'Cross the Pond

A Day to Forget.

2012-01-29T14:58:00.001Z

Yesterday will forever remain in my memory as one of the worst days of my life. Xavier was having a wonderful weekend - two parties in two days. How exciting for him. The first one, on Friday, he was the only boy at a girl's birthday party held at Mystical Fairies a wonderland of glittering pink and home to Hampsteads Fairies. He loved it. No one danced more than the X-man!

Saturday he was a tag along at a party his sister was invited to. Once of her classmates was turning five. Big to-do. X was so happy to included and tried to hang with the big kids. I was chatting with the other mums and dads having a nice time. They served food and X dug right in. They had Cumberland sausages that were sliced thin on a angle so they were long but flat. There were no knives on the table so I didn't cut them in half. I picked small ones figuring that would be fine. But five minutes in, Xavier slumped over and I pulled him upright. He was beat red, grabbing at his throat - he was choking.

It all happened so quickly, I recalled to hold him upside down at an angle and bang between the shoulders from our CPR class years ago. It wasn't working. I reached in his mouth and felt a sausage in his throat, I scraped it out - it came out in a long strand - it was obviously the culprit. I pulled him back upright gently but he still couldn't breathe, he was very tense and was starting to close his eyes and go limp.

That's when I panicked. I picked him up again, turned him practically upside down, pounded on him and started screaming for help. I was shouting, 'He's choking. Someone help me.' I was seriously freaking thinking he was going to choke to death right there at Swiss Cottage Leisure Centre. Thankfully, a nurse was at the party. She works at a Daycare center. She came over, picked him up, pounded on him good and hard (much harder than I was). And he squealed. As soon as I heard him cry I nearly fainted on the spot. His throat was cleared. He could breathe.

He curled up for a good cry and I hugged him as close as I could. If I hadn't been in public I would have cried hysterically and headed for the liquor cabinet. Instead, I sat down and held my child, shaking so hard I could barely breathe myself.

I looked for Cate who watched the entire episode. She looked ashen. After X recovered and demanded to be put down I asked her if she was okay. She just nodded but I knew it had shaken her. I gave her a quick hug and then shakily ran after X who was acting like nothing happened. She wet her bed for the first time in months last night. Not only once - but twice. The poor thing. We've had a long chat and I'm hoping she's okay now.

Everyone was so nice, and concerned. I was a bit embarrassed for causing a ruckus and apologized for scaring the daylights out of half the restaurant. But I did what I had to do for my little man.

Every time I think of it I start to shake a little again. I was terrified right to my marrow. I couldn't bear the thought of losing either of my little chickens. Who would jump all over me as I do my morning yoga? Who would 'help' with dinner and chores? How would I spend my mornings if I didn't have my little guy to chase after and entertain. I know I'm supposed to put him in nursery soon. I'm definitely not ready. And after yesterday - he may be home schooled at this point.

Oh, and that's not all. After that harrowing experience, I walked 30 minutes home in the dark pushing both kids only to realize I forgot my keys, Fen was at work and couldn't leave the desk. I had to track down the nanny to get the spare set.

Yeah, I had a drink that night. And it was good.

My New Stalker

2012-01-26T15:18:00.000Z

See that fella? He's stalking me. That's right. Stalking.

Last week I had a lovely birthday out with Fen and then on Sunday night we settled in to watch the BBC production of Birdsong (from the novel by Sebasitan Faulkes). I loved it, I thought the star, this young, sorta-handsome, somewhat-goofy star was phenomenal. I remarked to Fen that the kid had a bright future.

The next evening I was out on the town with my Fancy Friend who had fancy tickets to the excellent production of Shakespeare's Richard II at the Donmar Warehouse. Read a review here - it's amazing and this review reflects my personal feelings on the play.

Armed with a few glasses of wine and too many canapes to admit to, we took to our seats. There was King Richard II sitting on his throne on stage as the audience milled in. I looked at him and thought he looked awfully familiar. You betcha - was the kid from Birdsong! His name is Eddie Redmayne, by the way. Loved his performance and Fancy and I had a jolly good time although we couldn't get over the spitting (which is rife in live performances - I suppose it can't be helped and I can never get used to it!) So we giggled like schoolgirls admist the fine acting.

And then last night as I was about to go out to dinner (again for my birthday) with a bunch of my girlfriends, Fen asked if I wanted to go and see My Week With Marilyn. Guess who's the star of that? And then, in the taxi to dinner we passed Burberry in SoHo - guess who's face is staring down at me from the windows? You guessed it - my stalker. A personal note to Mr. Redmayne: I'm happily married, flattered, but no thank you! ;-)

So, my birthday week was peppered with a stalker. Not too bad for an old broad! (and note to Lou, I forgot the chutney for Fancy. A thousand apologies!)

Wake up already!

2012-01-22T14:55:00.000Z

I don't know what my problem is but I can't seem to wake up today. It happens from time to time - I feel lackadaisical, lazy, like a slacker. Maybe it's my diet, maybe I'm just getting old, perhaps it's because I do too much. Whatever the case, I'm tired of being tired.

A few weeks ago I had a MRI to check on my inner ears, nose, throat, etc. It's been inflamed forever. That has caused me dizziness and difficulty breathing. Lovely - this has definitely contributed to my dragging.

It's not every day - it's at least once a week - I just DON'T feel like doing anything but lounging. I'm incapable of doing nothing but sitting around reading, sewing, knitting, writing, Internet cruising, blog reading and making lists (my personal favourite) sounds lovely.

I know I'm tired today because I've been on the go with at least two big things a day since we landed back on January 1st. We took the kids to see Arthur Christmas this morning and now there is nothing on the docket for the rest of the day. And I feel tired. So I wonder if I just don't notice my malaise until I have nothing 'big' to do? Hmmm....warrants a think, methinks.

So I sit here doing work, I'm making a roasted chicken with mashed potatoes, homemade Yorkshire puddings, gravy (from scratch), and steamed broccoli for dinner and then I'm sewing the kids curtains (it's only be on my list for six months). That's funny, suddenly I'm not so tired. Dare I go for a run?

That time again...

2012-01-16T19:13:00.000Z

I have a tendency to get a tad gloomy around this time every year. I'm big on cleaning house - and I mean tossing everything in sight at the turn of each year. It's like I'm getting rid of the old to make way for the new.

But, today I was just about to unsubscribe from babycenter.com and it's weekly emails when I stopped myself. I've been receiving emails from them from my very first pregnancy back in 2006 (miscarried, unfortunately) and lived by them through both pregnancies and for years after. Now I don't even read them anymore - I just hit delete. Until today.

I'm not having any children, I don't pretend to entertain the idea - it's not going to happen. I'm too old, for one, and it's almost laughable to think of me pregnant again (I don't think the world would survive a third pregnancy of mine!) But that doesn't stop me from being nostalgic. My little man grows and grows. Cate is a little girl, no trace of baby left whatsoever. I have no baby anymore. This is good and bad. Today, it's not so great for grumpy old me as I sit hear listening to them in the bath with their father supervising. I don't need baby things anymore. That part of my life is over.

For a small part of my childhood and a larger part of my adulthood (especially when I turned 33!) I dreamed of finding the right man, having children and living happily ever after. I dreamed about that for decades! Finding the right man - check. Having children - check. Done that (and well, if I do say so myself).

Now what? I'm always reevaluating my life and what I want to do with it. I always feel that there is more that I can do. I'm at the top of my game professionally (infact was named in the top 150 dealmakers in publishing this week), have a sweet husband, adorable kids, wonderful family, a decent flat (don't get me started on this one), a job I truly enjoy, and a good life.

Still, I want more. What more can I do, really? I thought about it and I know what it is. I want to write a book. I keep playing at it but I don't really ever do it. I tap a few words out on the keyboard from time to time but I don't take it seriously. I think I want to write it in earnest this year. I'm a member of TWO writer's groups - you'd think I'd be more into it. What was a hobby I want to put onto the front burner. I want a book....and books are author's babies...so I guess I do want another baby! Guess I'll keep babycenter.com around for a tad longer.

Please Don't Label My Child

2012-01-14T13:41:00.002Z

We received a letter in Cate's schoolbag this week to inform us that the school was going to put each child into one of two categories: Gifted or Talented. Children who excelled at academics would be put into Gifted and those who showed promise is art, PE, dancing, etc would be labelled Talented. I do not like this. Not one little bit.

I don't want Cate being labelled anything other than 'student.' I feel that if she is told she's gifted she will feel pressure to be smart. If she's told she's talented then she won't try to study because she's 'dumb' or not 'gifted.' I don't want her to have to uphold any expectations at the age of 4 1/2. I just want her to learn to read, write and master the basics of mathematics. I want her to enjoy art, PE, dancing and whatever else she feels like doing.

She's only 4 1/2 and her homework is off the charts. Her attention span is approximately 10 minutes for any given task. Doing homework with her is one of the things I dread completely. I've written about this before. Funny how, when I was childless, dreaming of one day having a darling, beautiful daughter, I had visions of us sitting on a sofa reading a Dick and Jane book with me encouragingly and lovingly coaxing her to sound out words as she bravely, and correctly, worked her way through her books. It was an ideal scene straight out of Leave it to Beaver. The truth is far, far from this. I get frustrated as she loses interest, doesn't pay attention and just guesses at what words are. It's maddening. They don't even have Dick and Jane books here (I just seriously dated myself. Ah well)

I've forced Fen, at gun point, to step in as I need a break for a bit. We're now tag teaming her through the weekends to get through the majority of her workload. I constantly remind myself: SHE'S FOUR! But we received a note saying we needed to step it up as Cate needed more help. Jaysus! I've repeated over and over to myself the mantra: She will eventually read, she will not be living with us as a 30-year-old illiterate. And we press on.

We now have flash cards, we're sounding out letters day in and out, we're spelling signs, magazine headlines, anything at all. How much more can I do?

And now they want to label her. At this rate they are going to give her a big scarlet T for 'talented' which may as well stand for 'thick as a post' or 'tupid arse'. I can't have it. I told the school they can label her for themselves but I do NOT want her knowing her label or being expected to follow that rule. She's got enough on her tiny, little plate to deal with as it is. And if she comes home saying some gifted kid said she was 'talented' I'll have a freakin' cow on them.

Perhaps I'm over thinking it. Whatever the case, I had better go. Fen is helping Cate with her homework now and I can hear he's about to jump off a cliff. Better go tag him out...

Farewell sanity... I knew ye well.

2012-01-09T16:40:00.000Z

I used to be normal. Honest - I did. But the moment I realized I was pregnant, sanity left the building and a quivering, worrying, paranoid shell of a person remained. Okay, maybe I'm not THAT bad, but I am find myself being a bit of a hover mother, perhaps too clingy with my wee ones. I can't help it! I waited so long to have them that I just want them to grow up, healthy, unharmed, educated and street smart. When they turn 21 I can turn them loose on the world knowing full well that I did my very best.

But the world we currently live in scares me stupid. When I was young we spent hours outside roaming the neighbourhood, make forts and clubs in the surrounding woods, walking to the store unaccompanied and riding our bikes all over the place without a parent in sight. When I was 14, I saved my babysitting money so my friend Nancy and I could pull off a scheme so outrageous it gives me hives just thinking about it now. It cost $75 to buy a round-trip, same day ticket to Miami on Chalks sea plane. My mother would drop us off at the Paradise Island bridge on her way to work thinking we were going to spend the day at the beach with friends. Oh, no. We'd walk over the bridge, catch the 9:30 plane to Miami, take a taxi to the mall, spend the day getting ears pierced, seeing movies, shopping for junk, then take the 4pm flight back to Nassau, walk the bridge and be picked up by 6pm. We did this twice. My mother didn't have a clue. The horror!

You couldn't do that today (for many reasons including the facts that minors need permission to fly solo and Chalks does not exist anymore thanks to Atlantis). I know I was a difficult kid who was far too independent and ambitious for my own good and I see this in my daughter. However, should she ever deem to do anything like this I hope I'm still wiley enough to catch on and catch her before she does something mad and life endangering. My mother was a trouble maker as a teen, yet I still managed to outmanuever her on occasion and I think Cate will be able to do the same.

But still, I endeavour to teach her street smarts, how to act in public, not to speak to strangers, how to find a policeman/security guard, etc. Even then, I worry.

A friend of mine told me how her cousin had a heart-stopping scare over Christmas. They live in Birmingham and were out shopping at a mall with their 4 year old and a 11 year old daughters. The mother turned around for just a few seconds to give the younger daughter something and the 11 year old was no where to be found. She, like me, is a tad paranoid and thank God for that. She immediately freaked out so the mall closed all exits and started searching for her. 40 minutes later a couple with a child in a pram, covered in a blanket and wearing a hat were stopped. The woman was in a burka so when they asked to see the child she protested. the police were called and sure enough, once the took the blanket and hat off - it was the missing girl. They had injected her with something to make her pass out and had shaved her head, shoved her in a pram, covered her with a blanket and hat and were ready to wheel her off to a fate I cannot imagine.

This scares me stupid.

So I hover over Cate and X. I worry when they play too hard or climb too high. I watch them like hawks regardless of where we are. I grill Cate with what to do in case of an emergency and I don't trust anyone with my children (except my nanny and close friends).

And I don't care if I'm a crazy mother who screams down a shopping mall if my kid goes missing. These little terrors are the loves of my life and I would kill anyone who dares to touch them. Even after they turn 21. Hey, I'm a mother afterall!

Thar she blows!

2012-01-06T13:18:00.000Z

The wind was out of control for two days. I thought London might blow right off the map! At times the winds were 100mph - that's almost hurricane force. The rain and hail didn't help the situation. I've been sitting at home in a daze, tan fading, mumbling, 'Wha happened?' to myself as I can't believe just six days ago I was on a beach, swimming with dolphins. Ah well, time to get on with it.

With the weather being so horrific, my internet and phone decided to go on strike. Quite annoying as I was quite ready to tuck into my favourite blogs and write a few posts myself. Highly disappointing. It's all fixed and fine now, but that didn't help the situation on Wednesday when I was all geared up for an hour of alone time and a cup of tea!

My second disappointment came when I went out in search of pecans and dark corn syrup today. Oh, no! Both are very American. When I asked at a few different stores I received blank stares and one look of horror from a clearly new employee (I think she may have been living out one of her nightmares from the sheer terror in her eyes and the stammering). I let her off the hook. We're invited to dinner tonight and I wanted to make a chocolate pecan pie. Can't find the ingredients, so it's out of the question. Dang. I'm now uninspired to bake something so I'll pick something up at Maison Blanc or something - let Raymond do the baking for me.

Cate is back at school and I'm currently researching nurseries for X. In five months I'm going to start putting him in somewhere twice a week for a few hours. He needs to have a little X time to start becoming more independent and developing his own little social skills. He's quite independent already, always has been. He's fine playing on his own and whenever we go somewhere new he jumps right into the thick of things whether other kids are there or not. He's a nice little fella and gets along with just about anyone. The words are starting to really flow now. He has two and three word sentences too. His favourite sentence: No, mine! Yikes.

I'll admit I miss Cate and I can barely fathom the thought of my little man heading off into the world without me. I'm sure I'll be wandering the streets of Hampstead, pram-less, tears streaming down my cheeks, muttering nonsense about no pecans or some such thing. If you see me please make sure I don't meander out into traffic!

While on vacation I had big, big plans for my return and a list as long as my arm of things I wanted to do, fix, change, accomplish, etc. Today is the day I write that list down and start scratching things off it. A few of the to-do items:

Put away the Christmas decorations
Paint bathroom
Sew kids curtains
Organize closet
Ged rid of unworn clothes
Pitch a few more articles
Find a few new clients
Organize desk once and for all
Sort out kitchen
Unpack the last two boxes
Sell kids bedroom furniture
Buy bunkbeds
Buy tickets to New Zealand for spring
~~Bake pecan pie~~

Mercy, it goes on and on forever. Can't possibly write it all here. Perhaps I should go take the decorations down so I can at least scratch that off! Right... I'm off.

FREEDOM....sorta

2012-01-04T13:36:00.000Z

Cate went back to school today and after I dropped her off I managed to have a coffee, run to the bank, Vodaphone, browse drawer handles at Andrews of Hampstead (love that place), peak in a few stores for the sales (bought nothing) and then sauntered back down the hill toward home. X was with his Daddy at the playground and I had 2 hours to myself. I haven't had two hours to myself for over three weeks.

'S wonderful. 'S marvellous. 'S awful nice. 'S paradise! (love that song)

Even though we had a wonderful holiday, despite missing Tracy, I'm already back into the stress of things. It's not that bad because I'm going to make this year easier on myself by pulling back on my overextended life. Easier said than done. But it's going to happen. (Read: I pray I stick to my guns and make it happen).

It's funny how being away for 18 days, sitting in the sun almost daily, becoming tanned and lazy, meeting good, longtime friends, laughing and being carefree can disappear so quickly when you're smacked upside the head by reality. London has been a tad cold, dreary, rainy (hurricane like winds and hail) which was a delightful reminder that this is where we really live. As awful a picture that might be - I'm still glad to be home, tan fading and getting back into the swing of things. I love my job, I love my 'hood and all the friends we've made here. I'm happiest when I'm on a schedule, busy, planning, plotting and moving, moving, moving. So I'm glad I'm home.

Looking forward to the next holiday though! Got a good year of them planned too.

Happy New Year!

2012-01-01T19:08:00.000Z

From my family to yours!

Roughing it

2011-12-29T18:52:00.000Z

As you can see we're having quite a good time at home here in the Bahamas. Here's the short list of things I love about the Bahamas:
Family
Friends
The sun
The sound of rain on the roof at my parents house
The food
Having no cell/mobile
Actually relaxing.

We're leaving soon. Heavy sigh. But I'll be glad to get the kids back on their schedules and back to reality. But for now: sun, sand, conch fritters and family. Good stuff!

Gearing up for Junkanoo

2011-12-23T12:13:00.000Z

Since we've been here, Fen and I have been going to bed early and sleeping for nine hours a night. It's heavenly. I didn't realize how exhausted I was until I started to sleep. It's been a bit manic here what with his accident, the running around, meeting my new nephew (more on that soon!!!) and just seeing friends while trying to entertain two little ones - it's tiring! And I'm working (of course I'm working!) but I've promised to stop until next week now.

Being home is always wonderful and nostaligic while being a bit odd and frustrating at the same time. I love my family and I love being with them, but the Bahamas is a trial. It's SO different from the country I grew up in - it's so much more developed, overrun with foreigners taking over the hotels and major businesses, it's like the Bahamians are being squeezed out of their own country. Many of the old buildings are being torn down to make way for new ones. I find that depressing. So many parts are run down now too, don't like that. But it's still my homeland, and I still love it.

One thing that I will always love is Junkanoo. When I was in my teens and twenties we would go to Junkanoo, which started at 4am back then (starts at 6am now) we'd hang on rooftops, have a blast until the sun came up. It's a tradition here in the Bahamas that stems back to the slave days. On Boxing Day (December 26th) and New Years Day they have the parade down Bay Street in Nassau (and all over the Bahamas). You can read about it here. We had the Valley Boys play at our wedding, was the high point (after the nuptials, natch!)

Fen and I are debating whether we want to go or not. The kids are far too young right now. And there's no more climbing onto rooftops -you have to buy tickets or know someone (I know people). But it may be too much this year. Perhaps we should save it for when the kids are older. We won't be back for Christmas for at least two more years so they will be old enough then.

Whatever the case, I'll want to run down around 6:30 to have a glance. I'm here, can't miss it. And I hope my Valley Boys are playing when I get there! Here's a taste of them in the post below.

New Year's Junkanoo Valley boys 2011

2011-12-23T12:08:00.000Z

A Rocky Start

2011-12-18T14:03:00.002Z

Our trip here was trying. The flight from London to Miami did not have individual screens behind the seats and the movies they showed were dreadful tween movies. Thank heavens we have enough electronics to entertain both kids for 10 hours!

Then, I nearly lost my mind in Miami Airport - which is still the worst airport on Earth - as we had 1 hour to go through immigration, grab our suitcases and car seats, make it through customs, recheck the bags, get through security and run miles and I mean miles with Cate on Fen's shoulders and me pushing X and dragging two carryons, to gate 60 to catch the bus which took us to the death-trap propeller plane. We made it three minutes before the flight closed.

It's a bit disheartening when the airline reps greet you at the airport with hotel vouchers in hand! They didn't expect us to make it in time. Encouraging. Well, we did. And I plan to write a scathing letter to customer service on they way they handled us. I do it every time I go through Miami. Everytime they give me an upgrade or a voucher for the VIP lounge and I always forget to bring them. Not this time (she said to convince herself).

My brother picked us up and we made it to my parents just before midnight. The kids went down immediately and we weren't too far behind them.

We decided to go over to the island for the day and set off on the regular tourist boat with the masses. It was a glorious day. We had a great time just playing in the water, they all swam (too cold for me), we had lunch with my brother and decided to leave around 2:30.

At 2 a pick up game of volleyball started near our little camp and I encouraged Fen to go and play. He'd spent the bulk of the time chasing X all over the place while I managed to read about 100 pages of my book (the most I've read in one sitting in months) so I thought he deserved a little fun. Cate had made friends with some tourists and was making sandcastles.

I went to the changing rooms which were about 50 feet away, leaving Fen happily playing volleyball and Cate dashing around on the sand in the bright sunshine. I quickly changed X and came out no more than five minutes later. The game was over, the sun was behind a cloud and neither Cate nor Fen were in sight. I was baffled. I made our way back to our seats when one of the volleyball players called over to me.

"Aren't you the wife?" he asked.

"Oh, probably. Where'd he go?"

"There was an accident and he's with the medic. He hit his head."

I didnt' panic because this is life with Fen. He is an athelete, he plays rugby, he's a tad accident prone and he's seriously tough. I looked toward the lifeguard station and sure enough a crowd was gathered. I could see my brother - laughing so I knew it wasn't dire.

"Of course he did," I said casually and thanked the man as I headed over to see Fen.

A lot of staff was gathered around laughing nervously, probably relieved it was just us and not guests. Cate was standing around and was very happy to see me. Fen was sitting in a chair with a medic holding gauze over his head. I deposited X with a staff member and went over to look. He was fine, looking sheepish but he had a two inch gash on his head which was gushing blood. Not pretty.

We jumped on my brother's boat and sped across to the main island to my sister's house. We met my mom who took the kids and off to the hospital we went. Four hours, one CAT scan, five stitches and about four hundred laughs later, he was patched up. They wound gauze all around his head and I was howling that he looked like John McEnroe circa 1979. He thinks he looks like Rambo!

One of the reasons I love Fen is his timing. On December 16th, 2002 he proposed to me for the first time. He proposes to me every year at some point every December 16th. I figured he'd forget after knocking his head on a picnic table while playing volleyball. No. He waited until he was sitting on a gurney, dressed in a blue hospital gown, head wrapped in blue gauze waiting to go for a CAT Scan. I walked in to see him and we laughed about how it's usually me on the gurney and him waiting around. I leaned in to kiss him and he said, "Oh, and would you do me the honour of becoming my wife?" I burst out laughing. My reply: "Not today, you're broken." But I think I'll keep him.

Here's the story of how we met, if you haven't read it. It's one of my favourite posts ever.

He's fine now, the big lug. And here's what HE thinks he looks like:

Two days...

2011-12-12T07:35:00.000Z

We get on a plane and head home in two days. I cannot wait. I'm under the weather, exhausted and ready to just sit on a beach (well, probably by the pool overlooking the beach as I'm not fond of sand) and relax.

The photo above is of Blue Lagoon Island just off Nassau, Bahamas. This is where I'll head by boat almost every day to just sit, swim, explore and snooze. I cannot wait. The kids are still a little young for the dolphins and sea lions but we'll take them over to see them. This is dolphinenounters.com in case you're interested. It's my favourite place on earth (other than the porch at our lake house).

Two days, two days. Hopefully this cold I can't seem to shake will be gone and I'll be ready to enjoy the heat. If not, I'll manage to suffer through...somehow.

Happy Birthday Boo

2011-12-06T08:23:00.001Z

Tracy and her Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure Poster In Central Park

Today would have been my sister Tracy's 40th birthday. She passed away this summer after a four year long battle with breast cancer. My heart is aching something awful right now. I just simply don't get it. Four months later and I still cannot accept it. She should be here and she should be turning forty at a huge, ridiculously over done party. It's just not acceptable to think it's just not going to happen.

My original plan for today was to head to Paris by myself. Tracy and I headed to Paris a few times. We travelled the world together for years. Even after I met Fen, Tracy still came along for many of our trips. She lived with us for three years when she first moved to Brooklyn and then eventually moved into a flat right next door. God bless Fen for his patience with the two of us! Peas in a pod were we. Even the Atlantic wasn't big enough to keep us apart. So now I feel a huge void in my life. One I will always feel. I miss her. I didn't go to Paris because the thought of being there alone on her birthday was too ... well, sad. I didn't want to be alone. Work is also very demanding right now. Finally, Fen really thought I should stay here. I'm glad I did. Instead of hitting all our favourite spots in Paris all alone, I decided to fill my day with things that are busy.

I'm going to my women's club white elephant board meeting which should be fun. I want fun. I have to work in the afternoon, but Fen has promised something nice for lunch (that I don't have to cook). Distracting myself is the best thing I can do right now. I don't want to think about reality at all.

But I will leave you with the obituary I wrote for her memorial this summer. This way you can get a glimpse into the wonder that she was.

Took this photo of her in our bedroom window overlooking the back yard in Brooklyn.

Tracy XX was born in Scranton, Pennsylvania on December 6^th, 1971 to Al and Carol XX. She joined older siblings Scott, Kelly and Erin and became the light of their lives.

Tracy attended St. Andrews in Nassau, Bahamas, The Berkshire School in Berkshire, MA and graduated from Belmont Abbey College outside Charlotte, North Carolina. She moved back to her beloved Bahamas to work in public relations for several years before turning her attention to publishing. She then came to work for the family business before deciding to truly follow her passion - gardens. She always had a knack for growing plants and flowers. Tracy loved being outside surrounded by nature and her animals.

Tracy moved to Brooklyn, NY to study landscape architecture and design at the New York Botanical Gardens. It was during her studies there that she learned she had cancer and her four-year long battle began.

With the same eloquence and tenacity that she approached life, Tracy took on cancer. Because of her resilience and spunk, she helped change the laws in the state of NY so that all women, regardless of where they were diagnosed with breast cancer, could receive financial assistance for care. By joining forces with Susan G. Komen for the Cure in New York, she became the ‘face’ of breast cancer. For several years, this year included, Tracy’s beautiful photo hung in Central Park in New York City during the Susan G. Komen Race for the Cure.

In addition to helping change the law, Tracy donated blood and tissue samples for research at Memorial Sloane Kettering Cancer Center to help develop new treatments and to help study her aggressive form of cancer.

Through it all Tracy remained upbeat, undefeated, filled with her trademark wicked sense of humour and hilarious one-liners. She never complained and surprised all of her doctors and family with her determination to beat her disease.

Tracy was a loving and generous woman. She was elegant, intelligent, delightfully funny, thoughtful, and unassuming. She will be forever cherished and missed by all of her wonderful friends and her devoted family.

The four of us back in the day....

A Victorian Attitude?

2011-12-03T13:23:00.001Z

I've joined the PTA - not running it, mind you - and it's been going well. The old regime ran it for three years but all bowed out so a crew of newbies are at the helm trying to bushwhack our way through things without much guidance (but with a lot of comments!). It's all fine, not a problem, but it's difficult trying to do something when you have so many jaded folks watching your every move. There are a few good eggs who are helping out, thank heavens!

We're having our Christmas fair soon and we've been busily planning it - doling out booths to classes, writing up notices, sending flyers, designing the posters, trying to drum up donations for the tombola and raffle, etc. It's busy work, but I've done all this before so it's not that big a deal.

We held a meeting last night so some of the parents who work could attend a meeting. Everyone is fantastic (although two of the old regime did exchange a smirk at my expense when I volunteered to make a cake or some goodies for the fair - not sure what that means). All the ladies present (and gents) were in good humour and generally nice. It was a bit chaotic and loud as we were in a pub but we got all our business done in good time even though there was a lot of chatting - which is to be expected!

After a few glasses of wine one of the women thought it would be a good idea to have one of the celeb mums at our school open the fair, cut the ribbon, etc. and then have me invite the press. I had never heard of the woman before - I've seen her at school - she's tall, beautiful and looks like someone, she's got that X factor about her. But I didn't know she was famous. The same lady called her to see if she would do it. She agreed.

But then I came home to slap together a press release and googled her to get a bio since I have no idea who she is. She's been around for a while but all the recent stuff is nude photos from a spread in a big men's magazine with headlines declaring 'she strips off,' etc. It's not X-rated, nothing is really showing but she's in the buff in provocative poses. She does look fantastic, so good for her.

But here's my dilemma, this is a Church of England school, we'll have the pastor from our church, our head teacher is a Reverend, we have a whole bunch of clergy who will be around and this is PRIMARY school. I didn't think it was appropriate for her to open the fair. Not the right message for the school and certainly not someone I want my daughter to emulate. I felt like a prude - a grouchy suffragist from the Old West wielding my Bible at the harlots in town. While I'm not an uptight goodie-goodie, I really felt like one.

I asked Fen, who is certainly no prude (he plays rugby after all!) and he agreed with me. Still, I felt like perhaps I shouldn't say anything to upset the apple cart. But today I saw two reception mothers, one who is on the PTA committee. They were both in the same camp as me. One even said she wouldn't go if this celeb opened the fair because it wasn't right.

I called the head of the PTA and told her our thoughts. She agreed too. Our decision: leave it to the head teacher - if he says it's all right - then we'll leave it be. But if he says no - then that's it.

My worry - I'm going to be labelled like Hester Prinn - the old regime will sew a scarlet P for me to wear in shame for being such a stick-in-the-mud. But you know what? That will be fine with me. Because I'm not going anywhere, I'm a tough cookie and when it comes to my child and her education I'm going to do what I think is right, whether it's popular or not. Cate is ALL that matters to me. and I want her to have good role models. I wouldn't want her to end up a Page 3 girl because, in the end, I guess I am a prude.

Good Awfternoon!

2011-12-01T16:39:00.000Z

As you may know, I'm a huge fan of Downton Abbey - the great historical drama here in the UK. One of my favourite characters is Mr. Carson - the fabulous head butler of Downton Abbey - the ancestral home of the Crawleys. It's so deliciously British - with the drama from the aristocrats upstairs and the working folks downstairs.

Mr Carson is played by a wonderful character actor - Jim Carter. Who happens to live in my neighborhood. I've spied him a few times lately, to my absolute delight. I'm not much for celebrities - I really couldn't care less about them, yet quite a few live around here. However, there are a few folks I just dig. He's one of them.

So, when I see him I can't resist myself and blurt out, "Good afternoon, Mr. Carson." To which he replies with a nod, "Good awfternoon, Madam" in full character. I giggle myself silly everytime.

Fen thinks I'm nutty. I don't care. If I can pretend the great Mr. Carson of Downton Abbey is addressing me on West End Lane for a few seconds, good for me! What does it matter if it's really just Jim Carter dashing into Tesco Express for milk and being recognized by a stranger? I think we both get a kick out of it (If a restraining order shows up at my door I'll be sure to let you know).

The X-man Turns Two

2011-11-30T09:28:00.000Z

Today my little man turns two years old. I have been a weepy wreck. I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm delighted for him, he's the cutest little fellow with a great personality, very sweet, loving, mischievious and curious. Yesterday I kept picking him up, hugging him, kissing him and saying, "You're two tomorrow." Then I'd get teary eyed. He was sick of me by noon.

Everyone says it goes too quickly and it does. But he's my baby - the last child I'll ever have and while I feel thrilled for him to have a birthday, I'm sad for me because he's growing up. If I was younger I would be tempted to have a third, but it's really not a good idea for me to ever be pregnant again so it's not an option.

So while I'm having this big heaping moment of self-pity and longing, I'm still delighted that my boy is two. He was so happy to have a scooter and his three storey garage this morning. His eyes lit up and he didn't know which one to play with first. It's so nice to make him happy and just watch him jump up and down in sheer delight. Best feeling in the world.

Cate is not excited about it being X's birthday. She'd rather it be hers. But that's what you get with a four year old! I think she likes the cake, however! And she keeps demanding he share. Hmmm...perhaps she should take a little of her own advice.

After all is said and done, sad for myself or not, I get the greatest pleasure of my life watching my children play, grow and discover. And it's only just started. So indulge me the photos. I can't help myself (and yes, I made the cake myself, never mind the finger tracks of wee ones).

Silent Sunday

2011-11-27T09:57:00.002Z

If At First You Don't Succeed...

2011-11-21T11:27:00.000Z

I'll be the first to admit that I'm not the best housekeeper - not by a long shot. But I do try. We haven't had a cleaner in the new flat and I thought I'd save myself the cash and do it myself. Hey, I'm willing to try anything.

The flat's not that big, but it's still quite a lot of work. So when I saw this article in Woman's Day Magazine about quick tips and how to clean your house in an hour, I thought, 'This is for me!' The article makes perfect sense and looks simple. I also figured that most of the people reading the magazine in the US have houses at least twice the size of this flat. If they could clean in an hour, then I could do it too. It did have a section on how to make your own eco-friendly house cleansers but I really don't have the time for that.

It separates the house into zones and has time limits:

1. Bedrooms: 10 minutes per bedroom
2. Bathrooms: approx 9 minutes
3. Kitchen: 12 minutes
4: Living room/lounge: 15 minutes

If you do the math for this place that means: 46 minutes to clean the house - then tack on 5 to hoover the hall, 5 to tidy the dressing room/walk in closet). According to this article I should have a clean(ish) house in 56 minutes.

I timed myself in each room and it went like this:

1. Bedrooms: 9 mins for master, 15 for kids
2. Bathroom: 15 minutes
3. Kitchen: 22 minutes
4: Lounge: 24 minutes
5. Hall hoover: 7 minutes
6. Closet hoover/tidy: 6 minutes

Total: 96 minutes. Either my housekeeping skills need honing, or I need to hire the woman who wrote the article. We all know the answer to that. The problem, I think, is that I notice little things along the way, get distracted and zero-focused on getting that job done (like toothbrushing the bathroom sink fixtures within inches of their lives - they are gleaming now, though) rather than the whole picture.

Whatever the case, I have to say it worked. I'm going to give it another whirl tomorrow to see if I can get the time down. I will keep at it until I get it down to a science. Or I will call our old cleaner and beg her to come back to us. But for now, the house gleams with pristine cleanliness. So nice! And if I get it down to an hour, I'll try my hand at the homemade eco-friendly cleansers (ah, to dream!).

Silent(ish) Sunday

2011-11-20T09:13:00.000Z

The diorama!

Something's Got To Go....

2011-11-18T14:38:00.000Z

I've been burning the candle at both ends lately. It seems that while Fen was gone I was so worried about filling my calendar with things for the kids and for me so we wouldn't be sitting at home by ourselves all day and night, that I overextended myself and fell way behind on a lot of things. Now, I'm frantically paying catch up before we head off to The Bahamas for the holidays.

I have got to slow down. It's mandatory. I haven't had much time to myself in weeks - I scratch out fifteen minutes here and there to write my blog, read blogs or (God forbid) watch television. I take 5 minute showers now (I'm a 40 minute luxury bather at heart). I do nothing for myself. I had a trip planned to go solo to Paris for one night in a few weeks and it looks like it's not going to happen for a multitude of reasons (too much work for one). I'm so disappointed in myself.

When our plane lands back in London on January 1st, I have to have a plan ready to set in motion so that I can spend time with my family, work, have a social life, write, take long baths and actually read something that is not for work. I am not doing myself any favors by putting myself dead last in my list of priorities. I haven't even had a haircut in four months.

You are my witnesses - I will slow down!

A day in the life...

2011-11-15T20:42:00.002Z

Yesterday, I crawled over the finish line. It was a long, exhausting day. Here's what I did:

6:45am: Woke to the sound of X screaming, 'Mommy!' over and over until I got up.
7:00am: Fed kids (well, watched Fen feed kids as I attempted to check work email and gulp coffee)
7:30am: Showered and dressed
8:00am: Dressed kids, braided hair, found library book, emptied contraband (Barbies and lip gloss) from school bag, found pacifier and favourite blankie for X.
8:20am: Strapped X in buggy, dashed out door for trek up hill to school in rain. (cheated and took taxi)
9:00am: Dropped off Cate, headed for meeting. Met a friend and walked over pulling down several signs from our holiday marketplace which was held last week.
9:30am: Meeting of my women's club. Sat down for over an hour. Ahhh. And won a raffle prize!
12noon: Dashed home to make lunch for my men.
12:30pm: Put X down for a nap. Spoke briefly with husband.
12:45pm: Dashed out the door in the rain to find: 1. shoebox to use as a diorama, 2. stuff to put in said diorama
1:30pm: In shoe shop sweet talking saleslady into giving me two large shoeboxes when I didn't buy anything.
2:00pm: In pound shop cruising aisles looking for Christmas themed things for &%$*! diorama
2:20pm: in and out of several stores looking for more ideas/stuff/inspiration/help. Stopped in Sainsburys for a quick shop for dinner and milk
3:00pm: Back home and tucked into my office to work.
3:10pm: Made coffee
3:15-5:15pm: Answered all emails, created pitch letter, made 17 calls to pitch projects, sent 17 emails to send project out, updated list, read a bunch of emails, responded to them. Called friend in NY to shoot the breeze for 5 minutes.
5:15pm: made dinner: a quick and easy broccoli, mushroom, walnut pasta dish, salad and chicken nuggets for the kids.
6:00pm dinner. Watched Fen and X pick walnuts out of dinner.
6:30pm: clean up
7:00pm: ran bath. Fen bathed kids
7:20pm: storytime, prayers, bed for Cate and X. Lots of kisses.
7:31pm: back to work. 10 more pitch calls, 10 more emails to send project (cheated and made 4 calls during bathtime). Called mom and dad to say hello.
8:30pm: In kitchen creating diorama base for Cate's class. Due on Wednesday. Fen and I argued but worked furiously for an hour to create... something. Decided to finish anon.
9:30pm: Back at work for conference call.
10:00pm: Came out to watch TV with Fen. Made dinner menu for next two weeks and shopping list. Created Christmas list, invite list to X's second birthday, decided on what to do for birthday and gift list.
10:30: Called it a night, brushed teeth, washed face.
10:45: Checked email one last time. Made quick call to colleague. Made to-do list for work the next day.
11:00pm. Lights out.

This is a typical day for me. The difference here is that there were no play dates involved. I usually have at least one for X but Monday's are Fen's days off so he gets to play with daddy. And I didn't get to exercise (well, I walked over 12 miles - according to my pedometer). Ah well, maybe I need to get up earlier.

See that cartoon above? That is not me. I'm not that thin or serene. I case you were wondering!

And as a little addendum: finished the diorama today with Cate's help (or hinderance, however you want to look at it) only to realize it's due next week. Bloody hell!

Silent Sunday

2011-11-13T15:17:00.000Z

Heavy Load!

2011-11-10T12:16:00.001Z

I am famous. Well, not really, but here's a fun tale. Last year George Michaels ran into the Snappy Snaps on the Hampstead High Street, smashing the wall. Some prankster wrote Wham! on the wall and I took a photo to post on my blog - see it here.

A few months ago, a member of the punk band Heavy Load contacted me. They wanted to use the image on the cover of their George Michael tribute album titled Wham! Of course I said yes and there is the cover album above. I have photo credit on the back. Hilarious.

I'm not much of a punk fan, don't really know it, but I listened to the album and I actually really like it. The song titles were intriguing: 'Everything is Bollocks', 'Julie's Beard', 'That's Not My Name', 'Shut it' and 'Sexy Films' to name a few. Fen and I listened to it and I've downloaded a few onto my iPod. This may not seem like a big deal to you but anyone who knows me will know how limited my iPod selection is (I'm a picker bugger) so that's a HUGE compliment to Heavy Load.

Here's a little about the band. And you can buy the album here! Have a listen - you may like it!

Heavyload are Brighton's answer to The Ramones. A punk outfit subject to the combustible flux of ego, ambition, fantasy, expectation and desire that fuels any emerging band. But they’re also uniquely, made up of musicians with and without learning disabilities.

Over the last 14 years they have managed to survive through their combination of raucous energy, attitude and sheer volume but now they are about to hit the big time with a feature length documentary (Heavy Load) being made about their journey from social care to stardom, and back again, and their mission to demonstrate that disability rocks. There are few genres left in music that have yet to be defined. Heavyload have unwittingly created a brand new one.

Silent Sunday

2011-11-06T16:33:00.000Z

That's Mrs. 'Cross The Pond to You, Kid.

2011-11-04T10:43:00.001Z

Yesterday, I had brunch with a friend and we talked about how children do not address adults Mr. Mrs. or Miss like we had to as children. It seems our society is becoming less and less formal with each passing decade.

Granted, I feel far to young (read immature) to be addressed as Mrs. but it would be nice to have the option. Most of my friend's children call me Cate or X's mum, or Erin, my first name. I'm guessing it's okay for the little ones, but once they start turning 8 or older, I'd prefer they address me formally.

Why? Respect, perhaps. But I think it's more for the position of authority. I notice that kids can be really sassy toward their parents - even downright rude. Discipline is much more relaxed nowadays - and I'm not talking about spanking - I'm talking about what kids can get away with now. I would never, in a million years, have talked back rudely to my parents - my mother in particular. You cross my mother and you'll walk away with a limp, I promise you that. I don't allow Cate to talk rudely to me. She tries, God love her, but when she does she is punished appropriately - the punishment is tailored to the crime, as it should be.

Mind you I'm not the greatest disciplinarian, and I have much, much to learn. But I do try to keep a level of respect 'round the place. And when I have guests, I expect their children to adhere to my rules, even if their parents are not enforcing them. But sometimes I get backtalk which I don't like. I cut off one 'friend' for something similiar and I'll cut more if I have to (don't really want to).

But I digress, the issue here is whether to have my daughter start calling my friends by Mrs or Mr and whether I want to have my friends kids do the same for me. What do you think?

I know I'm an old fuddyduddy, but there are some things that I think should apply: you should give up your seat for the elderly, pregnant or handicapped, you dress for church, you send thank you notes, and you respect your elders. That's not too much to ask is it?

I still address my parents friends and my childhood friends' parents as Mr, Mrs or what have you - and I always will. Where I come from it's a sign of respect and I know they appreciate it. I have been invited to call several people by their first names and then I do, but otherwise they get the Mr and Mrs treatment.

Even to this day, when I meet someone who is older or in a position of authority I call them by their surname. I couldn't imagine meeting President Obama or Prime Minister David Cameron (even though he IS younger than me by a few months) by their first names! And I MUST call my doctors by Doctor - even when invited to do differently - because for me to have faith in them, they must be in a position of authority - not an equal. Madness, perhaps, but it's the way I was raised. And I like it.

How about you? What do you think?

A tribute

2011-11-01T14:11:00.001Z

There are things you can't explain or understand and this is one of them. The lovely lady in the photo was a new friend of mine. We met a year ago when another friend introduced us. She wanted to start a writing group for her women's club, just as I had started one with mine. Both of our attempts failed so we joined forces and formed a writing group outside our clubs which flourished.

Our group consists of five women who write mostly non-fiction and get together every month to compare notes, and receive feedback. It's always friendly, helpful, fun and a nice gathering to look forward to every month during the day. Very relaxed.

My friend was an excellent writer. She was working on a series of travel journals that were entertaining, interesting and very well written. She's lead an interesting life and it showed in her writing.

After a while she invited me to join her book club, which I did. As it turns out we were both members of the same church and saw each other every Sunday (or whenever I actually made it - I've been a tad slack on God of late). It seemed we were destined to become friends - the world made sure of it. And I was glad for her friendship. She was warm, inviting, intelligent, funny, interesting, and just nice. She lit up a room when she entered, she was always well dressed and had a love for funky scarves, hats and loved, loved purple. She was engaging, and sweet, a wonderful mother to two girls, a devoted wife who supported her husband, moving all over the world with small children without complaint (unlike me) and just seized every opportunity that came her way. She was a lemonade from lemons kinda gal. My kind of people.

So, when I received a call last week that she was in a coma I was stunned. An undetected cyst at the base of her brain finally grew too large and blocked the flow of spinal fluid. Not being one to complain, she carried on - she did cancel for writer's group last month due to not feeling well - but she had made an appointment to check things out. It just came too late. She went to bed last week and never woke up. Her husband called an ambulance, they operated, but the damage was too severe and she passed away peacefully and unknowingly later that day. She was only 41.

I don't get it. At her funeral this past Sunday, her wonderful husband said not to ask why in his tribute to her (read by a friend). He said that we should just cherish the time we had with her and be thankful for it. While I agree I am thankful that I met her, and feel honoured to have known her, I'm still pissed and I will ask why.

My sister Tracy was only 39. This friend was only 41.Both full of life, both full or promise, both religious and good, good people. So why them? It makes me really unhappy. Yet it makes me more determined to be good to the people I still have. I try to be a good wife, mother, daughter, sister, and friend to the people I care about because that's all that matters, really.

At her funeral I saw her husband bend his head low in grief and her nine year old daughter (also named Cate) put her arm around him to comfort him. It broke my heart in a million pieces. I wish there was more I could do.

I shall always treasure my friendship with Brenda; I gain some solace in knowing she rests in peace, cherished by the God she had such faith in.

Sorry I'm such a downer today.

Happy Halloween

2011-10-31T08:29:00.000Z

Some people have WAY too much time on their hands. But I think it's funny. Imagine living across the street from this!

Silent Sunday

2011-10-30T08:25:00.000Z

54 looong, solitary nights

2011-10-28T09:52:00.000+01:00

Fen playing rugby.

Fen is back....after being away for 54 days. He was in New Zealand covering the Rugby World Cup (New Zealand All Black's won!). I can't tell you how nice it is to have him back in town.

X wasn't so impressed with his return. Fen walked in and X just waved and turned away. Fen stepped back into the hall to collect his luggage and X waved and said, "Bye bye." We thought it was pretty funny. But being nearly two I wasn't expecting him to welcome daddy home after a two month absence. He did recognize him though. He's good now, thinks daddy is rather fun to have around.

Cate, on the other hand, was delighted. We picked her up from her half-term play club and she ran to Fen joyfully and jumped up into his arms. I am a second class citizen to her now: a drink fetcher and snack producer. Fine with me. I can use the break.

My heart goes out to single parents. It's HARD. I didn't have a second to myself. The kids were extra clingy, especially X. I didn't sleep much and couldn't sleep in at all, ever. Everything I did I had to have kids with me if I didn't have a sitter. Going to bed alone every night was the real problem. I hated it. Granted Fen snores, tosses, turns, talks in his sleep but I got used to it. I slept like a baby last night - deep, unmoving, dreamless. Heaven.

So my little family is all together again, the All Blacks won the Rugby World Cup and life is good. Hooray!

Silent Sunday

2011-10-23T09:04:00.000+01:00

Hampstead High St. 1902

My American Strikes Again

2011-10-19T13:14:00.002+01:00

Yesterday I wrote a letter to all the parents/caregivers for the reception class at Cate's school. No I am not the class rep, merely the secretary. Surely sending a weekly email isn't over doing it...right?

Anyway, the critics came out today. I said, 'Much thanks' at the end of the letter. Here they say, 'Many thanks.' Blimey! I don't fancy myself a grammarian by any stretch, but I do know how to speak the language. Now I have to watch my American-ese in my emails. Here's stress I don't need.

My daughter is becoming quite the Brit. She calls X 'cheeky' and 'a naughty bugger' (she got in trouble for the 'bugger' comment, btw). She says things like food hall instead of lunch/dining room, tea instead of dinner or supper, toilet instead of bathroom (I really don't like this one at all), mince instead of ground beef, pudding instead of dessert, jelly instead of Jell-O, autumn instead of Fall (I prefer this one), she's calling me mummy or mum which I really don't want but will live with, petrol instead of gas, film instead of movie, brilliant instead of great, and my favourite/favorite toe-maa-toe instead of ta-may-toe. She's a true Brit.

I noticed I say mobile instead of cell phone, rubbish or bin instead of garbage or can, loo instead of bathroom and many more things. It's all said with an American accent, but I've definitely got the British touch to my everday speech. I'm sure it will all change when we eventually make it back to the US some day.

So for now, my daughter is British, I'm getting there, and I better hurry up before I'm fired for being too American and grammatically questioned on a weekly basis. I call it speaking British with an American accent.

Cheerio, pip pip and all that. Tah.

Lucky breaks...and kind people

2011-10-16T10:42:00.001+01:00

This weekend was a rare weekend of lucky breaks and people being kind for no reason. It started on Saturday morning. I've been battling a cold and my asthma has flared up making it difficult to walk up hill (and in Hampstead everything is up hill - both ways!). As the kids and I headed up the hill to the Hampstead High Street for my club's annual Halloween parade, I had a coughing fit and pulled out my inhaler.

As I took a puff a taxi pulled up along side and asked if I was going to the high street. I told him yes, but explained I had no cash on me. He insisted I hop in - he'd drive me up there. 'You look like you need a break,' he explained. I did. I was so grateful! I was running late - it's hard to get two small children dressed in fancy dress and draw on their faces, etc. by yourself. Fen is still travelling so I'm on my own. I was having an asthma attack and knew the hill was going to zap all my energy so I was really relieved to have a ride up the hill, without asking, from a nice taxi driver who wanted to be kind.

We got to the parade where I met my nanny, who was there to help me take the kids around the parade so I wouldn't be pulled in two directions and frantic. As we walked the parade, X reached out at the fruit stand (see photo above) and helped himself to an apple. I took it from him and put it back, but he swiftly turned around, grabbed another and took a bite! I went to pay the merchant, but he insisted X just have it. I was mortified!

We had lovely time at the parade and then again at the movie which followed - I crashed on another family, who were very gracious at me sitting in with them.

Later that day we were invited to another friend's house for dinner. X was in a rare mood, he ate his dinner, then half of Cate's and then half of the other little girl's. Immediately after that he broke a bowl, by flinging it on the ground and then attempted to climb under the bed to grab a cat or two. We left in a hurry!

I decided to take the bus home as I'd had enough. The bus pulled up but the machine wasn't working so the driver wasn't letting on passengers. But he saw me, saw the bus ahead of him was full of buggies and wouldn't take me, so he let me on. I couldn't pay, but he said it was all right.

That's two drivers in the same day who let me ride for free, which was really, really sweet of both of them. I must have looked a wreck yesterday, but I didn't feel it. Judge for yourself. Whatever the case, I feel very fortunate for the kindness of strangers - the two drivers and the apple merchant. They made my day. Heck, they made my week!

Our walk to school

2011-10-15T08:43:00.000+01:00

Every week day we start the trek up the hill to Cate's school. It's a lovely walk, granted it's uphill all the way, but it's calming and really pretty. Our walk starts at the bottom of the hill with a wonderful church and ends at the top of the hill near another church!Here's a glimpse of our walk:

Me, the bitch!

2011-10-12T16:43:00.000+01:00

Slowly, I've been making friends with the mum's at Cate's new school. What a difference this school is from the last one. Cate is much happier, has a much bigger group of friends and I'm delighted to be meeting so many new people - and I like all of them.

Imagine my surprise when one of the mums, Nina, who I've become quite chummy with in the last month, said to me, 'It's so funny, I thought you were such a bitch when I first met you. But now I realize you're really nice.' I was stunned. Me. A. Bitch! My husband laughed for a good long time when I told him that one.

Nina and I met a year ago at ballet (not for us - for our daughters). We've seen each other once a week and always had pleasant conversations - at least that's what I thought. I sat on one side of the waiting room with a group of mum's and Nina sat on the other side with other mums. When we realized the kids were going to be in the same class, I was glad Cate would have a familiar face at school.

But apparently, Nina tried to engage me in conversation a few times and said I brushed her off. Really? I'm not rude by nature so I was surprised. If X is with me, I can't carry on a coversation with anyone. He is full-on energy and I have to run after him constantly. I'm guessing he may have been with me at ballet those few times.

We've been meeting in the school yard now for five weeks and I've made an effort to talk to as many mums as possible, just to say hello, etc. But I wonder if others are perceiving me as a snob, or bitch, or whatever. I try to be friendly, but then I know a lot of people just brush me off as being the loud American (I'm not that loud, I think).

So today I took note as to who made eye contact, who said hello first, etc.Everyone seemed fine. So I'm not going to be paranoid.

And you'll be amused to know that I attended the first PTA meeting today where they tried to recruite me to run it. I said no. And then X had a complete meltdown and I had to leave early before they even had a chance to pick class reps. So I have officially signed up for nothing.

My school girl

2011-10-10T13:03:00.000+01:00

Today is Cate's first full day at school. She's been going parttime for three weeks but today is the first full day. I miss her. I'm sick with a rotten cold, surrounded by a house filled with laundry to be folded, beds to be made, toys to pick up, dishes to clean and work to be done. I don't feel like doing anything but curling up on the sofa and flipping through old photos of Cate as a baby.

She's 4 years and 4 months old and just a darling little girl. She's a hoot too - already the queen of the one liners. I really enjoy her company, when she's behaving, and I'm missing her a lot today. She's such a sweet girl, and thoughtful, always picking me flowers and telling me she loves me. Yesteray I made her silver dollar pancakes which she gobbled up. As I was doing the dishes I heard her say, 'You are so perfect.' I smiled and said, 'Thank you, honeybun.' To which she replied, 'Not you. I'm talking to my dolly.' Ah, well, there you have it. I think she felt a little guilty. Even though I howled laughing. Five minutes later she said, 'You know I love you, right?' And we hugged. Hey, I'll take what I can get.

She's enjoying school. She has homework, which is quite trying to get through. Her attention span is five minutes long. Just to do simple letters takes coaxing and encouragement. half the time I want to bang my head on the desk because she's fidgeting and getting out of her seat. I try to make a game of it, but she still wiggles and tries to get out of it. Regardless, her reading is coming along nicely. She's able to read words like: mum, dad, and, cat, dog, bat, sat, etc. She's really coming along. Very curious about the world and asks what signs say. If the sign is simple I have her sound it out. She loves discovering what the words say. And she loves her books.

We went to a birthday party this past weekend where there was a book swap. We bought one of the Maisy books and she declared she wanted to keep it. I explained that we'd take it to the party and she could get another book instead. All the books were wrapped so she picked a bright pink one (of course). It was the book Kick. The boys were all fascinated with her book. When her buddy Zen noticed her book he asked to swap. At first she said no, clearly tuning into the fact that she had what everyone wanted. But once she realized Zen had her Maisy book she relented. So she got to take her book home afterall! She's a wheeler dealer!

Our Halloween parade is coming up this weekend and she wants to be a garden fairy. We have the wings, the wand, the dress, the flower wreath for her hair, glitter and sparkly shoes. We're all set. The most important thing - the glitter. Her brother is going as a devil - very, very fitting for he is the personfication of mischief.

My kids are my joy. I love them both so much. They are a handful but they are worth it. Just thought I'd share. Now I better go and clean this pigsty...

Silent Sunday

2011-10-09T16:34:00.002+01:00

A walk through Hampstead

2011-10-06T13:06:00.001+01:00

I haven't featured any of the lovely homes and favourite haunts of Hampstead for a while so I thought I'd post a few new ones. I just love the small details, the splashes of colour, the uniqueness. Notice how many of the homes have the plumbing running outside the building - that's how old they are.

Walking through Hampstead is always a mood lifter. Even when I have to haul up one of the many steep hills. I don't think I could ever tire of seeing this place. I just love it that much.

Hope you enjoy the mini tour. I realize I am not a world-class photographer, but most of the time I'm pushing a double stroller up a hill with one hand, juggling the camera with the other hand while trying to snap a photo of someone's house without raising suspicion. So it's a quick snap or two and off I go. this is the result of my 'drive-by' photography.

Winners of LOVE LONDON Giveaway

2011-10-05T14:42:00.001+01:00

I'm delighted to announce the winners of the Love London by Barbara Chandler giveaway. Chosen at random, from a hat by my two children X and Cate (very high tech, I know).

X's pick: James

Cate's pick: Delia

Please email me your addresses at jollyoldengland@gmail.com Anova Books will post you your copy of this fabulous book! Congratulations!!

Mountain or Molehill?

2011-10-04T12:56:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, Cate came home with a booklet to record her reading books. There was a small notation in the book from one of her teachers (an assistant). It said, 'Cate is very good at recognising letters and there sounds. She said X is in my brothers name Xavier.'

Okay, the correct way to write this is: 'Cate is very good at recognising letters and their sounds. She said, 'X is in my brother's name, Xavier.'

Now, I'm not grammar queen and I make typos aplenty (read this blog is chock full of them). But this is from one of the women teaching my child!! I find that inexcusable in a homework booklet!

I debated whether I should say something. I asked a friend who is a teacher (not teaching at the moment but does volunteer at a primary school here in the UK) and she said I should just inquire, and not make a big fuss - she thought I should investigate the situation.

So I did. Her excuse, 'Oh, dear! Well, I had written about 12 of them that day. My mistake.'

I just smiled and walked away, not making a fuss but not really satisfied. I know they're already a tad wary of me because I do ask a lot of questions. This stuff is important to me and my child's education - I want to be involved in a way that is not interfering, etc. but I can't just sit by and say nothing.

Now I'm really confused. Do I say something further? Do I wait and see if it happens again? Am I making too much out of it? I really don't know what to do here. Maybe calming down would help! What do you think?

Happy Anniversary to 'Cross the Pond

2011-09-29T19:59:00.000+01:00

Two years ago today I decided to write a blog about our move and life in London. It all started with this blog post on September 29th, 2009. I had no idea if I'd like writing, or if anyone would ever read it. But you have, and I do, and it's good.

In two years things have changed dramatically: I had my son, we moved to the UK, got evicted from one flat, moved into the Winnebago, moved a final time to our current flat, Cate and I developed asthma, Cate started school, my wonderful younger sister Tracy passed away, my beloved great aunt Helen passed away (more on her soon), we've traveled a bit, and we're settling into our British way of life. All things considered - it's not so bad.

When I started this blog I had great hope for London. I'm delighted to announce that even with all the hardships, heart break, tragedy and rough patches - we're pretty happy.

So raise your glass for a hip hip huzzah! Here's to another two years...

Love London Book Giveaway

2011-09-26T07:39:00.001+01:00

COMPETITION IS NOW CLOSED

Anova books sent over a copy of Love London by Barbara Chandler and I was so, so excited to receive it. As many of you know - I've always been intrigued with London and since we moved here I've photographed my neighbourhood trying to give everyone a feel for my 'hood. I'm going to start doing that again this week. I've been snapping photos.... stay tuned.

Barbara Chandler is an amazing photographer who has worked as a journalist all over UK, Poland, Italy, France Russia, Turkey, Finland and more. She lives here in London and considers it her first love. She's a granny with a camera in her purse and has been photographing the city for over 25 years. Her beautiful photographs of London are featured in this incredible book: Love London.

The photos span the 25 years but most are taken in the last year just for this collection. They are featured throughout the book which is also sprinkled with quotes from poems, novels, plays, diaries, blogs and more of London's very famous and infamous literary heritage. She quotes from Shakespeare, Milton, Dickens, to modern blogs and newspapers. The quotes just add a certain charm to the photos - it makes it uniquely British and deliciously London.

Many of the sights are familiar to most, and some are just unique to London and known to few (until now). I've cruised through this book several times and will continue to for a long time. I've already added a few post-it notes to remind myself to go and see a few of her sights. I reminded me why I wanted to live in this great city and why I, and millions of others, are so infatuated.

Needless to say, I love this book. So much, I want to share with you. Anova Books has agreed to give away two copies to two lucky readers in conjunction with my two year blogiversary! This Thursday is my two year anniversary writing 'Cross The Pond. Where has the time gone?

If you'd like to receive a copy of this wonderful little book - (it's small enough to slip into a bag and perfect for a gift to any London lover and only £9.99) just follow me, if you don't already, and leave a comment here stating what you love most about London.

For extra credit, please twitter and let me know here. I'm @xcrossthepond

This is a wonderful prize for two of my readers and I'm delighted to be able to present it to you. The competition will end at noon on Tuesday, October 4th and a winner will be announced on Wednesday, october 5th. Good luck!

My little chatterbox

2011-09-16T09:26:00.001+01:00

Mr Cool

X is turning two in two months. Where did the time go? He's starting to talk up a storm. Just this morning he smiled up at me as I handed him a banana and said as clear as a bell: Tank You. My heart melted. He's a polite little fella.

Yesterday, at our playgroup a friend showed up with her 3 1/2 month old daughter. X was just a little younger than her when we moved here. I couldn't believe how small she was. How on earth did we do it? I can't even wrap my head around having something so dainty and small, yet we moved three times with an infant (I won't go into it, I can't think about it anymore).

Now he's a big strong man. Climbing out of his cot, running around like a mad man. I just had to pick him up off the kitchen table, and five minutes ago he climbed up to reach my wine glasses and was clanging them together in a big self 'cheers'. Yikes. I'll have to find a higher shelf for them now.

He's a good kid. Sweet personality, loves to dance, loves to snuggle, run, play, climb. After much effort on my part, he and Cate are getting along much better. Thank heavens.

My little man is turning out to be a really good kid. Where, oh, where did my baby go?

To tell, or not to tell? That is the question....

2011-09-15T07:28:00.003+01:00

Trying to squash a rumor is like trying to unring a bell. ~Shana Alexander

This week I was reluctantly, and unexpectedly, dragged into a wretched round of gossip. It was aimed at a very good friend of mine and I had a choice to make. Do I tell her about it, or do I keep my mouth shut? I mulled it over and over and ultimately decided that if there was such a rumour floating around about me I would want to know and be able to confront the originator.

I agonized about it, talking to my husband and another impartial, uninvolved confidant, who both were quite reasonable and told me to do what I felt I needed to do. I didn't want to upset my friend or cause any trouble. After much deliberation, I decided to call her. I was not the first to call. I was not ringing the bell, I was just echoing it. Which was a relief, but I was somewhat disappointed in myself for not telling her sooner.

What happened next was an unfortunate turn of events where everyone lost. Everyone. The accusor was called out and lambasted, the accused was rightly furious and upset, I felt awful about it. But it is over. Thank God.

Now that I'm a supposed adult, with a husband, family and responsibilities it truly dismayed me to be dragged down into this highschool drama. It made me question whether I wanted to remain with this certain group or not. I do - one bad experience doesn't represent the whole group. I have made some excellent friendship and I plan to continue to make more. I'm a good friend to those I love. Don't mess with my family or my friends, people!

So, I'm moving on. But it's left a bitter taste in my mouth and I just feel ugly about it. I hope to never be put in this position again. I won't let myself. I should have shut it down at the first whisper but I didn't. I won't do that again.

I msut stress that NONE of this was malicious on anyone's part. It was just unfortunate.

Heavy sigh. Moving on....

A day off

2011-09-13T13:18:00.001+01:00

I've been going 110mph lately. With Cate not in school, the hubbie traveling a lot, playdates, crafts, my women's club stuff, freelance work, regular work, etc. etc. etc. I'm burning the candle at both ends.

Not complaining, just busy. I love being busy.

However, soon, I will need a break.

One day...in the somewhat near future I am going to pull a Bruno Mars.

I'll let you know when that day finally arrives.

Ten years later...

2011-09-11T15:47:00.007+01:00

Ten years ago today I was in Colonia, Uruguay as you may have read about in my old post How I Met Your Father. I was traveling with my sister, Tracy, we were on a day trip from Buenos Aires completely clueless what was going on in New York and Washington, DC.

I left on the first flight from BA to JFK, which was still a day after our original flight. I flew back to a world that was surreal, in mourning and devastated by the attacks. Armed guards were everywhere in the airport and the city just had a sombre feel to it.

The day after I flew back, I took the subway down to the former World Trade Center to by see it in person. Seeing it live somehow made it seem more personal. I distinctly remember a jewelry store that had piles of dust covering all its window displays, the cases filled with mounds of brown/grey dust from the towers. The fire was still raging and thick black smoke still billowed up into the sky. It was four days later, but not much progress had been done - it was a massive clean up to be certain.

Papers still scattered the streets, and people walked around in a zombie-like state, quietly taking it in, some were crying, most just silent. I left a lit candle in one of the impromtu vigil sites and then went home - to the Upper East Side.

I didn't go back down there for years. I lost three friends, including a childhood friend from the Bahamas - Karen, my neighbour - Kev, and an old work buddy, Cal. Several people that I had met also died. It was just all so devastating. The photos that people posted looking for their loved ones were the most difficult reminders. It personalized the tragedy for all New Yorkers - to see the faces of those who senselessly died.

I had a roommate but I remember feeling more alone that I ever felt in my life. In less that four months I met Fen, who would become my husband. For the first 10 years I was in NY I was so focused on my career and 'making' it, that I never really gave relationships much of a chance. I wonder if I would have even met Fen if 9/11 hadn't happened (go read the story if you don't know what I'm talking about - the link is at the top).

In the ten years since, my favourite Aunt Cate passed away, I married Fen, we had two children, I switched jobs, we moved to London and my sister Tracy passed away. My life is completely different - and for the better, for the most part. My job is third: Marriage and Children first, playdates and crafts/time with my children is second, job third. Wine is fourth, but that's another conversation. And that's the way it should be.

Today I'm reflective about that awful day. I lit a candle for all my deceased friends and family and for all the families of 9/11 victims. Hopefully, something like this will never happen again, anywhere.

Handling bullies....and their mums

2011-09-09T08:44:00.000+01:00

I have a new(ish) friend here in London with whom I'm not sure I can continue to be friends. It's not her, we get along quite well...it's her kids that are the problem. Well, no, it's not really her kids, it's her son and the way she reacts to him.

Let me set a scene, I have them over for a playdate the other day. She shows up with her son, T, who is just about to turn seven, and her 3 1/2 year old daughter, S. The kids are playing in the lounge as my friend and I are in the kitchen making coffee (and cake!). No more than 10 minutes pass before Cate is crying hysterically and comes running in, closely followed by T. T is full of excuses: he was playing with the plastic sword and Cate grabbed it and wouldn't let go so he 'accidentally' hit her over the head with it.

There are holes in this story you could drive an armoured tank through. Cate likes playing with both of them but something always goes wrong... always out of my sight and always results in Cate crying. Cate's no angel, but I've caught him pushing her, shoving her, snatching things away from her and then lying about it. Each time he is not reprimanded, but my friend is quite keen to try defend him and put the blame on Cate. It's irritating in the extreme and I'm getting tired of defending my child - who doesn't deserve to be talked down to when she isn't always in the wrong.

I ask Cate what happened and she said, 'T hit me.' T quickly repeats his story and looks to his mum. His mum then gets down to Cate's level and said, 'Cate, you can't grab things out of someone's hands and get rough. T was only protecting himself.'

WTF?!

I bit my tongue. Hard. I took the sword and put it into a time out in my bedroom. When I returned I got a 'friendly' lecture from my friend on child parenting. I know she thinks she's a whiz and parenting, and God knows I am willing to learn, but her kids are serious pains in the ass. They talk back, they destroy my house even when I ask them not to, they help themselves to anything and T has even tried to break a few of my things - on purpose. Is it wrong to seriously dislike a nearly 7-year-old boy?

I debated about saying anything to her for a while but she didn't let it go. Finally, I said, 'Thanks for the advice, but I think I'm good.'

She made a definite 'I don't think so' look and picked her coffee cup up, ever so slightly rolling her eyes.

I'm done here, I believe. She's not a member of my women's club and she doesn't know about this blog (maybe). So, what do you think? Adios, or what?

Wish me luck with the BRCA test

2011-09-07T07:18:00.000+01:00

This week I went in for a BRCA test. This is the test for the breast cancer gene. I'll find out in a few weeks if I carry the gene or not. This worries me - I'm praying I don't have it. Not so much for me, I just don't want to have passed it along to my daughter.

As many of you know, my sister, Tracy, passed away in July from an aggressive form of breast cancer that metastasized into brain, lung, bone and a thousand other forms of cancer. Both of my mother's sisters had breast cancer: My Aunt Cate passed away from a different form of aggressive breast cancer, and my other aunt, Sarah, found it early and beat it before it could really take off. My maternal grandmother also had breast cancer and a mastectomy. It apparently runs rampant in my maternal bloodline.

However, my other sister Kay, tested negative for the gene. I'm hoping the same for me, and for my little Cate.

Just keeping my fingers crossed for a negative result. With the year I've had (well, all of my family) I just don't need anymore bad news.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness month. I hope you all do something for it: blog, donate, walk, raise money - anything. I'm not a big rah-rah type of person, but for this - I shout from the mountain tops!

Countdown begins

2011-09-05T07:10:00.000+01:00

Cate starts reception in exactly 2 weeks and 3 days. Not that I'm counting or anything. Fen will be traveling a lot this month so I'm on duty more often than usual.

Most kids are back to school this week, but because it's officially her first 'real' school they do staggered admission. I have a feeling Cate is one of the last to start. Which is a pity - she's ready to go back. She asks me daily if she's going to school the next day and replies, 'Awww. I want to go to school."

We've kept ourselves busy with playdates, art classes, library visits, parks, crafts (we're perfecting our paper mache skills) and visiting all kinds of museums, etc. She loves it, but I don't think it's enough for her. She's a very curious and bright child - she needs more. When we went shopping for her uniforms, she was so excited to have big girl school clothes. She wore one of the pinafores all afternoon, even wanted to sleep in it. The smallest sizes were too big so she's swimming in them. But, MAN, does she look adorable.

While I'm enjoying spending so much time with her, and X, it's a little exhausting, especially since I still work full time (meaning well into the night). I'm anxious for her to get into school so she'll be happy, I'll have a little time to myself and we can get into a nice routine again.

So for now, we continue our adventures. I've got to remember to take the camera with us on our many outings. I haven't even documented the new hood on this blog yet. I will. Once Cate is in school, and I have time.... ah, to dream.

Making Friends...Again

2011-09-02T07:35:00.000+01:00

Ahhhh....Autumn. It's almost here and as an ex-pat it's time to meet new people as well. Don't get me wrong, I have a core group of friends here that I really like and (hopefully) like me. But some of my best buddies left.

My BFF (yes, how highschool, but that's how I roll) here in Hampstead, moved back to the US the day before I got back. I spent a lot of time with her and now she's gone. My daughter keeps asking for her kids, etc. It's disappointing. I had two other people I was just getting to know well leave. It stinks, but that's the life of an ex-pat.

My women's club is hosting the annual kick-off meeting soon and I will be there scoping the new recruits. Cate starts a new school and I will be there checking out the other parents and signing up for PTA (maybe - remember my new mindset of not being supermom - it may be flying out the window already). And then there are all the events coming up that I will be attending - probably alone as Fen is traveling most of the Autumn.

This means new people to meet. New playdates to be had. New drinking/shopping/tea/lunch buddies. I like it. I'm social and I love meeting new people. So I say, bring on the Autumn. I ready to get out and have fun.

The USA = Too Sweet

2011-08-30T06:58:00.000+01:00

The one distinct thing I noticed this trip back to the US is how sweet and artificial a lot of my favourite things tasted. I really love that here in England the food is more organic. Corn syrup/fructose, etc. is not used here at all so things are not as sweet/sugary as they are in the US.

Two things I loved in the US were Schweppes ginger ale and Tostitos Hint of Lime Tortilla Chips. I was even partial to Bud Light Lime. So we bought all of the above. The ginger ale was so sweet I couldn't drink it. The chips and beer tasted too artificial. We were some kind of disappointed.

But then I noticed how huge the fruit and vegetables were - all perfect, huge, brightly coloured, etc. You won't find that in England. Not all of the food here is organic, mind you, much of it is grown by corporations and manipulated by man. However, it just tastes better. I was hesitant to buy the veg and fruit at our regular groceries in NY and PA, instead I opted to buy at farmer's markets and organic instead. It was more expensive but worth it.

I'm not a huge health nut, by any means. I was just really surprised at the difference. It had been nearly a year since I was state-side so it all just kind of hit me - hard. I also couldn't believe how much more expensive everything was. You have to be some kind of rich to feed a family of four well! England may be much more expensive in many ways, but not food.

Essentially, the point of this post is to say that I'm becoming much more aware of what we're eating. I want healthy kids who enjoy good food and I've been knocking myself out trying to create that for them here. I think it will be a challenge when I get back to keep junk food and easy, prepared meals out of their diet.

Right now their favourite treat is Swedish meatballs (I used to buy them, now I make them in bulk and freeze) and mac n' cheese that I make myself (the cheese here is to die for!). And we make our own homemade pizzas (including crust) every Friday night. The kids and Fen have pineapple and ham. I mix it up a little.

If you're interested in any of the recipes let me know. I'm happy to share. Just leave a comment with your email or send me an email: jollyoldengland@gmail.com

Silent Sunday

2011-08-28T08:27:00.000+01:00

Supermom - I don't have to be one! Whew!

2011-08-26T09:58:00.001+01:00

Two nights ago NBC Nightly News had a segment on the myth of the Supermom. It stated that while working moms will have better mental health, they are at risk of being more depressed that stay at home moms. It also stated it's okay to try and do it all, as long as your happy and balanced. But too many women try to do it all and just end up miserable. .

While this might not be exciting to many, it was exciting to me. I've been doing WAY too much. I'm not miserable - but I'm stretched too thin. I've basically been burning the candle at both ends: working long hours, running the house, doing the cleaning, taking care of kids, traveling all over, attending my sister's funeral, worrying about the hurricane that ripped through the Bahamas (everyone is fine - one of the cars...not so much) and then bracing myself for my husbands very busy travel schedule for the next few months. Cate doesn't start school until late September (yikes) either. So I have to do it all.

I don't wanna. I need a break.So I'm giving myself one.

Here's my new thinking:

So what if the house isn't really unpacked. The pictures can go up later.
Do I really need to do laundry every single day? It's okay to send it out.
I'm taking Friday's off. No working. Not even email.
It's okay to read something that isn't work related.
No one is going to break in and steal our stuff or hold us hostage - go to sleep already.
Crayon markings on the wall/floor/rug/furniture can wait to be cleaned off
Sometimes mac n cheese with frozen chicken nuggets is okay two days in a row for dinner
Email can wait an hour or two - play with the kids
It's fine if I miss a business call during dinner
No working past 10pm.
I don't need to vacuum EVERY day
Shop for the groceries online and have them delivered. I don't need to venture out
I don't have to join the PTA if I don't want to. I have enough to do already
Water will evaporate - I dont' need to mop up rainwater the second it hits the floor
Throw pillows are over rated - I dont need them. And I can make the curtains next month
Bathroom renovation can wait until February
Drinking a glass of wine at night alone is okay. So is chocolate
If they kids go to bed late, without baths once in a while - it's OKAY.

Just how long do you think this will last?

Chim chim-in-ey

2011-08-24T21:37:00.000+01:00

This is the view from my kitchen window. I love it because it reminds me of this:

and this:

Those are Mary Poppins photos of Chim Chim Cheree. Everytime I look out my window I think of Mary Poppins and London:

When there's 'ardly no day nor 'ardly no night
There's things 'alf in shadow and 'alfway in light
On the rooftops of London coo, what a sight!

Chim chim-in-ey, chim chim-in-ey
Chim chim cher-ee!
When you're with a sweep you're in glad company
Nowhere is there a more 'appier crew
Than them wot sings, "Chim chim cher-ee, chim cher-oo!"

I love it!

Cate's Self Image

2011-08-20T13:48:00.003+01:00

This summer at our lake cottage in Pennsylvania, Cate was admiring a photo of my Aunt Cate who passed away nine years ago. It's a lovely photo of my aunt as a young woman. Here's the conversation that followed:

Cate: Who's this, Mommy.

Me: That's my Aunt Cate. It's Mom Mom's sister.

Cate: She has my name?

Me: You have her name, actually.

Cate: She's very pretty.

Me: Yes she was.

Cate: Is she coming over?

Me: Oh, she's already here, honey.

Cate (looking around): Where?

Me: Everywhere.

Cate (looking skeptical): I don't see her.

Me: You will understand some day, sweetie. She would have LOVED you, that's for sure.

She nods in agreement.

Cate: I'm adorable.

Me: Yes you are!

And quite modest too!

Staying sane

2011-08-16T15:26:00.001+01:00

My kids are driving me batty. I love them to pieces - both of them - separately. Together - not so much. In the past month or two the fighting has escalated to the level of WWF Smackdown.

For over a year Cate ruled the roost - she would slap X, knock him over, make him cry, etc. He was too small to retaliate so she spent a great deal of time in time out (where she would pout and say, 'I not sorry'. Fab). Then it leveled off - she left him alone, things were fine. And we moved.

Maybe it's because of the stress of moving, perhaps it's because I put them in the same room and they share a bed time now. It could be that I've been really grief stricken over the death of my sister and have been a bit lax with time outs and playdates. Maybe it's combo of everything. But whatever it is - I'm approaching the end of my tether.

Cate still likes to grab X and knock him over, but he's rapidly approaching two and is a sturdy, tough little fella (like he had a choice!). He's done with being abused and now fights back. His weapon of choice: hair pulling and pinching. Those tiny chubby hands can certainly cause trouble! Often he'll just run up to Cate and pull her hair.

Once, when she grabbed his blanket, he turned beet red and went on the attach: with a bloody war cry (he gets that from his Samoan blood, I'm guessing) he charged Cate from behind, grabbing two fist fulls of her shirt, swirled her around, body slammed her and then yanked her pigtails with all his 24lbs of might. He meant business. I think Cate was more shocked than hurt but she now thinks twice about grabbing things out of his hand.

I am seriously running out of patience with this. I cannot turn my back for a second without one of them causing the other to cry, or tattle, or attack. It's driving me insane. I don't know how my mother did it - she had four of us - at one point she had three children under the age of 4. Granted she had full time help and was a lot less lenient than I apparently am (and boy she does she let me know about it).

As a child I recall Mom yelling at us to cut it out. I always thought, 'What's her problem?' I now get it. Her most effective line of control, 'I don't want to hear another word from any of you or I'm getting the belt.' That was enough to scare the bejesus out of us. We have a long hallway in our house and when we did push it too far my mother would come down that long, echo-y hallway (the ceiling is 22 feet high which just added to the terror) slapping one of my dad's belts on the wall. She never had to use the belt because the anticipation was punishment enough - by the time she showed up in the doorway we were all silent, sorry, and willing to make up.

My kids are too young for this tactic and I think the neighbours would wonder what the racket is going on in here if I did. Instead, I've watched multiple Super Nanny episodes, bought her book and I'm trying everything.

Would love suggestions on how to help my children get along and play together. In all my dreams of being a mother, never did this scenario pop up. Neither did the sleepless nights (Cate is still jet lagged and comes into our room nightly to wake me up). Either way - if you have any ideas, solutions, suggestions, hints or comments: just bring it! I'm open for anything (that includes wine - you can bring that too!)

Bad Blogger

2011-08-15T19:42:00.001+01:00

I've been really slack with the blogging of late. Granted I was traveling and I did have a funeral to attend. But I've just felt sluggish about blogging and, frankly, just not in the mood.

Next month is the 2 year anniversary of 'Cross the Pond. I can't quit now! I was just feeling a little down and uninspired.So I started reading my blog from the beginning and now I remember why I wanted to do this in the first place.

Now that I'm recharged I'm going to start blogging like I used to. Starting tomorrow...!

Home Sweet London

2011-08-13T09:52:00.000+01:00

We landed in London yesterday and it was really, really nice to be back home. Home meaning: where all our stuff is and where we consider our home. I refer to home as: London, Nassau or New York. Depends on the mood and how it applies to the moment. Right now, home is London.

I feel like I'm starting over again. We're in a new place, Cate is starting a new school, some of my dearest friends have left London and I can no longer call my sister daily. So there's some adjusting to do.

We still haven't even unpacked and organized our flat yet from our move. We moved, three weeks later we left and a month later we're back - with the unpacked boxes and artwork stacked in a corner waiting to be hung. There are knick knacks in need of a place, clothing to be sorted, hung or folded and put away; kitchen to organize, bathroom to paint, stuff to do, always stuff to do.

And I don't feel like doing any of it. Ah well, all in due course. Right now, I attack the laundry. I should be done by 2015.

It's nice to be home, though.

This is modern London?

2011-08-10T15:22:00.000+01:00

I leave London for three weeks and this is what happens? I've been following the riots online and through sensational American television and I'm just stunned. I've been concerned about returning to a crazy city but have been assured our 'hood is all right. I read that they closed the Hampstead High Street stores early the past few days and that really set me on alert.

Rioting and looting is something I don't understand at all. I understand frustration at have social services taken away and being unhappy with your station in life, but attacking your own city, your home, destroying your neighbours property and businesses, stealing things in a free-for-all frenzy is just barbaric.How 14th century of them.

The socialized system in England has its benefits and its flaws, its not perfect, certainly. I don't have any answers on how to fix it. But here's a little glimpse into ONE family I know (her children used to go to school with Cate.) A lovely lady, around 25 years old, has three children 2-7 years old. She has a live in boyfriend. Neither is working. She cannot work because she has a 2 year old to care for and can't afford daycare. She is on the dole. She receives council housing and a monthly stipend that is to feed, clothe and care for her and her three children. Her boyfriend went to trade school to become a security guard/bouncer. When he was offered a job for £8 an hour as a bouncer, he turned it down. It wasn't enough money for him to get off his ass and support his family. He doesn't have any source of income and takes his girlfriend's monthly government cash (that's right - she is paid in cash - no food stamps, or checks, etc.) to spend on cigarettes and beer, his iphone, etc. She scrapes by trying to keep enough food on the table and her kids happy. She cannot do anything for herself. Yet she keeps this loser around and let's him call the shots. He doesn't help with the kids - he doesn't pick them up from school or watch the little one so she can go to the store alone. He does NOTHING. He wants more but won't go out to find a job for himself.

My council tax and income tax pays for him. This enrages me on two levels. She's smart and could work but is stuck in a pattern that she can't break free from - so why not dump the loser and do better? And he can coast in the system with no urgency to get a job. He is the mentality of the rioters - feeling like the world owes him something just for existing but doesn't want to do anything for himself (in my opinion)

This to me is a clear indication that the UK needs to restructure how they deal with the unemployed, etc. As I said, I have no answers - but would be very interested in hearing what other people think about this.

I could go on and on but this is not a political blog so I'll keep it mild. I just know that I am forever striving to do better for myself and my children. I only want the best education, care, food, and experiences for them. We moved to London to explore a new culture and travel through Europe so our children would be more worldly (and because Fen and I have wanderlust - always have). Why wouldn't everyone want the same, or simliar for their children? Doesn't everyone want their kids to do better than they did? I do. How 'bout you?

Tracy

2011-07-23T12:25:00.000+01:00

My wonderful sister Tracy passed away on Wednesday night. I didn't make it to the Bahamas in time to say goodbye which was devastating. But she is in a better place after a four year cruel battle. God bless, my love. I will always miss you.

There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields -
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come!
- Emily Dickinson

The wheels on the bus go round and round...

2011-07-17T10:05:00.001+01:00

Since we moved the commute to Cate's school every day is close to an hour - each way. I've taken to hailing a bus which takes us a block away from the school (and we walk by Gwyneth Paltrow/Chris Martin's house every day). It's been...interesting.

Two little old ladies who were dressed up in their best finery, complete with hats and Queen Elizabeth handbags - one in yellow, one in blue, entered the bus and sat behind me. They were the quintessential British ladies, the only things missing were cups of tea. Here's a snippet of their conversation (from what I overheard):

Blue Bird: "This blinking bus is slow. What time are we expected?"
Yellow bird: "Half five."
Blue Bird: "What's the time now?"
Yellow Bird: "Quarter five. We'll never make it. We should have rung a car."
Blue Bird: "Sod the car. Too expensive."
Yellow Bird: "Hamish will be annoyed."
Blue Bird: "Bugger Hamish. He can wait."
Yellow Bird: "He's a right bastard that one."
Blue Bird: "Right you are!"
Giggling.

Not exactly Queen Elizabeth calibre after all, but damn funny!

Another time Cate and I hopped on the bus and she dashed up to the stairs to the top level. There was a haggarded looking bloke with a heavy coat and an eye patch dozing in the front seat. Undeterred, Cate ran up to the window and gazed out (it's the best seat in the house for a four year old). At one stop light she turned around, covered an eye with one hand, cried, "Aaaaargh" at the top of her lungs, complete with a pirate like gesture with her other hand and guffawed. The entire upper bus exploded in laughter - except the poor sleeping pirate/man. Oy!

The last little adventure was not as fun. I was tossed off the bus. There were two prams on the bus so when I wanted to get on I was surprised the bus driver let me (only two are allowed technically). I got on, took up a spot near the rear door and away we went. Four stops later, ANOTHER pram got on and blocked the aisle. Three stops later the bus driver jumped out of his seat came around to the back and started yelling at ME to get off. I told him no. He started freaking out and X got upset and started to cry - the guy was out of line. I got off and told him I was going to report him - which I did (you knew I would). I hustled to school as quickly as I could but I was some kind of upset - I am a goodie-goodie - long gone are the days of being a rebel. I play by the rules so I don't expect to be lambasted for his sorry mistake of allowing too many prams on the bus. But I also didn't want my son to see a grown man have a meltdown and scream at his mother. So I got off. But I demanded my fare back and I filed a greviance against the driver. I hope it goes on his record.

I have two days left and I think I'll just walk the four hours a day (one hour there, one hour back, twice a day). Sure...I have nothing to do. But after that, I think I'll get on the tube or a car when I have to travel with the kids. I'll miss the grannies and pirates, but I'm sure they'll still be there when the kids are big enough to travel without a stroller!

Good fences...make good neighbours

2011-07-13T11:50:00.001+01:00

Ah, the joy of meeting the neighbours. We haven't yet. But as Robert Frost so aptly pointed out: Good fences make good neighbors. (Frost is one of my favourites, by the way).

Our place in Brooklyn was quiet with great neighbours. It was a private brownstone - the owners lived on the top three floors and we lived on the ground floor. It was ideal and we loved it for the eight years we lived there. I STILL miss it daily. All of the neighbours were friendly, we knew them all by name and liked each and every one. Heavy sigh - we had hit the jackpot.

Our last building here in London had thin walls. Even though the place was small it was sort of quiet. The Russians (we love to assign monikers to people - it's practically sport 'round here) who lived above us were quiet enough - however they complained to everyone in the building about making noise. They got on my case for running the washer/dryer too late at night so I never did laundry in the evenings (to be fair the thing would rattle like a locomotive). But they are universally disliked for it.

The gay couple (the Great Gays) across the hall were quiet and kept to themselves unless the alarm went off (and it went off plenty), then they would bitch out anyone within earshot.

We had a perfect family, quiet, reserved and polite (The Beavers), the crazy lady (Shriek Owl) who lived next door who screeched at delivery men who rang all the doorbells and freaked out on others for a myriad of issues (and she's a yoga instructor - hmmm).

Then there were the rude French folks (Frenchie) and a few others who we actually liked (one family - the Loud Americans are actually good friends).

The point being - we fit right in, liked everyone and made it work.

Now we're in a new building and we know absolutely no one. I love it.

The people across the hall have a newborn who cries ALL the time. My heart breaks for whoever lives there. I've seen about five different people coming and going with their own keys so I haven't a clue as to who the baby belongs to. You can only hear it if you're near the door or in the hallway - thank heavens because the last thing I need to to be kept awake by someone else's crying baby.

Then there is 'The Crone' - a cantankerous woman in her early to mid 60's who is the self-appointed hall monitor. She barked at our movers to close the doors once they were done, she called animal control to catch the raggedy fox that made it's way out back (poor thing), and she tossed Fen's shoes in front of our door (I told him to get them out of the dressing room because they smelled and he put them outside the flat so I can't say I blame her for that one - and I promised to try and control my wild and troublesome husband in the future). This evening the Frat Boys (who live above us - in late 20's and surprisingly quiet) left two beer bottles on the wall in front pathway and she growled at them to pick them up. I snickered behind my curtains at that exchange.

We have The Nakeds next to us. One night, last week I went into our bedroom to shut the curtains and didn't turn on the light (because I don't want the neighbours looking at me) and saw both him and her in their knickers hanging in the kitchen. Yikes!

So far I haven't formally met any of them. And that's fine with me. The walls are thick, the ceilings are high and the curtains are shut. Works for me!

Another appliance bites the dust

2011-07-12T14:12:00.000+01:00

I had an old CD boombox that I placed in the kids room to play kiddie CD's (gotta love that Raffi). It was the only thing we had that could play CD's.

Fen took the player out of the bedroom and plugged it into the wall (I used batteries) and blew it up. Damn. Now we have no way to play CD's. good thing we have iPods (and an iPod station that is correctly plugged in)

I'm putting this on the list of 100 things we need for the new flat. This list also includes: new French Press (Fen dropped mine by accident), microwave oven (good thing we donated the one we bought last year for the first flat and then had to get rid of because the second flat came with one built in), a broom (the movers took off with ours) and a new Swiffer (which I plan to buy at Target when we're in the US). Those are the most crucial items.

I think that I will have this place up to where I want it just in time for us to move out. ah well.

Going home

2011-07-11T12:28:00.000+01:00

This is where I'll be soon. Looks fantastic doesn't it? I would love to curl up in a hammock under those two trees and just read a book and sip some frothy, fruit concoction. Alas, it is not to be. I will be in the Bahamas but it's to visit my very, very ill sister, Tracy.

It's a trip I'm dreading yet very anxious to take. I need to see her. She has steadily declined in the last few weeks and was finally flown from New York to Nassau as the hospital can no longer do anything for her. It is a tragedy. I don't think I'm mentally prepared for it, I hope I am, but I don't really think anyone can be. This is what I wanted to see the doctor about but was turned away at the door (by the way)

However, it's vital I spend time with her. She has been my best friend for 40 years. I can't even think about a world without her in it. So I don't. I live 5,000 miles away in a protective bubble that keeps me in denial. But the bubble is bursting and I have to face reality.

I'd rather sit under those trees. In a hammock. With Tracy. And she could be healthy again.

Silent Sunday

2011-07-10T12:26:00.000+01:00

Washing machine busted and other such growing pains

2011-07-09T11:31:00.000+01:00

It's so true that when it rains it pours. Last weej Friday the washer decided to die. I had a load of brand new kiddie clothes whipping round without incident. It ran the whole cycle but then wouldn't open. I looked inside at the trapped wet clothes and called the management company. They said someone would be right over. Yeah, they never came. By 8pm I pried the door open with a screwdriver and freed the soggy laundry. I was not about to have them be ruined by moulding in a closed washer - no way.

Funny, I didn't notice before that there were already marks on the door of someone else attempting to pry it open. And the handle fell off when I tried to force it open - it was obviously glued on at some earlier point. To further create my case for a new washer, were the scratch marks on the floor where it's clear the washer has been pulled out of its spot on multiple occasions. Hmmmm...I'm not exactly Sherlock Holmes, but this seems fairly elementary, my dear.

Monday I called the company again and they sent out their guy to fix it. It's not fixable, sayeth he. My carefully crafted case for a new washer was not needed - it's six years old and worked to death. Victory I thought - it was short lived. An hour later, another worker showed up - a repair man, not a handy man. He worked for hours and left, with the motor, promising to come back Tuesday. He came Tuesday - was there for hours. Proclaimed it fixed and told me to wash away.

I did. It didn't finish the cycle and I once again, pried the door open to free my dish towel - my test garment. I texted him to come Wednesday. he did. Three times. No luck. He said he'd be back with a new washer. He came back with a new motor and fixed it for real this time. I've been up to my eyeballs with laundry ever since. But it's nice to finally chip away at it.

Then I called our caretaker for our house in PA, the hot water heater is broken. I paid $1,200 two years ago for this fancy electric/propane small heater and it's kaput already? I have to wait until later today to call the company that sold it to me and file my complaint. They are fixing it for free or I will tear the joint down! Madness. We'll be there for a while next month and I'll need hot water, thankyouveddymuch.

But on a happier note, the broken fan/light above my kitchen hob (burners) has been replaced. When we moved in I called immediately and stated it was faulty and I couldn't have that. A little silver lining for ya. The kitchen is coming together but it still has a way to go. The oven, as old as it is, is actually fantastic - better than the one at the old place, which was a little more modern and flash. This one bakes evenly and the temperature is consistent. Not exactly a Wolf (my dream oven), but it'll do.

Slowly, but surely, we're settling in. Once all the hiccups are fixed hopefully we can just live peacefully. Now, you all know that's never going to happen, but I can dream, can't I?

Exit stage left, please

2011-07-07T12:46:00.002+01:00

I've been having an issue and thought it might be a good idea to go into NHS to talk to someone about it. So I booked an appointment, looking for a referral and then headed in for my appointment.

Met with the doc, explained the situation, filled out a form and she agreed that it was a good idea for me to see someone and started to tell me all about it while being the right degree of concerned and interested. She told me someone would contact me via mail (which always takes forever) to which I said, 'Oh, I'll need to change my address. We moved.'

The doc stopped in her tracks and inquired about my new address. As it turns out, I'm no longer in that particular NHS practice's 'area'. She said, 'I can't help you. You'll have to get a private doctor or find another NHS in your new neighbourhood.' No referral, no help, no apology - just a big fat - get out!

I protested and pointed out she agreed I needed to see someone lickety-split - and she said yes, I do - but it wasn't her responsibility any more. I was seriously stunned.

'I'm sorry,' she tried.

'No. You're not. And shame on you,' I replied with hostility oozing off each word like molten lava. I wanted to add: 'Take the Hippocratic oath didja?'

She looked away and I could tell she wasn't happy. I suppose it's not her fault, but her bedside manner was definitely lacking and I was pissed so she got a shot of my nasty side. I don't care.

What makes me upset is that I am a tenacious individual and I will press on and get the care I need. But if someone less...aggressive/determined/etc was to be swept aside - I just wonder what would happen to them.

Now I have to find new doctors, a new practice, new everything for my entire family. I just don't need the headache, frankly. But one thing is for certain - I would never, ever go back to the Keats Group again after this. It was just insult to injury and in poor form. A pox on their house, I say.

A common cold, gadzooks, forsooth!

2011-07-06T15:03:00.000+01:00

We're sick again - all of us, with a common cold (gadzooks, forsooth!) It was bound to happen, we've all been well for over four months. After being sick for the majority of the winter, we were on a healthy streak. But with the stress of the move and the ridiculous amount of rain (of which I've been walking through for hours at a time thanks to the extended school run) it was only a matter of time.

I blame X. He was the first one to show signs of being rundown. On Saturday his nose started and Sunday he wasn't hungry, he was bossy and extremely crabby. He only wanted to sit on me and snuggle. Which is wonderful, but not when that all he wants all day. Sunday, Fen and I both woke up with sore throats and faucets for noses. Fun.

X recovered beautifully by Monday. Cate was fine that morning, but at noon we received a call from her nursery - she was fast asleep and could we come fetch her, please? We were lost in the middle of Ikea in Wembly, so we dropped our stash off in a corner (sorry Ikea workers, duty called) and dashed out the door to pick up our sweet Cate. She was fast asleep on a little sofa in a corner of her nursery; she honestly looked like an angel.I scooped her up and took her to the car. She feebly said, 'I don't feel well, mommy.! Lawdy - break your heart, it could.

Both kids slept for two hours when we got home. Cate had a mild allergic reaction to something and her eyes puffed up. I gave her Benadryl which helped. Not surprisingly, both were lackluster and took up residence in two moving boxes (see above) However, Fen and I were dragging ourselves around, clutching tissues and sniffling, still. Something isn't right with this picture!

Cate was home yesterday and she slept alot in the morning but had a miraculous recovery by 2pm and was bouncing off the walls. She's back at school today - thank heavens! We're all back in the pink, for the most part as well. Hooray.

(PS, that is a quote from an Ogden Nash poem about the common cold that I remember from Uni. It was so vivid I never forgot it and always think of it when I'm in the clutches of the common cold)

Got kids? I'll bet you have Ikea bowls...

2011-07-04T13:48:00.001+01:00

It seems every parent I know has the Ikea bowl, plate, cup set. It's like a right of passage or something - both here in the UK and the US. So tell me, are you a proud Ikea bowl owner? Take my poll below. If you took it yesterday while I was testing the new polling system, I apologise!!

Silent Sunday

2011-07-03T10:50:00.000+01:00

Two of my favorite people

And we're in...

2011-06-30T20:50:00.000+01:00

I've been so swamped the last week I haven't have a second to blog. Oh, but I've been writing blog posts in my head daily - some full of colourful words not fit to print, others too whinging to post, and other a little too hysterically euphoric to share. Which is why I waited until we unpacked all but five boxes (and when my office was sort of set up).

Moving stinks. Big time. However, now that the dust is settling, we're so much happier in our larger place. And it is much larger, still no giant palace but it's enough space for us right now. In fact, I can't hear my mobile phone when it's on the other end of the flat so I keep missing calls! That's not a problem I've had in a long time. And I'm quite content to miss a call or two.

The new place is shaping up. Still loads of things to organize and sort. We have thin curtains on the bedroom window and today I'm hoping Fen will put up the shutters soon as the sun sets close to 10pm and it rises at 4:30am!

It's just nice to have a little wiggle room again - and a fireplace. Cate was worried about how Santa would find us in our old place. Now she's quite delighted we have a chimney for him to slide down. Never mind that the fireplace probably hasn't worked since 1938, but she is not concerned with such frivolous details.

I've got ideas and plans for what I want to do, but for now we're just shoving stuff in corners and pretending not to see it. And the bathroom...I do not like it. It's old, not modern like our last one. But you know what? - that's okay. There's a reason God created tile paint - right?

Also on the creative, renovation list: chalkboard paint, a large board, batting and tacks for a large French Memo Board which will go in my kitchen. And I'm almost done putting the glow-in-the-dark stars on the kids ceiling.

And miles to go before I sleep....

Moving Day

2011-06-20T06:53:00.001+01:00

Our new digs. We got the keys yesterday - what a day! The place is considerably larger than where we are now - Cate and I did cartwheels in the lounge which was hilarious. I kept wondering where the children where because we're so used to being on top of one another when I couldn't hear them I would dash down the hallway looking in rooms for the two of them.

It's nice and sunny in there as well, which is really nice. Cate and I took a walk through the back garden - it's communal but it's in sections where different people have claimed a patch of grass or a patio and I plan to do the same. It's nice, not as nice as our current back yard but it'll do.

We walked in and of course there were problems right off the bat. There was no hot water, two radiators leaked onto carpet (I have visions of mould which we are trying to run away from), there was furniture from the last tenant, the bathroom tiles were NOT fixed, two burners didn't work and the oven was acting up, no curtains or blind (as promised) in the bedrooms and the curtains in the living room leave a lot to be desired.

But it wasn't enough to dampen our delight. Sure, the place isn't perfect, but we're going to make it work. I will make it as lovely as I can. I keep reminding myself that this is just temporary and our real home awaits us in the US once our European adventure is over.

We had our new furniture delivered from Ikea and one thing is clear - I have no business putting furniture together. Fen did the heavy lifting and I just put together the dining chairs. I'll stick to packing and unpacking from now on!

The real packing is today. Another run to Ikea for curtains and blinds is necessary today as well. Tomorrow the movers come and then we're outta here.

Silent Sunday

2011-06-19T08:17:00.000+01:00

Faith in Humanity is Restored

2011-06-15T15:08:00.000+01:00

Just about 2 1/2 weeks ago we left our Archos, a portable DVR, in a rental car. It took us three days to figure out it was gone and then we hurriedly called Avis hoping against hope that they had found it.

Alas, the car had been rented to an American family who was driving through the chunnel to Europe for 10 days and then returning it to Heathrow. We waited... by the time we called Heathrow the day of it's return, it had already been rented again for two days. We waited again...

Usually, if we leave something in the car we shake our heads at our carelessness and be done with it. But this Archos had over 100 hours of children's programming from the US which our children adore. It also has a Today Show appearance of Cate, Fen (and me - 8 months pregnant - not a pretty sight!) when we modelled for a Halloween costume segment in 2009. There was Sesame Street, Word World, Curious George, Clifford - the Big Red Dog, and many other US programmes not featured on UK television. This has been a very important item in our house - for travelling, for nights when Cate won't go to sleep and I'm working, for entertainment when it's raining and Cate wants to watch something US, and so on.

So when we realized it was left in our rental car - we were upset. They aren't cheap, but it was the programming we really cried over.

As soon as we realized it was missing we called Avis. I have to say they were incredibly helpful - all of the people we spoke to went to bat for us. But after three rentals we figured it was a write off and were looking into replacements: iPad, another Archos, etc.

But today Avis called. They found it. Fen is on his way to pick it up right now.

I have to say that I am really astonished that after three other rentals no one decided to keep it. Maybe I'm cynical and don't expect the best in people - I'm very happy to be wrong.

I'm a goodie-goodie who would never take something that didn't belong to me. I hand in things people have left in taxis, restaurant tables, etc. I'm glad that the universe has decided to hand back the Archos and restore my faith in humanity. It's not that big a deal really. I'm just delighted that it's back after such a long absence.

Now, I just wonder where it has been and what it has seen. Maybe it recorded some of it's adventures on the Continent. ;-)

Ah to be four again...

2011-06-14T11:33:00.001+01:00

Here is the birthday girl eating her pancakes made by Daddy on the morning of her fourth birthday. And what a birthday it was. On her actual birthday we went to the London Zoo where she was a little monkey:

And posed with the dung beetles:

And blew out the candles on her pink fairy birthday cake made by yours truly:

But the real fun was at her birthday party at Bake-a-Boo where she and her little friends had a lovely fairy tea party. Jasmin from Jazzy Faces painted their little fairy faces (she was AMAZING and did balloon characters - everyone got fairies or mermaids. Delightful). Bake-a-Boo was wonderful with their cupcake decorating and tea for little fairies - the kids loved it.

And they looked precious:

Ah... to be four again. Where everything is pink and glittery and wonderful. Happy birthday my little love.

Hurricane Cate

2011-06-07T17:34:00.002+01:00

I left Cate alone in her room for fifteen minutes to talk to my mother. THIS is what she managed to do. It took us (read ME) nearly half an hour to clean up.

Just look at that face! The cheek. She was just about to climb onto the dresser to toss the stuffed animals on the ground.

Her room is getting packed up tomorrow. Some toys will make it to the new flat and others may just not!

This is me - right now

2011-06-03T06:01:00.001+01:00

I've been up since 4am and I cannot, cannot get back to sleep. I'm having one of those mornings... I have way too much on my mind.

We finally signed the lease yesterday and await the countersigned copy. So until that arrives I will not really be content that the flat is ours. I'm in an argument with a family member over our family property and it's really digging into me - so frustrating. I made a comment meant to be funny in an email yesterday and it was taken out of context by one of the recipients and it didn't help the sitch. The husband and I had a blow up over our move, which has been resolved but not until I had to email him and precisely map out my thoughts as I could not talk to him about it anymore, I can't find the right ingredients I need to make my daughter the birthday cake I want for her fourth birthday on Sunday, and last night I realized we left our $500 portable DVR in the rental car this weekend. I'm waiting for Avis to open so I can call and hope that it's still there (it's US, doesn't have an adapter and is basically useless to anyone else so I pray that they will have it).

On a bright note - I had an offer for a two book deal yesterday and one of the projects I've been just drooling over has finally been greenlit and I can now go forward with the proposal! I have four other projects out in the world, hoping they all sell well. Fingers crossed (I may have a new DVR to buy, afterall).

It's been half term here and I've been really enjoying having Cate at home. She's in a stage where she can be very challenging. She is quite sassy and can be down right rude when she's in a mood. But this week she's been a darling (not counting the weekend at Lou's where she was just awful a couple of times). She's off to school next week and I'm going to miss our Mommy/Cate projects while X naps. We've had quite the craft sessions around here. Most of her friends are away or busy so it's been a lot of mommy time for her, which is nice. She's been playing quite nicely with X too. Aren't they cute?

So we have two weeks until we move and I'm looking at all the junk we've managed to accumlate here in the Winnebago (my flat nickname). I'm pretending it doesn't exist - self preservation. But again, to silver line it: we'll finally be out of this flat. Now that's exciting. And maybe I'll actually sleep in the new place! Hope spring eternal.

Let The Packing Begin...

2011-06-01T07:16:00.001+01:00

Hooray - the lease is being signed tomorrow. You won't be surprised to hear that the estate agent who was overseeing our lease was sacked yesterday for not doing his job. I feel sorry for him but honestly, it shouldn't take four weeks to have a lease put together. Not only did he drag his feet he didn't mention a few huge details regarding the tenancy which would have been a nasty shock to us.

However, the manager cut the administration fees in half, caved into a few of our requests (like candles - no candles were allowed! I have decorative candles and candles for lighting. What if there was a power outage? Madness). Although they did not replace the oven. Dang. Regardless, the lease is complete and we're heading in tomorrow morning to sign.

Now we can hire movers and, ah-the-joy - start packing. I've already started sorting, tossing and donating. It's a tedious job but I have to say I like streamlining and cutting the fat. And I am a self-diagnosed OCD candidate with my hyper-organized moving technique.

Fen, on the other hand, is a hoarder. I chucked out negatives (negatives!!) of photos that we have doubles of in a box from our dating year which he fished out of the bin and reprimanded me for throwing away memories. Mind you, he's been promising for nearly 8 years that he'll put them in an album. For seven years I blindly believed him, but having hauled more crap than I care to admit across the Atlantic - methinks it ain't going to happen. So the minute he left for work - they got put right back in the bin. It's doubtful he'll notice (unless he reads this.)

I promised him I wouldn't pack until June. Guess what folks - IT'S JUNE TODAY. Got my packing tape, some boxes: I'm ready.

X and Cate's Big Adventure in Shropshire

2011-05-30T11:18:00.001+01:00

That there is Cate and one of Lou's sproglets having a wander around the castle walls in Ludlow, UK. We were there visiting the Archers at the Fabulous Larches once again. We love it out there - not only is it gorgeous, stunning English countryside, the Archers are so lovely.

Cate still can't stop talking about the kids and her adventure in the country. I think the chickens were a big hit. here are the Archer's bantam chicks:

And here is the condo-coop with the rooster minding his harem and birds:

Lou has the most amazing garden:

Above is the walled, raised bed vegetable garden. She has everything you can think of growing here. We had kale from the garden for dinner both nights! The onions are waving in the wind in that bottom photo. Fantastic.

Lou's hot house - filled with goodies including pumpkins. She really has outdone herself. See the strawberries peaking out there? We had a few that her 8-yo picked. Both of the sproglets are completely intuned to the garden, the animals and the lifestyle - naturals, especially the 8yo. She's amazing with the animals, the garden and helping out around the house. I'm wondering if Lou rents her out?
My favourite thing at the Larches? The kitchen door that leads to the vegetable garden:

And the garden gate that leads into the vegetable garden:

We had a lovely day in Ludlow - spent some cash in the market as usual and had a lovely lunch as well. The town is so charming and authentically medieval. Lou's hubbie and I were reading the placards on some of the buildings - which are mostly Tudor. One sign stated the building was the former jail and was built in 1490. I laughed and said neither of my countries had even been discovered yet. That building was older than the entire United States by two years!!! Astonishing. The buildings are so crooked and unbelievable Fen and I kept saying it looked like something out of Disney, because they were so wonderfully old and authentic - like they were trying too hard.

We went for a walk in the forest and Lou's hubby spied a lizard. The sproglets turned over the log the lizard had been on and found a slow worm (looked like a baby snake to me - eek!) and a baby toad. Here are they are:

This proved to me once again that I have little business being in the great outdoors unsupervised as I would have bolted off with a child under each arm had I encountered either animal out there alone.But I am willing to learn!

This is how X and Cate's big adventure ended - curled up together after baths, toasty warm and watching Beauty and the Beast in bed together in the Archer's fantastic guest room:

After leaving we headed to Warwick Castle - amazing place! And then to Oxford where Fen and I smiled at the herds and herds of college students whizzing by on their bicycles, their eager faces freshly educated and ready to take on the world and rid it of their parent's and grandparents decades of 'mistakes'. We smiled because twenty years ago we were them and now we realize it's okay. Oxford is amazing, by the way. Perhaps I'll write about it in another post, Warwick too.

Our final stop: Toys R Us. I think Cate had a major sensory overload as her voice went up to an octave only dogs could hear. Her fourth birthday is this coming Sunday. We're bracing ourselves for the week long festivities.

Hell hath...

2011-05-25T12:19:00.001+01:00

Can someone please tell me what is wrong with the estate agents in this city? Dealing with them has been an exercise in frustration and disappointment. I'm ready to climb a bell tower and start picking them off one by one.

Three weeks ago today I went to look at the flat we're moving into. I took Fen the next day and we made our offer, with some negotiation we were told the flat was ours. I had to chase the guy down for three days (and over the weekend) just to get the confirmation email with the details of the deal (what we wanted, what was expected of us) and for him to take the deposit. I negotiated the deal which took two days and then he said we'd hear from another company who would do the vetting. Fine. Had to chase him down for a week for that to happen.

Last week we were cleared (I should hope so) and I emailed the agent last week Monday to send the contracts for signature. On Friday I called and left a voicemail asking for the contract. This week Monday I called again and left another message. Yesterday I nagged Fen until he called not once, not twice - leaving messages both times - but thrice! Finally, he asked to speak to the manager who was not happy that we had been ignored.

During this three week period I stopped looking at flats, put my mind to rest and started making my plans for packing (we have boxes again - oh dear!) but I haven't bought any furniture, haven't hired movers, and have only packed china and kitchen stuff and then hidden the boxes in the cupboards so Fen won't go nuts (I promised I wouldn't have packed boxes piled up until next month). If you've learned anything about me you'll know I'm a planner, a packer, organized and a doer. I don't have the luxury of time to dawdle and have to map out my day to make sure everything that needs to be done gets done.

This has bothered me for two reasons:

I want to get a move on already - buy the furniture, set up a delivery time, get Virgin in to move the TV, phone, internet, change our address on everything, hire movers, start to decide what's going where and getting my Sharpie and moving list in order.
Inefficiency and rudeness. Honestly, how many times do you have to bug someone to send a freakin' contract? And how can someone just ignore a customer? It's just slack. I loathe slack.

I started to worry I was too rough with my negotiations - I deal with contracts on a daily basis so I comb through things with a sharp and trained eye. Maybe I was too 'New York'. I mentioned this to Fen and he disagreed.

The outcome - the place is ours. The contract is supposed to be sent to us this afternoon for signature. We'll see if it gets here or not. If it doesn't, I'm going over and delivering a lecture to anyone in that office who will listen. They'll rue the day...

Jiggery-pokery and other favourite Britishisms

2011-05-21T11:08:00.002+01:00

I've always been fond of a British accent and now that I'm in England I've noticed that I don't really 'hear' it anymore. My Fen is a Kiwi which resembles a British accent and I grew up with English and Scottish teachers so maybe now that I'm completely surrounded by it I just can't seem to hear it anymore. And I have to say that's sad.

But every now and again someone says something and it just makes me smile - because I still am an Anglophile at heart and I do love Britain and it's history, there's no denying it. So, for your amusement here are some of my favourite things heard lately:

Jiggery-pokery: deceitful behavior or thievery. I heard it on the BBC news and howled laughing. It makes the crime seem almost whimsical.

'He was murdered for his efforts. Ah, the poor chap' Followed by a chortle. I was watching a documentary on the BBC about the history of London. An upper crust professor from Cambridge University said this when describing a fellow who was killed for throwing eel carcasses into the sewer. Rather grisly but the way he described it was hilarious and eloquent.

'Blasted bloody duffer' This was used to describe the person who didn't shut the gate after himself by a neighbor. I heard her say it through the window. Try saying it three times quickly!

Arse about face: back-to-front. Someone told me X's shirt was arse about face and I nearly took offense until someone explained it was on backwards. Oopsie!

'Bloody nora!' This was shouted by someone who was surprised on a reality show here. Thought it was hysterical.

'A load of barmy rubbish' used to describe the royal wedding by a television presenter. Anti-monarchy I'm guessing.

Some of my favourite expressions:

Rumpy-pumpy = hanky panky
Off your trolley - off your rocker
Naff - crappy or not nice
Sod all - means nothing - if you tip your waiter nothing - he's say you left sod all.

I could go on and on but I'm knackered.

Have a nice day!

2011-05-18T12:05:00.000+01:00

A while ago I'm So Fancy wrote about American's and their compulsion to say, 'Have a nice day.' This is something I'm definitely guilty of doing. She laments that non-American's find it fake and insincere, I take offense to that. When I tell someone to have a nice day, I mean it.

My women's club hosted a nearly new sale this weekend. I was on the committee and we worked for months to make it all happen. It was a huge success... but I digress. I was in charge of keeping the check-out queue moving smoothly so I spoke to hundreds of folks in line. Everyone was lovely and I must have said, 'Have a nice day' dozens of times. I meant it every time.

Until 'he' showed up. We spoke briefly, as he was trying to push ahead and I asked him to stay behind the line until a cashier opened up. I tried to engage in small talk, 'How'd you make out?' 'Find anything good?' etc. etc. He wasn't having any of it. A cashier opened up and I pointed it out and moved aside so he could get past. And then I said, 'Thanks for coming. Have a nice day.' He looked over his shoulder and rolled his yes stating, 'Americans!'

I wanted to kick him square in the arse but I said, 'Or not. Your choice.' And smiled. I think he hated me just a little more. Whatever!

What's wrong with saying something nice to someone? Sincere or not it still beats a sharp stick in the eye, no?

I actually found it amusing and wasn't about to let his bad mood get to me. But should I cool the 'have a nice day'? I never even thought about it until I read Fancy's post.

The Hunt is Over!

2011-05-09T09:11:00.000+01:00

We have a new flat! Twice the size of the one we're in, close to Cate's school, not far from this flat and in a gorgeous building. I'm so, so relieved that we're moving, and even more relieved that I don't have to look anymore. I saw 23 flats all together. We're being vetted this week, and I'm fairly sure we'll be fine, can't imagine why we wouldn't be, and then we'll move next month. I cannot, cannot wait.

The lounge at the new place

I'm so delighted to have a large lounge, with a fireplace (doesn't work, but it has a lovely mantle), a nice bay window, high ceilings (12 feet), no steps to go up and down (with a stroller it's been rough at this place), a WALK-IN closet with a window too, loads of storage, an eat in kitchen and the best part - the second bedroom is large enough for both kids and all their stuff. Fen and I will finally have our own bedroom again - no little baby snoring through the night (okay, I may miss that a little).

There are a few downsides - it's only two bedrooms, and one bathroom - which is a little dated. The oven looks to be circa 1979 but I've requested a new one and the building is old which means loads of charm, but it's well...old. Not enough to put me off - I'm delighted.

It's funny, just over a year ago I was so thrilled to move in here. After the rotten time we had, this place was a godsend. But it was a snap decision and I didn't really consider much before I just moved us in to get us out of the first place.But after we moved in and realized just how much stuff we had the walls started to close in on us. And there were issues like being in a fish bowl - too many of the neighbors kids liked to come and bang on our windows and call for Cate. And the fact that we've all been sick with one thing or another since we moved in. And I never got that herb garden in my kitchen window as there was no sill. Well, there's a sill in the new place - fingers crossed I finally get it.

Here's the irony - we got rid of all of our stuff - gave it to charity, chairs, tables, bed, dresser drawers, etc. because we didn't have the room. The new place is unfurnished. Heavy sigh. First stop: Ikea.

X's Babyroyale luxury blankie

2011-05-06T14:07:00.001+01:00

A few weeks ago Hello Baby sent me one of their bamboo-cotton blankets to try. X already had a blanket that he loved and I wasn't sure if he'd go for it. But once I covered him with it one night in his cot, he cuddled up to it and it was love.

When he came out the next morning carrying the blanket, Cate took one look and wanted it too! There was a tug-o-war for a little while over who would claim it as their own and I thought Cate was going to be the winner for a while there, but X managed to keep it to himself. It was actually cute, as soon one of them would put it down, the other would snatch it up and snuggle it. But X is the victor and it's his friend now.

I can't say as I blame him. It's so beautifully soft and surprisingly sturdy. It is a woven texture made from 70% bamboo/30% organic cotton - it's like a heavenly cloud. It's technically a receiving blanket so it's the perfect size for my little man to carry around with him. And he carries it everywhere.

Babyroyale is a small Hertfordshire based company that was formed to create a range of premium and ethically sourced baby products that have a focus on material performance and suitability to infant skin. It is reasonably priced and comes in three colours. This is the first product in their range and all I can say is 'bravo'. I love anything organic, ecologically friendly and good for my kids. X doesn't have a clue about any of that but here's how he feels about it:

It's a key part of his playing and Peppa Pig watching. he even carries it to the dinner table! If he loves it, hey, that's all I need to know!

It's available from Babyroyale directly or the online nursery shop at Hello Baby. Hello Baby also sells a wide range of other baby and nursery stuff including Baby Toys, nursery furniture, travel and safety products.

Royal walkabout after the wedding with pics!

2011-04-30T08:01:00.001+01:00

So we made it down to the mall after our very fun party in the morning for the wedding. Initially I was NOT interested in the wedding at all and we were going to head out of town all together But we thoguht it would be too difficult to get back into the city afterward so we stayed and got into the spirit of the wedding.

I'm so glad we did. We had a marvellous time at our friends house and then around 2:30 headed down to the mall that runs from Trafalgar Square to Buckingham Palace - it was wonderful. The crowd was huge but everyone was in great spirits, the bobbies were nice enough to let me slip out into the mall to snap photos of the palace. We just missed William and Kate in his father's car driving from the Palace to Clarence house - by a few minutes. Darn. But we saw plenty:

St. James Park with London Eye in background

Royal horses nearly ran us over

The royal horse yard with London Eye


Buckingham Palace from the mall (a bobby let me dash out into the mall for this one)

Cate and me at Westminster across from Big Ben

Big Ben and Downing Street in the background

The press boxes across from the palace

Red carpet at Westminster - the workmen let me slip out to snap this. Red carpet was yucky!

Westminster - could get the flags on top as I was too close to the fence and it was crowded

Me and the kids on the mall facing Trafalgar

The kids were bored for mosf of the time but I figure they'll be pleased when their older that we dragged them down there on the day. But here's how they ended up:


He was more delighted to crawl around in the golfcart ambulance (with their permission)


Cate asleep on Daddy's head infront of Westminster

It was a good day all around!

Dusting off the tiara...

2011-04-28T10:33:00.000+01:00

Okay, so I've decided to join in the fun and watch the wedding. It didn't take much coaxing to be honest. As the day draws near there is an undeniable excitement in the air here in London and I don't want to miss out.

No, I'm not going to camp outside Buckingham Palace or Westminster Abbey tonight like these folks - let's not go crazy here. But I have chosen one of Cate's tiaras to wear over at a friends house tomorrow for champagne brunch and a large screen telly. Should be fun as this is a fun bunch of folks.

Originally we were heading to Windsor for the day but travelling tomorrow is going to be a nightmare getting back into the city and seeing how I'm just getting over a wretched stomach bug (that's right sick AGAIN) and we've been out and about seeing the sights 'round the place, we didn't want to bother with it. We'll go next week instead.

So, I've popped some champagne in the fridge to bring, have dusted off the tiara, hired a sitter, bought a William and Kate flag and roped in the husband too. We're off to see the wedding...

Royal madness

2011-04-25T11:49:00.001+01:00

Sorry for my absence - I've been up to my eyeballs with work, kids off school, illnesses (of course) and flat hunting. But I would be remiss if I didn't say something about the upcoming royal wedding which is about to over take London. I think it's wonderful that Princess Diana's son, the future king of England, found true love with someone who truly loves him and seems quite darling - at least to me. He deserves it, as does Ms. Middleton.

I just wonder if she's thinking, tonight is the last Monday night I go to bed as one of the great unwashed. Next Monday I'll be a princess!! I know that's what I'd be thinking. I wonder if she's picked out her crown yet. It must be quite a surreal feeling to know that the children she will bear will be related to King Henry VIII, Elizabeth I, Queen Victoria, etc. all those folks you read about in history books are now your family. Quite a huge undertaking if you ask me. But she seems like she's up for the task and William seems like a really normal fellow - with the whole future-king thing as an added bonus.

The city has gone a little bonkers. My sisters in New York and the Bahamas are gearing up to watch the wedding. I've sent them a few mementos which I hope arrive before the wedding such as Kate and Will face masks, flags and guides to the wedding. And I am under strict orders to buy every magazine and newspaper the day after. I've also picked up a few commerative engagement plates and teacups and will buy matching wedding ones as well - for them, not me.

I, on the other hand, really don't care about it. I think it's nice they're in love and getting married. And with the world in it's current state, it's nice to have a happy, uplifting diversion for a day. But I will not be one of the millions lining the streets of London hoping to catch a glimpse of them on their way to Buckingham palace. I won't even be watching on the telly. I will be at their official residence of Windsor for the day having a nice touristy looksee at one of Princess Catherine's new homes - well, the open-to-the-public (read: great unwashed) rooms. We might even go to Legoland.

I'll tape it and show it to Cate later in the day so she can see a real life princess in her carriage with her handsome prince. And then I'll let her know Kate is a highly educated, working woman who married the prince because she genuinely loved him, not because she needed rescuing like the Disney princesses seem to need. Now, that's a real life fairy story ya!

Well, cheers to the happy couple. I'll bet she's pregnant by the end of the year. Hopefully it will be a girl who will be the future queen of England. Maybe she'll meet my X at school in 18 years and he will be the future husband to the queen. I like the sound of that. Now that's a REAL modern fairy tale.

Future King X

Weird days

2011-04-17T14:16:00.001+01:00

I've had a weird few days. Cate has been acting up a lot lately and it's really getting me down. The fact that I'm, once again, recovering from a nasty head cold and a rotten asthma attack, doesn't help.

Cate had a massive asthma attack on a playground with friends earlier this week and it set everything in motion. I had to cut our play date short to rush her over to the doctor. The poor little girl couldn't even run or play or anything. She was just coughing and throwing up. It was awful. We got it under control and two days later we enlisted in Fairy School.

I've been overindulging Cate because she's been ill, I should preface this post with that fact. We met a friend there with her little girl, who is just adorable. The two girls had a wonderful time. But there were two factors that made the day weird. Cate was sloshing glue all over the little bunny bag she was supposed to be decorating, so I stepped in and showed her how to put sprinkles on it. She had a fit. Granted I should have just stayed out of it and let her slap glue on it if she wanted. She smacked me, four times. I was stunned. If we were at home she would have been put in a time out and the crafts would have been put away. But we were in public and I'm never sure what to do. I bent down to eye level and held her shoulders and said quite firmly, "Don't you dare hit me again. We will go right home. Right now. Do you understand me?" She nodded but was huffy and acted like a brat. I let it go but I was embarrassed and kinda shaken.

There was also one of 'those' mothers - stick thin, wearing a pair of cargo pants that didn't quite fit so her butt was hanging out and she was in our faces hoisting up her waistline for two hours. My friend and I were quite annoyed - she was also photo-mad - taking pictures of her child and standing all over so no one else could get in. My friend was irritated and I don't blame her. It was her daughter's first Fairy School so she wanted to document it. Cate is a veteran at three trips to Fairy School.

The kids had a wonderful time, regardless of Cate's acting up and the annoying mom. As we were leaving I bent over to pick up my purse, scarf, Cate's jacket, etc. I noticed a £10 note on the ground. I had slipped my change into my pocket which included a ten pound note. I picked it up, assuming it was mine and we left.

About three hours later when we were heading out again, I stuck my hands in my pockets and noticed I had TWO ten pound notes! I was aghast. I had picked up someone else's money. I called my friend to see if she was missing it. I know it's not a big deal but still! I have never stolen anything - well, I take that back. I did steal the odd boyfriend or two back in the day when I was young and foolish. She never got back to me so I'm assuming: 1. she thinks I'm weird, or 2. she didn't get the message. Either way, I put the money in the collection plate at mass today. I don't need bad karma!

The house hunting had me in a tizzy as well. The place I was really hoping would be 'the one' was terrific but when Fen and the estate agent went into look at the master bedroom, the current tenant admitted that there was a mold problem with the flat and that clinched it for me. I'm running away from mold, I certainly don't want to walk into another bad situation! Everything else I'm being shown is not cutting it - at all.

I guess I'm being negative - I don't mean to be. I'm having one of those weeks where nothing is really flowing right. I feel like I'm stuck in the wrong gear or something. Maybe it's lack of alcohol - I gave it up (during the week) for Lent. That and sweets. Thank heavens there's only one week left until Easter. I expect to be in a drunken stupor by the time the royal wedding occurs.

The one real highlight of the week: London Book Fair and dinner with Lou from Larches at the Archers. She's ALWAYS a good time.

The hunt begins...

2011-04-12T13:51:00.001+01:00

Tomorrow I'm going to see another flat. This will be the fourth that I've seen. The others were just to see what was out there, and none of them were right - I call them test runs. However, tomorrow the hunt begins in earnest and I have my eye on a great one - at least it's great on paper. I'll have to see if it's up to snuff in person.

My dream: giant mansion with many, many rooms and loads of ground - acres if possible with a pond featuring a spouting fountain. Much like Oprah's home above. What I'll settle for: two bathrooms, outdoor space, more room and less stairs upon entry. Space and two bathrooms are the real must haves. Everything else is negotiable.

I know one thing for certain - the next place we live in, regardless if it's 'perfect' or not - is where we're going to stay for a few years if not for the remainder of our time in London. It will be the fourth place we've lived in London in 14 months! That's crazy.

Cate was told we might be moving and she doesn't quite get it. But she does understand that this means a bigger bedroom for her. We haven't mentioned that X will be living with her, regardless if we have three bedrooms or not. We decided before he was born we want the two of them to share until Cate is about 7 or 8 - when she'll want sleepovers. She's started to mark the Argos catalog for beds she'd like and other necessary items such as a princess night stand complete with light, mosquito netting in pink with fairies, and posters. This is all for her 'new bedroom'. Hmmm... she certainly caught on quick enough.

I don't think I mentioned that she got into our number one school choice and I'm absolutely delighted. We confirmed the acceptance and she is IN, baby! So now my hunt starts in earnest within a half mile circle of her school.

This place tomorrow is in that radius. It has two large bedrooms, large lounge, open plan kitchen/dining/living, a conservatory, large patio and back yard, two bathrooms, etc. Like I said - sounds perfect on paper. We'll have to see how it pans out in the end. Fingers crossed folks. We could use a break on the housing front. Keep the good thoughts coming...

Books are here to stay - and a whole lot of crap!

2011-04-10T10:44:00.000+01:00

This week was a complete wash. I have strep throat AGAIN. If it doesn't go away my tonsils are coming out. Ugh. I don't need this. Cate has it now as well. It's Easter break for the next three weeks so she's home on the sofa watching Toy Story 3 while Fen has X out at Toddler's World for some Daddy/son time.

This is the first break I've had to sit down and write. It's true, writing is like a muscle, if you don't exercise it, it's harder to do, you lose a little something. So bear with me!

London Book Fair starts tomorrow and I'll be front and center cruising the isles, running to my appointments and meeting folks. I love a good book fair - Book Expo in the US, London Book Fair and Frankfurt are definitely my favourites. I'm also meeting some folks for a fun dinner tomorrow so I'm looking forward to that.

One of my favourite people on earth is here. She came by yesterday and we went out for lunch, a little exploring of Hampstead and a stroll through the Heath. She's a bigwig in the digital publishing world so it was really interesting to hear her take on the future of this industry. I can't tell you how relieved I was to hear her say that she doesn't think the physical book will ever go away completely.

I'm a book-aholic. Truly. I love reading a good book, turning the pages, dog earring the paperbacks (always a book mark for the hardcovers) and then once done placing it on my shelf like a trophy. I also love cruising bookstores, seeing the books, reading flap copy, taking in the covers and making my decision. I love libraries for the same reason (and more - I love a good library). I even love checking out the book shelves of someone's home - says a lot about a person, I think.

So to hear that the book is here to stay was nice indeed.

Theresa, my friend, and I took the kids to a little pub near the heath that has a cute little garden area. We were catching up on friends, business, and just having a great time. Cate was just beginning to feel lousy so she was unusually quiet, which if you read this blog often enough, you'll realize is VERY out of character for her. but she ate, and sat like a little angel. X was his usual boisterous self - just happy to be involved at the table, munching on fruit, cheese and bread. He kept making the weirdest face - he's a little goofball so I didn't think anything of is until the wind shifted and I got a whiff of him. Realizing that he needed a change I reached over to check.

Oh my heavens it was like he had exploded and stuff was oozing out of the top of his diaper, over his shorts, his jacket, shirt, the high chair. It was disgusting and a unholy mess. Theresa howled laughing. She doesn't have children and I think that's going to remain the case after yesterday! Just as I noticed it the food arrived - we had ordered a few platters of hummous, tabbouli, guacamole, cheese, meats, etc. with bread! It looked great but I had a mess to contend with. To all parents out there - this was a 10 napkin (serviette) and 15 baby wipe job. You know what I mean. He was such a mess I changed him right there on the patio, shielding the other diners, who were very understanding, while I stripped him down, encased all clothes, wipes, napkins in plastic and redressed him in a new, poop-free outfit. He was quite happy about it and continued to eat. I ran to the loo, cleaned up and did what any seasoned parent would do - apologize to the folks, check to make sure the kids were okay and then tucked into lunch and a good laugh with my friend.

Let's hope today goes a tad smoother!

Oops!

2011-04-01T11:20:00.003+01:00

Sometimes I'm a twit. Today was one of those days. Often, I stop into the charity shops to peruse the book shelves. I've found quite a few great books and paid about £1 for them.

Today I popped in one and saw a book I love: Eddie's Bastard by William Kowalski.

I was so surprised to see it I had to pick it up. It's a great book about a baby who is left on the doorstep of a cantankerous old man with a note that simply says, Eddie's Bastard. Eddie is the man's charismatic son, who died in the war but apparently had an affair that resulted in this child. The old man takes the child in, names him Billy, which leads to a fascinating, yet unconventional childhood.

It's an absorbing coming-of age story, but is funny and tragic yet always fresh. It begins with a birth, ends with a death and has a middle filled with wisdom and wonder set around a once great family in a once great town.

I opened it and was shocked to see it was a first edition AND signed by the author. I was so excited I paid the £1 and rushed home to put it next to my own signed edition that I've had since the book was published in 1999 - it was edited by my boss at HarperCollins when I worked there and signed by Mr. Kowalski in our offices. I couldn't wait to email my old boss and tell her what I'd found in London!

Well, imagine my surprise when I couldn't find my edition. Then I remembered in my absolute haste to move last year I packed up most of my work clothes, boxes of books, etc. and lugged them all over to that charity shop and donated them. It took them that long to unpack the rest of my boxes, take out my edition of Eddie's Bastard, place it on the shelf and then have me breeze in and re-buy the book I donated a year ago. What a doofus!

I won't be donating it again. In fact, I think it's high time I reread it!

Overprotective or right on the mark?

2011-03-27T17:03:00.000+01:00

Cate's class went to the London Zoo last week but I wouldn't let her go with them. I'm trying desperately not to be a hover mother, but I couldn't help myself this time.

My child enjoys her school and the school is great. She's learning a lot and I'm very, very happy with the education she's receiving. But they are not really overly protective of her which annoys me. For instance, I see photos of Cate playing in the playground, in the dead of winter, without her coat buttoned up. They don't oversee her bathroom breaks (no need to elaborate), she doesn't eat much for lunch and often comes home ravenous, they rarely wipe her nose, and with her ear infection two weeks ago, she would have leaks that came out of her ear, into her hair and then down her cheek and neck. I've complained about attention to detail but it falls on deaf ears (oh, the irony).

When they said they were going to the zoo I signed her up and paid the fee and volunteered to go with them as a chaperone. But I was turned down. I had no sitter for X and siblings were not welcome. Therefore I was not welcome.

The rule was to drop my daughter off at the zoo and then pick her up five hours later as they weren't hiring a bus or taking public transportation.

This made me very, very nervous. Cate likes to run ahead, sneak behind things, play hide and seek (when no one else even knows the game is on!) and is basically....just a three year old. She's not shy and does like to speak up but under pressure she clams up. She knows her first and last name and our names but is too young for phone numbers, etc. I was not comfortable, at all, letting her go without Fen or me there to keep an eye on her.

Now, I don't want to knock the teachers or the other parents, but with 35 kids going - it would be easy for my little one to slip away. I thought long and hard about it and decided she was not going. It only takes a second for a life changing accident to happen and if anything went wrong - even if Cate went missing for 10 minutes I would completely lose it. I'd turn into that lion!

According to the Guardian, in 2009 over 500 children were abducted in the UK. Granted the majority are taken by a divorcing parent - but still! She's a cute kid and I want her safe here with me.

This is not to knock the school or it's supervisors - it's all about me and my child. She's too young to go to a huge place like the zoo without a parent. Maybe when she's older she can go on a field trip without one of her parents but for now - no.

Think I was right on this one?

Whatever the case, she had to go to the doctor about her ear anyway, so I took her in the morning and then we went to her favourite fairy store for treats, had ice cream, went out to lunch, went to the playground, had movie night with popcorn and then had a friend over the following evening for late night movies (although all they did was run around the flat and play -which was fine). We took her to the Diana, Princess of Wales memorial playground in Kensington Gardens on Saturday afternoon as well. She was spoiled rotten. And deservingly so. we'll go to the zoo when the weather gets better as well.

Regardless of what anyone thinks - I'm comfortable with my decision and I'd do it again tomorrow.

Pushy People

2011-03-20T09:20:00.002Z

Yesterday I was verbally accosted at a playground. It was my first day back out into the world after being sick for seven days! So I was thrilled to be out and it was a gorgeous, gorgeous day.

We started with our usual routine - ballet and then home. Fen took Cate to see Toy Story 3 (again) on the big screen while X napped and I took advantage of my alone time to tidy up and read a little. After lunch, we headed out to Regent's Park to a playground there.

It was a mob scene. Kids were everywhere, so were their parents. I had X and Fen took Cate. For 45 minutes I followed my little guy around, went on the swings, into the sand pit, down slides, and all over. The Fen and I switched and I took Cate. She was on the slides, where there were other kids, bigger, smaller and everything inbetween. She was getting pushed aside, bigger kids, around 8 or 9 were running up the slides and the smaller children were queuing up to slide down them. So cate and I went to another slide.

One boy in particular kept pushing Cate out of the way to make the final three steps up to the slide. I told her it was okay the first few times, then I told her to say something to him so he knew she was there, but he kept doing it. Then I said, "Push your way on, Cate."

Okay, perhaps NOT the best parental advice but the kid was just a bully. However, his father, a short, chubby guy sporting a fanny pack (I kid you not) shouted at me, "Why don't you teach her some manners instead of to push back?"

I was absolutely stunned. His 4 or 5 year old son kept pushing my daughter, and other kids out of the way to get to the slide unapologetically and his father never said one word to him. But the minute I say something to my daughter - to defend herself, he jumps on MY case.

I replied, "Excuse me?" I was so stunned that I was being reprimanded by someone I've never seen before on a playground in front of my child. Meanwhile Cate waited her turn while his son shoved her and another child aside AGAIN.

"I said, 'why don't you teach your daughter some manners instead of telling her to push back?'"

Now, I'm no wallflower and I will fight customer service, airline ticket agents, city hall, etc with vigor. But on a playground with my daughter looking on? I'm not really going to engage someone. So I said the only thing I could think of, "If you had taught your kid manners we wouldn't even be having this conversation, dude." (don't know why I tacked on 'dude' - in the moment thing I guess).

"This is the matter with you parents today..." he started. Cate had just come off the slide. I put my hand up and said, "Whatever, guy. Get over it," and walked away. I walked over to Fen and told him about it and pointed the guy out. But I told him to let it go, which he did.

Cate and I went about our business for another half hour or so. And when it was time to leave. I gathered up X and walked over to our pram to strap him in. Lo and behold there was Fat-Fanny-Pack and his big mouth. He saw me coming and made a hot beeline to a woman standing right next to my pram.

"You won't believe it," he started. "Some woman told her child to push back on a playground. Who does such a thing?" He went on and on as I had my back to him strapping in my 15 month old child. When I stood up and looked at him (the woman was then going on about the downfall of the next generation because parents today were awful) he smirked!! He was taunting me!! So I sneered at him and marched over to Fen.

Fen is a very nice guy, very sweet, gentle, loving and all around wonderful. But he is 6'1" 190lbs solid chunk of Samoan/Kiwi rugby-playing muscle with a scowl to boot. Trust me - you do not want to be on the receiving end of his wrath. He walked across the playground calmly and had words with the guy. I don't know what he said, it was not a scene, but the guy stepped backward and then Fen came back to me. I'm not sure if anyone else even noticed but we walked out of the park. Halfway up Primrose Hill I asked what happened. Fen just said he asked if there was anything else he had to say about his wife or child. He didn't. I'll bet.

My Fen

Now, I don't know if we handled this right or not. I was content to just walk away the first time, but the whole thing upset me. I don't need strife on a playground. Was I wrong to have told Cate to push back (like I said, not my best parenting moment)? Should I have fought back? Should I have not said anything at all? All I know is the guy had NO right to talk to me, at all. Who was he to tell me what to do when his own kid was the troublemaker? I'm still upset about it. A pox on his house...I say.

When zombies and dinosaurs attack!

2011-03-16T14:14:00.002Z

Once again I'm getting over a terrible ailment - had the worst sore throat, fever, chills, sweats, aches, pains for five days now. I've only ventured out to the doctor's office and then on the school runs to drop Cate off. Otherwise, I've been at home, usually alone with X. It is not fun. The good thing is I've finally watched all my taped TV.

I'm not going to gripe about how London is not good for my health because that is just glaringly obvious. But with the fever and the restless sleeping comes nightmares. And when I have a scary dream it's usually a whopper. I dream about my husband dying, or worse - leaving me for someone else, about my children going missing and about being attacked. Two reoccurring themes: the creepy hemocyte, hive dwelling, zombie people from Will Smith's I Am Legend and dinosaurs.

I don't watch scary movies - none of them. Not horror, slasher, sci-fi, vampires, zombies - nu-uh. Not for me. Because of my over active imagination and tendency to ~~overreact~~ worry I take it a little too literally.

When I was pregnant with X we watched I Am Legend because Fen assured me it wasn't that scary. Wrong! Scared me half out of my wits. I used to live right in Madison Square Park so I knew that area well. But we were living in a brownstone in Brooklyn - with bars on the front windows but none on the back which hosted our zombie-friendly back yard. Fen had to travel shortly after that movie and I barely slept because my hormonal brain kept thinking about the horrific zombies from I Am Legend. Honestly, I knew I was being nutty but I couldn't help myself. I thought of escape routes and hiding places for Cate and myself, should anything (including home invaders, thieves, etc.) happened. Complete ludicrous now, but really exhausting then.

I haven't even thought of that movie in about two years - but I dreamt about it last night. I woke up with a start, but rolled right back over and fell asleep.

The dinosaurs stem from Jurassic Park - the original. I love that movie but it scared my some kinda stupid the first time I watched it. The T-Rex in particular. The scene when she busts out of the fences after gulping down the lamb is my favourite one. Even now it wins me over. I do like a little scare from time to time.

But that movie came out in 1993 - when I was first in New York City trying to make it in publishing. Money was tight and sometimes I'd make $20 stretch an entire week. I would dream of dinosaurs when I had financial difficulties and I figured that dinosaurs represented debt to me. I dreamed about them a lot in the mid nineties. I walked to and from work almost every day from east 89th and 1st Avenue to Rockefeller Center when I worked at Simon and Schuster. On that 45 minute walk each way I would entertain myself by window shopping on Madison Avenue (Lord knows I couldn't afford a THING in any of the stores back then) and wondering where I could hide or run to should a giant T-Rex wander up Fifth or Lex. (Mind you - the dinosaurs were all female, so a discerning, fashion forward dino would want the best eats Manhattan had to offer - which is the upper East Side, natch)

But two nights ago the T-Rex from Jurassic showed up in my unconscious mind again. So on the school run yesterday I once again, after about a 15 years lapse, entertained myself with searching Hampstead for the best dinosaur hiding spots. There are plenty - in case you're wondering.

I'm feeling heaps better, but I think that having all this time on my hands isn't good. I wasn't feeling well enough to work, too exhausted to read, sleeping WAY too much and not wanting to eat so cooking was out. I love to read, write, work, cook and get out an about when I'm on my own. So this week has been just an exercise in returning ghosts from the past. Sure don't miss them. And I can't wait to get the heck out of here soon! Almost out of the woods...and happy thoughts... happy thoughts

The Salad Years... or should I say fruit?

2011-03-12T13:02:00.001Z

For the past few nights I've been woken up by one or both kids. This happens all the time, as you may know, but this week I've had trouble falling back to sleep and when I do, I have the weirdest dreams.This often happens when I'm a bit stressed and lacking in sleep.

Last night I had the most vivid dream - of the house that was across the street from us when I was a child. There was a girl named Jamie Sawyer who lived there who was our best home friend (not be be confused with our best school friend, mind you.) My older sister, KK, (she's on the left, my brother Kevin in the middle, my younger sister Tracy is in front, and that's yours truly on the right - and I still have the same hair colour. Hmmm.) and I hung around with Jamie for 6 years until she moved to Marsh Harbour, Abaco. Jamie was one of those girls, even as a young child, who was in a hurry to grow up.

When we were both five years old we got drunk. That's right - likkered up. My father had a collection of miniature liqueur bottles. A lot of them. They were off limits and I never really had any interest in them until Jamie thought we should play with them. Since they were stored in a cabinet we could easily access if we pulled a chair over and climbed on the counter - we helped ourselves. Mixing the booze with water - we cooked. And drank. And then fell into a drunken stupor. My parents were horrified and I'm fairly sure our housekeeper/nanny was fired. We had a period where we ran through them quickly (the housekeepers) and I'm fairly certain she was one of that crew.

That was our only 'bad' time. We spent most of our time having wonderful afternoons, weekends, and school vacations. Between her back yard and ours, we had season upon season of fresh fruit, off the tree to eat. Her yard had tangerines, jujubes, guavas, grapefruits, cherries, key limes, avocado, loquats, gneps and tamarinds. Our yard had sour oranges (a cross between a lemon and orange - delish), mangoes, key limes, coconuts, and sea grapes. You can read about them all here if you're interested.

Every day we'd devour fruit - sometimes we'd pick cherries - not maraschino cherries - tropical cherries which have soft seeds and are more tart. We'd drown them in lime juice and slurp them down. We'd peel limes, grapefruits or tangerines and have eating contests - stuffing them whole into our mouths. Or eating two limes and then taking a sip of milk (don't try it - it's terrible!) One of our more wicked past times was to suck the guts out of a guava, chew it up and wait for a passing car then spit it out as if we were throwing up. Charming. We were only about 8. I've grown to realize this is gross. But it was hilarious at the time. We got in trouble for this a few times when people complained to our parents.

Across the street from our house and next door to Jamie's there was a nice wooded area. We had 'forts' in there - we'd have 'rooms' designated to different things: crafts, cooking, the dormitory (we were fascinating with Enid Blyton and her many characters who went to boarding school), the hospital where we took unsuspecting lizards from time to time to 'operate'. They all made it in the end but I'm sure they were less than pleased with our attention.

We played spy games, Barbies, Fischer Price Little People and everything kids do. We often went swimming at the Johnson's (another neighbor who only had boys). They had the biggest pool on earth. It's a huge pool, complete with baby pool, a slide, a diving board and it was 12 feet deep which was great for diving contests and holding your breath. We'd spend HOURS in that pool. Marco Polo was a favourite.

On Saturdays we'd ask our mom to bring Jamie to the beach with us. We had a membership to a private beach on Paradise Island. In fact, we had our wedding reception at Club Med because it was on this beach. I just love it that much. Atlantis has bought it, much to my dismay, but here's a photo - It's still gorgeous - just imagine how beautiful it was before Atlantis was built:

At the beach we'd swim all day. Or walk out to the end of the rocks (on the left in the background) which was always fun because of a natural canal that ran through it. We liked to try and catch the trapped fish, left behind after the tide rolled out. We'd practice our gymnastics to impress the tourists or beg mom to let us go and buy a fruit punch from the cabana.

Jamie hosted our first sleepovers. At her house - which is what I dreamed of the other night. I haven't thought about it for ages. It wasn't a tremendous house, it just holds a lot of great childhood memories for me from the sound of their old fashioned phone ring (the phone was housed in a nook in the wall), the living room 'stage', their covered patio, Stan's room (he was a teenage cousin who came to go to school on the big island. he was also our babysitter and the nicest guy on earth. He had very cool stuff like black lights, in his room), and so on.

So on this particularly tough night I dreamed I was back in it hanging out with Jamie and KK

When we were twelve Jamie moved, as I mentioned. Her mother had just had another baby, also named Cate, like my daughter. They came back from time to time but around 17 we fell out of touch. Our fathers kept in touch so we heard how she was faring. Jamie was married and having her first child at 17.. She had three children all together and opened a seafood restaurant called the Golden Grouper in her twenties. As I mentioned, I always thought she was in a hurry - she was interested in make up, boys and all the trouble that comes with it, long before we were. She married early, had three kids before she was 24. I could never understand it. But it makes sense to me now - Jamie died about ten years ago from pancreatic cancer. She had a happy life, albeit too short. And I think about her from time to time. But it makes sense that she was in a hurry - she had to have a full life in half the time. And she did.

Whenever I go home, which isn't very often now. I always look over there and wonder what it looks like inside. The neighborhood is very different now - all houses, no woods anymore. And I always think of what a nice, easy childhood I had filled with fresh fruit, beaches, good friends and loads of laughter. I know I'm lucky and I want the same for my kids. I hope they find Jamie's of their own one day.

Cate's First Report Card

2011-03-10T21:24:00.002Z

Here's the little star! Cate is in nursery and we had our first parent/teacher meeting yesterday. Cate is doing very well, I'm delighted to report. Of course we think she's a tiny genius, but truth be told she's quite normal, bright, and adapting well to her not-so-new world. Here are a few of my favourite comments from her report card:

Cate is chatty and likes to join in telling us about what the has got up to at home. Yikes! I will have to watch what I do now!

Her writing is coming along really well - her handwriting is excellent for her age.A future novelist?

Cate has become increasingly confident and independent during her time at Nursery. She settled in well and made friends with many girls. She will play alongside most children and can share and take turns. Hmmm, this is not the case with her brother. Oh dear.

Cate likes all creative activities in the Nursery. Her favourites are painting, playing in the Home Corner. She will join in all Nursery activities when encouraged. She is always keen to join adult initiated activities especially cooking.She loves helping me make dinner. A future chef?

Cate likes to dress up and dance and sing. She enjoys drawing and mummy features frequently. It's nice to be acknowledged!

Cate is happier inside than out, often choosing to stay in to work independently at the writing or creative areas. She is interested in the world about her, she enjoys tactile play and acting out scenarios with the little figures. Fen will be crushed if she's not sporty. I will teach her yoga - you can do that inside!

Overall, she's doing very well. And as you can see, she's becoming quite the ballerina. I think that may be her favourite class of all. Too bad it's at the crack of dawn on Saturdays!

Hector and the Secrets of Love

2011-03-08T07:46:00.000Z

Has this ever happened to you? Someone uses a turn of phrase you've never heard, or you learn about something new and all of a sudden it seems to be everywhere: on the telly, on the radio, your friends are saying it. Well, that's the case with Francois Lelord's Hector and the Secrets of Love for me.

Gallic Books sent me a copy, I thought it was non-fiction, so when it arrived I thought, Geez, I don't know if it's for me. But then I saw it everywhere - in magazines, in every book store - I couldn't get away from it. It was like the cosmos were telling me to read it. So I did.And what a lovely surprise it was!

The general synopsis:
What is the secret formula for love?
Hector, our intrepid psychiatrist, sets off on a new globe-trotting mission – and this time he's looking for LOVE.
One of the world's largest pharmaceutical companies has employed him to track down their brilliant scientist, Professor Cormorant, who has disappeared abroad with the secret of a modern-day love potion.
Leaving behind his troubled relationship with girlfriend Clara, Hector's adventure takes him to the Far East and into the arms of beautiful Vayla, forcing our hero to think deeply about what love really is/means.

It was light, engaging and an easy delightful read. Although it was originally written in French and translated by Lorenza Garcia, nothing was lost in the translation. I'm usually not fond of translated books but Perfume by Patrick Suskind remains one of my favourite books of all times (not the movie, mind you). It did have it's moments of cliched comments on love: 'Love is smiling the moment you see each other' (I may be paraphrasing) but overall it was a thought provoking and practical look at true love. It's peppered with wonderful thoughts on love: 'In love, if we really knew what the other person was saying maybe we wouldn’t understand them at all’ and 'sometimes we argue most with the people we love the most.'

Overall, it's an excellent read. If you're wondering what the secret to love is, this won't solve it but it certain does try and it's an entertaining look at what love is all about. My favourite line: 'love isn’t easy, even for psychiatrists’. Amen to that.

Blasted London Foxes

2011-03-06T12:24:00.000Z

Think this fox is cute? He isn't. He, or one of his ilk, is a serious pain in the neck right now. When we first moved to London I was surprised to hear there were foxes in London. But they are here - en masse - probably outnumbering humans in Hampstead. I've seen a few and they are not cute.

Last night two, or more, foxes decided to get it on in the front garden. It's not a pretty thing, this fox mating - at least it doesn't sound nice. They made an almighty racket and I'm fairly sure it was right outside out window. They may as well have been inside the bedroom (after they were done I swear I smelled cigarette smoke!)

Granted, I was already awake - Cate got up to complain about owls in her room (there aren't any), which woke up X, who is teething and decided to voice his discomfort, and Fen forgot nose-strips so there was a constant growling, rolling-snort emanating from his side of the bed. Then the foxes chimed in. I've been awake since 4:30am! It's madness.

For fifteen years I travelled for work - to conferences, meetings, etc. One year I spent 53 nights in hotel rooms - alone. At first I loved it but then it wore on me and I tired of it. How I longed to settle down, have a family and not have to travel for work. Right now - a hotel room on my own for a single night sounds divine. No kids waking me up, no imaginary owls hooting my children from their slumber, no death-rattle snoring from the man I love, no teething infants shrieking in the night and no blasted London foxes having an orgy in the yard.

And if I were to have that night I would pine away for all the above - minus the fox. I can't win. Ah well. Thank God for wine.

Finding my groove again

2011-03-03T10:32:00.001Z

With half term over and Cate back in school this Tuesday, I'm finding it tough to get back into the groove of working and being a mom. I know I'm not alone in this - in fact I know many women who work and have families. But I work from home, which, again, doesn't make me unique.

For some reason I can't seem to get back into the groove. The past month has been really busy with sick kids to boot. Last week, as you may have read, was busy with a million half term things. Now I have my mornings free to play with X and work when he naps. The nanny arrives in the afternoon and I go to work. I break for dinner, bath, story time and bed, then I'm back to work as I keep New York hours - which happen to be five hours behind London.

It hasn't been a problem before but I can't snap back into it. I still do it, just doesn't feel like it's flowing right now. I juggle a lot of things with my job and I work in just about all my spare time (if there is such a thing). But because I maintain a social life as best I can, most people here don't see it. Which became apparent recently.

The other day a new acquaintance asked me if I was going to a women's club function this week (tonight in fact). I said I had to work (and I do, I have conference calls until 10pm). She looked at me sideways and said, "You work?" We went through the whole, "What do you do" thing. Then she said, "Can't you take the night off? It's not like it's real work. You work from home." Now I don't know this woman well at all and I'm certain she didn't mean to insult me so I just smiled, said, "Well, it sure feels like real work," and got out of the conversation and the store post haste.

Just because I don't dress in a suit, hop on the tube and spend 10 hours a day in an office doesn't mean I don't work. And it doesn't mean what I do isn't real - my clients would beg to differ. I take great pride in what I do and I actually love it. But I was still a little taken aback. I'll get over it.

It was my decision to keep my job, work from home and raise my kids as a part time SAHM. I'm determined to get my groove back soon. And I'll maintain this until both kids are in school. Then I might retire!