to think about as we start our quest.

Our discussion was a lot of fun, but it also made me realize that my tastes have changed. I've gone off a lot of girl names over the past few years. And I suspect it may be a lot harder for us to find and agree on a girl's name than the boys' names. And I know that while G and I might make jokes about names for wee ones, I actually take naming very seriously. Very seriously.

And you will remember, Diary, that the boys' names weren't exactly easy decisions. Not easy at all. And they were hard for different reasons....

Perhaps we're going to struggle with a name, Diary, because we know that Lambchop is going to be our only daughter. Not to mention our last baby, our last addition to our family. And our last chance to name a wee one. And we want to love what we pick out. We want it to 'fit' our little Lambchop, just like the names we picked out for our Ramekin and BooBaaa. I couldn't even begin to imagine them with any other names, which to me means we got them exactly right. And I want that feeling for our little girl's name.

At least we have five months to narrow down The List, right Diary? Because I suspect we're going to need it!

Ewe

This Diary Entry post has been a Monday Mission. For more Missions, please visit Painted Maypole.

And just so you know, I am still without my own laptop. We're hoping the new one we ordered --the second new one since the first order was unceremoniously cancelled by the company without explanation on Friday, and said computer type was then deleted from their website, grrrrrr-- will arrive today since I'll be here to receive it. G will likely need his, as in this one, to do taxes and such tonight, so other than a little afternoon browsing if BooBaaa deigns to nap while Ramekin is in preschool, I won't be doing much visiting today.

Sneaking In a Bit of News

2009-01-22T14:02:00.005Z

My in-laws will be arriving late this afternoon, so this will be fairly quick seeing as I have to go clean the kitchen before they get here. It's in a rather disgraceful state at the moment.

Not that I'm getting much time on-line at the moment, anyway, seeing as the petulant BooBaaa shoved his cereal bowl across the table Monday morning --he claims he didn't order cereal with blackberries, grrrr!-- which, in turn, knocked over my diet coke --my caffeine hit for the morning, sue me!-- which, in turn, splattered across my laptop's keyboard --which shouldn't have been on the kitchen table, but I was trying to write a stupid email! Sob!

My keyboard didn't handle the diet coke well; taking the hairdryer to it might have compounded the problems --well, that's what G says. So I've been doing lots of extra stuff around the house while he tried to get my laptop's keyboard fully functional again, but apparently, it is not to be.

He's ordered me a new one, which makes me feel really bad because I was careless. But at least he's been fairly good natured about it, saying it's the Christmas present he didn't get me. In the meantime, I'm getting a bit of time on his laptop when he doesn't need it. He's even set up an account for me on it that I can use until my new one arrives.

So between our weekend guests and my limited computer time, I won't be around much this weekend.

To make up for it, I'll share the good news I received this morning: This hospital called with my test results. I'm delighted and relieved to announce that, by their count, Lambchop appears to be healthy. The twenty-week scan is scheduled for three weeks from now.

Oh --- and in honor of the test results and our healthy Lambchop, I've temporarily updated my blog colors. What do you think? ;-)

Conversation from the Ikea Footstools

2009-01-19T14:00:00.005Z

Scene: In the living room, rearranging the furniture . . .

BooBaaa: Hello, Everyone. I'm your host, BooBaaa. Today I'll be demonstrating how much fun you can have making pretend boats out of those cheap Ikea footstools a lot of you have in your homes. As you can see behind me, we have two here in the Ewe Household.

BooBaaa: First, you'll need to turn them upside-down so they actually resemble boats. Then you'll need to find a couple of comfy blankets to line them with. Otherwise you might scrape yourself on the cheap particleboard under the fabric cover.

BooBaaa: And voilà! Two ultra comfy boats to play in!

Ramekin: Hey! What do you think you're doing in here with the footstools, BooBaaa?

BooBaaa: Isn't it obvious? I'm shooting a 'How To' Show. Today we're showing all our viewers how to turn their Ikea footstools into boats.

Ramekin: Those don't look like boats. They look like nests.

BooBaaa: They're boats, Mr Lack of Imagination. And can you not stand there? We're live, you know.

Ramekin: I want to be live, too!

BooBaaa, pointing: Well, you can get into that boat if you want to help me with my demonstration. Just stop interrupting.

Ramekin: But I want that one. Move over.

BooBaaa: No way, Ramekin . . . Hey! What do you think you're doing?

Ramekin: I said, jump ship, BooBaaa. That's my blanket, ergo my boat.

BooBaaa: Fine. You've got the boat you want. Are you happy now?

Ramekin: Yep.

BooBaaa: And, technically, that's daddy's new blanket, not yours. (pause) Can I get on with my show now?

Ramekin: Knock yourself out, Captain Boo.

BooBaaa: As I was saying, viewers, once you've padded your boats, you can kick back and relax as you sail around your living room in style.

Ramekin: Uh huh.

BooBaaa: And just imagine all the imaginary lands you can visit in your little footstool boat. Personally, I've always wanted to visit the land where the bong tree grows.

Ramekin: Um, you do realize it takes a year and a day to sail that far, right Captain?

BooBaaa: Time is irrelevant in our imaginary travels, Ramekin. . . .

Ramekin: And I suppose you'll want to dine on mince and slices of quince when we get there. . . ?

BooBaaa: I'm sorry viewers. Will you excuse me for just one little moment?

Ramekin: I mean, c'mon. Mince? Quince? It's enough to make a sailor seasick just thinking about it. Bleah!

BooBaaa: What is your problem, Matey?

Ramekin: What do you mean?

BooBaaa: You're embarrassing me in front of my viewers.

Ramekin: I'm playing along with your travel plan by pretending to be seasick. You should be grateful!

BooBaaa: You're kidding, right?

Ramekin: No, think about it. In your imaginary trip you've been sailing around the high seas in a dinky boat for a year and a day. Your only source of entertainment is a lovesick owl who thinks he can sing while he plays his guitar, which is probably warped and out-of-tune because of the salty water. Oh, and your 'big' reward at the end of it all is a meal of mince and quince.

BooBaaa: Now I'm starting to feel queasy.

Ramekin: Not to mention the thrill of watching a pig rip a piece of jewelry out of his snout.

BooBaaa: Eeeewwww.

Ramekin: Oh, and then you'll get to dine and dance on the beach, which likely means sand in your food. And let's not forget the odd silverware you get to shovel it down with. Do you even know what a runcible spoon is?

BooBaaa: Definitely feeling seasick now.

BooBaaa: Hmmmm. So, since the land where the bong tree grows isn't sounding so good at the moment, where do you think the viewers and I should set sail for, Ramekin?

Ramekin: Hold on, I'm tucking in this stupid blanket into my footstool, errrr, I mean my boat, so I can sit on it . . . there. All done.

BooBaaa: I know! Maybe we should all take a leisurely sail into space upon our yachts of stars. I've always wanted to get a close up look at the stars.

Ramekin: Well that trip will rock your viewers to sleep. Might as well visit the land of nod.

BooBaaa: I suppose you have a better destination in mind?

Ramekin: If you want to keep your viewers glued to their screens, you need more adventure, Captain. Like this . . . !

Ramekin: Ahoy! Pirates!

BooBaaa: Pirates?! Where?

Ramekin: Starboard and closing in fast, Captain!

BooBaaa: I see them!

BooBaaa: The pirates are scaring my zebra, matey.

Ramekin: Well he should be scared . . . it's Captain Hook and his crew! They're upon us! Quick, hide!

BooBaaa: Oh no! Zebra fell overboard!

Ramekin: Not such a great place to hide, Zebra! Those are crocodile-infested waters you know. Do you not hear the ticking?

BooBaaa: Where are the lost boys when you need them?

Ramekin: I'll save him, Captain!

BooBaaa: Zebra! What were you thinking?

Ramekin: Did you see how that crocodile's jaws went SNAP SNAP SNAP! Zebra was that close to becoming his lunch, viewers!

BooBaaa: You're a true hero, Ramekin. I'm promoting you to First Mate.

Ramekin: Wait a minute! I thought I already was First Mate. I mean, really. Who else have you got?

BooBaaa: Well, Zebra. But since he was careless enough to fall in in the middle of our boating crisis, he's being demoted to boatswain.

Ramekin: I can't believe I risked everything for a stupid zebra who outranked me!

BooBaaa: Quit complaining, Mate. Now you outrank him . . . hey, did you hear something?

Ramekin: Is it more ticking?

BooBaaa: No. It sounded like Commodore Mommy. (Pause, then) There it is again!

Ramekin: I heard her! She said something about snack time!

BooBaaa: Hooray! . . . Errr, it's not mince and quince, is it? You've already ruined that for me.

Ramekin: No! Commodore Mommy says she has cheese and crackers and grapes on offer in the galley! Let's wrap this show up, Captain!

BooBaaa: And we're out of time, everyone. My First Mate and I would like to thank you for tuning in today. I hope we've shown you just how much fun pretend-boating in your Ikea footstools can be! On our next show, I will show you how you can make a hide-out out of a couple of cheap Ikea kitchen chairs and some blankets.

Ramekin: Goodbye everyone! Now give the order, Captain!

BooBaaa: Abandon ships!

Zebra: Hey! What about me?!

This strange post has been a Monday Mission. For more conversational missions today, please visit Painted Maypole who keeps track of all things Mission.

And We Have a Winner . . .

2009-01-17T21:32:00.001Z

Scene: The little monsters, errr, I mean my boys, are asleep in bed, my husband is recaulking one of our showers, and I'm sitting on the couch eating chocolate chip cookies, determined to sort out the winner of my Wee Scottish Giveaway.

Oh, and Oceans 12 started about 15 minutes ago . . . can't go wrong with Clooney, right?

Anyway . . . after painstakingly entering all 32 official entrants --(entrants who all provided me with some lovely stories about all-things-Scottish, or sheep, which is close enough)-- into Random.org's list randomizer a few minutes ago, and said Randomizer just spit out the following randomized list:

There were 32 items in your list. Here they are in random order:

1. Beck
2. Aunt Becky
3. Heather
4. Amanda
5. NGS
6. Jess
7. Pithydithy
8. Painted Maypole
9. Nadia
10. No Mother Earth
11. Susanne
12. Kyla
13. Romelover
14. Lilandra
15. Scribbit
16. Kaye
17. Flutter
18. Patois
19. Lady M
20. Wheels on the Bus
21. Chaotic Joy
22. Danielle
23. Didda
24. Stomper Girl
25. Trying to Stay Calm
26. Imbeingheldhostage
27. Merinz
28. Kendra
29. Indigo Virgo
30. Alejna
31. Shauna
32. Sage
Timestamp: 2009-01-17 21:26:18 UTC

Yes, that would be the very lovely Beck of Frog and Toad Are Still Friends sitting at the top of the pile. I will email Beck, who happens to be on a small break at the moment, to let her know the good news.

Thanks to all who entered. I really enjoyed reading all the entries.

Don't Let The Door Hit You on The Way Out

2009-01-16T17:10:00.003Z

Or, better yet, let it.

While I was horrified to see that a plane had crashed in the middle of the Hudson River last night (it was night over here), I was incredibly relieved and in awe of the fact that every single person on that plane was rescued. The pilot obviously kept his cool, as he did a brilliant job gliding it in, without power, then walked up and down the inside of the sinking plane twice making sure everybody got off before he himself got off. Now that's a hero, people!

But the other great part of the story?

George W. was scheduled to give yet another goodbye speech to the nation last night, in front of the few people who still like the man (who knew they existed?!), but because of the plane crash, nobody cared. The networks clearly didn't want to be there, and they covered the speech as quickly as possible, then went back to the drama unfolding on the Hudson River. Heck, I don't even think they mentioned his speech over here, as we, too, were watching passenger rescue footage.

Works for me. Would someone please just tell George W. to stop saying goodbye already. And, while you're at it, tell him to stop repeating that history will be on his side.

It won't.

You've done enough, George. Go back to Texas. Quietly, please.

Thirteen for Thursday

2009-01-15T14:54:00.005Z

Thirteen Self-Indulgent Links to Previous 'Conversation', 'How To', and/or 'It's All About the Photo Sequence' Posts ... In Anticipation of the upcoming Monday Mission ... and Oh My, How My Boys Have Grown! ;-)

1. Our Little Snowman and the related Last Year's Bar, December 2006.

2. Lunar Eclipse How To Guide, March 2007.

3. Double Trouble, May 2007.

4. Overheard on the Couch, June 2007.

5. How to Gum a Nectarine to Death, August 2007. (Another favorite.)

6. Conversation from the Frog Mat, August 2007.

7. Overheard on the Couch, September 2007. (Sunglasses edition. Possibly my favorite.)

8. The Other Half Meme, October 2007.

9. Overheard on the Big Red Gaudy Chair, December 2007.

10. Trying to Keep Up, January 2008.

11. How to Capture a Wild Tractor, February 2008.

12. Overheard on the Windowsill, March 2008.

13. Conversation on Turkey Day, November 2008.

The upcoming Monday Mission, per the lovely Painted Maypole, is supposed to be an imaginary conversation. And you don't have to have pictures of people; your imaginary conversation can be between inanimate objects.

I really, really hope to see some amusing conversations around the blogosphere on Monday. And as you can tell from mine, they don't even have to be that funny, just fun!

And I suppose this means I'd better get out my camera this weekend.

Oh, and last call, people. Good luck!

Glass

2009-01-14T13:45:00.003Z

While my sister was here over the holidays, we took the boys to Ely Cathedral on one of our outings. They've been there before, and this time they weren't spectacularly well-behaved, I'm afraid, so we didn't spend much time in the Cathedra. They did, however, enjoy their visit to the Stained Glass Museum inside because there's a little area for children to draw, color or play with glass rocks and/or chunks of stained glass and 'frames on the lighted table. My two have always been fascinated by the colored glass and played happily at the table while my sister got a chance to look at the stained glass displays.

For not quite Wordless Wednesday.

Oh, and don't forget: the contest ends tomorrow!

Testing, one two three, Testing

2009-01-13T20:24:00.001Z

My testing didn't quite go according to plan today. Turns out my placenta is in the front, instead of the back, this pregnancy. (And the problems that may pose I'll raise with at my first appointment with my Consultant next week.) Plus the baby seems to be rather a tight fit in there: s/he is literally nose-to-placenta wall without a lot of accessible free space around it. After we all studied the baby and its surroundings in there, the consensus was that amnio would have been a rather tricky procedure. But CVS testing, on the other hand, would be a relative breeze, seeing as my placenta was right there for testing.

So after much discussion, I went with the CVS option. The downside to CVS testing, of course, is that it doesn't detect neural tube defects (like spina bifida), and there's a small chance of results called "mosaicism", which means they can't be definitive about certain serious chromosonal defects. Which means then they'd recommend (the difficult) amnio tests to confirm or refute. I suppose I'll cross that bridge if we fall into the small percentage of people where that happens.

Oh, and the other downside of CVS testing is that there are two needles involved, unlike amnio. First they give a local anaesthetic, and then they use a rather fat needle (as opposed to amnio's long, thin needle) so they can extract placental tissue samples. Luckily for me, my doctor was quite experienced and it wasn't very uncomfortable.

As for Lambchop we got a very good look at his/her brain, which looked very balanced and developed, and some nice looks at various bits. S/he even appeared to wave at one point . . . although a finger did seem to be extended, too, at one point, a possible indication of his/her feelings on the matters of us checking in on him/her.

It also seems appears that Lambchop is a much more modest creature than his/her brothers were in the womb, and s/he kept both legs firmly together throughout the procedure. We'd had glimpses of boy bits for both Ramekin and BooBaaa at this stage before, believe it or not, but Lambchop was clearly not interested in giving anything away in there.

Suppose we'll just have to wait and see what the test results indicate. We're looking at 7-10 days or so.

I plan to spend this evening on the couch taking it easy, as suggested. I'm thoroughly enjoying all the entry posts in my wee Scottish Giveaway contest below. Who knew so many people love the very idea of Scotland and so many things Scottish? Such wonderful tidbits and stories! (Of course, I felt the same way, and even more so after my first visit many years ago. Not to mention marrying a Scot!)

Anyway, if you haven't entered yet, please do as the contest closes Thursday, midnight.

housekeeping

2009-01-12T17:06:00.003Z

Monday Mission? Just not feeling it today. But I did feel up to a little blog housekeeping . . .

Like my header . . . Since the fall picture of the boys was looking a little too green and autumny for the weather we've been having ---it is winter now after all, and it's been a very, very cold one at that over here, sigh--- I changed it out. The new header was taken up in Edinburgh over the Christmas holidays on one of our very cold walks.

Like my blogroll . . . My Places Ewe Goes site has been updated as well. Seemingly defunct blogs have been removed, change-in-blog addresses have been amended, and blogs that should have been up there a long time ago have been added. Let me know if I've made any glaring omissions or linkage errors, please.

And like my 'it's all about me' blurb . . . In a leap of faith that tomorrow's amnio testing will go well, in spite of eggs that are so getting up there in years that they probably need crutches ---please wish us luck--- Lambchop has been added to the flock.

Finally, please don't forget to enter my Wee Scottish Giveaway Contest below by midnight on Thursday this week. I know there can only be one winner, but it might be you! And I really am enjoying all the Scottish stories, wishes and memories that have been posted!

A Wee Scottish Giveaway from Ewe to You

2009-01-10T23:00:00.003Z

As promised, I picked up a few bits and pieces of Scottish treats while we were in Edinburgh over Christmas. Behold:

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. It's not super exciting. But while I adore all of you, we're on a budget, people. Plus I have to factor in shipping costs from over here, as I'm kind of assuming my winner is going to be on the other side of the Atlantic, seeing as most of my readers reside there.

Anyway, what we have, for those who are still interested in trying to win my little box of Scottish treats, are obviously a few yummy edibles, such as fudge and shortbread sheep (of course), as well as a cute little stuffed Sheep in a Sweater and two silly sheep tea towels to brighten up your kitchen.

Come on. You knew there were going to be sheep, right? And, yes, those would be Scottish flag sheep flat dab in the center of the tea towels. How could I resist?

So, to enter my Wee Scottish Giveaway you need to do the following:

1. Leave a comment on this post telling me why you've always wanted to visit Scotland. Or, if you've been there before, what you loved best about it. Or what's always intrigued you about Scotland. Or something Scotland-related. I'm sure you can think of something.

2. Leave said comment before midnight (your time) Thursday, the 15th of January, which gives you five days to think of something to say and me next weekend to figure out the winner.

3. Hope your comment comes in first in the random.org generator-thingie site that I plan on using to pick said winner.

Simple enough, right?

Fab.ewe.lous.

Good luck to all.

Baaaaaaaa.

Dear People Who Don't Have Young Children,

2009-01-08T16:03:00.002Z

And yes, I also mean you, the parent who does have young children but doesn't happen to have them with you at your visit to the grocery store today.

Do you see that one long column, and that tiny bit of the next one over, of parking spaces in front of our local giant grocery store? Those aren't for you. There are thousands, and I really do mean thousands of parking spaces in front of the grocery store, many of which are also directly in front of the store. You can use any of those.

The spaces I'm referring to --and you know what I'm talking about-- are for disabled people with the appropriate placards (those closest to the store, as they should be) and those, farther down, for parents with young children.

And, hey, for the record? Most of the Parents with Young Children Spaces aren't even that close to the store. But they are up a long, protected aisle that leads to the store, an aisle which helps keep young children from being near moving cars as they wait for us to get their siblings out of the car and when we all head across the giant, busy parking lot. And the spaces are extra wide, not because our cars deserve extra protection in parking lots, but so parents who are shopping WITH THEIR CHILDREN can fully open their car doors and get them in and out of their awkward car seats, harnesses and all.

And this is a feat that is especially difficult in the winter months, due to bulky winter clothes and cold fingers, let me tell you.

And I am so d*mn tired of walking by cars in such spaces without any evidence that they've got a small child. No car seats? Not an ounce of child paraphernalia? No child. You shouldn't be there.

So yes, Mr Single Man in the sports car. That was you I was shooting a dirty look at this weekend when you zipped into the only empty Parents with Young Children Space because you didn't want to walk a teensy bit farther or have your precious, over-priced car near an older, more tired looking car. The three cars full of moms with children following you up the aisle weren't exactly smiling at your smug audacity either.

And yes, Mr. Truck Driver. I realize your vehicle isn't a dainty, environmentally friendly vehicle. That fact still doesn't entitle you to a Parents with Young Children Space. Or a disabled space. Yeah, I saw your buddy a little farther up the parking aisle pulling that stunt, too. He was parked right between two cars that clearly required space for wheelchairs.

And, yeah, you too, parents of TEENAGERS who don't require car seats of any kind or assistance getting them in and out of the car. Rule of thumb, people: if they're old enough to be left in the car by themselves, you don't need the space. Move along.

And as for you, Mom who was shopping WITHOUT her kids this very morning, same goes. Yes, I see the car seats in the back seat of your car, the EMPTY car seats. Just because you have the child paraphernalia doesn't entitle you to the Parents with Young Children Space if you don't actually have your children riding in them! You've obviously just dropped them all off at primary school and thought you could get away with it. Keeping your head down and pretending you didn't see the cars full of moms and actual children behind you doesn't change the fact that you --you of all people!-- should know better. And those other moms that went by you? They didn't look too impressed with you either as you walked across the parking lot from your car --alone!-- either.

And as for all you losers who think it's okay to just pop into one of the disabled spaces so you can go stand in line at the ATM machines at the front of the store? Or just run in to "pick up a few things". It's not, okay? It's just not. The disabled spaces in front of the grocery store are almost always completely full here, because this store serves a wide area that has a lot of elderly shoppers, and I've seen many disabled people vainly waiting for such a space to open up. So get your heads out of your *sses and keep out of the disabled bays; THEY'RE NOT FOR YOU!

If you don't like stores providing disabled and Parents with Young Children Spaces to its customers for their safety and convenience –not to mention the convenience of not having the sides of your car banged up quite as frequently by parents desperately trying to pull their children in and out of car seats in six inches of space—then complain to the store. Ask them to reconsider the placement of such spaces. Or the policies in general.

Or shop somewhere else.

Because you're being incredibly inconsiderate and selfish, and one of these days someone's going to go after your selfish *ss. Or your precious car. Take your pick.

And I say this as someone who has been confronted by a mom who was working her way up to being irate when I zipped into such a space at an Ikea store, a space that she wanted (she'd been behind me) – until she saw my husband pulling our baby and his carseat, which wasn't visible from the outside-- out of the back seat. While she apologized profusely, I understood because I do know the feeling. And one of these days, someone IS going to go after you for the same thing. Only they're not going to be wrong, and I hope they key your precious car in the process.

I sincerely hope I don't see you in one of those always always always busy spaces again. Because I'm getting pretty sick of it.

Sincerely,

A Parent Who Shops WITH Young Children

Can you tell I went grocery shopping with BooBaaa this morning? Like convincing an ornery toddler who doesn't want to hold my hand and would rather run off, cars or no cars, that grocery shopping can be fun isn't enough . . . I constantly see these selfish morons in the parking lot.

sigh

And Then They Go and Exceed Your Expectations

2009-01-07T21:37:00.001Z

After BooBaaa's first afternoon at nursery yesterday, I was expecting another similarly traumatic drop off and report today.

I was pleasantly surprised.

While the drop-off did take a few minutes, when a somewhat tired (because he refused to nap again) BooBaaa couldn't decide if he wanted to take a little nap there or not, and then was clearly torn between playing with the fuzzy animal hand puppets with Lois or gluing himself to my side. The fuzzy animal puppets won. Other than a slightly upset "Mommy, Mommy" when I said my good-byes and shut the door behind me, that was the end of it. When I peeked back through the window a minute later, he was playing happily with the puppets.

And when I picked the daring duo up at 5:15 tonight, I was delighted to see them sitting at a little table together, with about five other wee ones, listening to a story. (They combine the Red and Green rooms for the last half hour each day right before the rush to pick up the children starts.) BooBaaa was right next to the storyteller, leaning in as close as he could get to the book. He was clearly excited about the whole story-time thing, while Ramekin was kicking back listening like one of the Big Kids at the far side of the table. When they finally noticed me, they both gave me big smiles and hugs.

"BooBaaa has been happy all day," one of the staffers told me. "He was a little tired after tea time, but then he perked right back up again. He's been absolutely fine all afternoon."

I was surprised but thrilled to hear it.

Especially since I knew I'd have felt guilty for having such a nice afternoon to myself today if he'd been miserable. Because I'd actually snuck off to see a movie by myself, the first time in ages since I'd had such a luxury. I used to love just camping out in a theater by myself whenever the urge struck.

So today I sat in the back row of the theater and watched The Reader, starring Ralph Fiennes, Kate Winslet, David Kross and Lena Olin. And I really, really enjoyed it. Just being there by myself, watching a movie full of good performances and a storyline that made me think. And cry a little. And wonder about the choices people make, have to make, or feel they have to make, sometimes in life. It's just a movie, I know, but it, too, exceeded my expectations this afternoon.

Or maybe I'm just not used to having much 'me time' these days.

But I'll take what I can get for now, as long as my boys are happy in their program a couple of afternoons a week.

Trying On the Christmas Sweaters...

2009-01-07T07:01:00.003Z

...and loving all the attention.

Sweaters courtesy of the very-talented Farmor, of course.

For (nearly) Wordless Wednesday.

They Don't Always Do What You Expect

2009-01-06T21:32:00.001Z

Back in mid-December, Boo-Baaa had his first solo visit to the Red Room, the 2-3 year old room at the private nursery/preschool Ramekin attends. The visit went reasonably well which didn't surprise me, because he's there two to three days a week with me as we drop off and pick up his big brother in the afternoons, frequently diving into whatever toys are set up in the room and happily interacting with the staff.

I think it also went well because the Red Room and the Green Room (his brother's room) had combined for the day because 75% of the wee ones weren't scheduled to come in due to the holidays, which meant Ramekin was in the same room for the day. The only real 'crimp' in the two-hour visit was the dreaded nappy (diaper) change, which he's not a big fan of anyway; throw in a semi-stranger, and, well… Mexican stand-off ensued apparently. But they got it changed.

So today was Boo's first full afternoon in the Red Room. In anticipation, we skipped playgroup this morning, because I didn't want him to be over-tired and overwhelmed on his first full day. Instead, the three of us had a fairly leisurely morning at home and a hot lunch, and then I drove them into town thinking I'd get them both into their respective rooms and then I'd have a leisurely stroll around Cambridge.

Things didn't go quite according to plan.

Ramekin, of course, was thrilled to be back in his beloved Green Room, and couldn't wait to show everyone the lovely new Norwegian sweater his Farmor knitted him for Christmas. He quickly disappeared into the Green Room, and I heard him greeting everyone loudly as he disappeared.

Boo-Baaa, who'd said 'yes' and nodded when repeatedly asked if he was going to go to the Red Room like a 'Big Boy' all morning, suddenly wasn't so sure he wanted to be there at all. Boo-Baaa, who usually marches confidently into both the Red and Green Rooms to play with the toys and flirt with the staff, clung to my hand as we entered the Red Room and refused to let go. And he sobbed and clung to me when I gently suggested he would be staying to play and I would be saying 'bye bye' for a little while.

My favorite Red Room staffer, 'Lois', was wonderful with him. Patient and wonderful. But he clearly wasn't having it. He'd start to play with something, tentatively, as long as I was right there, but whenever I made a noise to leave, he'd start sobbing and clinging again.

My happy, happy smallest boy is not a clingy child. Or a crier. He's what most people would call a Spirited Child. Yes, with the capitals. He's a handful and a half, and then some. He's a cheeky, confident, sociable, stubborn, can't stop him from doing or trying anything, little guy. Threats of punishment don't faze him in the slightest. He laughs at the idea of discipline. But to the surprise –and dismay—of everyone today, he did not want me to leave him there. So he cried.

I honestly didn't know what to do because I hadn't expected this. Ramekin had started attending the Red Room when he was three months younger than Boo is now and had never been fazed in the least. And Boo has always seemed even more confident than Ramekin had been at the same age . . . so it never seriously occurred to me that he would struggle with being left there on his own.

Lois and I consulted over his teary face and the tight grip he had on my legs. We decided she would go and see if Ramekin wasn't in the middle of something, and if he'd be willing to come into the Red Room for a little while to support his little brother. She was back a few minutes later, with a cheerful Ramekin in tow.

I was so incredibly proud of my oldest boy in that moment. Lois had clearly explained the situation well to him, (he's only 3 ½, you know), and he was ready to help. He came in with a big, confident smile, put his arm around Boo's shoulders and asked him if he could play with him. Boo was still schnuffling a bit, so while he didn't say 'yes', he didn't say 'no', either. The interest was clearly there.

So Ramekin and Lois set up a fun game where balls get dropped down tunnels and curvy paths right in front of Boo and started to play. And within sixty seconds, Boo was shoulder to shoulder with his brother dropping balls down tunnels with his big brother. After a few minutes, I said a quiet 'bye bye' and quietly got up and left. Boo cried out for me, briefly, but I kept going, and then there was silence behind me. I peeked back through the window and watched as my two boys played together on the floor.

I then sat in the lobby to wait to see if they'd be able to extract Ramekin from the Red Room without a Boo meltdown.

Ten to fifteen minutes later, a smiling Ramekin came out, on his way back to the Green Room across the hall. He'd shown Boo lots of different toys, he said, and Boo was happy. I told him he was a star, the best big brother ever, and that I was incredibly proud of him. He beamed, then disappeared into his own room.

Lois came out a few minutes later and confirmed that Boo was starting to settle in. Ramekin had kept presenting Boo with different toys to play with, and they would try them together for a few minutes. When I peeked in the window one last time before I left, he was playing with a giant doll's house next to another small child.

So I finally felt comfortable heading off to get a few things done, over an hour after I'd arrived.

Three hours later, I was back to pick them up. Before I entered the room, Lois told me he'd done really well for the most of the afternoon, but that he'd worn himself out and had fallen asleep on the floor for a while in the middle of it. (He didn't nap before I delivered him, despite my best efforts.) They let him sleep for a while (thankfully). And they had another Mexican standoff over a nappy change, which clearly changed his mood from happy to unhappy again for a while. And he declined a snack (clearly not my child) at tea time. But there were definitely some very happy, giggling moments.

When I peeked through the window before opening the Red Room door, I could see that while Boo was tired, he appeared happy enough. But when I went in, he took one look at me, burst into tears crying "Mommy", and threw himself at me. After a long cuddle, I put him back on his feet and asked him to show me what he'd been playing with. He only hesitated a moment, then took my hand and drew me over to a table and started pointing at the toys. And then he helped tidy up the remaining toys on the floor when he was asked to help, smiling when he was praised for his efforts.

So today didn't go like I expected. And I suspect tomorrow afternoon is also going to be a difficult drop off for my little Boo. But I do think he's going to adjust. And thrive there. It may just take a bit of time in his case to get over the initial shock of being there.

And I'm going to have to re-adjust my expectations, too. Because I didn't see this coming. Not with my oh-so-Spirited Boo.

And I also didn't realize just how mature and confident my lovely Ramekin could be in a pinch. I mean, I know he's lovely --(although he can be the typically obnoxious 3 1/2 year old, too, driving me absolutely batty)-- but I didn't realize how loving and supportive he could be towards his little brother who clearly needed the love and support.

And I was so proud of him. Both of them, really. Ramekin for being there for his little brother, and Boo for knowing, just knowing, he could count on his big brother.

A Prediction

2009-01-05T08:01:00.003Z

Almost three weeks ago, I had my first scan, aka The Dating Scan, of wee little Lambchop. And what I saw on the screen looked like something I'd seen before, well, two things I'd seen before: early scan profiles of both Ramekin and Boo-Baaa.

Cute little Lambchop, no?

Anyway, the scan pics have led me to my prediction: Even though Lambchop didn't prove to be an exhibitionist like his brothers before him, the profile was so similar to said brothers', I'm predicting I'm going to get another amnio report in about two weeks that leads off with a chromosome analysis indicating "XY".

I can be happy with another wee "XY", primarily because the two we already have are so incredibly lovely (when they're not driving me insane), how could I not love another one?

The amnio is scheduled for the 13th, and we shall see what we shall see soon thereafter. I just hope the report's chromosome count also says "46". On that count (ha ha), however, I won't make a prediction . . . it means too much. Everything, in fact.

This post has been the first Monday Mission of 2009. For more fun predictions, please visit Painted Maypole.

Another Sheep...

2009-01-03T21:55:00.003Z

Yep. Sticking with the flock and doing the 'first sentence from each month in 2008' wrap up meme... which is about all I can manage right now as I'm having a recovery day after three weeks of houseguests/travelling guests.

What can I say, other than "baaa baaa"?

January: "Well, any Resolution I might have had about being more diligent in my blogging probably went out the window when I couldn't even find the time --or thoughts-- to post about the outgoing 2007 and the incoming 2008 yesterday."

The start of a trend . . .

February: "Other than a few comments on a couple of other blogs, I have never discussed the quagmire that is Iraq."

And I didn't really get into it too much here... The post was to hope for the safe deployment and then return of my cousin.

But just a few days later, I did one of my favorite posts of this year:
How to Capture a Wild Tractor

March: "300. That would be the number of this post."

And soon after this landmark, I took a short break from it all. Typical.

April: "My heart on a walk"

A series of pictures post, the only post for April.

May: "My lovely, lovely Ramekin turned three years old today."

It goes so fast . . .

June: "I think I've perfected the art of sitting at my computer, starting at it, thinking "I have to write something, anything! What is wrong with you?!", but then pointedly not clicking on my own blog site and surfing randomly elsewhere."

Typical.

July: "Scene: In the car . . . Ramekin, cheerily from the backseat: "Get off my tail, *sshole!" "

I'm thinking about starting up a series of parenting classes . . . any takers?

August: "Assuming I get the car packed up tonight with all our stuff . . . yeah, yeah, yeah, packing late again . . . we're off to Norway tomorrow morning. Woo hoo! We won't be back for ten days."

A short but fun-filled summer holiday. Ramekin is already campaigning to go back to Norway next summer.

September: "I've always been an Independent voter, but it's no secret I tilt to the left."

Actually from my second post of the month, because the first one was primarily a cartoon posting. . . and I can't wait for January 20th!

October: "I am not, nor have I ever been, a fan of 'boy bands'."

Again, second post because first post was a WW Picture. This one, fluff. But I almost posted about their second release off the album last month, too... luckily for you, I had houseguests.

November: "Things 1 and 2 had many lovely treats last night . . ."

Halloween recap of the wild-blue haired duo.

December: "When I left to pick up Ramekin at preschool in a neighboring village this morning, I almost forgot my cellphone."

Not surprisingly, I've been better about making sure my cellphone is charged up regularly since that day... and I never did find out what happened to the poor guy.

So those are the 2008 "firsts" . . . I wonder what 2009 holds . . .

Resolution*

2009-01-02T00:17:00.002Z

*And a late resolution at that. Fitting, no?

Peek-a-Boo

2008-12-31T00:01:00.001Z

After our Christmas week in Edinburgh, G, the boys and I drove home on Saturday, and got in quite late. My mom and my sister followed on the train on Sunday, and they'll be here through next Saturday.

All this means is that I still have very little private time on my laptop, especially since I'm letting everyone else check their email on it and surf the web. When I do hop on and get a bit of privacy to poke around my Google Reader a bit --a very, very tiny bit, so not much clicking through, so sorry everyone-- I then have to carefully delete all browsing history each and every tme because I don't want to be blog outed over here. So I apologize for not dropping by over the holidays or posting much right now.

On the bright side, I plan to make it up to you! While in Edinburgh, G found a way to let me do a stealth mission to tourist central where I picked up a few Scottish treats to do a contest give away when I'm back on line next week. The little bag of treats is currently stashed in a cupboard upstairs awaiting the departure of our guests. So stay tuned next week!

In the meantime, I hope everyone has a happy New Year's Eve with their loved ones.
As for G and I, we're hoping for a movie tomorrow night since we have in-house babysitters at the moment, and who knows when we'll get that again!

Happy New Year, All!

For a rather wordy last Wordless Wednesday of 2007.
;-)

Edinburgh

2008-12-22T22:31:00.002Z

Miracle of miracles, nobody else got the nasty bug that hit Ramekin Thursday night. So other than staying home and laying low on Friday, we were able to depart as planned on Saturday.

Early Saturday morning, G dropped my mom, sister and Ramekin off at the train station and Ely so they could ride in first class comfort to Edinburgh. By all accounts, Ramekin had a wonderful first train ride and behaved beautifully. He held hands at the train stations, pulling his little travel bag (packed with extra clothes, snacks, and a few 'things to do') behind him.

He was absolutley delighted with the train trip. He had a window seat at a table that I'd manage to book for t he trio, and, at one stage of the trip, got to see a hunt in action, complete with dozens and dozens of horses and riders in full hunting gear (they don't actually hunt foxes here anymore; it's all just for show I believe). The conductor made a huge fuss over him and let Ramekin punch all the tickets at their table, including a made-up one for his stuffed bunny who took the seat next to him. He sampled all his snacks and happily shared them. He played cards with his Grandmother. He took a tour of the train with his Auntie. And apparently, practically everyone in the first class car made a point of coming over to the table to tell him how wonderfully he was behaving.

While they were on the train, I picked up the house, a never-ending project it seems) and then packed up bags for each of the boys, myself, Christmas presents for the extended family, and any excess fruit and veg to take with us. We hit the road about 4:00 in the afternoon, which was a little later than planned. But it paid off: we'd held off Boo-Baaa from taking a nap all day and he promptly fell asleep for three hours about five minutes into the ride, so we made really good time. We stopped for dinner at 7:30 at a lovely little pub on the edge of Scotland, where BooBaaa entertained the people at the bar by dancing to the live music that started up after dinner. He was so very cute and full of smiles for everybody, so much so that the bartender brought over a couple of little pieces of Christmas chocolate for him.

And then we were off again, with a now wide awake but behaving pretty well BooBaaa. Passing through little towns full of Christmas lights really helped our cause, as he would point excitedly and shriek at the various holiday decorations. We ended up pulling into the in-law's driveway at just after 10:00, making it our fastest trip ever by car to Edinburgh, just over six hours including a one hour dinner stop!

Yesterday was pretty mellow, with catching up, a little shopping with my sister, a family Sunday Dinner. Today we all took the boys to the Edinburgh zoo, which was fairly quiet. The boys were particularly excited to see the penguin parade, the playful otters, and the very active swinging monkeys chasing each around their ropes and trees. I was just happy to see the place wasn't crowded like it normally is; probably something to do with the fact that its winter and just a few days before Christmas.

Tomorrow we plan to head to the city center, our old stomping grounds. I really do miss living there, and I can't wait to see this year's Christmas tree and German Christmas market, Princes Street and the Royal Mile. I hope the boys behave well as it will likely be very busy in the final Christmas run-up.

Hope everyone's Christmas week is going well. Sorry I'm not really visiting everyone right now, but I have to sneak around just to post this as I have very little computer time and there are too many people around when I do!

So . . .

2008-12-19T15:36:00.003Z

So so so . . .

It's been a long, busy week. And all is not well.

And by "well", I mean healthy.

On Sunday my mom arrived, and the boys were thrilled with all the extra attention.

On Monday, I had to hold poor Ramekin down while he got his MMR booster and Hib/Diptheria booster shots. Measles and Hib are going around again, and since my boosters failed me when I was young, I wanted to make sure he had a better chance of being protected. There were tears all around, but it needed to be done.

Later Monday, though, G came home early from work not feeling well, and by evening was feeling really bad. So he stayed home sick in bed all Tuesday. I'm not sure he moved until the afternoon.

On Wednesday, while not feeling totally himself, he felt well enough to head back to work. He overdid it a bit, and was feeling pretty poorly that evening.

Yesterday, Thursday, I felt rather crappy, and spent most of the day with a bad headache and feeling a tad nauseous. (No, not the pregnancy. Sick.) Luckily, my mom has been absolutely outstanding with the boys and handled them beautifully while I lay on my bed feeling sorry for myself.

And the boys. We were supposed to go to an afternoon Christmas party, but I felt bad. And then BooBaaa got dreadfully fussy, so we stayed home. I felt particularly bad because the boys had spent an hour decorating a couple dozen cupcakes with my mother for the party. But it was clear that no one was quite themselves.

As I was still feeling poorly last night, G went off to Heathrow to pick up my sister. Her flight got in around 9:30 last night . . .

They got home just in time last night to find me and my mom trying to console a sobbing Ramekin who had just thrown up all over himself without warning. Vomit everywhere.

The Norovirus is going around like crazy --you know, the one that takes out entire cruise ships? It's so bad that the hospital called me the day before my scan to ask me if I'd been exposed and that children were not allowed anywhere near the maternity ward or scan wards right now because of it – and it seems that despite all the handwashing and good hygiene practices, Ramekin got hit. Poor wee boy was up all.night.long throwing up. I'm sure that the shots he had on Monday didn't help his ability to fight the bug off.

But having Ramekin up most of the night being sick also meant that BooBaaa was up most of the night due to the ruckus and constant pajama/bed clothing changing.

G took the first half of the night when he got home because I still felt crappy. Ramekin apparently threw up (or tried to) six more times during that period of time, which meant at least two more bed changes. We swapped at 4:30 am … and after another few rounds of rather dry heaves, it seemed to be over. And both boys climbed into the small guest room bed with me at 6:00. (We'd booted my poor sister who showed up in the middle of all this down to the couch so one of us could stay next door to the boys all night.)

So everyone is pretty d*mn tired today. Poor G went to work late, and everyone else is currently napping throughout the house.

I fully expect BooBaaa to go down with the bug tonight or tomorrow . . . and possibly myself, G, my mom and my sister. All which leaves us with a terrible dilemma: my mom, sister and Ramekin are supposed to get on the train tomorrow morning bright and early to head to Edinburgh; and G, BooBaaa and I are supposed to get in the car and drive up tomorrow…

I'm doing heaps of laundry at the moment, most created last night. And I haven't even thought about packing for the trip. And I don't know when or if the bug is going to strike anyone else in the house.

So . . . we may be leaving tomorrow. We may not. I don't know. But either way, it's been a long week, and I suspect it's going to be a long weekend, too.

Aren't the holidays great?

Oh . . . and those cupcakes? Straight into the bin this morning seeing as they're "toxic", i.e., hand decorated by typhoid Ramekin yesterday, probably in the prime of his contagiousness. I am sooooo glad I didn't drop them off at the party, something I actually considered as I'd promised to bring them. I try hard not to share those kinds of germs.

Sadly, someone else out there wasn't quite as considerate.

Grrrrrrrrr.

Our Christmas Tree . . .

2008-12-17T21:18:00.003Z

. . . and some wanna be presents.

For an end of the day Wordless Wednesday.

Perspective

2008-12-16T21:39:00.000Z

So I had my first scan today, the so-called 'dating scan'.

I know exactly when I became pregnant, even though I was clearly in denial a week in, I knew. I 'knew' with both previous pregnancies, too. So I had to admit I was amused when the scan of the baby indicated I'm roughly five days more pregnant than my count. I suspect that Lambchop is just big, like his/her brothers before him/her.

Yes, looks like I'm actually going to get to use "Lambchop".

Anyway, by their count, I'm 12 weeks and 2 days. And from what I saw, Lambchop has the makings of one verrrrry lazy baby, lounging about in there without a care in the world. And Lambchop's scan profile reminded me distinctly of Ramekin and BooBaaa's scan profiles, which means the slim hopes I am holding on to for a wee girl probably got a little slimmer today.

I mean I know it's going to be another wee boy. I understand the odds. It's just, well, I would really love to have a daughter, too. I just don't think it's going to happen.

Of course, a happy, healthy baby is absolutely my primary concern. That's never been in question. As well as a happy, healthy mommy at the end of the day.

And those sentiments took on a whole new perspective when my scan was completed and I headed back to the waiting room, clutching four pictures of my little Lambchop, to await paperwork and follow up appointment dates. I sat next to a smiling pregnant woman who was going through a stack of scan pictures herself. As she was clearly farther along than I was, I asked her if she'd just had her twenty week scan, which, under normal pregnancy circumstances, is typically the next scan offered on the NHS.

I was close. She said she was twenty-three weeks along, and she was having a little girl, a sister for the little boy she had at home, a boy a little younger than BooBaaa. I congratulated her, told her about my boys, and said I was secretly rooting for a girl myself.

And then one of the scan staff behind the reception desk asked her how she was getting on in the ward. And as they talked about how she was doing, the words "starting chemo" were spoken.

My heart dropped. Chemo? While pregnant? What a terrible, terrible place to be in.

And when they were done, I asked her if I'd heard correctly. Did she say "chemo"? And when she said "yes", my heart dropped a little farther.

Although I was kind of assuming she was going to say breast cancer (which isn't uncommon for pregnant women these days, probably on account of the higher numbers of older moms-to-be, it turns out that that wasn't the diagnosis. No. It turns out she was just diagnosed with leukemia. And the doctors weren't being especially positive about the whole scenario, since her case is a rarity on account of the pregnancy 'complication', and had plans to take the baby out as early as possible. But she's determined to stay positive, because she's growing a new baby girl and has a little baby boy at home, and they both need their mommy.

I wanted to cry. I lost two childhood friends to leukemia. Although of course I didn't mention this, and I strove for as upbeat as she was presenting.

And to complicate matters, she lives well over an hour away, which means over an hour away from her family and friends. But her local hospital couldn’t cope with the care she was going to require, so she was sent here. Our local hospital has one of the top rated maternity services in the country, so she's absolutely in good hands here, I confirmed.

We talked for a few more minutes, and then I was called to retrieve my paperwork. Before I left, though, I sat back down next to her and wished her all the best, telling her that I thought that her positive attitude and the strength she was showing under the circumstances was amazing, and that I believed she and her little girl were going to be fine in the end.

And I have to believe that, because any other outcome would be too horrible to contemplate.

But it puts everything into perspective, doesn't it? It did for me. I'm incredibly lucky to have two happy healthy wee boys at home, and whether Lambchop turns out to be a boy or a girl, all that really and truly matters at the end of the day is that s/he is healthy. And that I'll get to be there to see them all grow up together.

I know that. I've always known that. But in spite of knowing all that, sometimes you have to be reminded.

Christmas Crowds

2008-12-15T16:53:00.003Z

This weeks's Monday Mission was written stealthily on the couch in thirty minutes hoping not to be caught out blogging by our houseguest.

To be sung to the tune of Jingle Bells...

Christmas Crowds

Dashing through Tescos
With a wonky trolley wheel
Through the crowds I go
Cursing with much zeal
People milling 'round
Most are in my way
Crying children all around
Wanting to go play

Oh, Christmas crowds, Christmas crowds
Maddening all the time
Oh, how hard it is to shop
And stand in such long lines
Christmas crowds, Christmas crowds
Christmas on the way
Oh, how hard it is to shop
And stand in line all day

A day or two ago
I thought I'd hit the mall
And soon I realized my mistake
When I saw the crowds inside
The stores were full of sales
Markdowns were quite steep
But there were shoppers at all shelves
Trodding on my feet

Oh, Christmas crowds, Christmas crowds
Maddening all the time
Oh, how hard it is to shop
And stand in such long lines
Christmas crowds, Christmas crowds
Christmas on the way
Oh, how hard it is to shop
And stand in line all day

So now I sit at home
Ignoring all my cards
Have failed to take this year's picture
Or write inserts like bards
I haven't wrapped the gifts
Or finished at the shops
The kids will be getting a short shrift
Unless the stocking drops

Oh, Christmas crowds, Christmas crowds
Maddening all the time
Oh, how hard it is to shop
And stand in such long lines
Christmas crowds, Christmas crowds
Christmas on the way
Oh, how hard it is to shop
And stand in line all day

For more Monday Mission songs, please visit Painted Maypole.

Busy Busy Busy

2008-12-13T22:11:00.001Z

Note to Self: Learn to Read

When my mom booked her flight over the Atlantic to come see us this Christmas, she emailed me her schedule and put it on my calendar: Need to be at Heathrow on Saturday the 13th at 10:30 pm. Then her flight times adjusted a bit, to 11:00ish.

Then they adjusted again, and she emailed us her actual flight schedules this past week. It took me a few days to realize that the change to 12:00-ish was not midnight-ish, it was noon-ish. I pulled up the old times she had sent me. Sure enough, they were actual morning arrivals, not night. I have no idea what I was thinking.

I was probably too busy wondering how on earth we were going to get the house cleaned up and the guests rooms sorted out, as my sister is following her over here on Thursday.

But then yesterday, Friday morning, I pulled up my mom's flight schedule again to print it out, and kind of did a double-take when I looked, really looked, at the dates. She was departing on the 13th and arriving on the 14th.

Huh?

After confirming with my calendar that the 14th was indeed Sunday, not Saturday, I called G at his office to tell him about our mistake. (Yes, "our" mistake. I'm generous like that.) He was quite relieved I'd caught the mistake so we didn't waste three to four hours on the road, and I was relieved because that gave us a whole extra day plus to get the house in better shape.

And believe me, the house was in dire need of cleaning and reorganizing. We need all the time we can get, especially with two little hellions running around messing it up.

So yesterday afternoon, while the boys played/screamed/fought/giggled/cried in the playroom, I started. I shoveled out the living room and the entrance hall, hauled sweaters, fleeces and coats upstairs (until the extra coat rack gets sorted out in the utility room), put up a few more holiday display items, cleaned the cloakroom, hung pictures in the kitchen, did multiple loads of laundry, made up the big guest room for my mom, and cooked dinner for the boys. After the boys went to bed, I cleaned out the playroom, an act which included filling two bags for the charity shops, and reorganized all the toy bins and shelves.

This morning we were all up early. G took my car in to the shop when it opened because it's pulling to the left, and after feeding the boys, I once again banished them to the playroom while I tidied and vacuumed the stairways and upper floors, folded laundry, and scrubbed two more bathrooms. (I'm saving our top floor bathroom for tomorrow morning.) When G got home, he set about installing a new small television in our bedroom (our Christmas present to ourselves, because sometimes I just want to sit in bed and watch television, you know?), while I hung pictures in the guestroom, guest bathroom and cloakroom, something I've been meaning to do since we moved in.

And I must say, hanging pictures on the walls makes everything seem so much homier. Who'd've thought?

And then, at 2:30 this afternoon, I pulled myself together and drove off to the city center by myself to drop off the additional bags in a charity shop and get the bulk of our Christmas shopping done.

It wasn't my idea of fun. The parking lots were close to capacity, there were swarms of people everywhere, and it was chilly and raining, not conditions I like to shop under.

But after dropping off the bags for charity, I headed straight to The Pier (think slightly nicer version of Pier 1 or CostPlus) which just went into administration (bankruptcy) last week. I had popped into it to pick up a few things with BooBaaa on Thursday morning, as the "Closing Down - Everything Must Go" sale had already started, and already had a feel for what I wanted to pick up today.

It was a Total Zoo. Most of the store was 50% off, half the shelves were empty, steeply discounted furniture was literally being carried out the front doors, and there were people everywhere trying to find good deals, not to mention the very long lines to the cash register. But I was determined, managed to score a carry basket (very hard to come by today), and slowly made my way through the two floors.

All the cousins will be getting some particularly lovely looking scented candles and sparkly glass candle plates. The next generation up will be receiving lovely ceramic plates and lovely bags of fragranced decorative orbs (like 'raspberry crush' or 'spiced ginger'). And I found a lovely sparkly picture frame in my sister's favorite colors that she should be able to pack easily for the trip home. All at one-half off. Totally worth the hour searching the two floors, and the fifteen minutes in line to pay for the stuff.

After dumping the loot in my car and moving it (so people wouldn't think I just dumped bags of stuff in my car and left it there), I headed into the mall to do some clothes shopping for the nieces and nephews. (I'd already managed to pick up some steeply discounted remote controlled cars for the nephews, but needed a little bit more.) The five year old niece was fairly easy; it was just a matter of choosing which adorable skirt and cute tops were going to make the final cut in my chosen children's clothing store that had a "buy one get 50% of any other item in store". I added some play girly jewelry to top off the outfit and to "even" out the number of items I was purchasing. On my way to the register, I noticed the wall of rather fun little boy pajamas on sale, noting that with each purchase of pajamas came a good-sized cloth Christmas bag with drawstrings. I picked out a cute pair for each nephew, grabbed two of the free bags, and headed to the register. There I discovered that on top of all the discounting, they had free cute gift boxes available to the customers, a true rarity in the UK. I happily accepted three.

As it was now five, I picked up a drink and a couple of cookies, then let G know he should go ahead and feed the boys, because I was going to be a while yet.

I then headed off in search of clothing for the soon-to-be eleven year old niece, not as easy a task as her sister. It's not only a tough age in terms of finding something "cool enough" without outraging her parents and "not too cutesy", but her coloring is a little trickier to work with as she has lovely red hair with rather pale skin. And I soon discovered that the clothing lines for her age group in general were pretty d*mn limited in all the stores I visited. What they did have was mostly crap (from where I'm looking): the stuff was either too baggy, too short (I mean who lets an eleven year old buy a skirt that will barely cover her bottom?!?), too tarty (or who lets an eleven year old girl wear pants/skirts with words written across the bottoms, thereby encouraging people to stare at said bottoms?!?), too ugly, too girly-girly, wrong colors for her, etc. etc. And anything that I kind of liked, wasn't available in her size.

I tried every d*mn store in the mall that stocked children's clothes. Nothing appropriate. Nothing. So while I stewed, I hit a couple of the stores for heavily discounted wrapping paper and ribbons, and examined some steeply discounted Christmas ornaments.

And at six I decided to drive over to the Grand Arcade which houses the John Lewis store (think Macys/Nordstrom type store) and see what they had before they closed at seven. I figured if that failed, I could always try again when my mom was here as there are some other stores in that area of town I could.

I managed to get there about half an hour before closing time, and discovered that John Lewis actually had some clothing that I liked in the right colors . . . except that almost everything I liked and in the right colors wasn't stocked in her size. Ugh! But I finally managed to find a fairly cute denim skirt with a little frill at the bottom and a few tops that would work with it. So I bought them. Because the nieces' presents have to be shipped early this week or they won't arrive in time.

And then I headed home . . . shopping for our little monsters will have to wait as the stores were all closing . . . and discovered that G had parked the boys in front of some DVDs, relocated the painting stuff to the garage, and scrubbed the kitchen, including the disgusting kitchen floor while I was out. (Dratted messy children.) I was sooooo happy when I realized what he had done. And relieved. Because I didn't know when we were going to get it done before tomorrow.

(G was so determined to keep the kitchen clean after he scrubbed it, he took the little monsters out to McDonalds instead of cooking and giving them a chance to trash the floor again. I understand the sentiment.)

And I should now be wrapping presents, but I'm too tired, so I'm going to go to bed instead. There's a Heathrow trip we have to sort out tomorrow morning after all.

Hope everyone else is having a fairly productive weekend.

We Need an Angel

2008-12-10T14:54:00.002Z

I normally just glance at 'forwarded emails' to make sure they don't include a personal message, then delete them. You know, those emails you get from well-meaning friends full of cute pictures of puppies, or warnings about internet scams I would never fall for, or political jokes, or jokes of any kind, really, or promises of great luck and wealth if you forward it on to at least ten people immediately, or ten strange rules to live your life by, or . . . well, you get the picture.

But, grinchy pregnant me received a rather amusing Christmas story, and even though I've heard it before (probably in yet another mass forwarded email that I unceremoniously deleted last year), I snickered after scanning through it again and decided to share. 'Here', though, not in a mass email forwarding. I don't do that . . .

. . . well, actually I do do mass emailings, but only those that I myself write and that generally involve funny moving announcements, party invites, various holiday greetings, and/or cute pictures of my little monsters. Clear? Good.

Anyway, a little Christmas Story for people having a bad day:

When four of Santa's elves got sick, the trainee elves did not produce toys as fast as the regular ones, and Santa began to feel the Pre-Christmas pressure.

Then Mrs Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.

Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.

Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drank all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mic e had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.

The angel said very cheerfully, 'Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn't this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?'

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. So sue me. I snickered. But then, I'm in that kind of mood.

Jekylls and Hydes

2008-12-09T14:22:00.006Z

What a difference a day makes with my little monsters. Some days are great, others I just want to throw them into fulltime care and find a job. Any job. And today has been one of those days.

For most of yesterday, they couldn't have been lovelier, even though it was a fairly hectic day. We got up, got dressed, had a nice breakfast, then rushed out the door for Ramekin's special morning session at his beloved green room (nursery). Even though it took us a ridiculous forty minutes to get there due to unforseen traffic issues, they were great in the car. BooBaaa and I dropped off a very happy Ramekin at 9:30, then went off to deliver some bags of stuff to a charity shop, then headed off to a nearby mall to find parking for the rest of the morning. (There's no such thing as free parking in Cambridge; drives me bonkers.)

As it was getting close to 10:30 at this point, BooBaaa and I immediately headed back to the nursery on foot for the nursery Christmas production. BooBaaa behaved reasonably well as we found seats with the other parents, entertaining the waiting audience by continuing to visit the babydoll in the manger at the front of the room and trying to add stuffed elephants to the baby's entourage. But he quickly settled down when then all the children who attend the nursery came in in their adorasble Christmas costumes and started singing all their songs.

Ramekin was an adorable shepherd, sitting between two of his shepherd friends, and looked quite delighted to see me sitting in the audience with BooBaaa. And although he didn't know all the songs (as he's generally only there two afternoons a week, so hasn't had as much rehearsal time), he happily sang those he knew.

When the Christmas pageant was over, BooBaaa and I headed back to the mall for a couple of hours, as Ramekin was booked into the nursery until after lunch. I'll admit I tested Boo's patience when I tried to do a little Christmas shopping for the nieces in a clothing store, so that didn't last long. So we went upstairs to the food court where we had lunch and he got to play on the play bus and car in the corner for a while.

After we picked Ramekin up from the nursery, we headed home where BooBaaa had a very short nap which I had to roust him from because I had the three of us booked in for a mid-afternoon dentist appointment.

Yes, I insanely decided to take the boys to the dentist by myself. Not cleanings, at least; just a quick check up by the dentist to make sure everything looks like it's supposed to. (It's a strange dental system here. But, what can I say. It's the NHS.) But up until yesterday, neither boy has been willing to let a dentist look at their teeth, in spite of several attempts.

But there they were in the dentist's office, sitting nicely in the reception room watching a program about whales on the television in the corner while I filled our some paperwork. And they allowed themselves to be herded into the examination room with me when my name was called, then sat quietly in the corner while my teeth were examined in The Big Chair.

And then it was Ramekin's turn, and I knew that he had balked at this stage with G six short months ago. So I quietly offered him a choice: he could sit in The Big Chair by himself or he could sit in my lap. BooBaaa just watched from the corner, eyes big.

"I want to sit in your lap, Mommy," he responded after a moment. So he did. And The Big Chair tilted us both back, and Ramekin opened his mouth for the dentist who finally got a good long look at his teeth. His healthy baby teeth.

And then it was BooBaaa's, still of the Monkey See, Monkey do school, turn. Without any hesitation, he sat in my lap, leaned back, and let the dentist poke around in his mouth for a few moments to admire his lovely baby teeth. "Still eight to go, but they look fine," said the dentist.

And then both boys happily selected Dora stickers from the assistant for being so good. And, because they'd been so very good, so surprisingly good, I told them they could watch a few episodes of Dora when we got home.

Hearing that, they were happy to run back to the big blue bus.

Admittedly, they were quite so good post-Dora DVD time, with some whining, tempering, and running into the Christmas tree issues, but it was manageable enough. All in all, not a bad day.

But that was yesterday.

Today things started out with Ramekin howling over some perceived slight just moments after he got up. And some pushing and grabbing and squabbling over books and toys. Then lecturing them about no snacks before breakfast when they came upstairs with crackers stuffed into their mouths. After sorting them out, I headed off to grab a quick shower. I was just getting ready to step into it when Ramekin came running into the bathroom.

"Mommy! BooBaaa took off his nappy and is throwing poo balls around again*."

(*Yes, 'again'; he did this last Friday afternoon, too, only then he was lobbing them down the stairs. And YOU people all think he's cute. HA!).

"Thank you for telling me, Ramekin," I sighed as I headed off to see what was going on. Sure enough, poo balls all over the hallway and boys' bathroom floor greeted me, along with one beaming BooBaaa who was pointing proudly into the toilet bowl.

I looked. Sure enough, not one poo ball had actually made it into the toilet bowl.

"Naughty, Boo, naughty!" I started yelling as he ran off butt naked, giggling. "You're not allowed to take off your nappy without asking! You know that!"

So after cleaning up the mess, wiping a squiggling bottom, then wrangling Boo into some clothes, I headed back to the shower. A lovely quiet shower.

Too quiet.

When I got out, sure enough. Every stuffed animal the two little monsters could find had been dragged out of their bedroom and stuffed into the tallboy we just moved into the guest room for our impending visitors.

And one of Ramekin's clothing drawers had been emptied out and strewn across their bedroom floor, courtesy of BooBaaa, again.

So more cleaning up and yelling before I could get dressed and go downstairs.

And then I went downstairs and walked into the kitchen to make them a quick breakfast, as we were now running spectacularly late . . . only to discover that the Big Child Hyde has peeled clementines, and the Small Child Hyde has carefully separated all the clementine slices and strewn then about the kitchen table and floor, along with the peels. Not to mention the illicitly obtained box of crackers that I'd already lectured them about; crackers were also strewn across the floor beneath the open cupboard.

It's not that our kitchen was especially clean heading into this morning. It wasn't.
But still . . . !

And then Small Child Hyde came gleefully running into the kitchen with a cup of half melted ice that Big Child Hyde must have gotten for him while I was upstairs (foolish us, we have water and ice dispensers on the freezer) , and promply dropped said cup all over the already disgusting floor.

It was at that point I burst into tears and decided I was going back to work. Again.

Except that I'm not. I can't right now.** And, besides, I don't really want to. I don't want someone else raising my kids, and that's what it would feel like to me if I was only seeing them a couple of hours a day and at the weekends. Even if they are horrible little Jekyll and Hydes.

sigh

It's just been a crappy day . . . and it's only half over. I can't wait to see what they've got planned for me post-green room nursery time and naptime today.

double sigh

**And you people need to start reading my blog more carefully, says the pissy, petty, tired, out-of-sorts pregnant woman who is tired of dropping obscure, silly hints and who was clearly certifiably insane, as was her husband, when it was decided that three sounded like a much better number than two. What WERE we thinking?!?!

Can't you read, Mommy? There was a reason you bought us these particular shirts, remember?

Twas Three Weeks Before Christmas...

2008-12-08T00:57:00.004Z

*With apologies, because I know that last year's "Twas" was a lot funnier (well, at least to me), I present this year's "Twas", written hastily Sunday evening, as this year's Christmas Poem and a Monday Mission:

"Twas . . ."

Twas three weeks before Christmas, after a year in the house
Creatures are always stirring, and I don't mean the spouse.
They race through the hallways, up and down stairs,
Leaving chaos behind them and overturned chairs.

Bookshelves are stripped, leaving books all about,
Toys cover the floors, there's never a drought.
Cupboards are opened, illicit snacks are obtained
The cleanup is constant, oft leaving me drained.

They're rarely nestled all snug in their wee little beds,
They've too many games running through their wee heads.
Not to mention the songs and the books they adore,
Staying awake is the goal, and they always want more.

So I try to find ways to wear them both out,
It's quite hard to do, so too often I shout:
"Get in your beds! Oh why won't you nap?
You're driving me nuts, yet you continue to yap!"

"Is it too much to ask that you give me a break?
Some days it just seems that it's take take take take!"
But then I remember they're one and they're three,
Take a deep breath and try to ignore the debris.

Instead I plan outings and let the house go,
But in winter it's hard, because I hate being cold.
So sometimes I cave and pop in a DVD,
To give myself time to pick up and clean.

"Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! on Cupid! on, Donder and Blitzen!
December is here, once again it's upon us
We've so much to do, and I'm starting to fuss!"

My mom and my sister are arriving next week,
They'll stay through the holidays, right through the peak.
This means they'll be going to Scotland with us,
Although they'll be riding the train instead of our bus.

But the house isn't ready, have I mentioned the boys?
There's crap everywhere, not to mention the noise.
The big guest room needs some serious cleaning up,
And the extra bedroom is full of boxes of stuff.

The kitchen is a disgrace, I shudder at the floor,
Not to mention the bathrooms, and I don't mean the décor.
But we shoveled out the garage to get in my bus,
And cleared up the backyard with a minimum of fuss.

Christmas is coming, we all know the score,
A fresh holly wreath now adorns our front door.
And after sending a letter to the North Pole,
The boys descended on Santa down at the mall.

Yesterday we resurrected Thing 1 and Thing 2,
Pulling out the sweatshirts for Ramekin and Boo.
Properly attired, we visited tree lots
In search of the perfect tree for our charming tots.

Things 1 and 2 were a hit while checking out trees,
Filling fellow tree shoppers with smiles and glee.
And then we found it, at our second stop,
The perfect specimen with the perfect tree top!

And this evening we decorated our find,
With lights and bobbles and almost no whine.
It's a beautiful tree and the house smells of pine,
And I know in my heart everything will be fine.

Tomorrow Ramekin will don his new costume,
A shepherd he'll be in his nursery production
BooBaaa and I will attend and we'll cheer
When he takes a bow in his nursery sphere.

And then we'll come home and keep getting ready
Christmas is still coming, and I need to stay steady.
I still have pictures to take and all our cards to write,
So I need to keep moving, the end's not in sight.

In the midst of it all, I have appointments to keep,
And parties and dinners, not to mention some sleep!
I need to stay healthy, I can't afford to get sick
Because I still have to shop to cover St Nick.

And at some point I'll pack for our trek up to Edinburgh,
And I still have that flu shot upon our return, oh!
There are so many things, and so little time,
And I can feel myself starting to run out of rhymes.

So I'll call it a night on the rhymes and the winks,
Because I can see my poem is starting to s(t)ink.
But I'll say one more thing, before I turn out the lights.
"Happy Christmas planning to all, and to all a good-night!"

For more Monday Mission poems, please visit Painted Maypole.

Oh, and my Google Reader is looking more than a little ridiculous after essentially taking the last few days off, so I'm clearing it out. Again. Sorry.

Santa Said Their Shirts Were Appropriate

2008-12-03T00:01:00.003Z

He's not wrong.

ho ho ho

For Wordless Wednesday.

Cellphones Can Be Lifesavers

2008-12-01T14:26:00.002Z

When I left to pick up Ramekin at preschool in a neighboring village this morning, I almost forgot my cellphone. I'd popped it onto the charger on the kitchen counter to top up the battery when BooBaaa and I got back from the grocery store this morning, and started to walk out the backdoor without it. But for some reason I remembered, and went back to grab it.

And I'm really, really glad I did.

Because as BooBaaa and I headed up the new road bypass, and then onto the old back road between our village and the neighboring village, as I came around a bend, I saw a man lying on the road ahead of me next to a tractor. Because of the way he was curled up on his side, I thought he was working on the front wheel. So I slowed down, because his legs were sticking out into the road a little. And I'll admit, I thought he was a little nuts to be laying like that in a road where the speed limit is up to 60 mph.

But as I went by, I kind of looked over at the tractor… and realized there was a crumpled bicycle kind of impaled into the front of the tractor. As this registered, I slammed on the brakes, as I'd now gone by the scene, and looked into my rear view mirror to really really look at the situation.

And I realized the man wasn't working on the tractor. He wasn't even moving.

So I backed the car up, threw on the hazard lights, left BooBaaa strapped in his car seat, and ran back to see if the man was conscious. He was, but he wasn't in good shape. I immediately found myself apologizing for driving by at first, telling him I hadn't realized until I saw the bike. He said it's ok, it's ok. Then I pulled myself together and asked him to be specific about where he hurt, and he told me he was in a lot of pain, primarily his head (no bike helmet, sadly) and back. Especially his back. So I told him not to try to move, that I was going to call for help, and turned around and ran back to my car and my cellphone.

Thank gawd for my cellphone.

999. That's the number for emergencies here, which is particularly important to know, seeing as how it's 911 back in the states. And, even though I was only on a cell, luckily my 999 call went straight through, and as soon as I said the magic words -- "bicyclist", "collision" and "tractor" -- the operator told me that an ambulance and the police were on the way. And she asked me some questions about the poor cyclist. As I was finishing up my conversation with the emergency operator, a farmer appeared from behind the hedgerows of a nearby field and was quite taken aback by the whole scene.

Turns out, he was the owner of the tractor. He'd parked it on the side of the road, as he's entitled to do (as the road goes through his land), and gone off to check on and feed his cows in the field. I'd be surprised, too, if I came back to find a cyclist practically under my tractor and a bike stuck to the front of it on my return.

Anyway, the farmer confirmed the name of the back road for me to relay to the operator. And then I think we were both relieved when another car stopped (several had gone sailing by at this point), and a district nurse got out. Stroke of luck she was driving by. After telling her what I knew and that help was on the way, the nurse told me she'd stay with him and the farmer while I went off to collect Ramekin from the preschool, as I was now late.

So I raced off to the preschool, unceremoniously rushed both boys back to the car, and went straight back to the accident scene, assuming the police were going to want my statement.

When we got there, the police weren't there yet, but the ambulance had arrived and they paramedics had moved the cyclist onto a backboard. He looked like he was in a lot of pain. And then I noticed the medical helicopter sitting in the field.

Needless to say, the boys were quite excited to see the bright yellow helicopter, which had its blades spinning away. But it made me rather sad to see it because I knew it meant the man was hurt pretty badly. And then the police came, and the farmer and I both told them what we knew. Which, sadly, wasn't much because neither one of us saw him actually hit the tractor, so we didn't even know how long he'd been there

And, then we turned around and went home the long way, because it looked like the road was going to be blocked for a while longer.

I hope he's alright.

Conversation on Turkey Day

2008-11-27T23:43:00.002Z

Ramekin: I feel silly. Why are we hiding again?

BooBaaa: Because Mommy handed me a stuffed turkey and got the camera out.

Ramekin: Ahhhhh… that would be Turkey. That means it's Thanksgiving.

BooBaaa: Why are you smiling? I can hear you smiling. This is serious, Ramekin.

Ramekin, sitting up: Because I rather like Turkey. We've had some good Thanksgiving photos shoots together.

BooBaaa: Are you saying we should do this?!

Ramekin: You know she's not going to go away until we do.

BooBaaa, sitting up: You may have a point.

Ramekin: Well, you might, too. Mommy looks pretty determined to keep us here as long as it takes.

BooBaaa: So what are we supposed to do?

Ramekin: Look cute and pose with Turkey, what else.

BooBaaa: Huh. Well I'm always cute, but Turkey doesn't seem to do much.

Ramekin: Well, you have to remember that Turkey isn't a real live turkey like the ones we met last Thanksgiving.

BooBaaa: But you'd think it could at least sit in my lap without falling over.

BooBaaa: Here. You can try making it sit in your lap…

Ramekin: Cool.

BooBaaa: …but just for a minute, Ramekin. Mommy gave him to me to hold!

Ramekin: Awwww look -- I'd forgotten how cute his little wings are.

BooBaaa: What are you doing, Ramekin? I said it was just for a minute!

Ramekin: And I think he remembers me.

BooBaaa: Ramekin! (sob) Give him back!

Ramekin: But look! I can make him pose nicely for the camera.

BooBaaa: Mommy! Mommy! Make him give him back!

Ramekin: And just look at all his tail feathers.

BooBaaa: MOMMY!

Ramekin: Hold your tail feathers, BooBaaa. I was just playing with him.

BooBaaa: Poor Turkey.

Ramekin: Oh please. Turkey loves me. He's just fine.

BooBaaa: Well, I hope so. We have to keep him healthy so we can eat him.

Ramekin: What?!?

BooBaaa: It's Thanksgiving. Mommy said people eat turkeys on Thanksgiving.

Ramekin: That can't be right! I'm sure that Turkey Day means celebrating turkeys, not eating them. We're not eating Turkey!

BooBaaa: But mommy says it's tradition. Apparently, first they cut off their heads. . .

Ramekin: Quick! Cover your neck, Turkey!

BooBaaa: … but I don't see why. What's wrong with eating their heads?

Ramekin: Noooooooooo! Mommmmmmyyyyyyy! He's eating Turkey's head! Make him stop!

BooBaaa: Yum.

Ramekin: Aaaaaarrrrrrgggghhhhh!

BooBaaa: I'm just teasing you, Ramekin. Mommy said it would be funny.

Ramekin: It's not.

BooBaaa: And we're not eating Turkey. We're having chicken.

Ramekin: Chicken? We're having chicken?

BooBaaa: With stuffing.

Ramekin: Well, that's okay then. After all, it's not called Chicken Day.

BooBaaa: So, are we going to do this photo shoot or what?

Ramekin: Let's get it over with. Might I suggest a song to celebrate the day?

BooBaaa: Good idea, Ramekin.

Ramekin and BooBaaa, singing: Oh Turkey Day, Oh Turkey Day, We hope you have a happy one. Oh Turkey Day, Oh Turkey Day, May you spend it with your loved ones.

Ramekin, still singing: Oh Turkey Day, Oh Turkey Day, we hope you find chicken on your plate.

BooBaaa: Oooh. Nice touch, Ramekin.

Ramekin: I just came up with that last verse myself. Pretty cool, huh?

BooBaaa: Not bad, Ramekin, not bad.

Ramekin: I love making up songs, you know. I think my next song project will be for Christmas.

BooBaaa: I can't wait. But for now, can you come up with a better smile for Mommy so we can get out of here?

Ramekin: Of course I can. See?

BooBaaa: Fantastic. Happy Thanksgiving, Everybody.

Ramekin: Enjoy your chicken, people.

BooBaaa: Gobble Gobble.

Ramekin: Cluck cluck.

First Official Big Boy Haircut

2008-11-26T00:01:00.000Z

...took place at the barbershop on daddy's lap.

While I miss the summer golden mop, even I have to admit he looks so very handsome...

And he knows it. Plus I suspect that he was tired of all the bad mommy haircuts. ;-)

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.