HUGE THANKS to Clare & Michael Workman for the wonderful care package which arrived in the post today. It came at just the right moment!
I picked up Seb and Hetta, one of his school mates, at school. I dropped Hetta off at her home and picked up Abigail. We went home to pack our swimming kit for Seb's swim lesson. We walked in the door to discover that Bailey had diarrhea all over his cage and the floor just outside the cage. He had obviously worked very hard to avoid soiling his own bed but didn't seem to care one little bit about my pristine kitchen floor.
As I was cleaning the mess up, our neighbour, Simon, popped round with the package. He dropped it on the counter and left obviously disgusted with the smell!
I finished disinfecting the kitchen and got our swimming gear packed. Whilst I waited for Marc to arrive home I opened up this box to find Mac & Cheese, Goldfish crackers, instant iced tea and the creme de la creme - Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. I sang for joy! I can't even begin to tell you how delightful this was.
Clare & Michael - You are simply the best! Can hardly wait for your visit in September!
Monday, 11 June 2007
Sunday, 10 June 2007
Mary Mary Quite Contrary
The theme for this year's Old Windsor Carnival was Nursery Rhymes. All of the schools and youth groups in the village put together a float (with a lot of help from local sponsors and parents).
Abigail rode on the Old Windsor PreSchool float and their nursery rhyme was Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary. Abigail was one of many ladybirds (aka ladybugs, depending on which side of the Atlantic you live). There were flowers, bumblebees, butterflies, spiders, and s
carecrows. It was beautifully decorated. I am envious of people who are so creative. Mostly I'm just glad their children go to Abigail's PreSchool.We dropped Abigail off at 12:30 and went to get Sebastian's haircut (Steph - you will be relieved!). He looks so handsome. We used to fight with him each time we went. He would cry and fidget. He hated it. My little boy has grown up. He sat in the chair duly checking out every angle of the proceedings in the mirror. He never fidgeted and only complained once about the itchy hair clippings. He told the lady exactly what he wanted. When she was finished, he tipped her.
We returned to our home to grab lawn chairs and raced to the parade route. We made it just in time and I raced to take photographs. We got in the car and parked over by the recreational ground and positioned ourselves and our lawn chairs at the end of he route to catch it all again. I took loads of photos. You can find them all here on Flickr.
That is Abigail's childminder, Jackie as the Queen of Hearts. Her daughter, Georgina is the farthest on the right sitting.
This is our village bobby on the beat, Nick Preston. He has served our village for 25 years. He knows everyone and everyone knows him. It really makes a difference knowing that he's watching out for you!We proceeded to the recreational grounds for the announcement of the float winner. Our little Abigail's float won The Grand First Prize! I know it was all because of one little ladybird that was just as cute as can be.
There were loads of stalls to see all raising money for the various organisations in the community: Scouts, Brownies, Women's Institute, the local boy's football club. Some had games, or bric-a-barc to sell. It was all very well done.
We rode some fun fair rides. Sebastian loves the bumper cars and Abigail really enjoyed the rides which is quite a difference on last year when she screamed blue murder. This year she squealed with delight. Her big brother took quite good care of her.Abigail loves getting her face painted (which Sebastian hates) and she became a tiger (dressed as a ladybird) for the day.
We enjoyed all the typical fair food: candy floss (cotton candy), chocolate covered marshmallows, and ice cream.
We took a break and sat on the grass with Jackie (the child minder) and her family whilst the children tried their feet at some football games. They both won some prizes (more chocolate) but I think they had some help and some partial judging.
We returned home exhausted from the sun and fun. What a GREAT Saturday!
Saturday, 9 June 2007
Donkey Derby
Yesterday was the commencement of the Old Windsor Carnival. The fair always starts with a donkey derby and fireworks on the Friday.I packed a picnic for a family of 8 despite only having a family of 4. I always over pack picnics. We met up with a couple families who
live in the village and some whose children go to Sebastian's school. Good thing I over packed as a couple didn't bring a picnic. So I served up the whole lot of them. I love feeding people.The children ran around and wore themselvess out playing with loads of other children.
The
donkeys raced and it seems the jockeys were able to stay on better than they did last year. The dads in the group kept the children fired up about gambling. They would read out the names for the next race. The children would pick their favourites. And the bets would be placed. A couple people won a couple pounds. But mostly our money went to benefit the community and charity.
The part I loved most about the evening was how everyone knew everyone else. Our little group grew and grew. We saw the children's childminder. We saw Sebastian's riding coach. We saw the osteopath on whose table my water broke.
We watched the sunset which was spectacular. Abigail was the one who brought everyone's attention to it by pointing to the sky saying "Look, the sky pink." She wasn't joking!
Everyone put on their jackets for the fireworks display which is fabulous. On the village green, set to music, fireworks light up all the spectator's faces. The children cry out "Oooooh" & "Aaaaah!" right on cue. Abigail, who isn't exactly fond of fireworks, covered herself (he
ad and all) with a blanket, laid down on a girl's lap and stayed there the entire time. that's her under the blanket in the photo! Seb cuddled up to me and put one ear against my shoulder. And then put his hands over his eyes. OK, maybe I shouldn't take my children to fireworks displays....but I love them!
Writer's Block
Earlier this week I suffered my first attack of writer's block. Normally, I've got loads of posts just waiting to be written and published. I seem to have worked my way through them or if there are any left they either aren't finished yet or just don't seem all that relevant anymore.
It took me a while to get over it. I would sit down and normally the fingers just start going. But not this week. I just would star. Then I'd make some coffee. Sit down and stare some more until I needed another cup of coffee. Nothing I though about sounded interesting.
So I went back to the roots of the blog. I just started writing about everything that happens. And my inspiration found me.
Th last 2 days saw my highest traffic ever. And there I was bemoaning just a few days the drop off. What was I thinking?
It took me a while to get over it. I would sit down and normally the fingers just start going. But not this week. I just would star. Then I'd make some coffee. Sit down and stare some more until I needed another cup of coffee. Nothing I though about sounded interesting.
So I went back to the roots of the blog. I just started writing about everything that happens. And my inspiration found me.
Th last 2 days saw my highest traffic ever. And there I was bemoaning just a few days the drop off. What was I thinking?
Friday, 8 June 2007
Pupil of the Week
Sebastian is St George's Pupil of the Week.And all because of me.....hehehehe!
If you hark your memories back to the post about the whole late to school disaster on Thursday morning, I found out today what happened after Sebastian went through the school doors.
Apparently, he went up to his classroom only to find it empty. Everyone else had already left the school. Sebastian (on his
own volition) put his bags down and went to the school office and found Miss Griffin, the Head of the Pre-Prep Department. He explained the situation and she walked him (at quite a pace apparently) up the hill. As they were making rapid progress, Sebastian apparently told her "Wow, you can actually run quite quickly for someone of your age."Yikes! Not exactly what you want to say to the principal but she thought it was charming, thank goodness.
He w
as given the Pupil of the Year award for behaving very sensibly and acting calmly and independently. Or so he tells me. How cool is that?!?!?!Furthermore, he got ANOTHER 10 out of 10 on his spelling test. that makes only 3 weekly tests since Christmas that he hasn't got a perfect score. He works very hard for that score all week.
Finally, he was awarded a candle award this week for Good Work. This is given when they repeatedly do good work in all of their classes. This is his 5 candle award this year. Some of those other one's were for good behaviour (which are a little easier for him to earn given his high charm factor).
And I am sooooo proud of him.!
All About America
Phew! I survived!The Year 1 children of St George's are now suitably educated about the vital statistics of the good ol US of A. They know how big it is. They know how many people live there. they know how some of us got there. They know what the flag looks like and why. They know about the geography. They know about the diversity in the landscape, the weather, and the people. And They know that we founded Krispy Kreme donuts, and McDonald's, and Coca Cola. All the important stuff.
May of the children have visited before: Chicago, Boston, new York, Los Angeles. I was very impressed with just how well travelled these children are. In fact, one child told me he'd been to all 50 states. I reckon he was a bit mistaken. Bless.
Thank goodness the teachers were there to help me keep control. they stepped in a required moments to keep order. We had quite a few children who didn't want to ask questions but did want to tell me lots of other stuff.
The funny thing was I would ask a question. Everyone (or nearly everyone) would raise their hand. I'd call on somebody. And they would say they didn't know. Now I ask you, why did they raise their hand?
The prize for the most insightful question goes to Jamie Cook for wanting to know why Americans should be respectful to the flag.
Most of the questions were around the animals and if they would see a moose if they went to America. They wanted to know if I'd seen any.
Armand knew who the president was. Very impressive!
This was fun but I'm glad I only had 40 minutes. I have a new found appreciation for how hard it is to be a teacher!
Throw the Baby Down the Stairs
When Sebastian was about 4 months old he was invited to his first birthday party. Brooke, the little girl who lived next door to us (when we lived in Windsor) was celebrating her 2 year birthday.
This was Sebastian's first birthday invitation but given he was only 4 months old I am sure I was more excited than he was.
I raced around like a blue a** fly getting myself ready and getting Sebastian ready because god knows it takes a new mother all day to do this. I had both of us all dressed without any vomit, spit up or poo on us. I even had managed to get makeup including lipstick on.
I was racing down the stairs so that we would be ready to leave the minute daddy walked in from his hard day at the office.
I have this rather bad habit of piling things up on the steps to go upstairs. I blame my mother. She always did it when I was a child and now I do it. Frankly, even if she didn't I'd still blame her. She doesn't mind.
There was a huge pile of magazines that needed to be taken upstairs that I had put there that morning. In my rushing down the stairs with a baby in my hands, I forgot about the pile of magazines. My foot hit the magazines. The magazines flew up in the air as my foot slipped. Sebastian slipped out of my arms.
Time stopped. In ever so slow motion, I saw Sebastian flying through the air. I saw my arms reaching out to catch him. I saw my hands miss. I saw him hit the steps. I saw him bounce down the last couple of steps. I saw my body falling from forward motion almost land on him. at the last minute, time sped up and I threw myself sideways over the side of the stairs and hit my face on the wall and wedged my shins in on the bottom of the side of the stairs.
I freed myself by just picking up my feet and slumping to the ground in the hallway. I crawled to Sebastian who had done the silent scream as he hit the ground quickly followed by the blood curdling scream of intense shock. I tell you, I could have been paralyzed and still gotten to him.
I gathered him up into my arms and rocked. He wasn't bleeding. His head wasn't caved in. He stopped crying. Marc walked through the door to find Seb & I crumpled in a mess on the floor at the foot of the stairs. I mumbled through my tears what happened.
We rushed off to the hospital. Because Seb was so young, they looked him all over and made sure he was OK. Once he got the green light, we realised my nose was bleeding and my shins were all cut up. I hadn't even noticed. And I didn't care.
Mum of the Year Moment! I still feel guilty. I never stack magazines on the stairs. And if he fails at life he can blame me for throwing him down the stairs!
This was Sebastian's first birthday invitation but given he was only 4 months old I am sure I was more excited than he was.
I raced around like a blue a** fly getting myself ready and getting Sebastian ready because god knows it takes a new mother all day to do this. I had both of us all dressed without any vomit, spit up or poo on us. I even had managed to get makeup including lipstick on.
I was racing down the stairs so that we would be ready to leave the minute daddy walked in from his hard day at the office.
I have this rather bad habit of piling things up on the steps to go upstairs. I blame my mother. She always did it when I was a child and now I do it. Frankly, even if she didn't I'd still blame her. She doesn't mind.
There was a huge pile of magazines that needed to be taken upstairs that I had put there that morning. In my rushing down the stairs with a baby in my hands, I forgot about the pile of magazines. My foot hit the magazines. The magazines flew up in the air as my foot slipped. Sebastian slipped out of my arms.
Time stopped. In ever so slow motion, I saw Sebastian flying through the air. I saw my arms reaching out to catch him. I saw my hands miss. I saw him hit the steps. I saw him bounce down the last couple of steps. I saw my body falling from forward motion almost land on him. at the last minute, time sped up and I threw myself sideways over the side of the stairs and hit my face on the wall and wedged my shins in on the bottom of the side of the stairs.
I freed myself by just picking up my feet and slumping to the ground in the hallway. I crawled to Sebastian who had done the silent scream as he hit the ground quickly followed by the blood curdling scream of intense shock. I tell you, I could have been paralyzed and still gotten to him.
I gathered him up into my arms and rocked. He wasn't bleeding. His head wasn't caved in. He stopped crying. Marc walked through the door to find Seb & I crumpled in a mess on the floor at the foot of the stairs. I mumbled through my tears what happened.
We rushed off to the hospital. Because Seb was so young, they looked him all over and made sure he was OK. Once he got the green light, we realised my nose was bleeding and my shins were all cut up. I hadn't even noticed. And I didn't care.
Mum of the Year Moment! I still feel guilty. I never stack magazines on the stairs. And if he fails at life he can blame me for throwing him down the stairs!
Thursday, 7 June 2007
On the Way to Nursery
Tonight Marc & I went to the New Parent's Evening at St George's in preparation for Abigail's start in Nursery in September. We get to meet her teachers (who we already know and trust implicitly). And we got to meet some of the new parent's who don't already have children at St. George's. This is one of the many baby steps we take on our journey to Abigail starting school.
First we registered her, when she was just 2 months old. She was assured a place because her older brother already goes there so we didn't have the agony of the wait like we did when we registered Sebastian at 6 months.
Tonight, the school laid out what lies ahead. Abigail will have a "practice" day on 18 June. She will go to school. We hope she doesn't burn it down. Or get expelled on her first day. We've duly warned the school. We hope they take precautions.
Then we'll pay the first semester of fees. This will be a shock!
Finally, she'll start full time in September. She'll go 5 days/week 8:45-11:45 am. There will be 18 children in her class. There are another 16 in the afternoon class.
When we went through this process with Sebastian, I was frightened of letting him go. I was afraid for him. I wasn't sure if he would be confident enough. I didn't want him to be bullied. Or wee his pants. I mean who was going to help him up on the toilet? (They got him a little stool in the end.) Were they going to understand what he was saying? What if someone was mean to him? Would they make school uniforms small enough for him? (No, we still roll the sleeves on his blazer.)
I don't have any of these fears for Abigail. No, my sadness is quite different with Abigail. She's strong and confident. She's been potty trained since she was 2. Heck, she did it herself. She speak clearly and has a large vocabulary. You never wonder what she's thinking. She tells you. No one will be mean to Abigail....and get away with it. She's a drama queen.
No, I'm afraid for me. She's my baby girl. We still cuddle for hours sitting on the sofa sharing Eskimo and butterfly kisses. I want to do that until she's 16. I know I can't but I want to! Her going off to school means I'm getting old. I can't really say I'm a mother to 2 small children any more. I'm a mother of 2 school age children. Not quite the same, is it?
All children grow up. It's my job to raise them to be adults. I know this. But must it happen all so quickly? Who will I become without my babies? I know I should be excited for her but right now I'm just sad for me.
First we registered her, when she was just 2 months old. She was assured a place because her older brother already goes there so we didn't have the agony of the wait like we did when we registered Sebastian at 6 months.
Tonight, the school laid out what lies ahead. Abigail will have a "practice" day on 18 June. She will go to school. We hope she doesn't burn it down. Or get expelled on her first day. We've duly warned the school. We hope they take precautions.
Then we'll pay the first semester of fees. This will be a shock!
Finally, she'll start full time in September. She'll go 5 days/week 8:45-11:45 am. There will be 18 children in her class. There are another 16 in the afternoon class.
When we went through this process with Sebastian, I was frightened of letting him go. I was afraid for him. I wasn't sure if he would be confident enough. I didn't want him to be bullied. Or wee his pants. I mean who was going to help him up on the toilet? (They got him a little stool in the end.) Were they going to understand what he was saying? What if someone was mean to him? Would they make school uniforms small enough for him? (No, we still roll the sleeves on his blazer.)
I don't have any of these fears for Abigail. No, my sadness is quite different with Abigail. She's strong and confident. She's been potty trained since she was 2. Heck, she did it herself. She speak clearly and has a large vocabulary. You never wonder what she's thinking. She tells you. No one will be mean to Abigail....and get away with it. She's a drama queen.
No, I'm afraid for me. She's my baby girl. We still cuddle for hours sitting on the sofa sharing Eskimo and butterfly kisses. I want to do that until she's 16. I know I can't but I want to! Her going off to school means I'm getting old. I can't really say I'm a mother to 2 small children any more. I'm a mother of 2 school age children. Not quite the same, is it?
All children grow up. It's my job to raise them to be adults. I know this. But must it happen all so quickly? Who will I become without my babies? I know I should be excited for her but right now I'm just sad for me.
Click Comments
You may have noticed a new addition to my blog: ClickComments.
If you haven't, are you blind?
If you have, click!
If you move your mouse to hover over the icons you will see what each of them means. Click on the one that applies to the post you just read. You can still comment. Please don't stop commenting. If you stop, I will remove the ClickComments. I'm hoping this will engage some of my reticent lurkers that don't leave comments to give me some feedback.
If you haven't, are you blind?
If you have, click!
If you move your mouse to hover over the icons you will see what each of them means. Click on the one that applies to the post you just read. You can still comment. Please don't stop commenting. If you stop, I will remove the ClickComments. I'm hoping this will engage some of my reticent lurkers that don't leave comments to give me some feedback.
Another Pizza
OK, so this mum just can't get it right....Normally, Daddy drops Sebastian off at school no later than 8:10 am. He tends to be one of the first ones to arrive. Today, Daddy had an early appointment and I was working from home so I told Marc I would do the drop off. I was working and suddenly realised that it had gone 8:40. He is supposed to be at school by 8:50.
We jumped in the car and I drove like Katrina Mad Woman to the school. We arrived at 8:52. I congratulated myself on only being 2 minutes late.
I returned home. I looked in the diary to check what else the day held only to realise that Sebastian was supposed to be at school at 8:30 this morning. They had a field trip to Pizza Express to make pizzas. I had completely forgotten. And the one morning we were late was the one morning he needed to be early.
I feared the time I had to pick him up knowing that I had let him down and that he probably had missed the field trip.
He came out of the school, proudly carrying his pizza. I was so relieved. Thank god in heaven for Miss Griffin who walked him up to the restaurant after all the other children had already left.
Mental note to self: pay more attention!
A Tough Crowd
Tomorrow I may face my tougher audience yet.
You may remember my level of anxiety around doing a presentation at the Microsoft Utility Forum last month. I survived, In fact I excelled (and I don't mind admitting it!)
Tomorrow I face my toughest audience yet. I am presenting "All About the USA" to Sebastian Year1 class. It will be 2 classes combined together so about 38 children. Everyone is 6 years old (or so). I've got 20 minutes with another 10 minutes for questions.
I've spent hours and hours putting this presentation together. It's got sharp graphics and lots of pictures. Oh man, the panic is setting in!
I'm talking about the size and history of the place. I'm talking about the geography and unique animals.
Any top tips for presenting to children?
You may remember my level of anxiety around doing a presentation at the Microsoft Utility Forum last month. I survived, In fact I excelled (and I don't mind admitting it!)
Tomorrow I face my toughest audience yet. I am presenting "All About the USA" to Sebastian Year1 class. It will be 2 classes combined together so about 38 children. Everyone is 6 years old (or so). I've got 20 minutes with another 10 minutes for questions.
I've spent hours and hours putting this presentation together. It's got sharp graphics and lots of pictures. Oh man, the panic is setting in!
I'm talking about the size and history of the place. I'm talking about the geography and unique animals.
Any top tips for presenting to children?
Losing Things
Just before the school break last week, I bought Abigail a new pair of ballet slippers. She wore them once. Then we had a break which was only a week off. We keep all of Abigail's ballet kit in her dance bag.
This week Marc sent Abigail's dance bag with her to the child minder but left me a message asking where were her ballet shoes. He couldn't find them. I replied, in her dance bag. No, they weren't. I just though it was the fault of male finding skills. Marc isn't so skilled at finding these right in front of his nose.
So I dismissed this as something I could take care of when I got home.
We have turned this house upside down and cannot locate those dang ballet shoes. Where the heck have they gone? This is soooooo frustrating!
This week Marc sent Abigail's dance bag with her to the child minder but left me a message asking where were her ballet shoes. He couldn't find them. I replied, in her dance bag. No, they weren't. I just though it was the fault of male finding skills. Marc isn't so skilled at finding these right in front of his nose.
So I dismissed this as something I could take care of when I got home.
We have turned this house upside down and cannot locate those dang ballet shoes. Where the heck have they gone? This is soooooo frustrating!
Tuesday, 5 June 2007
A Budding Photographer
Sebastian fancies himself as quite the photographer. One of the things I like about the digital camera is I can give it to the children, they can take photos of anything they want, they can see the photographs themselves immediately and retake if they deem necessary. Sebastian is really quite good at framing a picture although I do question his choice of subject. these are some photographs that Seb took over the weekend. The flowers are a bouquet that Veda, Marc's mum, gave me for my birthday.
Whatcha think?
When I am Six
Yesterday my son set off for school one year older and another year wiser. He was so excited we couldn't tie him down. He took some lollipops into school to share with his mates.
After school we enjoyed the meal of his choice: Dominos pizza, delivered. Daddy made a chocolate birthday cake and Granny and Abigail decorated it whilst mummy worked.
He made quite a haul on the pressies including 2 remote controlled cars and one book of Greek Myths that mummy wants to read!
A good time was had by all!
Monday, 4 June 2007
The Gift of a Baby
When Marc and I first found out we were having a baby, mild panic set in. OK, not so mild. Sheer hysteria. We had been together for just a day less than a year. We weren't married. We lived in a small 2 bedroom flat (apartment). Our lives revolved around sailing catamarans (not a child friendly activity). I was working in New York City 2 weeks/month.
Once we got our heads around this, we got down to the busines sof sorting out our lives. We bought a house. We bought furniture. I stopped travelling. We took 2 different sets of birthing classes. I didn't want to risk some vital piece of information left undiscovered. I read books. Lots of books.
The first 3 months of pregnancy, I was sooooooo tired. I would walk in the door after a hard day and not even bother getting undressed. I would flop down on the bed and fall fast asleep. A couple hours later, I'd wake and eat something and go back to sleep. During the day it was all I could do to keep from falling asleep at my desk. I stopped travelling at 5 months.
During the 2nd trimester carpal tunnel (RSI) set in. Bad. So bad on so many levels. I couldn't cut my own food. I couldn't lift a cup of tea. I couldn't drive. I couldn't write. I didn't fit into our shower so I had to take a bath but because of the pain in my hands I couldn't heft myself into or out of the tub. Marc had to lower me down and pick me up, like a crane.
At 7 months, I got a bad case of the flu and cold. Coughing, vomiting (and other stuff). I dislocated a rib coughing so hard and had to see a chiropractor to sort it out. Marc had to do things for me no husband should have to do for his wife. and we weren't even married (yet).
I was huge. I could eclipse the sun. At 4 weeks before the due date, my mother arrived. She helped Marc with the laundry (Not much back then. It was just the two of us). She did some cooking. Bu mostly, she kept me company whilst Marc was at work and worked in my garden.
I had one night where my mum had gone off to the pub with a friend she had made. I had some very strong Braxton Hicks and I was convinced that baby was coming. But after a few hours, I contractions subsided and I just went to bed. It felt like this baby was never going to arrive
A week or so before my due date (7 June), I started to break out into a nasty rash all over my abdomen. It itched so badly, I scratched until I was bleeding. My mum convinced Marc to take me to the midwife who instructed us to pack a bag and go straight to the hospital.
The bag was packed. It had been for months in advance. The doctors thought I might have choleostasis which is where your liver stops processing the bile from your stomach and can poison the baby. So they induced labour.
And induced labour. And induced labour. I had drips. I had creams. I had a very scary midwife sticking her fingers where no finger shad gone before her. I had contractions. For 3 days!!!!! In the end, he wasn't coming out the way nature intended and I conceded to having a c-section.
We waited for what seemed like ages for the surgical crew to come and get us. I got the epidural which I seem to remember didn't hurt as badly as it did when I got the one for Abigail. They wheeled me into the operating theatre and I knew that in the next 10 minutes I was going to have a baby. Mild panic really set in.
Marc and the anethesist were talking about sailing. I had to remind him that they were going to pull a baby out of me and he needed to pay attention. He did and they did.
They announced it was a boy and held him up over the curtain for us to see. He was a mini-Marc. He looked just like my husband only in miniature. He was huge. He'd been born 6 years ago today (3 days before his official due date) and he was beautiful. He had great big cheeks and a scrunched up little nose. Marc cut the umbilical cord. And took loads of photos.
I spent ages in recovery alone. They changed this when Abigail was born and I didn't have to be separated from her in recovery but waiting to be reunited with my son and husband was the longest 20 minutes.
And then they handed him over to me. At 37, I was a mother. I never thought that moment would come. I was in awe of myself, my body, the whole process. Mostly I was in awe of this little man. He smelled so sweet. How do they get that smell? I grew a wee little human being inside of me and produced this most perfect little creature.
He breast fed like a champion and within 3 days, Marc and I took our perfect little boy home with us. We put him down in his car seat in the middle of the lounge and just stared at him wondering what in the world were we supposed to do now.
We are still wondering. That's precious little baby is 6 years old today. He has grown into a charming, clever, industrious boy. It is a joy to be a part of his family.
I love you, Sebastian! Happy Brithday!
Once we got our heads around this, we got down to the busines sof sorting out our lives. We bought a house. We bought furniture. I stopped travelling. We took 2 different sets of birthing classes. I didn't want to risk some vital piece of information left undiscovered. I read books. Lots of books.
The first 3 months of pregnancy, I was sooooooo tired. I would walk in the door after a hard day and not even bother getting undressed. I would flop down on the bed and fall fast asleep. A couple hours later, I'd wake and eat something and go back to sleep. During the day it was all I could do to keep from falling asleep at my desk. I stopped travelling at 5 months.
During the 2nd trimester carpal tunnel (RSI) set in. Bad. So bad on so many levels. I couldn't cut my own food. I couldn't lift a cup of tea. I couldn't drive. I couldn't write. I didn't fit into our shower so I had to take a bath but because of the pain in my hands I couldn't heft myself into or out of the tub. Marc had to lower me down and pick me up, like a crane.
At 7 months, I got a bad case of the flu and cold. Coughing, vomiting (and other stuff). I dislocated a rib coughing so hard and had to see a chiropractor to sort it out. Marc had to do things for me no husband should have to do for his wife. and we weren't even married (yet).
I was huge. I could eclipse the sun. At 4 weeks before the due date, my mother arrived. She helped Marc with the laundry (Not much back then. It was just the two of us). She did some cooking. Bu mostly, she kept me company whilst Marc was at work and worked in my garden.
I had one night where my mum had gone off to the pub with a friend she had made. I had some very strong Braxton Hicks and I was convinced that baby was coming. But after a few hours, I contractions subsided and I just went to bed. It felt like this baby was never going to arrive
A week or so before my due date (7 June), I started to break out into a nasty rash all over my abdomen. It itched so badly, I scratched until I was bleeding. My mum convinced Marc to take me to the midwife who instructed us to pack a bag and go straight to the hospital.
The bag was packed. It had been for months in advance. The doctors thought I might have choleostasis which is where your liver stops processing the bile from your stomach and can poison the baby. So they induced labour.
And induced labour. And induced labour. I had drips. I had creams. I had a very scary midwife sticking her fingers where no finger shad gone before her. I had contractions. For 3 days!!!!! In the end, he wasn't coming out the way nature intended and I conceded to having a c-section.
We waited for what seemed like ages for the surgical crew to come and get us. I got the epidural which I seem to remember didn't hurt as badly as it did when I got the one for Abigail. They wheeled me into the operating theatre and I knew that in the next 10 minutes I was going to have a baby. Mild panic really set in.
Marc and the anethesist were talking about sailing. I had to remind him that they were going to pull a baby out of me and he needed to pay attention. He did and they did.
They announced it was a boy and held him up over the curtain for us to see. He was a mini-Marc. He looked just like my husband only in miniature. He was huge. He'd been born 6 years ago today (3 days before his official due date) and he was beautiful. He had great big cheeks and a scrunched up little nose. Marc cut the umbilical cord. And took loads of photos.
I spent ages in recovery alone. They changed this when Abigail was born and I didn't have to be separated from her in recovery but waiting to be reunited with my son and husband was the longest 20 minutes.
And then they handed him over to me. At 37, I was a mother. I never thought that moment would come. I was in awe of myself, my body, the whole process. Mostly I was in awe of this little man. He smelled so sweet. How do they get that smell? I grew a wee little human being inside of me and produced this most perfect little creature.
He breast fed like a champion and within 3 days, Marc and I took our perfect little boy home with us. We put him down in his car seat in the middle of the lounge and just stared at him wondering what in the world were we supposed to do now.
We are still wondering. That's precious little baby is 6 years old today. He has grown into a charming, clever, industrious boy. It is a joy to be a part of his family.
I love you, Sebastian! Happy Brithday!
Sunday, 3 June 2007
Sunday Funday
Sunday was a proper summer day. Our temperatures soared to over 36 degrees C. We set up the pool in the garden for the children. We cleared out our garage and Marc made 2 trips to the tip (dump). We still have another 1/2 load to go but thought we would wait for me to some clearing up in the house first. The lawn and the garden look fabulous.
Sebastian had 2 birthday parties this weekend, one Saturday and one Sunday. Isaac turned 6 on 31 May. He is Sebastian's very first friend. I met Isaac's mummy, Keeley, at our National Childbirth Trust (NCT) classes and Isaac was the first baby born to the group. Sebastian was the next. Isaac just lives down the road from us.
Abigail is struggling with the idea of not being "invited" to Seb's friend's parties. Not sure how to make this clear to her. she goes to parties on her own that Seb is not invited to but she just thinks everyone should invite her. She through another tantrum today when Seb went off to Hetta's party. Hetta also turned 6 and goes to school with Seb at St George's. Hetta also lives in Old Windsor although a bit further from us (about 1/2 mile). Her house is just down the road from Sir Elton John's house.
I went with the neighbour, Gill, to watch one of her mates, Carol, play lawn bowls. I've never seen the game and it was very enjoyable even to watch. Once I figured out the basics I could easily see how this could be a fun game. It's a bit like curling without the ice. And the lawn is NOT flat which I think would make it doubly difficult. Most of the people playing were older (over 60s) but there were a few youngens. Don't think I'll be taking this up anytime soon though. I've got enough to keep me busy.
Tonight I've got a birthday cake to bake and presents to wrap. At the dinner table I asked Sebastian what tomorrow was. He paused and Abigail jumped in, "It's Shake's birthday!" No moss growing on that stone!
Editor's Note: Shake is Abigail's nickname for Sebastian. Don't ask....we don't know why.
Sebastian had 2 birthday parties this weekend, one Saturday and one Sunday. Isaac turned 6 on 31 May. He is Sebastian's very first friend. I met Isaac's mummy, Keeley, at our National Childbirth Trust (NCT) classes and Isaac was the first baby born to the group. Sebastian was the next. Isaac just lives down the road from us.
Abigail is struggling with the idea of not being "invited" to Seb's friend's parties. Not sure how to make this clear to her. she goes to parties on her own that Seb is not invited to but she just thinks everyone should invite her. She through another tantrum today when Seb went off to Hetta's party. Hetta also turned 6 and goes to school with Seb at St George's. Hetta also lives in Old Windsor although a bit further from us (about 1/2 mile). Her house is just down the road from Sir Elton John's house.
I went with the neighbour, Gill, to watch one of her mates, Carol, play lawn bowls. I've never seen the game and it was very enjoyable even to watch. Once I figured out the basics I could easily see how this could be a fun game. It's a bit like curling without the ice. And the lawn is NOT flat which I think would make it doubly difficult. Most of the people playing were older (over 60s) but there were a few youngens. Don't think I'll be taking this up anytime soon though. I've got enough to keep me busy.
Tonight I've got a birthday cake to bake and presents to wrap. At the dinner table I asked Sebastian what tomorrow was. He paused and Abigail jumped in, "It's Shake's birthday!" No moss growing on that stone!
Editor's Note: Shake is Abigail's nickname for Sebastian. Don't ask....we don't know why.
The Quick Family
If you are a CP blog regular, you've read comments posted by Brooke. If you are related to me you can go check out our family tree on http://www.geni.com/ to see how she's related to you. If you are not related to me, she's a second cousin (or something like that) on my dad's side. She lives in Omaha, NE USA which is where I was born.
Brooke's Dad, Kim, is my dad's cousin but he's only 8 years older than me and I've always been fond of him. Kim used to come from Nebraska to visit his Aunt Joyce, my grandmother, in Denver when I was young. (NOTE: Kim is a man. Yes, I know this is a woman's name. Don't tell him. He's like 6'7" and he works for the Teamsters so he knows people who will kick your booty!) Kim lives with his wife, Brenda, and his two younger daughters, Mary and Bailey in a wee little smalltown in the middle of the USA, Fremont, NE. We are talking corn country!
One year Kim brought his snowmobile out to Denver with him and somehow talked my mother and father into letting him take 3 of us snowmobiling up in the Rocky Mountains. I must have been about 12. Shelby would have been about 10. And George must have been about 8. I don't seem to remember Tyson and Stephanie being there so they must have been to young to go along.
If I was only 12 that means Kim was only 20. Now what would my parent's must have been thinking to let 3 of their children go off with a 20 year old snowmobiling I have no idea! And why would a 20 year old bloke want to take 3 children into the wilderness with him?
We went up into the Rocky Mountain National Park. I seem to recall we went up near Estes Park. Kim would drive the snowmobile around with one of us on the back and leave the other 2 of us in the car. Wouldn't do that nowadays, would you?
Finally, it was nearing the end of the day and I talked Kim into thinking that I was old enough to drive myself. So, he let me! I followed the trail, starting slowly at first but quickly gained confidence and speed. With the wind in my hair, I thought I was just sooooo cool!
Then I hit a hill and the snowmobile jumped. I thought I could keep the blades straight but it didn't quite work out that way. When I landed the blades turned suddenly to the left. I went down a steep hill and landed on a piece of ice. I could see the river rushing past me on both sides. At first, I didn't move. And then I started to shake.
I knew crying wasn't going to help. Screaming wasn't going to help. I tried to restart the snowmobile but it was flooded. I tried to push but it wouldn't budge. I must have weighed 70 pounds, so duh!
I sat down getting rather frightened as the day grew grey with the setting sun. And then I heard voices. I yelled out for help and found 4 cross country skiers at the top of the hill above me.
They took off their skies and slid down the hill. They helped me get the snowmobile off the ice. Who am I kidding. They got the snowmobile off the ice. I just stood there on the shore. They got the engine started and one of the guys drove the snowmobile up the hill.
I climbed aboard, thanked them profusely, and headed back to the car, VERY slowly and cautiously. I arrived expecting Kim to yell and scream at me. but, of course, he didn't know what had happened. he just thought I had been having a blast.
I didn't confess the truth of what happened until years later when I was an adult. But I learned so many lessons that day! All thanks to Kim!
Brooke's Dad, Kim, is my dad's cousin but he's only 8 years older than me and I've always been fond of him. Kim used to come from Nebraska to visit his Aunt Joyce, my grandmother, in Denver when I was young. (NOTE: Kim is a man. Yes, I know this is a woman's name. Don't tell him. He's like 6'7" and he works for the Teamsters so he knows people who will kick your booty!) Kim lives with his wife, Brenda, and his two younger daughters, Mary and Bailey in a wee little smalltown in the middle of the USA, Fremont, NE. We are talking corn country!
One year Kim brought his snowmobile out to Denver with him and somehow talked my mother and father into letting him take 3 of us snowmobiling up in the Rocky Mountains. I must have been about 12. Shelby would have been about 10. And George must have been about 8. I don't seem to remember Tyson and Stephanie being there so they must have been to young to go along.
If I was only 12 that means Kim was only 20. Now what would my parent's must have been thinking to let 3 of their children go off with a 20 year old snowmobiling I have no idea! And why would a 20 year old bloke want to take 3 children into the wilderness with him?
We went up into the Rocky Mountain National Park. I seem to recall we went up near Estes Park. Kim would drive the snowmobile around with one of us on the back and leave the other 2 of us in the car. Wouldn't do that nowadays, would you?
Finally, it was nearing the end of the day and I talked Kim into thinking that I was old enough to drive myself. So, he let me! I followed the trail, starting slowly at first but quickly gained confidence and speed. With the wind in my hair, I thought I was just sooooo cool!
Then I hit a hill and the snowmobile jumped. I thought I could keep the blades straight but it didn't quite work out that way. When I landed the blades turned suddenly to the left. I went down a steep hill and landed on a piece of ice. I could see the river rushing past me on both sides. At first, I didn't move. And then I started to shake.
I knew crying wasn't going to help. Screaming wasn't going to help. I tried to restart the snowmobile but it was flooded. I tried to push but it wouldn't budge. I must have weighed 70 pounds, so duh!
I sat down getting rather frightened as the day grew grey with the setting sun. And then I heard voices. I yelled out for help and found 4 cross country skiers at the top of the hill above me.
They took off their skies and slid down the hill. They helped me get the snowmobile off the ice. Who am I kidding. They got the snowmobile off the ice. I just stood there on the shore. They got the engine started and one of the guys drove the snowmobile up the hill.
I climbed aboard, thanked them profusely, and headed back to the car, VERY slowly and cautiously. I arrived expecting Kim to yell and scream at me. but, of course, he didn't know what had happened. he just thought I had been having a blast.
I didn't confess the truth of what happened until years later when I was an adult. But I learned so many lessons that day! All thanks to Kim!
Saturday, 2 June 2007
Beckonscot Model Railway
Yesterday, Uncle John and Auntie Mary took Sebastian and Abigail to Bekonscot Historic Model Village for the day. Sebastian wanted to hurry hurry hurry through. So they went round twice. The second go round he did a quiz (with a lot of help from Uncle John I reckon).
They got to have McDonalds for lunch, which was very exciting! Abigail has not stopped talking about the ice cream so I reckon that's all she ate.
But I'll never know. They won't divulge any details to me despite my best attempts to get it out of them. I suppose this is how it goes. They need their own private places.
They got to have McDonalds for lunch, which was very exciting! Abigail has not stopped talking about the ice cream so I reckon that's all she ate.
But I'll never know. They won't divulge any details to me despite my best attempts to get it out of them. I suppose this is how it goes. They need their own private places.
Blog Visit Drop Off
May was a slow month for the blog growth. Every month since I started I've seen a huge growth in monthly visits.
Not this month. And yet I did more posts than any other month. I had just 24 unique visits more than last month and 3 less page views. I'm not sure how that happens. And May was a long month. If it hadn't been 31 days long I would have had a drop off last month.
I suspect my domain host is partly to blame. It is currently experiencing some infrastructure issues and not being very reliable. But I'm not sure what else might be causing this.
I've noticed that most people read my blog Monday-Friday. Very few people visit on the weekends. That means people are checking my blog from work. Uh-oh! Or they are just too busy on the weekends. That's OK!
I've got loads more visitors than comments. If you're out there lurking, don't be afraid. Leave me a comment and let me know if I'm talking absolute rubbish. Or if you disagree with me. Or is you think you are completely wasting your time but visiting to be polite. Even my husband never comments. He doesn't even visit! He tells me he knows what goes on in our life so why should he go. I'll bet he'd know a lot more if he visited!
I've also noticed that most of Nebraska appears to read my blog but readership in the UK has really dropped off.
And where are all the men? I know I have male readers....don't I?
Am I boring you? Have you told all your friends about the blog? Do you click through on the Google ad?
OK, not that it matters. I'd probably write even if no one read. I kept a journal from the age of 13 and no one ever read that. But if you are enjoying what I write, let me know. If you're not, tell me what you'd like me to write about. And tell your friends about the site. And they'll tell their friends, and so on and so on.
Not this month. And yet I did more posts than any other month. I had just 24 unique visits more than last month and 3 less page views. I'm not sure how that happens. And May was a long month. If it hadn't been 31 days long I would have had a drop off last month.
I suspect my domain host is partly to blame. It is currently experiencing some infrastructure issues and not being very reliable. But I'm not sure what else might be causing this.
I've noticed that most people read my blog Monday-Friday. Very few people visit on the weekends. That means people are checking my blog from work. Uh-oh! Or they are just too busy on the weekends. That's OK!
I've got loads more visitors than comments. If you're out there lurking, don't be afraid. Leave me a comment and let me know if I'm talking absolute rubbish. Or if you disagree with me. Or is you think you are completely wasting your time but visiting to be polite. Even my husband never comments. He doesn't even visit! He tells me he knows what goes on in our life so why should he go. I'll bet he'd know a lot more if he visited!
I've also noticed that most of Nebraska appears to read my blog but readership in the UK has really dropped off.
And where are all the men? I know I have male readers....don't I?
Am I boring you? Have you told all your friends about the blog? Do you click through on the Google ad?
OK, not that it matters. I'd probably write even if no one read. I kept a journal from the age of 13 and no one ever read that. But if you are enjoying what I write, let me know. If you're not, tell me what you'd like me to write about. And tell your friends about the site. And they'll tell their friends, and so on and so on.
Friday, 1 June 2007
Price Comparison
The other day I posted a cost comparison for UK vs USA petrol prices. Janell, blogger extraordinaire, suggested we do a price comparison of commonly purchased goods. USA prices are courtesy of her blog. I have copied them here for ease of use.
In green is the cost of the item in the UK. The first price is the USA price. Bold denotes the more expensive of the two. It is usually the UK price if you get confused!
Butter $2.85/pound $3.86/pound
Eggs $1.25/dozen $4.18 dozen
Milk $1.88/half gallon $1.15/ half gallon
In US a $1.50 refund for bottle return, so a half gallon actually costs 38 cents
Ground Beef $2.25/lb $4.00/lb 90% lean
(USA) 88% (UK-90% not available)
Hot Dogs $1.25 for 8 $3.36 for 10
Bread $1.25/loaf $2.19/loaf
Pork & Beans .59/can .81/7 oz can
Not available in UK. Price cited is for baked beans
Heavy cream $3.88/quart $2.24/quart
Breakfast cereal $4.00 $4.96
UK price is for Cheerios
Ice cream $3.99/5 quart $6.90/5 quart
UK stored brand vanilla
Fresh halibut steak $12.99/lb $19.95/1 lb
UK Tuna steak given as halibut not available
Beef T-bone steak $5.99/lb $19.69/lb
UK ribeye price given as T-Bone not available
Lettuce .99/head $1.38/head
Cabbage .29/lb .45/lb
UK price for white cabbage
Apples $1.99/lb $2.19/lb
Laundry Soap $2.50 $10.58
USA 40 load liquid UK 33 load liquid
Bath Soap $3.89/4 bars .99/4 bars Olay
Shampoo $3.99/30 oz $18.88/30 oz
Dish Soap $1.89/30 oz $3.92/30 oz
Toothpaste $2.79 .93
Toilet Paper $6.00/12 rolls $7.90/12 rolls
Beer $4.99/6 pack $8.69/6 pack
Good beer $7.99/6 pack $13.18/6 pack
(Took this to mean imported) UK price is for USA Budweiser
Local telephone landline $19.99/month $26/month + calls
UK no calls are free, not even local calls
Cell phone $29.99 w/100 mins $80 w/1000 mins
Electricity $100/month avg $243/month avg
UK includes gas for heating
Propane $1.89/gallon N/A
Not an option in UK
Hay for horses $4.50/bale N/A
Haven’t a clue about costs in UK
Dog food $16.99/40 lb $80/40 lb
Cat food $26.99/40 lb $223.20/40 lb
Both Iams brand
Cat litter $3.99/20 lb $7.60
I have roughly converted metric to imperial and used an approximate current exchange rate of $2=£1. In the USA, sales tax, dependant on local and state rates, is applied at the checkout. In the UK, tax is included in the price. Tax is a flat 17.5% everywhere in the UK. No food products have tax in either country but products like toilet paper, soap, and toothpaste do. Luxury items like beer and tea are taxed at double rate, ie 35%. Also, note many of the large sized items are simply not available in the standard UK supermarket. I have extrapolated mathematically to determine the amounts.
I need to get rid of my cat! And why is soap and toothpaste cheaper here in the UK?
Editor's Note: I worked tirelessly to get this into a table but can't figure out how to paste one into the html. Sorry about the crappy format. I will try to do better next time!
In green is the cost of the item in the UK. The first price is the USA price. Bold denotes the more expensive of the two. It is usually the UK price if you get confused!
Butter $2.85/pound $3.86/pound
Eggs $1.25/dozen $4.18 dozen
Milk $1.88/half gallon $1.15/ half gallon
In US a $1.50 refund for bottle return, so a half gallon actually costs 38 cents
Ground Beef $2.25/lb $4.00/lb 90% lean
(USA) 88% (UK-90% not available)
Hot Dogs $1.25 for 8 $3.36 for 10
Bread $1.25/loaf $2.19/loaf
Pork & Beans .59/can .81/7 oz can
Not available in UK. Price cited is for baked beans
Heavy cream $3.88/quart $2.24/quart
Breakfast cereal $4.00 $4.96
UK price is for Cheerios
Ice cream $3.99/5 quart $6.90/5 quart
UK stored brand vanilla
Fresh halibut steak $12.99/lb $19.95/1 lb
UK Tuna steak given as halibut not available
Beef T-bone steak $5.99/lb $19.69/lb
UK ribeye price given as T-Bone not available
Lettuce .99/head $1.38/head
Cabbage .29/lb .45/lb
UK price for white cabbage
Apples $1.99/lb $2.19/lb
Laundry Soap $2.50 $10.58
USA 40 load liquid UK 33 load liquid
Bath Soap $3.89/4 bars .99/4 bars Olay
Shampoo $3.99/30 oz $18.88/30 oz
Dish Soap $1.89/30 oz $3.92/30 oz
Toothpaste $2.79 .93
Toilet Paper $6.00/12 rolls $7.90/12 rolls
Beer $4.99/6 pack $8.69/6 pack
Good beer $7.99/6 pack $13.18/6 pack
(Took this to mean imported) UK price is for USA Budweiser
Local telephone landline $19.99/month $26/month + calls
UK no calls are free, not even local calls
Cell phone $29.99 w/100 mins $80 w/1000 mins
Electricity $100/month avg $243/month avg
UK includes gas for heating
Propane $1.89/gallon N/A
Not an option in UK
Hay for horses $4.50/bale N/A
Haven’t a clue about costs in UK
Dog food $16.99/40 lb $80/40 lb
Cat food $26.99/40 lb $223.20/40 lb
Both Iams brand
Cat litter $3.99/20 lb $7.60
I have roughly converted metric to imperial and used an approximate current exchange rate of $2=£1. In the USA, sales tax, dependant on local and state rates, is applied at the checkout. In the UK, tax is included in the price. Tax is a flat 17.5% everywhere in the UK. No food products have tax in either country but products like toilet paper, soap, and toothpaste do. Luxury items like beer and tea are taxed at double rate, ie 35%. Also, note many of the large sized items are simply not available in the standard UK supermarket. I have extrapolated mathematically to determine the amounts.
I need to get rid of my cat! And why is soap and toothpaste cheaper here in the UK?
Editor's Note: I worked tirelessly to get this into a table but can't figure out how to paste one into the html. Sorry about the crappy format. I will try to do better next time!
Motherhood
A strange and wonderful journey that is wholly unpredictable and out of your control overtakes your life when you make the decision to become a mother. An alien suite of emotions invade your mind and body. If you are lucky you have words to describe those emotions. I am not. There is no word in the English language that sufficiently describes the lengths to which I would go to protect my daughter. Or the mountains I would move to help my son. Or the pain I feel when they are disappointed or afraid. Where did this all come from? Where was it before I felt it? Does every parent suffer so?
A friend of mine reminded me recently of the time immediately following Sebastian's birth when she and her husband visited us from the USA. She recalls that I was adamant about how the addition of this baby to our lives was not going to dramatically change our life. We would just add the baby to our existing life framework.
I, of course, have no recollection of this. But I don't doubt that it is true. I think at the time I imagined parenthood as the giving up of oneself and the antithesis of everything I was about. I was LaDawn, an individual. No one no how was going to alter this person I had worked so hard to become. Dependent on no one and no one dependent on me. Able to stay out all night long or stay in bed all day long. Able to travel any where in the world at a moment's notice. Never look at the price tags of desired objects. Hear me roar.
But when you become a mother this surrender of self is less to do with giving something up and more about becoming something else.
I never imagined that I would find joy in watching my children play together. I never imagined I would feel ecstasy over a perfect spelling test score (his not mine) after a week of hard work (both of ours). I didn't know how exquisite it would feel to have tiny, warm, soft, strong hands and arms encircle my neck and hang on tight as her eyes drooped shut after a long hard day at play.
The sacrifices are enormous. Some days my brain is mush from playing Power Rangers. I am forever cleaning up Play Doh from every crevice of my home. I can't afford to get weekly manicures or massages. I invest in my children's education and future. The returns on this investment are gigantic although probably not measurable.
I like who I am today. And I love the person my children have made me.
A friend of mine reminded me recently of the time immediately following Sebastian's birth when she and her husband visited us from the USA. She recalls that I was adamant about how the addition of this baby to our lives was not going to dramatically change our life. We would just add the baby to our existing life framework.
I, of course, have no recollection of this. But I don't doubt that it is true. I think at the time I imagined parenthood as the giving up of oneself and the antithesis of everything I was about. I was LaDawn, an individual. No one no how was going to alter this person I had worked so hard to become. Dependent on no one and no one dependent on me. Able to stay out all night long or stay in bed all day long. Able to travel any where in the world at a moment's notice. Never look at the price tags of desired objects. Hear me roar.
But when you become a mother this surrender of self is less to do with giving something up and more about becoming something else.
I never imagined that I would find joy in watching my children play together. I never imagined I would feel ecstasy over a perfect spelling test score (his not mine) after a week of hard work (both of ours). I didn't know how exquisite it would feel to have tiny, warm, soft, strong hands and arms encircle my neck and hang on tight as her eyes drooped shut after a long hard day at play.
The sacrifices are enormous. Some days my brain is mush from playing Power Rangers. I am forever cleaning up Play Doh from every crevice of my home. I can't afford to get weekly manicures or massages. I invest in my children's education and future. The returns on this investment are gigantic although probably not measurable.
I like who I am today. And I love the person my children have made me.
Thursday, 31 May 2007
Is Gas Expensive?
My father has always marvelled at how much we in the UK are willing to pay for a gallon of fuel. Nowadays, petrol and diesel are roughly the same price (at least in the UK). We pay £1/litre. There are ~4 litres in a gallon. That works out to £4/gallon. Given the current exchange rate that is ~$8/gallon. So stop complaining about $3!
Here is a funny little article about the price of gasoline in the USA and what you might be willing to pay (or not).
Here is a funny little article about the price of gasoline in the USA and what you might be willing to pay (or not).
Sushi is a Favourite
I just read this article in the NYTimes (online edition). One Word: Amen!
We have friends who cook separate meals for thie children. I've never quite gotten that. I don't have time. And I won't pay for that. My children eat what we eat. If they don't like it, there is always breakfast. As a result, Sebastian's favourite food is sushi. Abigail likes spicy food. They both love tacos. Neither of them are fans of curry. Seb is a fan of lamb and Abigail loves fish (any and all).
We try to include them in the meal planning. So they choose spaghetti or pizza a couple times a month. But they eat almost all vegetables. With the exception of peas and brussels sprouts which I refuse to cook because I can't stand the smell or taste.
We have the occasional night out for Marc and I and one these evenings I serve up some fish fingers. The children do love them. But it is not the mainstay of their diet!
We have friends who cook separate meals for thie children. I've never quite gotten that. I don't have time. And I won't pay for that. My children eat what we eat. If they don't like it, there is always breakfast. As a result, Sebastian's favourite food is sushi. Abigail likes spicy food. They both love tacos. Neither of them are fans of curry. Seb is a fan of lamb and Abigail loves fish (any and all).
We try to include them in the meal planning. So they choose spaghetti or pizza a couple times a month. But they eat almost all vegetables. With the exception of peas and brussels sprouts which I refuse to cook because I can't stand the smell or taste.
We have the occasional night out for Marc and I and one these evenings I serve up some fish fingers. The children do love them. But it is not the mainstay of their diet!
Wednesday, 30 May 2007
Children in the Workplace
This week is half-term for school children. And my childminder took a week of holiday and went to Turkey with her family with a weeks notice. So, Marc & I are trying to juggle child care and work.
Yesterday I solved the problem of having meetings in the morning by taking Sebastian to my office with me. We packed up his little Power Rangers backpack with his Nintendo DS Lite and some games, some coloured pencils and some puzzle books. We dressed him in a smart looking shirt (blue button down) and chinos - the corporate uniform. We combed his hair so that it was flat.
On the drive to the office you could feel his excitement buzzing out of the back seat. Wish I felt that excited about going to work every day. We went through the "Behaviour Drill". These are the rules of best behaviour:
1. Remember to say please and thank you.
2. Use your inside voice.
3. Shake people's hand when you meet them.
4. Speak clearly and look people in the eye when they talk with you.
5. No running around like a crazy maniac.
I was just hoping for adherence to number 5. Although I would like to do that some days at the office.
He walked across the parking lot holding my hand. He was very impressed with the lift (elevator). He got to press the required button for my floor. He liked the idea of my security card access and thought we should put those on all the doors at home. He was super impressed with my desk. I was just impressed to have a desk that day.
My first meeting was just at my desk with one other person and Sebastian was happy to play with his Nintendo next to me. My next meeting was in a conference room with 10 other people. When we walked into the meeting room, Sebastian turned red and collapsed behind my chair. He was scared to death. I suddenly viewed the situation through the eyes of a 5 year old.
There were 9 big (tall) people (all men, not unusual in my company) looking very serious and self-important dressed in shirts and ties. Not a smile among them. No one was happy to be there.
I quickly got out his coloured pencils, grabbed some flip chart paper and sat on the floor with him. The meeting started and Sebastian sat on the floor happily drawing what he later described as a cowboy bear. He didn't interrupt once. Never said a word. And I conducted the meeting sitting on the floor. Whole new perspective!
I went to the next meeting with just 3 of my colleagues. One of my colleagues brought Sebastian some apple juice. Another colleagues gave him a chair and a place at the table. He drew for the next hour whilst we merrily conducted our business. Occasionally, one of my colleagues would shown an interest in what he was doing and he would politely (if a bit slowly)describe what he was drawing. Then he would carry on. And so would we.
The highlight of my day was when we went to lunch together in our canteen (cafeteria). Sebastian made friends with the cafeteria staff and he got some chips (french fries). I got a sandwich and some crisps (potato chips). We got our drinks. He showed me where the ketchup was. I never knew before!
And then we sat a chatted about the day so far. I never do that. I very rarely even break for lunch. Oh, I know everything I read says I should but quite frankly, there are a lot of things I should do every day that I don't. Like floss. Sitting there with my son and sharing his perspective on his morning in my office was exhilarating. He said I talk to a lot of people. And I sound really clever. He said it looks like I work really hard.
Mostly, I was just proud of him beyond belief. Today, I've gotten voicemail and email from colleagues who met him yesterday telling me what an extraordinary individual he his and how happy they were to meet him. Well, duh! What did you expect?
I think we should all take our children into the office with us periodically. Let them see what this place is that demands so much time and attention away from them. After my father retired from horse racing he drove a long haul truck. He delivered swinging beef from Denver to Chicago. Not sure what came back in the trailer. He took me with him once. I never realised how hard he worked til then.
But it was a dangerous job. Trucks are involved in horrific road traffic accidents. He was in one once where 3 teenagers died. He got mugged at gun point once in Chicago. Truck stops were full of dodgy characters and he didn't want to take me to the men's room and he didn't want me to go to the ladies on my own. I was angry with him for only letting me go with him only once. He took my brothers with him much more often. But he could take them into the men's room with him he said. I didn't get that then. I soooo get that now.
Luckily, my job is not dangerous, although those 9 men in the conference room certainly left Seb with the impression that it might be. Take your children (or someone else's) to work with you. Show them what you do. They will enrich your day!
Yesterday I solved the problem of having meetings in the morning by taking Sebastian to my office with me. We packed up his little Power Rangers backpack with his Nintendo DS Lite and some games, some coloured pencils and some puzzle books. We dressed him in a smart looking shirt (blue button down) and chinos - the corporate uniform. We combed his hair so that it was flat.
On the drive to the office you could feel his excitement buzzing out of the back seat. Wish I felt that excited about going to work every day. We went through the "Behaviour Drill". These are the rules of best behaviour:
1. Remember to say please and thank you.
2. Use your inside voice.
3. Shake people's hand when you meet them.
4. Speak clearly and look people in the eye when they talk with you.
5. No running around like a crazy maniac.
I was just hoping for adherence to number 5. Although I would like to do that some days at the office.
He walked across the parking lot holding my hand. He was very impressed with the lift (elevator). He got to press the required button for my floor. He liked the idea of my security card access and thought we should put those on all the doors at home. He was super impressed with my desk. I was just impressed to have a desk that day.
My first meeting was just at my desk with one other person and Sebastian was happy to play with his Nintendo next to me. My next meeting was in a conference room with 10 other people. When we walked into the meeting room, Sebastian turned red and collapsed behind my chair. He was scared to death. I suddenly viewed the situation through the eyes of a 5 year old.
There were 9 big (tall) people (all men, not unusual in my company) looking very serious and self-important dressed in shirts and ties. Not a smile among them. No one was happy to be there.
I quickly got out his coloured pencils, grabbed some flip chart paper and sat on the floor with him. The meeting started and Sebastian sat on the floor happily drawing what he later described as a cowboy bear. He didn't interrupt once. Never said a word. And I conducted the meeting sitting on the floor. Whole new perspective!
I went to the next meeting with just 3 of my colleagues. One of my colleagues brought Sebastian some apple juice. Another colleagues gave him a chair and a place at the table. He drew for the next hour whilst we merrily conducted our business. Occasionally, one of my colleagues would shown an interest in what he was doing and he would politely (if a bit slowly)describe what he was drawing. Then he would carry on. And so would we.
The highlight of my day was when we went to lunch together in our canteen (cafeteria). Sebastian made friends with the cafeteria staff and he got some chips (french fries). I got a sandwich and some crisps (potato chips). We got our drinks. He showed me where the ketchup was. I never knew before!
And then we sat a chatted about the day so far. I never do that. I very rarely even break for lunch. Oh, I know everything I read says I should but quite frankly, there are a lot of things I should do every day that I don't. Like floss. Sitting there with my son and sharing his perspective on his morning in my office was exhilarating. He said I talk to a lot of people. And I sound really clever. He said it looks like I work really hard.
Mostly, I was just proud of him beyond belief. Today, I've gotten voicemail and email from colleagues who met him yesterday telling me what an extraordinary individual he his and how happy they were to meet him. Well, duh! What did you expect?
I think we should all take our children into the office with us periodically. Let them see what this place is that demands so much time and attention away from them. After my father retired from horse racing he drove a long haul truck. He delivered swinging beef from Denver to Chicago. Not sure what came back in the trailer. He took me with him once. I never realised how hard he worked til then.
But it was a dangerous job. Trucks are involved in horrific road traffic accidents. He was in one once where 3 teenagers died. He got mugged at gun point once in Chicago. Truck stops were full of dodgy characters and he didn't want to take me to the men's room and he didn't want me to go to the ladies on my own. I was angry with him for only letting me go with him only once. He took my brothers with him much more often. But he could take them into the men's room with him he said. I didn't get that then. I soooo get that now.
Luckily, my job is not dangerous, although those 9 men in the conference room certainly left Seb with the impression that it might be. Take your children (or someone else's) to work with you. Show them what you do. They will enrich your day!
Village Life
We live in an under rated and vitually undiscovered village that tends to be perceived as a place people drive through to get to Windsor or Staines. There is this really horrible straight road that is really quite sad looking. But if you stray on to either side of this road you find loads of wonderful places and a village teaming with life.
Our village was recently awarded some funding from the government to help us with some village renewal projects. Marc, along with our neighbour, Gill, is on the village committee for evaluating and allocating these funds to the various proposed projects. The trouble is Marc is easily the youngest member of the committee (probably by almost 20 years). Demographically, our village is skewed towards the older generation as over 60% of the population is over 60 but I just don't understand why more people with young families don't want to get involved. If I appeal to the greedy side of us, any estate agent will tell you the most important component of the value of your home is location, location, location. Isn't in your best interest to make your village the best it can be? I truly don't understand why more young families don't get involved. I know everyone has time demands on them but there are few other items that could possibly take a higher priority than your community and involvement in it. Or maybe I'm just a freak (entirely possible).
A pedestrian area was recently built next to some shops. Traffic has been routed around the area and yet on any given night you will see citizens (young and old) of the village ignoring the pedestrian warning signs and driving hell bent for leather right through the centre of our new pedestrian area. Why? Well, it might save them 4 seconds on their journey. Or they might kill a child crossing the road.
Next weekend is our Village Fair. There will be a donkey derby and fireworks on Friday night. The donkey derby is hysterically funny. On Saturday morning there will be a parade which Abigail's Preschool will take part in. She will be sitting on a float. I have to dress her up as a nursery rhyme character. Any ideas? What does Little Miss Muffet wear?
We go to the corner shop for a pint of milk and we know people. We wave. We chat. We complain about the weather. We have a bobby on the beat (police officer), Nick. We know him by name. He knows us. He knows our children. We made a point of it. That way, if he sees anything suspicious he can come to us....well, that's my reasoning any way. Windsor didn't have that feel to it. It was full of young commuters who got up in the morning at 5 am to commute into London and didn't return home until 7 pm. They were away on the weekends and didn't have gardens to work in anyway. So we never met them.
I love my village. And I'm glad we are involved in shaping its future. What have you done for your community lately?
Our village was recently awarded some funding from the government to help us with some village renewal projects. Marc, along with our neighbour, Gill, is on the village committee for evaluating and allocating these funds to the various proposed projects. The trouble is Marc is easily the youngest member of the committee (probably by almost 20 years). Demographically, our village is skewed towards the older generation as over 60% of the population is over 60 but I just don't understand why more people with young families don't want to get involved. If I appeal to the greedy side of us, any estate agent will tell you the most important component of the value of your home is location, location, location. Isn't in your best interest to make your village the best it can be? I truly don't understand why more young families don't get involved. I know everyone has time demands on them but there are few other items that could possibly take a higher priority than your community and involvement in it. Or maybe I'm just a freak (entirely possible).
A pedestrian area was recently built next to some shops. Traffic has been routed around the area and yet on any given night you will see citizens (young and old) of the village ignoring the pedestrian warning signs and driving hell bent for leather right through the centre of our new pedestrian area. Why? Well, it might save them 4 seconds on their journey. Or they might kill a child crossing the road.
Next weekend is our Village Fair. There will be a donkey derby and fireworks on Friday night. The donkey derby is hysterically funny. On Saturday morning there will be a parade which Abigail's Preschool will take part in. She will be sitting on a float. I have to dress her up as a nursery rhyme character. Any ideas? What does Little Miss Muffet wear?
We go to the corner shop for a pint of milk and we know people. We wave. We chat. We complain about the weather. We have a bobby on the beat (police officer), Nick. We know him by name. He knows us. He knows our children. We made a point of it. That way, if he sees anything suspicious he can come to us....well, that's my reasoning any way. Windsor didn't have that feel to it. It was full of young commuters who got up in the morning at 5 am to commute into London and didn't return home until 7 pm. They were away on the weekends and didn't have gardens to work in anyway. So we never met them.
I love my village. And I'm glad we are involved in shaping its future. What have you done for your community lately?
Tuesday, 29 May 2007
Grandmother's Cooking
Someone must be listening to my ramblings about missing my grandmother's cooking. Look at this webiste. Wish I had thought of that! I haven't tried any of the recipes but I have subscribed to the podcasts via iTunes. I'll report back on what I find!
Bounced Check
Shown below, is an actual letter sent to a bank by an 86 year old woman in the USA. The bank manager thought it amusing enough to have it published in the New York Times.
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire pension, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally answer your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.
From now on I choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, at MY convenience, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further.When you call me, press buttons as follows: IMMEDIATELY AFTER DIALING, PRESS THE STAR (*) BUTTON FOR ENGLISH!
#1. To make an appointment to see me
#2. To query a missing payment.
#3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
#4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
#5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
#6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home .
#7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to that Authorized Contact mentioned earlier.
#8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
#9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.
#10. This is a second reminder to press* for English.
While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, music noise will play for the duration of the call. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year.
Your Humble Client
Thanks to my step mother, Elaine, for sending this to me. I am still laughing!
Dear Sir:
I am writing to thank you for bouncing my check with which I endeavored to pay my plumber last month. By my calculations, three nanoseconds must have elapsed between presenting the check and the arrival in my account of the funds needed to honor it. I refer, of course, to the automatic monthly deposit of my entire pension, an arrangement which, I admit, has been in place for only eight years. You are to be commended for seizing that brief window of opportunity, and also for debiting my account $30 by way of penalty for the inconvenience caused to your bank. My thankfulness springs from the manner in which this incident has caused me to rethink my errant financial ways. I noticed that whereas I personally answer your telephone calls and letters, when I try to contact you, I am confronted by the impersonal, overcharging, pre-recorded, faceless entity which your bank has become.
From now on I choose only to deal with a flesh-and-blood person. My mortgage and loan repayments will therefore and hereafter no longer be automatic, but will arrive at your bank, by check, addressed personally and confidentially to an employee at your bank whom you must nominate. Be aware that it is an offense under the Postal Act for any other person to open such an envelope. Please find attached an Application Contact which I require your chosen employee to complete. I am sorry it runs to eight pages, but in order that I know as much about him or her as your bank knows about me, there is no alternative. Please note that all copies of his or her medical history must be countersigned by a Notary Public, and the mandatory details of his/her financial situation (income, debts, assets and liabilities) must be accompanied by documented proof.
In due course, at MY convenience, I will issue your employee with a PIN number which he/she must quote in dealings with me. I regret that it cannot be shorter than 28 digits but, again, I have modeled it on the number of button presses required of me to access my account balance on your phone bank service. As they say, imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Let me level the playing field even further.When you call me, press buttons as follows: IMMEDIATELY AFTER DIALING, PRESS THE STAR (*) BUTTON FOR ENGLISH!
#1. To make an appointment to see me
#2. To query a missing payment.
#3. To transfer the call to my living room in case I am there.
#4. To transfer the call to my bedroom in case I am sleeping.
#5. To transfer the call to my toilet in case I am attending to nature.
#6. To transfer the call to my mobile phone if I am not at home .
#7. To leave a message on my computer, a password to access my computer is required. Password will be communicated to you at a later date to that Authorized Contact mentioned earlier.
#8. To return to the main menu and to listen to options 1 through 7.
#9. To make a general complaint or inquiry. The contact will then be put on hold, pending the attention of my automated answering service.
#10. This is a second reminder to press* for English.
While this may, on occasion, involve a lengthy wait, music noise will play for the duration of the call. Regrettably, but again following your example, I must also levy an establishment fee to cover the setting up of this new arrangement.
May I wish you a happy, if ever so slightly less prosperous New Year.
Your Humble Client
Thanks to my step mother, Elaine, for sending this to me. I am still laughing!
Monday, 28 May 2007
Memorial Day (USA)
"That from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion."
These iconic words delivered by President Abraham Lincoln at Gettysburg embody the true meaning of Memorial Day: to honor those who made the ultimate sacrifice in defense of freedom. Each member of the Armed Forces swears an oath to support and defend the Constitution. The unspoken part of that oath is the willingness to lay down one's life to protect our liberties. Our freedom is not free, and the sacrifices of service men and women throughout history stand as constant, powerful reminders of the price. President Lincoln said, "to truly honor these heroes, we must steadfastly resolve to continue their noble fight against all who would threaten our way of life."
On behalf of the Joint Chiefs and the men and women of the armed forces, I join all Americans in paying tribute to those who gave their lives in service to our country. We are eternally grateful for their selfless sacrifice, and honored to carry on their precious legacy.
-Marine Gen. Peter Pace
Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff
5/25/2006
Science Museum
OK, first of all, let me say if you are trying to access my blog using http://www.ladawn.co.uk/ you are probably experiencing some difficulties. I apologise for this. We are in discussion with my domain hosting service and will be making a change shortly. If you have been able to g
et here you might want to book mark http://clare-panton.blogspot.com/. That proves a bit more reliable in the short term.
et here you might want to book mark http://clare-panton.blogspot.com/. That proves a bit more reliable in the short term.Secondly, here in the UK we are drowning. It has been raining cats and dogs since midday Saturday. there are several flood warnings and watches although the River Thames does not currently have any warnings and we are not at present in any threat of danger.
Thirdl
y, the weather is causing havoc for our 3 day weekend. We had plans to go camping but saw the weather forecast and abandoned that plan. Quite sensibly. We had hoped for at least some long walks. But unless we want to get soaked and chilled to the bone we have decided to give that a miss as well.
y, the weather is causing havoc for our 3 day weekend. We had plans to go camping but saw the weather forecast and abandoned that plan. Quite sensibly. We had hoped for at least some long walks. But unless we want to get soaked and chilled to the bone we have decided to give that a miss as well.Yesterday we decided to go to the Science Museum in London. Along with a gazillion ot
her people with children all descending on the capital city for a bit of diversion.
her people with children all descending on the capital city for a bit of diversion. There was a queue to get in. We stood there in the rain with all of our brollies (umbrellas). the queue moved quickly. then we stood in another line for the SpyMaster exhibit. We paid an exorbitant fee of £28 (~$50) for the 4 of us. The exhibit was so crowded we couldn't really participate in any of the computer games. Most of the exhibit was targeted at older children so Seb and Abby were not impressed. We walked round the rest of the crowded museum and tried to enjoy ourselves.
Seb liked the old
est Steam Locomotive. Abigail was not impressed with the space rockets. We then found a patterns exhibit targeted for 3-8 year olds and this was nirvana. Seb spent his entire time trying out the solving puzzles with magnetic shapes. Abigail rain from place to place. She especially liked the dancing bit that showed your form with lights on a screen. I was amazed at how quickly she learned to operate the touch screen exhibits to make shapes and patterns on a big screen in front of her. Marc and I sat on a bench and just let her wear herself out running around!
est Steam Locomotive. Abigail was not impressed with the space rockets. We then found a patterns exhibit targeted for 3-8 year olds and this was nirvana. Seb spent his entire time trying out the solving puzzles with magnetic shapes. Abigail rain from place to place. She especially liked the dancing bit that showed your form with lights on a screen. I was amazed at how quickly she learned to operate the touch screen exhibits to make shapes and patterns on a big screen in front of her. Marc and I sat on a bench and just let her wear herself out running around!
We left exhausted and stopped for some sushi at Yo Sushi at Fulham Broadway (a groovy part of London). Abigail fe
ll asleep in the car. Seb was shattered so we skipped bath time and they went straight to bed about 1/2 hour past normal bedtime.
ll asleep in the car. Seb was shattered so we skipped bath time and they went straight to bed about 1/2 hour past normal bedtime.This morning we awoke to more rain and gale force winds ripping through the garden. God only knows what we will do to keep from driving each other crazy!
Saturday, 26 May 2007
Making Friends
On Friday night, we went out for dinner at our local pizzeria. Sebastian had made quite a good friend with our usual waiter. he was gutted when we arrived to find out that the waiter no longer worked there. He got really sad.The manager of the restaurant called over one of the other waiters who desperately tried to cheer Seb up by asking him about football. Seb has absolutely no interest in football so this simply didn't work. The waiter introduced himself as Nick and then he asked Seb if he wanted to make a special pizza.
Seb was no longer grumpy. He went back into the kitchen with Nick and got some pizza dough which he brought to the table. Nick brought over a bowl full of veg and showed Seb how to make the pizza dough flat.
And together they made a face. Out of pizza dough and veg. And our children had a blast! And Seb made a new friend. What a fab way to start a long weekend. Thanks for the kindness of the people at Punto's in Old Windsor!
Cosmetic Surgery
I don't get the whole thing with cosmetic surgery or the obsession with appearances. Where is the obsession with a person's mind? Shouldn't what an individual have to contribute to a debate mean a whole bunch more than how they look?
Now, I know I will get it in the neck for this post. And I do differentiate cosmetic surgery and plastic surgery. Plastic surgery is that which is required for medical purposes. Severely disfigured people and even breast reductions to relieve back pain are wholly excusable. What I'm talking about here is cosmetic surgery solely for the purposes of looking better, looking younger, looking like gravity and toxins doesn't exist in your world.
Too often, we are guiltly of judging a book by its cover. We elect our politicians based on how they look. I have heard that JFK won the Nixon-Kennedy televised debate simply because he wore makeup and Nixon didn't. A lot has been made of John Edwards fussing with his hair for an extravagantly long time before a television interview. I would too, if what I was about to say wasn't going to be heard if a hair was distractingly out of place.
We are born. Our skin is soft and for the most part absent of blemish. We enter childhood and the sunshine adds freckles. We enter puberty and hormones add spots. Sometimes disease like chicken pocks leave scars. We run into things or get hit by things that add scars. As women, we become fixated with using beauty products to alter what we look like when we wake up in the morning. Some women are unrecognizable without their makeup.
And then we age. Women, and increasingly men, spend a vast sum of money on anti-ageing creams. I'm talking billions of dollars. This article talks about the green impact of all those beauty products.
What's wrong with showing your age? Doesn't the appearance of wrinkles indicate that you're not as naive and idealistic as you used to be? Don't the hands of an old woman make you appreciate all she has done with her life and the struggles she has survived? You'll see the caption on my blog profile picture says "Wrinkles are Wisdom". I believe this.
Whilst I appreciate the enthusiasm of youth, I tend to bow to the wisdom of experience. Besides I am very suspicious of these people who tell me they have no time for reading when they are immaculately groomed. Although I do have profound respect for those people who manage both! Looking beatufiul and young takes time, money, and dedication. Do you know how much a face scrub costs? And is it seriously painful. And the risks involved are enormous.
Imagine if all the money spent on cosmetic surgery in the US alone was sent to New Orleans, LA. I bet we could rebuild that city! Isn't that a higher priority?
We all have to die of something. Believe it or not, life is terminal. Sometimes the good die far too young. And the bad live way to long. We can't change that. It is what it is. We can strive to find cures for diseases and we can aim to live healthy lifestyles. But ultimately we are all going to die. The sooner we make peace with this, the better. And what is wrong with showing the journey of life in our faces, our necks, our hands, our bodies?
Now, I know I will get it in the neck for this post. And I do differentiate cosmetic surgery and plastic surgery. Plastic surgery is that which is required for medical purposes. Severely disfigured people and even breast reductions to relieve back pain are wholly excusable. What I'm talking about here is cosmetic surgery solely for the purposes of looking better, looking younger, looking like gravity and toxins doesn't exist in your world.
Too often, we are guiltly of judging a book by its cover. We elect our politicians based on how they look. I have heard that JFK won the Nixon-Kennedy televised debate simply because he wore makeup and Nixon didn't. A lot has been made of John Edwards fussing with his hair for an extravagantly long time before a television interview. I would too, if what I was about to say wasn't going to be heard if a hair was distractingly out of place.
We are born. Our skin is soft and for the most part absent of blemish. We enter childhood and the sunshine adds freckles. We enter puberty and hormones add spots. Sometimes disease like chicken pocks leave scars. We run into things or get hit by things that add scars. As women, we become fixated with using beauty products to alter what we look like when we wake up in the morning. Some women are unrecognizable without their makeup.
And then we age. Women, and increasingly men, spend a vast sum of money on anti-ageing creams. I'm talking billions of dollars. This article talks about the green impact of all those beauty products.
What's wrong with showing your age? Doesn't the appearance of wrinkles indicate that you're not as naive and idealistic as you used to be? Don't the hands of an old woman make you appreciate all she has done with her life and the struggles she has survived? You'll see the caption on my blog profile picture says "Wrinkles are Wisdom". I believe this.
Whilst I appreciate the enthusiasm of youth, I tend to bow to the wisdom of experience. Besides I am very suspicious of these people who tell me they have no time for reading when they are immaculately groomed. Although I do have profound respect for those people who manage both! Looking beatufiul and young takes time, money, and dedication. Do you know how much a face scrub costs? And is it seriously painful. And the risks involved are enormous.
Imagine if all the money spent on cosmetic surgery in the US alone was sent to New Orleans, LA. I bet we could rebuild that city! Isn't that a higher priority?
We all have to die of something. Believe it or not, life is terminal. Sometimes the good die far too young. And the bad live way to long. We can't change that. It is what it is. We can strive to find cures for diseases and we can aim to live healthy lifestyles. But ultimately we are all going to die. The sooner we make peace with this, the better. And what is wrong with showing the journey of life in our faces, our necks, our hands, our bodies?
Friday, 25 May 2007
Letters from Iwo Jima
Marc & I went to the cinema last night. We saw the second film in a 2 part series directed by Clint Eastwood about the battle on the island of Iwo Jima off the coast of mainland Japan during the second World War. We saw the first film, Flags of our Fathers, last month, which told the story from the American perspective.
Letters from Iwo Jima tells the story from the Japanese perspective and is entirely in Japanese with subtitles. Normally, this would be me off. Not that I mind subtitles. But my husband is dyslexic and he finds subtitled films really difficult and not enjoyable. Because we found so much satisfaction from the first film, he agreed to give the second one a go.
We were not disappointed. This is an incredible tale of the dehumanisation of an enemy during war. Soldiers are trained to forget that the people fighting against them are human being with flaws, fears, and families just like themselves. This was particularly interesting given the fundamental "banzai" notion of the Japanese military, ie, fighting until death is the only honourable action. it was this notion that kept the American forces fighting on the island for 35 days despite the Japanese being seriously under prepared and under manned. The Americans were technologically superior in every way.
But the Japanese resisted for 35 long days. In the end, the US Marine Corp suffered 6,891 deaths. But the Japanese had 19,788 soldiers die. That's almost 3 times!
The Japanese soldiers believed that to surrender would dishonour your family and your country. The American military allegedly shot soldiers who did surrender reinforcing the Japanese perception that the Americans were savages. So they fought to the bitter end.
The film is not as blood and gut gory as Flags of our Fathers was, thank god! You still need a pretty strong stomach but see it if you can. See them both!
Big Thanks to Gill (next door neighbour) for babysitting. Don't know what we would do without and can't imagine what life will be like after you move!
Letters from Iwo Jima tells the story from the Japanese perspective and is entirely in Japanese with subtitles. Normally, this would be me off. Not that I mind subtitles. But my husband is dyslexic and he finds subtitled films really difficult and not enjoyable. Because we found so much satisfaction from the first film, he agreed to give the second one a go.
We were not disappointed. This is an incredible tale of the dehumanisation of an enemy during war. Soldiers are trained to forget that the people fighting against them are human being with flaws, fears, and families just like themselves. This was particularly interesting given the fundamental "banzai" notion of the Japanese military, ie, fighting until death is the only honourable action. it was this notion that kept the American forces fighting on the island for 35 days despite the Japanese being seriously under prepared and under manned. The Americans were technologically superior in every way.
But the Japanese resisted for 35 long days. In the end, the US Marine Corp suffered 6,891 deaths. But the Japanese had 19,788 soldiers die. That's almost 3 times!
The Japanese soldiers believed that to surrender would dishonour your family and your country. The American military allegedly shot soldiers who did surrender reinforcing the Japanese perception that the Americans were savages. So they fought to the bitter end.
The film is not as blood and gut gory as Flags of our Fathers was, thank god! You still need a pretty strong stomach but see it if you can. See them both!
Big Thanks to Gill (next door neighbour) for babysitting. Don't know what we would do without and can't imagine what life will be like after you move!
Menu Planning
Planning daily meals for my family is the bane of my existence.
We once tried to split this reposnsibility between me and my husband. this was an unmitigated disaster. he served up pork chops, sausages and bacon for a meal. Not a green vegetable in sight. the whole balanced diet just didn't sink in his brain at school. If we had been on the Atkins diet this would not have been a problem. but for small growing children, perhaps not the best choice. It might have been a rouse to keep me from asking him to do his share with this task.
I aim to make a nutritious meal every night for my family. One meal. One dinner time. Everyone eating together at the dinner table. Well, that's the plan. It doesn't always work out this way and lately I've been so busy and stressed with work I am finding that we are resorting to eating out and take aways far more than I would like.
I try to draw up a weekly menu plan. As I write the plan I write the shopping list. I only buy groceries we need to make the meals. this is a great way to save money and avoid wasting unused produce. This is not so good for dealing with unexpected guests or really bad days when i simply don't have the energy to cook or hot days when I don't want to turn on the Aga.
I am also struggling with what I call Dinner Fatigue. I am so bored with the same old, same old. There are our standards: Spaghetti Bolgnese, Hot Dogs, Tuna Casseerole, Orange Chicken, Lasagne. I try to move these around on alternate weeks. I can cook these from memory. In my sleep. With one eye closed. In under 20 minutes. But boy, am I bored!
I've tried the whole cookbook thing. I love cookbooks. I can get lost in them. And do! Which is exactly the problem. I get distracted by the possibilities. I can never get all the ingredients I need. And they double my preparation time. Not just the meal prep but also the whole menu planning, grocery shopping process takes twice as long when I get out a cook book!
Tonight we are having salmon (cooked on the bbq), rice and carrots. Maybe some green beans.....Hmmmmm, green salad might just make it. I need to pop to the shops because we have nothing in the house due to my work schedule the last couple weeks! and would it have occurred to my hubby to do a spot of forward planning grocery shoppng? Not even on his horizon!
Got any bold menu ideas for the long 3 day weekend ahead of us?
We once tried to split this reposnsibility between me and my husband. this was an unmitigated disaster. he served up pork chops, sausages and bacon for a meal. Not a green vegetable in sight. the whole balanced diet just didn't sink in his brain at school. If we had been on the Atkins diet this would not have been a problem. but for small growing children, perhaps not the best choice. It might have been a rouse to keep me from asking him to do his share with this task.
I aim to make a nutritious meal every night for my family. One meal. One dinner time. Everyone eating together at the dinner table. Well, that's the plan. It doesn't always work out this way and lately I've been so busy and stressed with work I am finding that we are resorting to eating out and take aways far more than I would like.
I try to draw up a weekly menu plan. As I write the plan I write the shopping list. I only buy groceries we need to make the meals. this is a great way to save money and avoid wasting unused produce. This is not so good for dealing with unexpected guests or really bad days when i simply don't have the energy to cook or hot days when I don't want to turn on the Aga.
I am also struggling with what I call Dinner Fatigue. I am so bored with the same old, same old. There are our standards: Spaghetti Bolgnese, Hot Dogs, Tuna Casseerole, Orange Chicken, Lasagne. I try to move these around on alternate weeks. I can cook these from memory. In my sleep. With one eye closed. In under 20 minutes. But boy, am I bored!
I've tried the whole cookbook thing. I love cookbooks. I can get lost in them. And do! Which is exactly the problem. I get distracted by the possibilities. I can never get all the ingredients I need. And they double my preparation time. Not just the meal prep but also the whole menu planning, grocery shopping process takes twice as long when I get out a cook book!
Tonight we are having salmon (cooked on the bbq), rice and carrots. Maybe some green beans.....Hmmmmm, green salad might just make it. I need to pop to the shops because we have nothing in the house due to my work schedule the last couple weeks! and would it have occurred to my hubby to do a spot of forward planning grocery shoppng? Not even on his horizon!
Got any bold menu ideas for the long 3 day weekend ahead of us?
Notebooks
Secretly, I want to be a journalist when I grow up. Not so secretly anymore. I blame this desire for my obsession with notebooks. Janell waxed lyrical a few weeks ago about a gift of a blank notebook and all the promise it held. I soooo get that.
I've got notebooks all over the house, in my handbag, in the car, on my desk, in drawers. I've got notebooks where I collect all magazine clippings about far away (and not so) places I want to travel to and places I will stay and eat whilst I am there. Other notebooks collect my interior designing inspirations. Another notebook contains DIY and renovation project plans. Another for collecting quotes and poetry. Another for general magazine articles that I have ripped out to save and have no where else to put. I have one notebook where I write ideas for things to do with the children on weekends. The most used notebook is where I write books that I want to read based on book reviews or other people's recommendations.
I have a special cupboard in my house to store my notebooks.
Just this week I bought a beautiful black leather cover notebook. The purpose of this one is to collect the ideas for blog posts that burst into my head at random intervals. It also serves as a place for me to capture my impressions of events as they happen. I find that my eye for detail declines with the passage of time. Things I thought were really funny or clever at the time completely disappear from my mind. Wry observations become distant memories. This makes my great stories (in my head) turn out to be bland and boring. So my notebook is fast and furiously filling up with ideas for posts. No writer's block going on here.
I feel like a right proper bohemian journalist carrying my little notebook around. The other night I arrived at Cafe Rouge to meet Marc and the children for dinner. My train had arrived before they did. There I sat writing about what I thought about my day. It reminded me of films where you see the reporter writing a real poignant insightful article while the voice over tells you what they are writing. OK, that's not what is in my notebook. I'm simply not that insightful. But since there is no voice over in life, it doesn't matter. The contents of this notebook could change the world.....or just amuse you.
I've got notebooks all over the house, in my handbag, in the car, on my desk, in drawers. I've got notebooks where I collect all magazine clippings about far away (and not so) places I want to travel to and places I will stay and eat whilst I am there. Other notebooks collect my interior designing inspirations. Another notebook contains DIY and renovation project plans. Another for collecting quotes and poetry. Another for general magazine articles that I have ripped out to save and have no where else to put. I have one notebook where I write ideas for things to do with the children on weekends. The most used notebook is where I write books that I want to read based on book reviews or other people's recommendations.
I have a special cupboard in my house to store my notebooks.
Just this week I bought a beautiful black leather cover notebook. The purpose of this one is to collect the ideas for blog posts that burst into my head at random intervals. It also serves as a place for me to capture my impressions of events as they happen. I find that my eye for detail declines with the passage of time. Things I thought were really funny or clever at the time completely disappear from my mind. Wry observations become distant memories. This makes my great stories (in my head) turn out to be bland and boring. So my notebook is fast and furiously filling up with ideas for posts. No writer's block going on here.
I feel like a right proper bohemian journalist carrying my little notebook around. The other night I arrived at Cafe Rouge to meet Marc and the children for dinner. My train had arrived before they did. There I sat writing about what I thought about my day. It reminded me of films where you see the reporter writing a real poignant insightful article while the voice over tells you what they are writing. OK, that's not what is in my notebook. I'm simply not that insightful. But since there is no voice over in life, it doesn't matter. The contents of this notebook could change the world.....or just amuse you.
Thursday, 24 May 2007
Pageflakes
You may be asking yourself what in the world is Pageflakes. So, go to the link and build your own page. If you add feeds like I did, you get all the updates for all the lbogs you read in one place. And you can click through. I've made mine public and will be sending email out to everyone so they can look at mine. This is seriously cool. I am such a nerd!
Blackberry Moment
If y'all don't know what a Blackberry is, then consider yourself way lucky. A Blackberry is a mobile device (little bigger than a telephone) that not only works like a telephone but also integrates with your Outlook desktop and delivers you your daily calendar and ALL your email everywhere you go. That's right, email follows me everywhere I am.
So far, I have done a reasonably good job of managing my Blackberry obsession. When I get home from work I may check it a few times if I know my team is working or there is an ongoing crisis that requires my attention but for the most part, when I'm home, I'm home.
However, since May has been a crazy out of the office experience, I have started using the Blackberry a whole bunch since it is the only way I can get my email whilst on the go. And since I was away from home it didn't impact my family.
Yesterday, I went to the train station for my trip into London. I left 1/2 earlier than the day before because I didn't want to be late again. I got to Slough no problems. Had 5 minutes to wait on the platform for the next train. I walked down towards the end of the platform fully expecting a long train to arrive. I made a couple of calls and started reading and responding to email. Just when I finished, I looked up to realise, that the platform was empty. All the other passengers had boarded the train that was now pulling out of the station.
I had missed my train! It was a shorter train than I had expected so I hadn't seen it pull up. Train stations are notoriously noisy so I hadn't heard it. And clearly the concentration of using the tiny keyboard sapped all the attention this little ol brain could muster.
Luckily another train arrived in the next 5 minutes which I boarded. Unfortunately, it was a slow train and stopped at every stop between Slough and London Paddington. Miraculously, I made it to my conference with 2 minutes to spare!
So far, I have done a reasonably good job of managing my Blackberry obsession. When I get home from work I may check it a few times if I know my team is working or there is an ongoing crisis that requires my attention but for the most part, when I'm home, I'm home.
However, since May has been a crazy out of the office experience, I have started using the Blackberry a whole bunch since it is the only way I can get my email whilst on the go. And since I was away from home it didn't impact my family.
Yesterday, I went to the train station for my trip into London. I left 1/2 earlier than the day before because I didn't want to be late again. I got to Slough no problems. Had 5 minutes to wait on the platform for the next train. I walked down towards the end of the platform fully expecting a long train to arrive. I made a couple of calls and started reading and responding to email. Just when I finished, I looked up to realise, that the platform was empty. All the other passengers had boarded the train that was now pulling out of the station.
I had missed my train! It was a shorter train than I had expected so I hadn't seen it pull up. Train stations are notoriously noisy so I hadn't heard it. And clearly the concentration of using the tiny keyboard sapped all the attention this little ol brain could muster.
Luckily another train arrived in the next 5 minutes which I boarded. Unfortunately, it was a slow train and stopped at every stop between Slough and London Paddington. Miraculously, I made it to my conference with 2 minutes to spare!
Wednesday, 23 May 2007
A Literary Event
Khaled Hosseini's newest book is on the shelves now. It is called A Thousand Splendid Suns. Listen to a recording by the author here.
If you haven't read his first book, The Kite Runner, then you need to read it. NOW!!!
If you have, then you will be thrilled to know that his new book is out now! I am so excited.
If you haven't read his first book, The Kite Runner, then you need to read it. NOW!!!
If you have, then you will be thrilled to know that his new book is out now! I am so excited.
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