Sisters in Europe - Episode 2

We spent the first few days of my sister's European Adventure showing her around my life in Dusseldorf. We went to the Altstadt, which is the Old Town, full of German pubs and nightclubs and restaurants. The pubs had no drinking age or closing times. This was a fabulous experience for an 18 year old from Colorado. I had to keep an eye on her!

We had a Scottish friend, John Craig, round for dinner. Steph didn't say much throughout most of the meal. She was helping me clear the table and bring out dessert when she asks me "So why do you speak English to him but he answers you in a foreign language?" She hadn't understood a word my mate was speaking. Of course he was speaking English just with a very heavy Scottish accent. I nearly died laughing.

The first weekend she visited we set off for Paris. We took the overnight train and arrived at Gare de Nord at 5 am. We checked into our little hotel and set off to explore.

I've been to Paris loads and I love the city. The architecture, the history, the food, the wine: everywhere you turn there are treasures to be found. I love sitting in a cafe and just watching the people.

We raced around in the August heat. It was 100 degrees or more whilst we were there and we made sure to stop at every public fountain and drip our toes in with all the other tourists.

We saw the Eiffel Tour and the Arc de Triumphe. We got lost (more than once) in the Louvre. We marvelled at Notre Dame (my favourite cathedral in all the world).

We went out for dinner on Saturday night to a fabulous restaurant. No one could quite understand the menu. French menus can baffles even the most fluent of French speakers. My then-boyfriend, Glen, ordered salmon. when it came it was very few very thinly sliced pieces. He thought he was going to starve and we shared our meals with him. Turns out, his was all you could eat and they just kept bringing him more. At least none of us starved!

We drank loads of great wine with dinner and then proceeded to spend a great deal of time in a cafe drinking more wine. Steph just couldn't believe her luck. At about 4 am we decided we might just maybe find our way back to the hotel. But first we needed to find a taxi.

We had decided amongst ourselves that Stephanie probably spoke the best French. She had just finished 4 years of high school. Whereas I had graduated high school 10 years earlier and had clearly forgotten everything I had learnt, especially after vast quantities of vin blanc et vin rouge!

Glen hailed a cab. I told the driver where we were going and he told us how much. I thought this was a fair amount but Stephanie, buoyed my the new found confidence of spurred on by lots of vin, she starts negotiating. In French! Flawless French. I tell you, she speaks better French drunk than she does sober. Well, at least that's how it sounded to me.

We got home and the next morning over our Cafe au lait et croissant le petit dejeuner, we discovered we paid this taxi the equivalent of about $20 to take us clear across the city. Wow, that Stephanie drives a hard bargain!

On Sunday we took the late afternoon train back to Dusseldorf. We had a very odd experience as we all settled down into our seats for the return journey with our books. Steph stared out the window waiting for the train to leave the platform and her index finger pad just suddenly split open and started bleeding. I have this photograph (which of course I can't find right now) of her holding up her bleeding finger looking extremely forlorn. God only knows what that was all about. But it has stuck in my memory. And hers. After forgetting her at the airport, it is the first thing she recalls about the trip!

USA Election

With the US Presidential elections only 17 months away (UGH!), I found this and that it was seriously cool! Just sit back and watch the colours change. As it progress through time, remember back to who won those elections!

Happy Birthday, Stephanie!

Allow me to introduce my sister, Stephanie. She lives in Lakewood, Colorado with her husband, Anthony, her daughter, Audrey, and her twin sons, Carson and Creighton. And she just happens to be one of the most amazing people I know.

Now I realise I might be biased. but ask anyone who knows her and they'll tell you the same.

Let's start with her laugh. It's beautiful. And infectious. And when you are around her you laugh a lot: with her, at her, at yourself, out loud, proper belly jiggling, tears rolling down your face laughing. Sometimes it is at what she did. Sometimes what she said. Sometimes it's just the way she looks. Not that she is funny looking. She is just funny.

Then there is her inner beauty. She sets the standard for being non-judgmental. She is honest and always gently (or not) points out when I'm not being my authentic self. She teaches me lessons in acceptance every day.

She is a great mother. She gave me a book called Babywise which basically taught Marc and I how to survive our first 6 moths as parents. We couldn't have done it without her. She gave us amazing tips on how to use a naughty step effectively.

When Stephanie graduated from high school, I was living in Germany. As a gift I gave her a ticket to fly out and stay with me. At 6:05 in the morning just as I was getting out of the shower the morning before I thought she was due to arrive, my phone rang. Steph was on the other end, crying wondering why I hadn't picked her up at the airpoort. I explained that she wasn't due to arrive until the following day. She indignantly replied that I was clearly mistaken as she was AT the airport in Dusseldorf. It was her very first trip outside the USA. She spoke no German and had to beg for change and instructions on how to use the phne. She was only 18. She could have killed me.

We have done numerous road trips all over the place. We drove around France that summer and stayed in some of the worst places. Then all over Belgium and stayed in some of the best places (after having about 3 too many bottles of wine). Do you remember falling down the stairs and tripping over the cutlery trolley? We sang songs from The Sound of Music on the hilltops of Hidelburg (I know it should have been Austria but we were close). We drove across Wyoming and South Dakota, through the badlands to Mount Rushmore. We drove across Colorado to Missouri.

Steph and I have a lot in common:

• We both LOVE sushi
• We both married tall men
• We both love being mothers but constantly struggle with the balance of keeping ourselves intact
• We love cooking
• We love reading

We are also very different:

• I'm super duper controlling; She is so laid back she is horizontal
• I'm a morning person; She is a night owl
• I am hyper organised; She is the last minute queen
• I am a baseball nut; She is a hockey fanatic

I have so many memories of time spent with my sister: taking a break from Christmas shopping and making up stories about the lives of fellow shoppers, her bachorlorette party (my mother is still angry with me), celebrating the Stanley Cup victory with the Colorado Avalanche, clubbing until the wee hours of the morning during my single days, her showing me how to give Sebastian a bath in our bath tub when he was a baby (without me having to get in with him), drinking coffee in the morning when the house is still quiet. I could go on and on and on and on.

I remember when I bought her her very first Louis Vuitton handbag. You would have thought I had delivered her the second coming. It still fills me with joy when she wears the diamond and pearl necklace I gave her for her sweet 16.

One of the best things my sister and I ever did was write a eulogy for my grandmother's funeral. It was the hardest thing we've ever done. Our husbands supported us with endless cups of coffee and watched us practice until we could do it without breaking down sobbing. I wrote. She edited. I remember standing up there next to her. I started off with a wobble in my voice but ended strongly. She started off strongly and then faultered midway through. Without each other, we couldn't have done it. That's pretty much how I feel about life and my sister. Without her, I don't think I could have made it this far. She is my go-to person for advice in just about everything! She's an expert at childcare advice and without her my children would still be taking a bath with me and not eating solid foods.

Today is Stephanie's 33rd birthday. I love you, sis! I miss you so much it aches. Hope you have a glorious day!

School Practice Day

Today was Abigail's Practice Day in Nursery at St George's.

And I realised I have made good progress against my parenting objectives. Marc and I set off on this journey hoping to be good enough parents to raise happy, confident, independent adults. today proved to me that we are at least part way there.

We dropped Sebastian off at 8:30 and Abigail was very confused about why she couldn't go in straight away. So we took her for some hot chocolate to distract her until her start time of 9:30. This was a pure stroke of genius. And several other mothers had the same idea which meant she got to meet up with 3 other girls before going into the classroom. Then she had already built some friendships and she wouldn't have to walk into a room where she knew no one.

I needn't have worried. We all walked back over the road to the school. At the classroom door, Abigail turned to me and said with a wave "Bye Mum!" I told her I'd come in with her. She looked at me like "If you insist......" I followed her around as she touched everything in the room and talked with her new classmates. I bent down to reassure her that I was still there and she asked me if I would please leave.

So I did. The tears didn't start until I walked out of the school.

It amazes me how steep the dependence curve is. Abigail is just 3.5 years old and yet she can already walk, talk, and wee in the toilet. She has independent thought and makes friends using social skills of her very own. She knows how to negotiate and manipulate. She knows how to charm and how to amaze. She'll be fine.

I on the other hand spent a great deal of the morning feeling redundant. I sought solace in multiple cups of coffee thinking she might not want to return home with me. And then she ran across the room and wrapped her arms around my neck and took my hand to cross the road. Nothing has ever felt sweeter.

Weight

Ug, must I blog about this. And I don't want to. But my health depends upon it.

Ever since having children I've been carrying around a few extra pounds. OK, a lot of extra pounds.

I weighed about 9 st (126 lbs) before I had children. I always had a little tummy on me (genetic carb intolerance or so I'm told) but I liked my figure. I could always find something cute to wear, whatever the occasion. I always felt sexy. I wasn't afraid of the swimming pool or beach.

When I got pregnant with Sebastian, I ate for England. Whole jars of green olives would disappear during my midnight cravings. I binged on Cherry Garcia.

I had read that it was bad to diet when breast feeding and believed the lies about breast feeding ensuring my weight loss. I lost a few pounds here and there just before I got married although quite frankly, I didn't try all that hard.

Then I got pregnant with Abigail. And the weight just dropped off. I was sick for the first 4 months of the pregnancy and for almost all of it couldn't stand the smell of food cooking. I ate loads of salads and fruit. During the last trimester my appetite returned with a vengeance and I ate everything in sight. I focused my attention of bread, butter and cheese. At the same time. In vast quantities.

Post-pregnancy and in the throes of toddler mummyhood, I ensure my children are well fed. We make our own bread. I bake cookies, cakes, and pies. And eat them. I skip breakfast because I am usually running out the door in a morning frenzy with a large cup of cafe au lait in my hand. I grab a bag of crisps (potato chips) and a cheese sandwich with a diet coke for lunch nearly every day in the office. If I'm at home I have a baked potato with loads of butter and sour cream. Dinner is the square meal of meat, potato, veg. Or something similar. I never serve ready made meals but that doesn't necessarily mean what I prepare is much healthier. I eat until it is all gone because I hate being wasteful. I nibble bowls of popcorn with butter after the children have gone to bed nearly every night. Or chips & dips. Or cheese & crackers. I don't drink enough water.

Abigail is 3.5 years old and I'm nearly the heaviest I've ever been. I say nearly because 2 years ago I decide I needed to get my act together. I trained for an 8k run and watched my diet and lost 3 st (42 lbs). I ran the race and immediately went back to my old ways. My increased metabolism (from the running) meant that I kept it off for a while. But I found myself with the same old clothing dilemmas went I went to buy my dresses for the Summer Ball and Ascot Ladies Day. Even though I loved my dress, I would have liked it better on me if I had been 60 lbs lighter. I put myself on the scale and I'm just under what I weighed when I started training for my run.

My sister recently blogged about her health check. She is going to go carb free. Despite my protests that death is inevitable (which obviously she took on board), she is right that we don't have to die of obesity related disease. And I want to run with my children. And I want to feel sexy again. and I want to buy groovy hip clothing like I used to.

There's woman in my office who works for me who has lost 5 st (70 lbs) since January. She looks fabulous. Everyday she sits down next to me and I marvel at her ever shrinking figure and her ever expanding confidence.

So a few days ago, privately I started making some changes. In my food choices. In my activity level. In my attitude.

Now, I need to go public 'cause I'm gonna need a lot of support! I've got some weight targets and I want to see a change in my energy levels. Now some of you are frightened of what I might be like if I had more energy. Trust me, this will be a good thing! I'll try not to bore you with my constant struggle and if I seem a bit grumpy, please accept my apologies in advance. I'm aiming to run that 8k race again in September. I'll keep you posted!

Dream Job

My dream job has always been to get paid to read. Well, I got it! Sort of......

Lisa Takeuchi Cullen, a Time magazine journalist, who does the most relevant blog for my demographic, has sent me a whole load of books to review. I volunteered on her blog to review 1 book, Scream Free Parenting which had been sent to her. Instead today I received 4 bookes including the original commitment. And wholly unexpectedly my payment has been a complimentary signed copy of the book she wrote, Remember Me.

OK, so I won't be retiring anytime soon but I did very nearly buy this book off Amazon just because I really like what Lisa writes on her blog. And the subject of Remember Me is fascinating: Death. Besides, my copy I couldn't have bought of Amazon. Lisa wrote me a wee little note. She even spelled me night correctly!

Now it has just dawned on me that I have 5 books to read. My dream future could be at stake. Oh the pressure! Deep breaths.....I can do this!

A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini

How I have eagerly awaited this book....it was bound to be a disappointment. But it wasn't! And whilst this book doesn't rate as highly on my favourites of all time list as The Kite Runner, it still makes it on to the list (top 25 maybe).

TKR tells the story of men in Afghanistan and A Thousand Splendid Suns tells the story of the women: the mothers, the daughters, the wives, and the friendships.

I found this book a bit more predictable than TKR. Maybe I am more familiar with the plight of women in Afghanistan because it has been covered more in the media. Or maybe because I am a woman, I've been more interested and therefore read and listened better. The plight of the men in TKR was a completely foreign notion to me. But the degree of beating and subservience of the women was astonishing. I cannot even begin to imagine having no control over your life. What they must endure would kill me in 5 minutes flat.

My heart broke for these women. The idea that your father could be killed and because there was no man in your family to walk you to the market, you simply couldn't go breaks my heart. Or that you could be married off to a man 30 years older than you and this was OK because you needed to eat. Or be abandoned by a father simply because you were an embarrassment and he would rather see you sleep on a street outside of his house. The lack of identity and sexuality in Miriam after her marriage is unbelievable.

When I first started reading I was frustrated because the characters seemed so shallow. But as the story unfolds, you discover the depth and strength of the characters, not unlike how friendships and relationships develop. The relationship between Laila and Mariam is beautiful. They literally save each other every single day from complete and total despair.

There are a few plot surprises which I don't want to give away but much like TKR I couldn't put the book down. And Hosseini is a master at conveying the details of physical space. I could picture in my mind's eye every place these people walked.

Afghanistan has all but disappeared from the headlines. And these people (both men and women) still live in horrific conditions both physically, mentally, and spiritually. Hosseini does a great job of informing the world about the plight of his people.

I encourage everyone to read this book! And if you haven't read TKR, start reading it TODAY!

Happy Father's Day

Walk a little slower, Daddy.

Said a little child so small.

I'm following in you footsteps

And I don't want to fall.

Sometimes your steps are very fast.

Sometimes they're hard to see;

So, walk a little slower, Daddy,

For you are leading me.

Someday when I'm all grown up,

You're what I want to be;

Then I will have a little child

Who'll want to follow me.

And I would want to lead just right.

And I know that I was true;

So walk a little slower, Daddy,

For I must follow you.

Father's Day Gifts

Some ideas for father's day!

Arabian Nights Summer Ball

Last night was the St George's School Summer Ball. The theme was Arabian Nights and the venue was the Home Park of Windsor Castle, ie, the Queen's back garden/yard.

Early in the day, the skies turned dark grey and the heavens opened up. The rain fell in sheets. Luckily, the weather cleared within an hour and the sky was crystal blue by the time we arrived by cab at the Town Gate.

My husband looked so handsome in his monkey suit, ahem, I mean dinner jacket! I had a bit of a panic the day before when I tried on the outfit I originally planned to wear. It was brown and I looked like a big turd. I wasn't going to make that mistake again! I power shopped and found a cream coloured chiffon cocktail dress that was beautiful.

Security was a bit strict and everyone was told to bring picture ID. The name on the event ticket had to match the name on ID. Everyone was security checked before we arrived. Once there, everyone looked beautiful with their own interpretation of what evening wear is. The dresses were stunning. The bling was fun. Hair was big.

We arrived for a champagne reception with the amazing castle looming large above us. The objective for the whole event was to raise money for musical instruments for the school so that students can try out various instruments before their parents have to make an investment and buy something their children later discover they don't want to play.

Champagne flowed freely and we bought an envelope from the Tree of Hope for £10. I won a free gym introduction and fitness programme at the Windsor Leisure Centre. I'm paranoid so I think it was fixed and someone is telling me I need to workout!

The venue was the marquee tent which has been constructed for the Travener's Cricket match and sponsored by Emirate's Airlines. It was nice of them to let us use it. The members of the PTA and parents had decorated it very nicely. The bouquet centrepieces were stunning! Wish I'd won that raffle!

Year 1 had quite a good showing. We had over 5 tables of parents. No bad going really. I reckon, if anyone's counting, that our year had more parents than any other year!

We did a round of heads and tails. In the end only one man and 4 women were left standing. And the man won!

We were left to eat our dinner which was quite an improvement on the meal we were served 2 years ago but seriously can you really serve hot delicious meals for 400+ ? To be honest, it was a bit bland. I did my best and stuck to my carb free diet despite a starter of a tart (I scrapped off the filling and ate just that). I didn't touch my bread which was nothing short of a will power triumph and my potatoes went back to the kitchen. I even maintained my determination during pudding. I gleefully ate my creme brulee and scrapped the chocolate mousse of the pie crust base.

During coffee and chocolate we were enticed by numerous auctions. There were some fabulous temptations: private tour of the royal mews by one of the Queen's grooms; carriage ride in the royal grounds, river boat meals for four. All in all the school raised over £10,500. That's a lot of musical instruments!

We continued to consume wine (although apparently they had run out of champagne!) and were entertained by a belly dancer. OK, so this just made me feel very inadequate!

Then the dancing started! I danced til my feet hurt. OK, so my feet were hurting before the dancing even started....can no one make a comfortable but sexy shoe for a woman with size 3 (USA) foot (size 1 UK)? But the DJ was great and everyone was having a boogey. Even my husband got out there and did was he thinks is dancing. Bless him!

By 12:30, the music stopped. The bar closed and the taxis were called.

We left in the with the stunning tower of Windsor Casstle a lit up just for our benefit (honest!)

More Art

These are the photos that Sebastian drew the day I took him to work with me. From left (clockwise): a horse, a frog, a turtle, a fish.

Stunning, wouldn't you agree?

A Very Late Christmas Party

Last Christmas my boss promised to have a Christmas drinks party for his direct reports. It got postponed until January 2007 since every one's diaries were rather full during the holiday season. In May we were still waiting. A colleague, James, and I decided this just wasn't good enough and took the proverbial bull by the horns and scheduled the party and told our boss he was paying. This worked. And last night we had our Christmas drinks party.

11 of us were scheduled to meet up at The Orange Tree pub in Richmond at 6:30 pm. James and I were meant to take the train from Windsor to Richmond but when I spoke to him he informed that he would be catching the 18:23 train. I'm not entirely sure in what world James thinks a 18:23 train will get him to Richmond by 18:30 but I didn't want to leave my colleague, Carol, waiting alone at the pub so Marc agreed to drive me the alleged 25 minute journey so I could be sure to get there by the time Carol's cab was due to arrive.

We left the house just before 6 pm. The traffic was gridlocked all the way there and I was the second to last to arrive followed by Carol whose cab was stuck in similar traffic! Even James arrived long before I did at 7:15.

It was meant to be a gorgeous summer evening but of course the weather wouldn't cooperate and we were dodged with rain the entire evening. Luckily, it did stop each time we moved pubs. We enjoyed a few drinks at a pub on the river Thames and had dinner at Strada. the food was OK but I wouldn't recommend it to a friend and I doubt I'd go back.

We had loads of fun chatting and getting to know each other a little better. We all tend to work hard and in dispersed office locations. We really only get together as a team for one 1/2 hour meeting weekly. These tend to be all business. Short and sweet. So it was nice to chat with colleagues outside that serious setting and have a laugh.

I work with a good group of people. They are very clever and passionate about their work. They make me better than I would be without them.

I arrived home far too late to be called sensible!

Sisters in Europe - Episode 1

When my sister, Stephanie, graduated from high school, I was living in Germany. As a graduation gift I gave her a ticket to visit and spend some time travelling around Europe.

First things first: she had to get a passport. One thing that always amazes Europeans is that so many Americans don't get passports as soon as they are born. I try to explain that with a country as big as America, they don't really need to go outside of their national borders to have a holiday. Pretty much every thing you can possibly want to do on holiday can be found somewhere in the 50 states. They usually wisecrack a response back like "except history beyond 250 years old". which I have to give them.... I try not to defend a whole country. I am just 1 American. I can't possibly represent a nation of 360 million.

Secondly, she got on the airplane and arrived at the airport in Germany. A day early. OK, a day earlier than I thought she was arriving. It was early morning and I was blow drying my hair (getting ready for work) and my boyfriend, Glen, answered our phone. I heard his side of the conversation which went something like this:

• Hi, Steph!


• Where are you?


• What are you doing there?


• How long have you been there?


• LaDawn, when is you sister arriving?


• To which I reply, Tomorrow morning.


• No, she's at the airport now


• To which I reply, But she doesn't get here until tomorrow.

I could hear my sister crying down the phone, "Come get me! NOW!!" He did.

I took the day off work and spent it apologising to my sister. I'm still apologising.

She didn't speak a word of German. She had to beg for change. Had to ask for help to dial the phone number. The phones were way too different for her to figure out. And the instructions were in German.

She still has not forgiven me. She insists I forgot her. I maintain that I just got the days a bit wrong.

Technical Catastrophes

You may remember that my blog redirect from www.ladawn.co.uk to www.clare-panton.blogspot.com wasn't working a few weeks back. And then it didn't work again. And again.

So I got fed up with my domain host and a few days ago switched to "the largest domain host in the UK". And today, the redirect went down again!

To make matters worse, our broadband service went down a short while later.

I couldn't blog. And you couldn't read. I hope you weren't as frustrated as I was. If you were, I am very sorry.

Advice: bookmark www.clare-panton.blogspot.com !!!!

Another Racing Pic

Here is another picture of my father at the racetrack. This time he is on a horse trained by my Janell's grandfather. Keep in mind that Janell married into my family!

The Girls by Lori Lansens

If I had not read this book immediately after The Post Birthday World I would probably have liked it a whole bunch more. Frankly, TPBW was a tough act to follow. But this was my book group's choice for the months of May/June so I had to get it read.

The Girls tells the story of twins, Rose & Ruby, conjoined at the head as they near their 30th birthday. Ruby writes 2-3 chapters for every 1 that Rose writes. Their voices are very different and this is meant to illustrate how different they are as individuals despite their shared bodies.

It tells the story of the people around them and their relationship with each other. The book focuses mostly around the people who adopt Rose & Ruby after their birth mother abandons them. Uncle Stash & Aunt Lovey a couple already in their 50s when they are born take the girls into their home and dramatically change the course of their lives . And this is my major complaint. I got a lot about Uncle Stash & Aunt Lovey and the other peripheral characters but I don't get enough of the relationship between the girls. There is a very bizarre story of the family's trip to Slovakia which doesn't give much to the story. Then there is Ruby's baby girl which she gives up for adoption. It all seems so contrived.

I get the feeling that the research for the novel didn't include talking to many conjoined sets of twins and that the author felt the need to add people that she could empathise with to pad out the story. There was so much potential for the stories premise. So much more could have been written about what it means to be a twin. About what it means to be a sister. About what it means to be so connected. Instead I got a very sappy, superficial, bizarre tale of Slovakia.

Book Group Update: KR couldn't make it. M & I were in complete agreement in our assessment. Everyone else felt it was an easy read, not very intellectually challenging. Not depressing after the horrific tale of A Sunday by the Pool in Kigali. We all felt we should perhaps challenge ourselves a bit more.

No Post

I'm grumpy. I'm exhausted. I'm stressed.

I vomited at the Leisure Centre whilst waiting for Abigail to finish her ballet lesson.

I'm humiliated. I'm embarrassed. I want to crawl under a rock and die.

I am going to go eat Reese's PB Cups and watch junk TV before I go to book group.

Go read another blog.

Random Act of Kindness

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!

Mom My Ride

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 scarecrows. 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!

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 (head 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?

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 was 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!

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.

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.

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?

What is a Braided Career?

No, it is not a new hairstyle....whatcha think about this?

Good advice not just for graduates......

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!

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?

Sleeping Beauty

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!

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!

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.

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!

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.

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.

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!

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.