I started running in January. I'm training for a half marathon, and by
training I mean that I still haven't completely given up on the idea.
My goal, the Wine Country Half Marathon is on May 8th and I have a training schedule courtesy of Nancy who led me to Jeff Galloway's website. I run for 20 minutes on a Monday, 30 minutes on a Wednesday , and then my 'big run' on a Saturday.
On Monday or Wednesday I have two choices, I either fight for a sweaty gym treadmill during peak post-work hours or I get up at some godawful time while the rest of the world sleeps and I run round the barrio where I live. I reckon the gangstas are all tucked up in bed at that time. Except this is California, and while we're sleeping the rest of the world is working away, which makes us feel like we're behind, so we all wake up and head off to work between 5am and 6am which is crazy. You would be amazed at how many downtown offices have people at their desks before your average Yorkshireman has even hit snooze for the first time. You should see us partying at night though! 9pm and the West Coast is done. Fast asleep. Snoring through our pinot noir stained teeth. It's not the Hollywood lifestyle you would imagine.
Monday mornings I am a streak of pasty whiteness gasping for breath like a dying cod as I plod around the local pavements. Take for example this Monday as I lay in bed doing a mental 'if I run now it's over with, compared to having to go the gym tonight, but on the other hand it feels a bit chilly, and I would really like to just lie here in my giant fluffy bed and not drag my carcass around the neighborhood.' Guilt ridden I scraped my hair into a ponytail, put a sports bra under my nightshirt (truly), pulled on my joggers and off I went. In to the largest collection of workmen every congregated. Apparently a tree had fallen down in the night blocking the entrance to the high school. 30 Caltrans workers checking out your pyjamas is an excellent incentive to run faster I find.
I've been running for nearly two months now and I'm up to being able to run 8 miles without needing CPR. I'm definitely noticing a difference with all this exercise - namely I'm hungry all the time and I've gained 4 pounds. I know it's muscle, but still, harrumph.
I do know that I'm getting fitter obviously, and I'm clearly reshaping the post-birth flab landscape - I have a waist now which is somewhat of a revelation for my usual 'drawn using only a ruler' figure (no curves...). Also my original jogging trousers had to be retired after they failed to stay up during one of my final runs in January. Clearly I was making progress, and progress needs to be rewarded so after the first month of sticking to my schedule I took myself off to 'Lucy' and spent a small fortune on proper running clothes that would gain acceptance at the swankiest gym.
After 6 weeks I decided that this wasn't just a passing fad, and that I may just be able to achieve my goal so I sat down to sign up for the race. The reason I'd put it off before was the cost - $100. Now what about a half marathon could possibly cost $100? You have to be committed at a price like that, I don't care if the 'complimentary' race t-shirt is 'moisture wicking'.
So after much inner-wrangling I decided to sign up. My logic said that I'd stuck it out this far, and quite frankly if you could pay someone $100 to make you fitter, happier and left with a tremendous sense of accomplishment in 2 months time, then it seems like a no-brainer. I pulled up the website to sign up.
Sold out.
Gutted.
I put myself on the waiting list, and apparently I have a 15% chance of getting a spot. Now, I have been signing up for the HGTV Dream Home every day for the last six weeks, and while I'm convinced that my one in a million chance of victory is a sure thing as far as that's concerned, the approximately 1 in 6 chance I have of getting in to this race is making me think I haven't got a hope. Mental. I know there are other races, Bay to Breakers in San Francisco springs to mind, but it's not the same.
The drawing for the remaining spots is March 15th. Keep your fingers crossed for me.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Saturday, February 13, 2010
Shot Through The Heart
Once again we have survived the charade of Valentines Day. 18 handcrafted hearts, one for every child in Anna's school plus her teachers. Sometimes I think this has to be the real meaning of 'No Child Left Behind'.
We spent the week cutting out colourful paper hearts, we glitter-glued the edge and Anna painstakingly wrote every child's name. Taj was a breeze but we had to craft an extra large heart for Aleshandra. I think Anna's was the only name that wouldn't send a spell-checker into a frenzy. Every name so outlandishly distinctive that Anna ends up sounding unique. I wonder what it's going to be like next year with two children in school. 36 valentines. 36 shop-bought hearts I can predict right now....
On the way back from school Anna worked her way through her valentines stash, carefully sorting those with jewels and candy from the rest. She handed me mine. 'My family' by Anna K. 'I love my family when we go for ice-cream. I love my family when we get to have candy at the park', the usual pre-diabetic fare. Her teacher had 'interviewed' each child and transcribed their words. Then I read 'sometimes my Mom scares me'.
What?
Say that to my face little girl and I'll give you 'my Mom scares me'. There it was, in laminated perpetuity, 'my Mom scares me'. I'm wondering if I can just hide the heart, no-one need ever know. I can already hear LK saying 'no shit, you scare me most of the time too'.
I start to second-guess myself; the early-morning military-style leaving the house routine, the insistence on wearing underwear in public places.........I decide to interrogate. Hold the water-boarding. 'What do you mean by I scare you, love?'
"You know, you scare me, my teacher says Sofie and I play nicely, the other friends do too but we play the niceliest"
"That's nice", focus dammit!! "but I scare you?"
"Yes. When you jump out and go 'RAWR'"
Oh yay I think. Reprieve! But then I read the next line 'but she's kind of nice'.
So great, I'm either a monster or I've given birth to a politician. I wonder which is worse.
Sunday, February 07, 2010
Monday, February 01, 2010
Feminine Hygiene Products
I shudder to think what this title is going to do to my Google ads, but I will plough on regardless.
One of the only downsides to getting your body back to normal after having a baby, is getting back to flying the red flag once a month. Now you know you have married the right man when he calls you from Costco and you can ask him to buy you a jumbo pack of tampons and he doesn't run screaming with embarrassment - although I do have to call them 'corks' so's not to injure his man-ears.
For some reason in the States it is almost impossible to buy a tampon without an applicator. I'm sure some of you readers are falling off your chairs in shock at the thought of how else do I get it up there, *shudder*? Even in these eco-friendly times it is harder to find an applicator-free tampon than it is to find a Californian without a flip-flop tan. Carrying around an arsenal of torpedoes instead of a tiny and discreet Lilette is something I have learned to live with. What I was not prepared for was LK coming back with 96 scented tampons.
WTF?
Turning a blind eye to the fact that he might have been trying to tell me something, I ask you, scented tampons - really? Are people that squeamish about periods that they think they have to deodorize themselves? The idea of putting chemical anything up there is abhorrent. Are people really so repelled? I wonder if it's an American thing - hairlessness, multiple showers, body deodorant, feminine wipes, I think they've reached the zenith of sanitization over here.
In LK's defence, I'm sure he was just grabbing the first appropriately titled product in the entire embarrassing aisle - but I've never seen these before. Are they new? Are they in the UK? Are they going to be returned to Costco? Oh yes.
One of the only downsides to getting your body back to normal after having a baby, is getting back to flying the red flag once a month. Now you know you have married the right man when he calls you from Costco and you can ask him to buy you a jumbo pack of tampons and he doesn't run screaming with embarrassment - although I do have to call them 'corks' so's not to injure his man-ears.
For some reason in the States it is almost impossible to buy a tampon without an applicator. I'm sure some of you readers are falling off your chairs in shock at the thought of how else do I get it up there, *shudder*? Even in these eco-friendly times it is harder to find an applicator-free tampon than it is to find a Californian without a flip-flop tan. Carrying around an arsenal of torpedoes instead of a tiny and discreet Lilette is something I have learned to live with. What I was not prepared for was LK coming back with 96 scented tampons.
WTF?
Turning a blind eye to the fact that he might have been trying to tell me something, I ask you, scented tampons - really? Are people that squeamish about periods that they think they have to deodorize themselves? The idea of putting chemical anything up there is abhorrent. Are people really so repelled? I wonder if it's an American thing - hairlessness, multiple showers, body deodorant, feminine wipes, I think they've reached the zenith of sanitization over here.
In LK's defence, I'm sure he was just grabbing the first appropriately titled product in the entire embarrassing aisle - but I've never seen these before. Are they new? Are they in the UK? Are they going to be returned to Costco? Oh yes.
Friday, January 29, 2010
What To Buy A One Year Old
First of all, I'm sorry. My life has been frantic lately. My work life, out of control. You hear people saying 'my Monday morning was so crazy that when I looked at the clock it was already 5pm' - well, I look at the clock and it's already Thursday, which is my Friday, so don't be feeling too sorry for me.
I haven't had time to write, think, or most importantly read your blogs (so sorry, but in the meantime, congratulations on that birth/new job/move/mole removal - I will catch up soon). There is no room in my overstuffed brain for thought processing. I was at a big meeting this week where the jumble in my head actually leaked out of my mouth in a horrific torrent of 'oh my God I'm actually saying all this in front of a crowded room full of people and I'm veering violently off topic, and what was my point again, and how do I wrap this up and make them think I had a point and oh Lord they all now look as confused as I feel'.... I ended my public speaking ramble with 'you know,....right?' which just screams professionalism I say. I am like a Mac running PC software - full of useless information; birthdays, school meetings, appointments, shopping lists, job deadlines. I need a re-boot, or perhaps five minutes and a cup of tea, we shall never know.
Anyway, my point.
It amazed me how much I'd forgotten about infants and toddlers, case in point when I was confronted with Lucy's birthday being two weeks after Christmas. What the hell do you buy a one year old, and then two weeks later, what the hell do you buy a one year old? I always like to ask Anna for suggestions. When I asked her what I should get my Dad for his birthday she said 'a San Francisco magazine' ??? And for Christmas she thought I would appreciate a new bra. In red. Anyway, I promised myself I would write this down just in case we have a third child, my brother has a child, or someone googles 'birthday present for a one year old - red bra, appropriate or no?'
I would highly recommend these three things in order of price:
Touch and Feel books/cards - You cannot sit for more than three minutes in our house without Lucy thrusting a book/card in your face and screaming 'da!' She loves to touch the shiny fish, stroke the puppy, tickle the cat's whiskers. It all sounds a little porno but I promise you it's good, clean educational fun.
Secondly: Busy Ball Popper - I think there are a couple of versions out on the market. I was dubious at first, but it turns out that a machine that musically spits out balls is mesmerizing for a toddler. She will fly across the room to get to this thing if it's on and will then sign 'again' until you wish the William Tell Overture Muzak would put you out of your misery. I thought this might be a big, plastic, noisy waste of money, but it is bang on the money for kids ages 1 to 36yrs guaranteed. The only downsides are lightning fast battery depletion and balls that magically disappear - oh and do not entertain the idea of bringing this in to your house if you have a dog as it will be destroyed within minutes.
and finally.....A Rody
A what? Darling, you obviously don't live in Italy, or Santa Barbara, because these things are a plague. Anna swears it's a llama (because of the ears Mumma). When we discussed whether it could be a horse, a goat, an alpaca, or a defunct Olympic mascot, she rolled her eyes and said (I quote), "It is a llama. Because of its ears. You people need to stop talking now. I am tired of hearing this". I see a career in teaching.
Whatever its genus, it is bright, cheerful, wickedly fun and bouncy for an active toddler - rather like a four legged space-hopper, and it's a damn sight cheaper if you buy it online. Trust me. It does come with a stand which I frugally neglected to purchase, as such it's a little unstable for small legs, so after several crashes we've now named it the 'llama of death' and that's all I have to say about that.
I haven't had time to write, think, or most importantly read your blogs (so sorry, but in the meantime, congratulations on that birth/new job/move/mole removal - I will catch up soon). There is no room in my overstuffed brain for thought processing. I was at a big meeting this week where the jumble in my head actually leaked out of my mouth in a horrific torrent of 'oh my God I'm actually saying all this in front of a crowded room full of people and I'm veering violently off topic, and what was my point again, and how do I wrap this up and make them think I had a point and oh Lord they all now look as confused as I feel'.... I ended my public speaking ramble with 'you know,....right?' which just screams professionalism I say. I am like a Mac running PC software - full of useless information; birthdays, school meetings, appointments, shopping lists, job deadlines. I need a re-boot, or perhaps five minutes and a cup of tea, we shall never know.
Anyway, my point.
It amazed me how much I'd forgotten about infants and toddlers, case in point when I was confronted with Lucy's birthday being two weeks after Christmas. What the hell do you buy a one year old, and then two weeks later, what the hell do you buy a one year old? I always like to ask Anna for suggestions. When I asked her what I should get my Dad for his birthday she said 'a San Francisco magazine' ??? And for Christmas she thought I would appreciate a new bra. In red. Anyway, I promised myself I would write this down just in case we have a third child, my brother has a child, or someone googles 'birthday present for a one year old - red bra, appropriate or no?'
I would highly recommend these three things in order of price:
Touch and Feel books/cards - You cannot sit for more than three minutes in our house without Lucy thrusting a book/card in your face and screaming 'da!' She loves to touch the shiny fish, stroke the puppy, tickle the cat's whiskers. It all sounds a little porno but I promise you it's good, clean educational fun.
Secondly: Busy Ball Popper - I think there are a couple of versions out on the market. I was dubious at first, but it turns out that a machine that musically spits out balls is mesmerizing for a toddler. She will fly across the room to get to this thing if it's on and will then sign 'again' until you wish the William Tell Overture Muzak would put you out of your misery. I thought this might be a big, plastic, noisy waste of money, but it is bang on the money for kids ages 1 to 36yrs guaranteed. The only downsides are lightning fast battery depletion and balls that magically disappear - oh and do not entertain the idea of bringing this in to your house if you have a dog as it will be destroyed within minutes.
and finally.....A Rody
A what? Darling, you obviously don't live in Italy, or Santa Barbara, because these things are a plague. Anna swears it's a llama (because of the ears Mumma). When we discussed whether it could be a horse, a goat, an alpaca, or a defunct Olympic mascot, she rolled her eyes and said (I quote), "It is a llama. Because of its ears. You people need to stop talking now. I am tired of hearing this". I see a career in teaching.
Whatever its genus, it is bright, cheerful, wickedly fun and bouncy for an active toddler - rather like a four legged space-hopper, and it's a damn sight cheaper if you buy it online. Trust me. It does come with a stand which I frugally neglected to purchase, as such it's a little unstable for small legs, so after several crashes we've now named it the 'llama of death' and that's all I have to say about that.
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Colour Blindness
We're in the process of looking at schools for Anna.
Urggh.
California schools are ranked 48/49/50th (depending on your sources) out of 50 states, and the school that Anna should, geographically, be going to is ranked in the bottom 10th percentile of California schools. I have been lying awake thinking about this.
As awful as that sounds, it turns out it could play to our advantage, because her district school is a 'failing' school and that gives us a bump up the transfer list to a choice of other Santa Barbara schools. This is according to the School District, and against a barrage of heartfelt advice telling us to lie about our address, we are playing by the rules and attempting to legally transfer in to a good school.
No, I don't know what we're going to do if the transfer fails. We don't have a plan B, other than move to England where Anna would already be a year behind in school.
Agghhh!!
Now, there are many schools to choose from in Santa Barbara; dual-language immersion schools, charter schools, alternative schools, religious schools, crap schools, bad schools, failing schools and awful schools, but they mostly fall in to two camps; rich and white, and poor and hispanic. This makes me angry.
I don't want to purge all this vitriol your way as you are most likely reading this looking forward to a nice weekend, so I will tell you the story of Anna's perspective.
Thank God for Anna.
We have been trying to keep Anna out of the school discussions, because, should the worst happen and she end up going to a sub-par school we would like her to be oblivious of that fact. We were talking the issue over with a hispanic friend of ours who happened to go to the school we would like Anna to go to. Anna was quietly crayoning in the corner. I said 'the bottom line is I have as much fear of her going to a Montecito school as a barrio school. I don't want her growing up thinking the whole world is white'. Quick as a flash, Anna butted in:
"Mom! (eye roll) I know the whole world isn't white! It's mostly green and blue, the only white bits are the Arctic and the Antarctic".
Can I put that on her application?
Urggh.
California schools are ranked 48/49/50th (depending on your sources) out of 50 states, and the school that Anna should, geographically, be going to is ranked in the bottom 10th percentile of California schools. I have been lying awake thinking about this.
As awful as that sounds, it turns out it could play to our advantage, because her district school is a 'failing' school and that gives us a bump up the transfer list to a choice of other Santa Barbara schools. This is according to the School District, and against a barrage of heartfelt advice telling us to lie about our address, we are playing by the rules and attempting to legally transfer in to a good school.
No, I don't know what we're going to do if the transfer fails. We don't have a plan B, other than move to England where Anna would already be a year behind in school.
Agghhh!!
Now, there are many schools to choose from in Santa Barbara; dual-language immersion schools, charter schools, alternative schools, religious schools, crap schools, bad schools, failing schools and awful schools, but they mostly fall in to two camps; rich and white, and poor and hispanic. This makes me angry.
I don't want to purge all this vitriol your way as you are most likely reading this looking forward to a nice weekend, so I will tell you the story of Anna's perspective.
Thank God for Anna.
We have been trying to keep Anna out of the school discussions, because, should the worst happen and she end up going to a sub-par school we would like her to be oblivious of that fact. We were talking the issue over with a hispanic friend of ours who happened to go to the school we would like Anna to go to. Anna was quietly crayoning in the corner. I said 'the bottom line is I have as much fear of her going to a Montecito school as a barrio school. I don't want her growing up thinking the whole world is white'. Quick as a flash, Anna butted in:
"Mom! (eye roll) I know the whole world isn't white! It's mostly green and blue, the only white bits are the Arctic and the Antarctic".
Can I put that on her application?
Sunday, January 17, 2010
Too Close For Comfort
For almost two years now Anna has been old enough to use the toilet by herself. I can tell you're already thinking, this post is going to be great! She runs upstairs and only very rarely asks for assistance.
Of course, flying solo does not always go according to plan and she will often forget to wipe (don't ask how I know that) or will forget to wash her hands, or worse, I will come upstairs after twenty minutes to find that hand-washing has now morphed into 'sink soup' involving soap, horrifyingly healthy squirts of Molton Brown lotion and toothpaste.
She can't use the facilities by herself when out and about though, so in that case we always have to go together. She has a fear of 'rheumatic toilets', read, automatic toilets, the ones that flush when they no longer sense your presence. A little troublesome if you're a waif of a 4 year old as they often decide you're no longer there when you're in the middle of your very delicate procedure and WHOOSH! the terrifyingly loud cyclonic action flushes right beneath your tiny derriere. She will hold back the Nile if it means avoiding a rheumatic toilet.
For the last two years going together to public bathrooms has been an adventure. I will long remember her heartfelt cry of 'You did it Mom! You did a poop!' in the Nordstrom stalls, 'this one's going to be a Dada poop' at full volume in a posh restaurant loo, or my least favourite 'your butt is really hairy Mom' (at 8 months pregnant bikini waxes were not high on my agenda). Her latest gem, uttered last weekend in our local cafe toilets, really cracked me up. We were washing our hands, wondering, with barely concealed excitement whether the hand soap was going to be white (usually), blue (boring) or pink (squeal!) when she turns to me and says...
"Err, Mom, I think that you're forgetting that you left some toilet paper in my butt'.
You're on your own there sister.
Friday, January 08, 2010
The Big One
Lucy, first of all I'd like to apologize for taking entirely awful photos of you all year. When I could drag myself out of my sleep deprivation and point a camera your way I mean. I think I have four good photos of you in total, and maybe two of them are in focus.
For the first six months of your life you had comically sleepy eyes, causing your Dad to name you 'Popeye' and your sister to parrot 'Pot Pie'. I was worried about your eyelids. You constantly looked like you'd had a really rough night the night before, and to be honest, you often had. Even so, some days I thought you'd have to go through life with your neck at a 45º angle just to be able to see straight. My Mum told me to stop being overly critical. The doctor said 'as long as the lid doesn't cover her pupils she will be fine'. Big sigh of relief. Then he said 'but, while we're on the subject, have you noticed that her pupils aren't centered in her irises'. To which I said ' -- '.
Turns out he was right:
Perhaps I shouldn't have had quite so much wine right before I found out I was pregnant.
Anyway, you're fine. Weird, but fine. Apparently it's purely a muscular issue, the muscles on one side of your eye are stronger than the other, causing them to be off balance. It's now corrected, and your eyelids aren't half as droopy, but for a while there I was fully expecting you to have x-ray vision or an uncanny ability to view those 3-d puzzles instantly. Something.
Lucy, to me you are so staggeringly beautiful. When Anna was an infant, people would literally race across a shop floor to congratulate me on the beauty of my spawn, with her perfect angelic blonde head and too-cute-to-be true Gerber tuft. They never did that with you and I can't understand it. Maybe it's because I had the 'don't come near me or I'll stab you' expression of a sleep-deprived mother, or maybe it's because they were thinking 'fuck me that babies eyes are messed up'. Whatever is was, they were wrong, because you are stunning.
I feel that too often you get short shrift as a second child; hand-me-down clothes, hand-me-down toys, hand-me-down been-there-done-that parents, but I think it's worked to your advantage. You are brimming with confidence, with a zest for life that only someone with 4-D vision can have. I told my friend S. that your latest trick is to squeal with delight at the slightest thing, baths in particular have you sending the neighbourhood dogs in to fits with your screeching. You love life. S. suggested that we should take lessons from you and find more joy in the ordinary. Have you seen Avatar? SQUEAL!!! That's the best bite of sandwich I've had today! SCREECH!
Excellent.
Today you turn one, or Juan, as LK likes to say. A whole year of Lucydom. This evening we are having one of those ridiculous one-year-old birthday parties. The kind where you will blink your unremembering eyes at the hoopla around you and then smash your fists in to your slice of birthday cake and paste it into your hair.
I decided months ago that a party would be ridiculous. I was going to take a picture of you under a sign reading 'I was born in a recession year'. Dress you up in a sack cloth and give you a copy of Grapes of Wrath to chew on. Then the guilt started to creep in. There would be no festive 1st year photo, no paper hats or streamers. That was four days ago and I now have nearly twenty people arriving in an hour for appetizers, champagne and birthday cake. *Yikes*. It seems the lure of a 1st birthday party is too strong. Either that or there's nothing good on TV tonight.
Anyhoo, back to the main event - what can I say about my smallest daughter now that you're officially 1? Well, you're an all-business chick for a start. You know what you want in life and you go for it, unfazed. You love baths, running, climbing. You took your first steps on the day you turned 10 months old. You weren't bowled over by the idea, so you carried on crawling at top speed. Then a few days before you turned 11 months, you walked from the coffee table in the lounge, into the kitchen, across the entire length of the kitchen, to the foot of the stairs, where you proceeded to climb then. It was like having a mute child suddenly reciting Shakespeare. You have not looked back.
You love books, dolls, soft toys and toilets. You don't like to be held. You don't like cuddles. You want to be down, off, there not here. Dammit. You pinch, and then laugh. You bite when you're tired. You don't sound very nice do you? Except that you're absolutely irresistible. Beautiful, passionate, headstrong and fearless.
It's going to be a wild ride.
Friday, January 01, 2010
New Year's Day 2010
We woke on New Years morning to Anna padding in to our room at 7:15am.
"When I woke up this morning there was a man in my bedroom"
"But then I saw it was just a t-shirt and a pair of pants"
You can bet we were wide awake after that one.
Then Lucy woke up. I love this stage of babyhood, soon to be over, where the giant bowling ball head is the hardest thing to balance and maneuver. When she wakes up, still floppy with sleep, she has the hardest time lifting her head. It's as much as she can do to push her bottom high in to the air while she circles and tries to gain the momentum to raise her head. Eventually she'll greet us with a toothy grin and a puff of white candy-floss hair and then she'll crash back in to the pillows with the effort.
A warm baby with a giant overnight nappy and an overly imaginative 4 year old. 2010 started well.
And to end: a sunset walk on the beach. Red sky at night, shepherd's delight. Hopefully auguring in a good year for all.
"When I woke up this morning there was a man in my bedroom"
"But then I saw it was just a t-shirt and a pair of pants"
You can bet we were wide awake after that one.
Then Lucy woke up. I love this stage of babyhood, soon to be over, where the giant bowling ball head is the hardest thing to balance and maneuver. When she wakes up, still floppy with sleep, she has the hardest time lifting her head. It's as much as she can do to push her bottom high in to the air while she circles and tries to gain the momentum to raise her head. Eventually she'll greet us with a toothy grin and a puff of white candy-floss hair and then she'll crash back in to the pillows with the effort.
A warm baby with a giant overnight nappy and an overly imaginative 4 year old. 2010 started well.
And to end: a sunset walk on the beach. Red sky at night, shepherd's delight. Hopefully auguring in a good year for all.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
2009 In A Nutshell (Where It Should Remain)
Alternatively titled, '2009 - Shut Up About That Damn Baby'
She can walk now, did I tell you that?
She's so advanced.
Really, she's amazing.
Much better than your kids.
I did this meme back in 2007, failed to complete it in 2008 (something about having a baby days in to the New Year....) and I'm re-attempting it this year.
1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before? Parented two children. Obviously this was the BIG NEWS of the year. Lucy's arrival. Yes I'd looked after an infant before, but an infant and a 4 year old? It seems ridiculous now that I routinely look after both of them for hours, even days at a time, but that first couple of hours flying solo when LK went to a concert? Etched in my brain for ever. They both slept more or less the entire time, but I clutched that baby to my chest knowing that if she woke up and her sister woke, then the entire Universe would explode with impossibility because it just could not be done.
What else? I had something (a very little something) published in Real Simple magazine, and I started making money off this blog. Neither qualify me for giving up my day job, or even calling myself a writer, but it's a start. Perhaps.
and finally, I got myself organized with Skype and that was by far one of the best decisions of the year. Even though we were flat broke after I had Lucy I splashed out on a webcam for a Mac and my parents did likewise. It has been the greatest thing. During my maternity leave I would have hour-long natters over a cup of tea with my Mum while Lucy dozed in the background. My Dad, who is a man of few words, now participates in conversations, and they both get to see Anna and Lucy flit in and out of camera shot as they go about their business of dressing princesses or picking small objects up off the floor to chew. Now if I could just work out how to get Mun and Dad to babysit via Skype my life would be perfect....
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't think I had any other than to deliver a baby with both of us intact. Next years will include drinking more water and trying to eat at least five fruits and veg a day. A girl can dream.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? That would be me. Welcome to the world Lucy Jane! Now almost an entire year old and 'practically a person'.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No.
5. What countries did you visit? England. I would love to be able to go back every year. Anna said recently 'I wish I was two Anna's and one of me could live in England with Granny and Granddad and look for snails'. Well said that girl - I'd even take the snails.
We also went to Maine to visit LK's family, and I think that counts because if you live in Southern California then New England is practically a foreign country. A country where the only spices are 'ketchup' and 'more ketchup'.
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? Can I say financial security three years in a row? Hell yes I can. Wishlist includes two cars that work, contraception that doesn't send me loopy, more free time to write.
7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Jan 8th - Welcome to the world Miss Lucy!
May 6th - FIRE!
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
See question 3 & 7.
9. What was your biggest failure? I suppose it's good that one doesn't automatically spring to mind...
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I have had a migraine every day for the last 3 months. When I write it like that I'm amazed I'm stupid enough to think I can cure myself with 'drinking more water'. I think it's hormonal but in the meantime I'll just drink this glass of water...
11. What was the best thing you bought? A webcam to enable us to use Skype, plane tickets home, and I have to say, a ridiculously overpriced scarf I lusted after when pregnant. Flat broke, on maternity leave I shelled out for a beautiful handwoven scarf containing all my favourite colours. My justification was I'd just had a baby and a scarf was the only flattering piece of clothing I could wear. I've worn it at least 3 days a week ever since. It almost makes me want to stop buying crap at Old Navy and only buy one or two gorgeous pieces of clothing a year...
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? My friend Jen for volunteering to watch Lucy while I'm at work, enabling me to leave the house each morning safe in the knowledge that my daughter was in a household where people know how to cook fabulous food and a decorate with flair.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Mostly mine. Oh, and people who have faith in health insurance companies.
14. Where did most of your money go? Mortgage and childcare. *sigh*
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Lucy sleeping through the night. Seeing my name in print.
16. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Hard to say. Not that I'm unhappy, but being pregnant with Lucy and facing a 3 month break from work last year meant there was a lot to be grinning about. b) thinner or fatter? Definitely thinner. Squashier, but thinner. c) richer or poorer? I think this is the eye of the hurricane.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I'd had more date time with LK. I also wish I'd looked after myself a bit better, more yoga, fewer 5th glasses of wine at dinner parties, more time by myself. - wow I wrote this in 2007 and it's still completely applicable. So now I'm just going to wish for more money with which to accomplish these impossible goals!
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Nurturing old wounds. 2010 motto - let it go! And stop getting drunk and blurting out all the stuff you're too wimpy to blog about. Oh, and stop worrying.
20. How did you spend Christmas? Home in Santa Barbara, missing my family but having a wonderful time with LK, my two girls, friends and American family.
21. Did you fall in love in 2009? Yes. I have a crush on my smallest daughter and I want to bite her bum.
22. What was your favorite TV program? Mary Queen of Shops and Top Chef, tied for first. OK, and if I'm honest 'Teen Moms' on VH1.
23. What was the best book you read? Oooo, I'm halfway through reading Girl With A Dragon Tattoo right now which I'm loving, so probably that book unless it has a singularly disappointing ending. Honourable mention has to go to 'Friday Night Knitting Club' not because I particularly enjoyed it (a bit blah to be honest) but I was reading it when in labour with Lucy and wrote my contraction times on the top of every page, so it's a book I shall keep in my library forever.
24. Favourite clothes shop? White Stuff!
25. What was your greatest musical discovery? The Killers. I am so very out of date.
26. What did you want and get? Another child.
27. What did you want and not get? Money.
28. What was your favorite film of this year? I might have to come back to this one. I loved Meryl Streep in Julie and Julia.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 36 and I can't remember. I must be getting old.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Babysitting on tap.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009? I appear to be wearing a lot of scarves.
32. What kept you sane? Sleep.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I have to say, it was hard to muster the energy this year, but thanks to S&G for finding this tea towel for me:
34. What political issue stirred you the most? Universal healthcare. If I have to hear one more patient crying on the phone saying 'but I thought we were covered.....'.
35. Who did you miss? My family. Every day.
36. Who was the best new person you met? Loop the poop.
37. Most overused word or phrase of 2009: GENTLE!!
38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009. Always shut the toilet lid if you have a baby that can walk otherwise say goodbye to your cell phone.
She can walk now, did I tell you that?
She's so advanced.
Really, she's amazing.
Much better than your kids.
I did this meme back in 2007, failed to complete it in 2008 (something about having a baby days in to the New Year....) and I'm re-attempting it this year.
1. What did you do in 2009 that you’d never done before? Parented two children. Obviously this was the BIG NEWS of the year. Lucy's arrival. Yes I'd looked after an infant before, but an infant and a 4 year old? It seems ridiculous now that I routinely look after both of them for hours, even days at a time, but that first couple of hours flying solo when LK went to a concert? Etched in my brain for ever. They both slept more or less the entire time, but I clutched that baby to my chest knowing that if she woke up and her sister woke, then the entire Universe would explode with impossibility because it just could not be done.
What else? I had something (a very little something) published in Real Simple magazine, and I started making money off this blog. Neither qualify me for giving up my day job, or even calling myself a writer, but it's a start. Perhaps.
and finally, I got myself organized with Skype and that was by far one of the best decisions of the year. Even though we were flat broke after I had Lucy I splashed out on a webcam for a Mac and my parents did likewise. It has been the greatest thing. During my maternity leave I would have hour-long natters over a cup of tea with my Mum while Lucy dozed in the background. My Dad, who is a man of few words, now participates in conversations, and they both get to see Anna and Lucy flit in and out of camera shot as they go about their business of dressing princesses or picking small objects up off the floor to chew. Now if I could just work out how to get Mun and Dad to babysit via Skype my life would be perfect....
2. Did you keep your new year’s resolutions, and will you make more for next year? I don't think I had any other than to deliver a baby with both of us intact. Next years will include drinking more water and trying to eat at least five fruits and veg a day. A girl can dream.
3. Did anyone close to you give birth? That would be me. Welcome to the world Lucy Jane! Now almost an entire year old and 'practically a person'.
4. Did anyone close to you die? No.
5. What countries did you visit? England. I would love to be able to go back every year. Anna said recently 'I wish I was two Anna's and one of me could live in England with Granny and Granddad and look for snails'. Well said that girl - I'd even take the snails.
We also went to Maine to visit LK's family, and I think that counts because if you live in Southern California then New England is practically a foreign country. A country where the only spices are 'ketchup' and 'more ketchup'.
6. What would you like to have in 2010 that you lacked in 2009? Can I say financial security three years in a row? Hell yes I can. Wishlist includes two cars that work, contraception that doesn't send me loopy, more free time to write.
7. What dates from 2009 will remain etched upon your memory, and why?
Jan 8th - Welcome to the world Miss Lucy!
May 6th - FIRE!
8. What was your biggest achievement of the year?
See question 3 & 7.
9. What was your biggest failure? I suppose it's good that one doesn't automatically spring to mind...
10. Did you suffer illness or injury? I have had a migraine every day for the last 3 months. When I write it like that I'm amazed I'm stupid enough to think I can cure myself with 'drinking more water'. I think it's hormonal but in the meantime I'll just drink this glass of water...
11. What was the best thing you bought? A webcam to enable us to use Skype, plane tickets home, and I have to say, a ridiculously overpriced scarf I lusted after when pregnant. Flat broke, on maternity leave I shelled out for a beautiful handwoven scarf containing all my favourite colours. My justification was I'd just had a baby and a scarf was the only flattering piece of clothing I could wear. I've worn it at least 3 days a week ever since. It almost makes me want to stop buying crap at Old Navy and only buy one or two gorgeous pieces of clothing a year...
12. Whose behavior merited celebration? My friend Jen for volunteering to watch Lucy while I'm at work, enabling me to leave the house each morning safe in the knowledge that my daughter was in a household where people know how to cook fabulous food and a decorate with flair.
13. Whose behavior made you appalled and depressed? Mostly mine. Oh, and people who have faith in health insurance companies.
14. Where did most of your money go? Mortgage and childcare. *sigh*
15. What did you get really, really, really excited about? Lucy sleeping through the night. Seeing my name in print.
16. Compared to this time last year, are you: a) happier or sadder? Hard to say. Not that I'm unhappy, but being pregnant with Lucy and facing a 3 month break from work last year meant there was a lot to be grinning about. b) thinner or fatter? Definitely thinner. Squashier, but thinner. c) richer or poorer? I think this is the eye of the hurricane.
17. Who inspired you? My friend Fussy who got the recognition she so thoroughly deserves by getting a book deal out of this blog with her friend Alice. Also Geninne's art blog inspires me every single time I read it. Her work is just beautiful and I would spend a fortune on Etsy on her stuff, if I had a fortune.
18. What do you wish you’d done more of? I wish I'd had more date time with LK. I also wish I'd looked after myself a bit better, more yoga, fewer 5th glasses of wine at dinner parties, more time by myself. - wow I wrote this in 2007 and it's still completely applicable. So now I'm just going to wish for more money with which to accomplish these impossible goals!
19. What do you wish you’d done less of? Nurturing old wounds. 2010 motto - let it go! And stop getting drunk and blurting out all the stuff you're too wimpy to blog about. Oh, and stop worrying.
20. How did you spend Christmas? Home in Santa Barbara, missing my family but having a wonderful time with LK, my two girls, friends and American family.
21. Did you fall in love in 2009? Yes. I have a crush on my smallest daughter and I want to bite her bum.
22. What was your favorite TV program? Mary Queen of Shops and Top Chef, tied for first. OK, and if I'm honest 'Teen Moms' on VH1.
23. What was the best book you read? Oooo, I'm halfway through reading Girl With A Dragon Tattoo right now which I'm loving, so probably that book unless it has a singularly disappointing ending. Honourable mention has to go to 'Friday Night Knitting Club' not because I particularly enjoyed it (a bit blah to be honest) but I was reading it when in labour with Lucy and wrote my contraction times on the top of every page, so it's a book I shall keep in my library forever.
24. Favourite clothes shop? White Stuff!
25. What was your greatest musical discovery? The Killers. I am so very out of date.
26. What did you want and get? Another child.
27. What did you want and not get? Money.
28. What was your favorite film of this year? I might have to come back to this one. I loved Meryl Streep in Julie and Julia.
29. What did you do on your birthday, and how old were you? 36 and I can't remember. I must be getting old.
30. What one thing would have made your year immeasurably more satisfying? Babysitting on tap.
31. How would you describe your personal fashion concept in 2009? I appear to be wearing a lot of scarves.
32. What kept you sane? Sleep.
33. Which celebrity/public figure did you fancy the most? I have to say, it was hard to muster the energy this year, but thanks to S&G for finding this tea towel for me:
34. What political issue stirred you the most? Universal healthcare. If I have to hear one more patient crying on the phone saying 'but I thought we were covered.....'.
35. Who did you miss? My family. Every day.
36. Who was the best new person you met? Loop the poop.
37. Most overused word or phrase of 2009: GENTLE!!
38. Tell us a valuable life lesson you learned in 2009. Always shut the toilet lid if you have a baby that can walk otherwise say goodbye to your cell phone.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Once In A Blue Moon
I have a million* partially written blog posts about Christmas, New Year, tinsel and tantrums but stop press - I have just found out it will be a blue moon tomorrow night and that takes precedence I think you will agree.
What is a blue moon other than a croony 1950s love song? A blue moon is not, as I had been led to believe, a second full moon in a month, it's:
Most years have twelve full moons which occur approximately monthly, but in addition to those twelve full lunar cycles, each solar calendar year contains an excess of roughly eleven days compared to the lunar year. The extra days accumulate, so that every two or three years (on average about every 2.7154 years[1]), there is an extra full moon. The extra moon is called a "blue moon."
Whatever, Wikipedia, it is a rare occurrence, rather like the second shag of a month or a 13th shag in a year. Hence the phrase 'once in a blue moon' (may or may not be used to describe intercourse).
To backtrack; I had been writing my 2009 'year in a nutshell' post (bet you can't wait for that one!) and one of the questions was - what did you do this year that you've never done before? I was stumped. Other than parent two children rather haphazardly I had done nothing new. I have friends - you know who you are - who could answer 'visited Croatia! Portugal! North Africa! Bolivia!' and still others who were made partners of law firms or bungee jumped off tall bridges.
I wiped two arses.
It made me a little sad that my life was full of 'maintaining'. You think you have all this time, a year in fact, but then when you break it down in to spare time it actually appears you have approximately 4 hours to yourself, in 3 minute increments. No wonder I haven't done anything of value.
Then someone said 'blue moon!' and I jumped - someone's giving me a cosmic second chance. I intend to do something tomorrow that I've never done before in my life. I just haven't thought of it yet. Hopefully it'll be winning the lottery, but it may just be eating an oyster or tickling a marmoset. I'm giving you permission to do something out of the ordinary too, just let me know.
Marmosets beware!
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Happy Boxing Day
Finally, a new header - long overdue now that Lucy is almost one. I just couldn't live with her infant picture anymore now that she's racing around on two feet 'like a human' (per Anna).
This was going to be our Christmas card. I had it all planned out. It seemed like a guaranteed way to get two smiles out of two kids - they love the carousel and squeal with joy whenever they're on it. Best laid plans etc etc, I have to hold Lucy on the horse, so in order for me not to be in the shot I had to put Lucy on the far horse. As you can see, if we'd sent this photo it looks like we're saying 'so yeah, we had another kid'.
On that note, Merry Christmas to you and yours, and thanks for all your support and comments this year. You guys ROCK!
This was going to be our Christmas card. I had it all planned out. It seemed like a guaranteed way to get two smiles out of two kids - they love the carousel and squeal with joy whenever they're on it. Best laid plans etc etc, I have to hold Lucy on the horse, so in order for me not to be in the shot I had to put Lucy on the far horse. As you can see, if we'd sent this photo it looks like we're saying 'so yeah, we had another kid'.
On that note, Merry Christmas to you and yours, and thanks for all your support and comments this year. You guys ROCK!
Friday, December 18, 2009
How Not To Rotate Tires
The tires on my Pilot needed rotating. LK said call the dealership and find out how much it would cost to have it done. I said 'the dealerships always overcharge, I'll take it out to Costco tomorrow morning when I pick up some formula and I'll get it done then'.
If LK took the car in to get the tires rotated this is how I envisioned it would go:
LK: Hi, I'd like my tires rotated please, here are the keys
Flunkey: No problem Sir! That'll be (at most, surely) $50, sign here
LK: Thanks, how long will it take?
Flunkey: We'll have it done in about 20 minutes, have a seat in our complimentary man lounge and watch the game
LK: Don't mind if I do (scratches balls).
How hard could it be?
This is what really happened:
Me: Hi I'd like my tires rotated please, here are the keys
Has All The Power: Did you buy the tires here?
Me: Nope!
HATP: Sorry, no can do, but if you buy tires then we'll rotate the others for you.
Me: Oho, because I'm a chick you're going to make me buy stuff I don't need...
HATP: Maam?
Me:Well you see it's only two years old do you think I need new tires?
HATP: When did you last have them rotated?
Me: Deer in headlights
HATP: Balanced?
Me: Eyes widen in panic
HATP: Could you show me your car Maam?
Me: Fuck
HATP: Yep, you need new tires all right, these here (points to random tire parts) are what we call 'legally bald' which can be highly dangerous (stares pointedly at my two car seats).
Me: Crap. OK, can you let me know how much that would be, and I'll call my husband and see what he thinks.
LK: "Hi, you've reached LK and I'm not going to answer, so don't even try texting 'I need to by 2 tires? help?' You're on your own. Don't screw up."
HATP: That'll be a staggeringly large amount of money. But we'll rotate your other two tires for 'free'.
Me: OK, two new tires please. *sigh*
HATP: Do you have tire sensors?
Me: Is this a trap?
HATP: Because if you do, you'll need new 'graphite/laudanum/diamond' sensors on each tire or your tire sensor won't work.
Me: Whatever, just buy me a drink next time you financially rape me.
HATP: Erm, Maam, there seems to be a problem
Me: (defeated) for the love of God, what now, do I need new tire 'sleeves', 'grommet casings'??
HATP: Your Costco card's coming up for renewal
Me: Of course it is.
HATP: Hmm, it looks like it's a business card, so you can either renew for the entire office where LK works for $gasp, or sign up for your own membership.
Me: My life wasn't supposed to be like this you know.
HATP: Sorry? Anyway, your grand total is eleventy billion dollars. It'll be ready in about 90 minutes. Good luck with those screaming children you have - that little guy sounds mad!
If LK took the car in to get the tires rotated this is how I envisioned it would go:
LK: Hi, I'd like my tires rotated please, here are the keys
Flunkey: No problem Sir! That'll be (at most, surely) $50, sign here
LK: Thanks, how long will it take?
Flunkey: We'll have it done in about 20 minutes, have a seat in our complimentary man lounge and watch the game
LK: Don't mind if I do (scratches balls).
How hard could it be?
This is what really happened:
Me: Hi I'd like my tires rotated please, here are the keys
Has All The Power: Did you buy the tires here?
Me: Nope!
HATP: Sorry, no can do, but if you buy tires then we'll rotate the others for you.
Me: Oho, because I'm a chick you're going to make me buy stuff I don't need...
HATP: Maam?
Me:Well you see it's only two years old do you think I need new tires?
HATP: When did you last have them rotated?
Me: Deer in headlights
HATP: Balanced?
Me: Eyes widen in panic
HATP: Could you show me your car Maam?
Me: Fuck
HATP: Yep, you need new tires all right, these here (points to random tire parts) are what we call 'legally bald' which can be highly dangerous (stares pointedly at my two car seats).
Me: Crap. OK, can you let me know how much that would be, and I'll call my husband and see what he thinks.
LK: "Hi, you've reached LK and I'm not going to answer, so don't even try texting 'I need to by 2 tires? help?' You're on your own. Don't screw up."
HATP: That'll be a staggeringly large amount of money. But we'll rotate your other two tires for 'free'.
Me: OK, two new tires please. *sigh*
HATP: Do you have tire sensors?
Me: Is this a trap?
HATP: Because if you do, you'll need new 'graphite/laudanum/diamond' sensors on each tire or your tire sensor won't work.
Me: Whatever, just buy me a drink next time you financially rape me.
HATP: Erm, Maam, there seems to be a problem
Me: (defeated) for the love of God, what now, do I need new tire 'sleeves', 'grommet casings'??
HATP: Your Costco card's coming up for renewal
Me: Of course it is.
HATP: Hmm, it looks like it's a business card, so you can either renew for the entire office where LK works for $gasp, or sign up for your own membership.
Me: My life wasn't supposed to be like this you know.
HATP: Sorry? Anyway, your grand total is eleventy billion dollars. It'll be ready in about 90 minutes. Good luck with those screaming children you have - that little guy sounds mad!
Monday, December 14, 2009
Seek And You Shall Find
My Christmas shopping so far consists of:
Anna on the other hand is getting a little more sophisticated when it comes to Christmas. Remember last year's heart-wrenchingly cute Christmas list? Well, this year she's got a bona fide list involving My Little Ponies, Barbies and various other pink plastic rubbish. In my mad dash round Costco I bought a violently pink barbie complete with bejeweled pink horse (shoot me) and some much more civilized Playmobil horse and stable play thing. Anna has pretty much never played with her Playmobil plane and airport, but I love Playmobil and will keep pushing it on her especially if it's almost 50% off.
Now, I managed my sprint around Costco child free (gasp). I patted myself on the back for securing two good, solid, cheap presents. Then it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was going to hide them. I thought about sticking them in the attic but couldn't remember where LK kept the step ladder. I thought about Marge Simpson hiding things in the salad crisper - the one place Homer would never look. Where was the one place Anna would never look? My closet under some clothes? Under the bed? Well apparently I was wrong on that score because she found the painfully pink princess and was gazing longingly at it when I walked in to the bedroom the other evening.
"Look what I found Momma!" she gasped, clearly thinking that if you just wish hard enough these things appear in the strangest of places.
I explained that it was for Christmas, that she would be getting it, just not right now and bizarrely, she was fine with that. A little too fine, which makes me think I should check my crap-old-clothes bottom drawer and make sure it's still re-hidden there.
I can't hide everything in my bottom drawer though, and thanks to some careless internet shopping at 3am recently there is more stuff on the way.
Where do you hide your Christmas presents for the kids? The attic? The trunk of the car? Knicker drawer? Salad crisper? Under the tree (brave, trusting souls). Help is needed.
- A ridiculous splurge on so-cheap-it'd-be-a-crime-not-to-buy-them presents for Anna at Costco.
- Lots of internet shopping where I fill my cart up with an entire family full of presents and then fail to complete the purchase at the last possible second due to financial guilt.
- An insane rush around World Market with a $10 off any purchase of $30 coupon (I spent $87 dollars, which wasn't quite how I'd planned it, damn you coupons). This World Market binge basically means that if you know me in real life then you will be getting a Chocolate Orange for Christmas, because I have always loved them and they were made until 2005 in York, but are now made in Slovakia which is a bit crap really, yet I still bought fifteen. Approximately. Damn you Slovak sweat-shops.
Anna on the other hand is getting a little more sophisticated when it comes to Christmas. Remember last year's heart-wrenchingly cute Christmas list? Well, this year she's got a bona fide list involving My Little Ponies, Barbies and various other pink plastic rubbish. In my mad dash round Costco I bought a violently pink barbie complete with bejeweled pink horse (shoot me) and some much more civilized Playmobil horse and stable play thing. Anna has pretty much never played with her Playmobil plane and airport, but I love Playmobil and will keep pushing it on her especially if it's almost 50% off.
Now, I managed my sprint around Costco child free (gasp). I patted myself on the back for securing two good, solid, cheap presents. Then it occurred to me that I had no idea where I was going to hide them. I thought about sticking them in the attic but couldn't remember where LK kept the step ladder. I thought about Marge Simpson hiding things in the salad crisper - the one place Homer would never look. Where was the one place Anna would never look? My closet under some clothes? Under the bed? Well apparently I was wrong on that score because she found the painfully pink princess and was gazing longingly at it when I walked in to the bedroom the other evening.
"Look what I found Momma!" she gasped, clearly thinking that if you just wish hard enough these things appear in the strangest of places.
I explained that it was for Christmas, that she would be getting it, just not right now and bizarrely, she was fine with that. A little too fine, which makes me think I should check my crap-old-clothes bottom drawer and make sure it's still re-hidden there.
I can't hide everything in my bottom drawer though, and thanks to some careless internet shopping at 3am recently there is more stuff on the way.
Where do you hide your Christmas presents for the kids? The attic? The trunk of the car? Knicker drawer? Salad crisper? Under the tree (brave, trusting souls). Help is needed.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
Nut Crack-Away, Nut Crack-Away, Nut Crack-Away!!
In England at Christmas I would have been taking Anna to the pantomime.
Oh no you wouldn't!
I love pantos, and I think Anna is on the cusp of really enjoying something like that. The audience participation, the cat-calling and throwing of sweets. She's still not very good with loud noises though - in fact at her school summer production she stood on the stage with her hands over her ears, declared 'it's too loud Mumma!' and exited stage left.
The Nutcracker is far more her speed, not least because she is a truly devoted ballerina and never misses an opportunity to launch in to an arabesque or a jeté. This can be alarming to fellow shoppers at the supermarket as very often it comes without warning.
I think it's interesting that the UK has the Christmas theatre tradition of more low-brow, vaudeville pantomime, while the US is all about the more high-brow Nutcracker. Or maybe I'm getting this wrong and posh kids in England go to the ballet at Christmas? I wouldn't know. It was panto or nothing for me. Growing up in the wilds of North Yorkshire we would always have a pantomime based on a fairy tale every Christmas but we very, very rarely had anyone famous in it. Even actors whose greatest achievement involves a walk-on part in Corrie draw the line at Harrogate theatre it seems.
Santa Barbara though, Lordy Lordy. Not only is it a small town with grand artistic ideas, but it also had two Nutcrackers going on this afternoon, across the street from each other, both starting at identical times. A bit of a minefield if you're meeting up with several other tiny ballerinas from Saturday morning dance class. The street was awash with red taffeta and black patent-leather mary-janes. Anna was so excited, I had to grab her hand to stop her pirouetting in to traffic. LK was gratefully at home watching golf while Lucy napped, perhaps for the first time realizing that being the father of two daughters has its advantages. Anna and I were having 'girl time' as Anna likes to put it.
I wasn't too worried about her sticking out the entire performance, we've been taking her to the movies off and on for about a year now. She will sit still for a couple of hours and is working on sotto voce comments, although this afternoon she did let the surrounding audience know that the ballerina doll in the first act had 'big boobies like you Mumma before they went soggy'. Nice. Plus she was being bribed with an ice-cream at the end.
The first twenty minutes were unbelievable. The dancers twirled in their 'deep dresses' (sighed Anna), I think she was genuinely overwhelmed by the immediacy of having real, live, ballerinas performing in front of her. She sat perfectly still, hands clasped, in obvious rapture. Then the toy soldiers fired a real cannon and I spent the next ten minutes trying to pry her hands off her ears. Still, with the cunning use of Cadbury's giant chocolate buttons meted out over the next hour we made it through the first act.
"Ice-cream" yelled Anna. The disappointment palpable when I broke it to her that this was just the interval. The second half was a lot of wriggling, a lot of hissed 'I want to sit on your lap Mumma', 'when is this over' and 'I want an ice-cream'. Fortunately this was a child-heavy audience so she was not in the minority. There was one bloke a few rows ahead of us who seemed to take every cough, comment or movement personally, but honestly, he was going to a matinee of the Nutcracker, was he expecting a child-free zone?
It's not a little sad that Anna's going to grow up without pantomime. Unless we make it over to England for a Christmas one of these years. I took LK about ten years ago and he had that indulgent smile he has for all things quintessentially English, the smile that says 'you're all completely bonkers'. Instead I can see a lot of Nutcrackers in my future. I'd better bulk buy the Cadbury's buttons.
Oh no you wouldn't!
I love pantos, and I think Anna is on the cusp of really enjoying something like that. The audience participation, the cat-calling and throwing of sweets. She's still not very good with loud noises though - in fact at her school summer production she stood on the stage with her hands over her ears, declared 'it's too loud Mumma!' and exited stage left.
The Nutcracker is far more her speed, not least because she is a truly devoted ballerina and never misses an opportunity to launch in to an arabesque or a jeté. This can be alarming to fellow shoppers at the supermarket as very often it comes without warning.
I think it's interesting that the UK has the Christmas theatre tradition of more low-brow, vaudeville pantomime, while the US is all about the more high-brow Nutcracker. Or maybe I'm getting this wrong and posh kids in England go to the ballet at Christmas? I wouldn't know. It was panto or nothing for me. Growing up in the wilds of North Yorkshire we would always have a pantomime based on a fairy tale every Christmas but we very, very rarely had anyone famous in it. Even actors whose greatest achievement involves a walk-on part in Corrie draw the line at Harrogate theatre it seems.
Santa Barbara though, Lordy Lordy. Not only is it a small town with grand artistic ideas, but it also had two Nutcrackers going on this afternoon, across the street from each other, both starting at identical times. A bit of a minefield if you're meeting up with several other tiny ballerinas from Saturday morning dance class. The street was awash with red taffeta and black patent-leather mary-janes. Anna was so excited, I had to grab her hand to stop her pirouetting in to traffic. LK was gratefully at home watching golf while Lucy napped, perhaps for the first time realizing that being the father of two daughters has its advantages. Anna and I were having 'girl time' as Anna likes to put it.
I wasn't too worried about her sticking out the entire performance, we've been taking her to the movies off and on for about a year now. She will sit still for a couple of hours and is working on sotto voce comments, although this afternoon she did let the surrounding audience know that the ballerina doll in the first act had 'big boobies like you Mumma before they went soggy'. Nice. Plus she was being bribed with an ice-cream at the end.
The first twenty minutes were unbelievable. The dancers twirled in their 'deep dresses' (sighed Anna), I think she was genuinely overwhelmed by the immediacy of having real, live, ballerinas performing in front of her. She sat perfectly still, hands clasped, in obvious rapture. Then the toy soldiers fired a real cannon and I spent the next ten minutes trying to pry her hands off her ears. Still, with the cunning use of Cadbury's giant chocolate buttons meted out over the next hour we made it through the first act.
"Ice-cream" yelled Anna. The disappointment palpable when I broke it to her that this was just the interval. The second half was a lot of wriggling, a lot of hissed 'I want to sit on your lap Mumma', 'when is this over' and 'I want an ice-cream'. Fortunately this was a child-heavy audience so she was not in the minority. There was one bloke a few rows ahead of us who seemed to take every cough, comment or movement personally, but honestly, he was going to a matinee of the Nutcracker, was he expecting a child-free zone?
It's not a little sad that Anna's going to grow up without pantomime. Unless we make it over to England for a Christmas one of these years. I took LK about ten years ago and he had that indulgent smile he has for all things quintessentially English, the smile that says 'you're all completely bonkers'. Instead I can see a lot of Nutcrackers in my future. I'd better bulk buy the Cadbury's buttons.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Bad Mother, Bad! Sit!
If you are having only half of the truly shitty week that I am (and it's still only Wednesday people), then you will need a little light relief, and really, what can be better than reading about other people's misfortunes. A little schadenfreude never goes amiss in the blogging world.
And let me just say that this latest fuck-up comes hard on the heels of my recent call from the Public Health Department about Lucy's salmonella outbreak.........
Last week Anna came home from school with a full lunchbox. Completely untouched. Now she is a preschooler and has been known to eschew the odd vegetable, but generally she's a pretty unfussy eater. As I opened her lunchbox I noticed that not only were the cherry tomatoes, the mini carrots and the peaches untouched, but so was the sushi and the boxed apple drink. It was the Marie Celeste of lunches.
Now, Anna not eating sushi does. not. compute. She LOVES sushi, second only to those complete mini octopi you sometimes get in calamari. I know, I have somehow managed to raise a daughter who will devour seaweed and tentacles with relish, but will turn her nose up at mac and cheese. I blame her fancy preschools. The one she currently goes to will allow the odd cookie, and even *shock horror* a packaged drink or yogurt - her old school had to have everything eco-friendly, a no-trash lunch, no wrappings, no packaging, no sugar. It made me want to send her with one of those untouched by anything healthy 'lunchable' things just to watch her teachers' heads spin.
Back to Anna - I asked her what the problem was and she said she didn't like today's lunch it looked 'yucky' so she said she ate a few grapes and gave the rest to unfortunate unnamed child x who Anna said 'likes to eat healthy'. I'm thinking - huh! I am not feeding other people's children thankyou very much, I'm sending PB&Js from here on in.
And then it hit me.
I had forgotten Anna's princess lunchbox at school the previous Thursday. She only goes to school Tuesday through Thursday. I had again forgotten to pick up the old lunchbox when I'd dropped Anna off at school that morning.
Anna hadn't eaten her carefully prepared lunch because she'd gone straight for her old lunchbox, the one with the FIVE DAY OLD LEFTOVER FOOD in it.
Amazingly no-one got sick.
Oh, and Lucy found a peanut on the kitchen floor yesterday, so apparently I don't have to worry about peanut allergies either.
I swear, if these two make it into adulthood they will have digestive systems OF STEEL.
And let me just say that this latest fuck-up comes hard on the heels of my recent call from the Public Health Department about Lucy's salmonella outbreak.........
Last week Anna came home from school with a full lunchbox. Completely untouched. Now she is a preschooler and has been known to eschew the odd vegetable, but generally she's a pretty unfussy eater. As I opened her lunchbox I noticed that not only were the cherry tomatoes, the mini carrots and the peaches untouched, but so was the sushi and the boxed apple drink. It was the Marie Celeste of lunches.
Now, Anna not eating sushi does. not. compute. She LOVES sushi, second only to those complete mini octopi you sometimes get in calamari. I know, I have somehow managed to raise a daughter who will devour seaweed and tentacles with relish, but will turn her nose up at mac and cheese. I blame her fancy preschools. The one she currently goes to will allow the odd cookie, and even *shock horror* a packaged drink or yogurt - her old school had to have everything eco-friendly, a no-trash lunch, no wrappings, no packaging, no sugar. It made me want to send her with one of those untouched by anything healthy 'lunchable' things just to watch her teachers' heads spin.
Back to Anna - I asked her what the problem was and she said she didn't like today's lunch it looked 'yucky' so she said she ate a few grapes and gave the rest to unfortunate unnamed child x who Anna said 'likes to eat healthy'. I'm thinking - huh! I am not feeding other people's children thankyou very much, I'm sending PB&Js from here on in.
And then it hit me.
I had forgotten Anna's princess lunchbox at school the previous Thursday. She only goes to school Tuesday through Thursday. I had again forgotten to pick up the old lunchbox when I'd dropped Anna off at school that morning.
Anna hadn't eaten her carefully prepared lunch because she'd gone straight for her old lunchbox, the one with the FIVE DAY OLD LEFTOVER FOOD in it.
Amazingly no-one got sick.
Oh, and Lucy found a peanut on the kitchen floor yesterday, so apparently I don't have to worry about peanut allergies either.
I swear, if these two make it into adulthood they will have digestive systems OF STEEL.
Sunday, November 29, 2009
Little Angels
Here's a selection of photos that will not be gracing this year's Christmas card....
Do you know where he has his hand??!
This one speaks for itself.
When are we going to be done......
I can't take this anymore..
Flames are beginning to shoot out of Lucy's head.....
The Christmas photo shoot. Such a delightful tradition.
Do you know where he has his hand??!
This one speaks for itself.
When are we going to be done......
I can't take this anymore..
Flames are beginning to shoot out of Lucy's head.....
The Christmas photo shoot. Such a delightful tradition.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Turkey Talk Continued
4am on black Friday, and my first thought as I was kicked in the gut by my 10 month old was, surely food poisoning would have hit by now? In which case, oh my God, maybe I managed not to kill everyone with my turkey. Just maybe I pulled it off......
I can't tell you how fantastic all your turkey tips were. I can't believe chole found the exact Bon Appetit article I'd been searching so fruitlessly for - thankyou! Wading through all the suggestions of roasting the bird at a high temperature early vs browning at the end, vs cooking upside down right from the start vs flipping the bird as it rests at the end, well, to quote my Aunty, I was 'in a tailspin of indecision'. So I'll tell you what swayed me. I'll admit I was very tempted to take Fluffy's advice and just buy a pre-cooked bird, but in the end I was too heavily invested in the challenge. I wasn't going to take a beating from the only land animal with a wattle more impressive than mine. I was going to cook the hell out of a turkey!! Round three!
In the end I abandoned my old method, tempted by a promise left in my comments:
Foolproof.
Now that's a culinary phrase that appeals.
I invested in a Reynolds cooking bag, and as had been promised by Carrie and Anonymous (love her) the bird was simple, juicy, flavourful and edible.
Lord have mercy.
Now I'm not entirely sure why cooking a turkey in a condom works wonders, or even how food-safe it is but by jove that was one tasty bird. I'm sure the polyethylene or similar inorganic compound added a certain je ne sais quoi that my earlier herb rub was unable to reproduce -, it even browned nicely in there. Well, it looked lovely and brown until I cut in to the bag, dislodging the tablespoon of flour I'd put in there to keep the bag from popping and watched it cascade whitely all over the breast. My lovely browned bird was suddenly covered with mildew. Apparently there's foolproof, and then there's me. Anyway, I dusted off the flour and my Dad set to carving. I know I should have taken a photo, but by the time I remembered the carcass had been picked clean and was carried off by Beth to make soup. Perhaps I should suggest to her she makes the soup in a bag? Hmm, a whole new world of cookery just opened up...
Here's a photo I did remember to take:
My two little turkeys.
Oh, and before I forget, I also bought an oven thermometer, wisely suggested by Julie. And wouldn't you know it, I discovered that yes, my oven thermostat must be way off base because the 'oven ready' light comes on a good 100º before the required temperature is actually reached. I'm starting to think that all those fucked up cupcakes, birthday cakes, appetizers, and well, quite frankly food may not have been entirely my fault. I'm not quite ready to quit the dizzying heights of medical office managership for culinary school, but I am confident the meals round here may improve as a result.
I would also like to say a huge thanks to Chilly for supplying the bird, to my Mum and Dad for peeling a hundred thousand potatoes, cleaning the bathrooms (really, above and beyond), watching the girls, and to LK for doing a sterling job of keeping everyone the hell out of the kitchen so I could frenzy-cook in peace.
Now I'm off to make a cup of tea. In a plastic bag.
I can't tell you how fantastic all your turkey tips were. I can't believe chole found the exact Bon Appetit article I'd been searching so fruitlessly for - thankyou! Wading through all the suggestions of roasting the bird at a high temperature early vs browning at the end, vs cooking upside down right from the start vs flipping the bird as it rests at the end, well, to quote my Aunty, I was 'in a tailspin of indecision'. So I'll tell you what swayed me. I'll admit I was very tempted to take Fluffy's advice and just buy a pre-cooked bird, but in the end I was too heavily invested in the challenge. I wasn't going to take a beating from the only land animal with a wattle more impressive than mine. I was going to cook the hell out of a turkey!! Round three!
In the end I abandoned my old method, tempted by a promise left in my comments:
Foolproof.
Now that's a culinary phrase that appeals.
I invested in a Reynolds cooking bag, and as had been promised by Carrie and Anonymous (love her) the bird was simple, juicy, flavourful and edible.
Lord have mercy.
Now I'm not entirely sure why cooking a turkey in a condom works wonders, or even how food-safe it is but by jove that was one tasty bird. I'm sure the polyethylene or similar inorganic compound added a certain je ne sais quoi that my earlier herb rub was unable to reproduce -, it even browned nicely in there. Well, it looked lovely and brown until I cut in to the bag, dislodging the tablespoon of flour I'd put in there to keep the bag from popping and watched it cascade whitely all over the breast. My lovely browned bird was suddenly covered with mildew. Apparently there's foolproof, and then there's me. Anyway, I dusted off the flour and my Dad set to carving. I know I should have taken a photo, but by the time I remembered the carcass had been picked clean and was carried off by Beth to make soup. Perhaps I should suggest to her she makes the soup in a bag? Hmm, a whole new world of cookery just opened up...
Here's a photo I did remember to take:
My two little turkeys.
Oh, and before I forget, I also bought an oven thermometer, wisely suggested by Julie. And wouldn't you know it, I discovered that yes, my oven thermostat must be way off base because the 'oven ready' light comes on a good 100º before the required temperature is actually reached. I'm starting to think that all those fucked up cupcakes, birthday cakes, appetizers, and well, quite frankly food may not have been entirely my fault. I'm not quite ready to quit the dizzying heights of medical office managership for culinary school, but I am confident the meals round here may improve as a result.
I would also like to say a huge thanks to Chilly for supplying the bird, to my Mum and Dad for peeling a hundred thousand potatoes, cleaning the bathrooms (really, above and beyond), watching the girls, and to LK for doing a sterling job of keeping everyone the hell out of the kitchen so I could frenzy-cook in peace.
Now I'm off to make a cup of tea. In a plastic bag.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Let's Talk Turkey
I need advice. I'm hosting Thanksgiving in a week and I've got about twelve guests coming, two of whom are my parents and it'll be their first Thanksgiving dinner. Believe it or not I'm actually very excited at the prospect, I love Thanksgiving, it's one of my favourite American holidays. Any holiday based entirely around a large meal is alright by me. The problem is Thanksgiving doesn't love me back. Or more specifically, turkeys.
I've hosted Thanksgiving before, and I've cooked turkeys before. I had a dynamite Alton Brown turkey recipe from Bon Appetit magazine that has produced a very tasty turkey twice. I've now lost the recipe and can't seem to find it on the old interweb. I wasn't too phased, after all I've done it before, how hard could it be?
I decided to hedge my bets and cook a practice turkey. It went badly. I cooked another. Even worse. LK has admitted he 'doesn't know if he has another practice turkey in him', so the next turkey I cook will be on Thanksgiving. I'm hoping for third time's the charm, but luck favours the prepared, so here's what I did wrong, and if you have any advice I'm all ears. Specifically, where do you stick the thermometer and at what temperature do you pull the bird out?
Turkey A
Liberally spread with herbed butter both under the skin and above the breast. Blasted with heat for the first 20 minutes, then cooked upside down until the thigh thermometer read 175º.
Problems: The turkey turned out both rubbery/tough yet moist. WTF? As LK said "wow, you sure cooked the hell out of that turkey". Oh, and we also had the minor problem of me cooking the bird with the giblets still inside. In my defence I had taken out the neck thing, done a thorough cavity search (not that thorough it turns out) and concluded like a moron that this particular bird was giblet free. I discovered it wasn't when LK took a scalpel to the bird and produced a plastic bag full of entrails. Yum! I have a feeling that cooked plastic aside, this may have been a good cooking method except that it was a stringy old bird and that's why it was both tough and moist? Am I kidding myself?
Turkey B
After further googling I decided to stick the thermometer in the breast this time and not flip the bird. I even (oh and how stupid was this in hindsight) invited my in-laws over for some practice turkey. I confidently lubed the bird, removed all plastic (genius! this was going to be good!) roasted for 20 minutes, lowered the temperature then removed from the oven when the breast temp said 161º. Of course, this bird's thighs proved to be as red and raw as a North Yorkshire schoolchild forced to do a cross country run in sideways sleet. Now I love my in-laws, and that is why they are still alive. I do not deal well with frustration. *understatement* I was PISSED OFF and my air hostess smile was cracking under the pressure. Of course everyone was lovely, terrified but lovely. Oh my roast potatoes were simply marvelous! The carrots, a revelation! Such a shame we can't stay until the turkey claws its way back to room temperature. So sad to hear about Lucy having salmonella! Must dash!
OK, they weren't that cruel, they manfully ate their way through all the side dishes and then waited a further hour til the turkey re-emerged from the oven. They are family after all, and being family means you have to suffer through your daughter in laws 'cooking'.
Please don't let me kill my guests. In this horrid economy I need all the friends I can get. All I'm asking is for a recipe for the perfect turkey. How hard can it be?
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Paradise Lost
This is where I live. It's pretty gorgeous I think you'll admit - particularly if you're knee deep in North American snow or leaf mulch right now. White sandy beaches, palm trees, tropical flowers, hummingbirds, year-round sunshine and margaritas. What's not to love?
Yesterday a man walked in to my office and noticed my Yorkshire calendar on the wall. A lovely snapshot of Staithes (try finding a Yorkshire calendar without this picture quite frankly).
"Is that where you're from then?" he asked.
"Yes, but I've been here about 15 years"
"How'd you end up here?"
"My husband's from Santa Barbara"
"And what do you think of it?"
"Well, I always say he'd have had to have done a lot more talking to get me to move to Gary, Indiana".
Which is what I always say, even though I've never been to Gary, Indiana and quite frankly after all these years I feel more than a little guilty about using their name in vain like that. It's my way of deflecting the inevitable question, the inevitable 'aren't we lucky to live here?' question.
Which is why what happened next almost made me fall of my chair.
"But what do you really think of the place" he pushed, "I mean, I've lived here all my life and I'm always curious".
At this point I started looking around for the thought police. Never one to start a fight with a patient at work (well, OK, that's a lie), I said diplomatically "oh, it's a beautiful place to live". You could just hear the "aren't we lucky to live here" tag line hanging in the air.
"Really? I've come to think that this is probably one of the worst places in the country for any young couple, particularly if they have children. I'm telling my girls to get the hell out of here".
Gasp.
He went on to say that he'd been a loan officer for over thirty years and that no middle income family could survive the place and stay married. "The pressure's too intense" he said. "You end up mortgage poor, bickering about money all the time, you want kids but you can't afford them, or you have kids but you can't afford to spend any time with them you're working so damn hard, and then the worst case scenario is if one spouse was born here because they'll do anything to hang on here, and the other spouse will be desperate to leave and can't understand why they're making their lives so miserable staying in Santa Barbara. Then it ends up heading towards divorce, except where does that leave you? Two single parents who can't stay in the same town to be with their kids because it costs too much".
I swear to God I almost burst in to tears. Except I didn't, because I was at work, but my stiff upper lip may have trembled a little.
You may be thinking - what the hell was he doing? How about a little light conversation instead of this descent in to inevitable divorce. Not exactly a barrel of laughs mate, but he was actually a really nice bloke chatting about his daughters and their future and reading my chuffing mind.
It's what I think every day. I do love this town and we make the most of living here. My Mum and Dad are flying out in a couple of days and I bet right now they're packing their swimming cozzies and their sun tan lotion thinking 'I can't wait to get to Santa Barbara, seasons of mists and mellow fruitfulness my arse, give me a beer by the pool any day'. To hear someone from SB, a native no less, say so succinctly what I've concluded after fifteen years of living here was gobsmacking. Santa Barbarans never criticize their town. It was literally like he was reading my mind, or my blog (far more likely that he was reading my mind....).
I've become so used to this 'aren't we lucky to live here' mentality that I really have started to doubt myself. It's as if everyone is under a collective delusion that this is a perfect town. A Stepford town. I questioned, was I digging in my heels and criticizing Santa Barbara because I hadn't fully committed to living here? Did I really only have a problem with this place because I hadn't let go of England? I have one friend from Boston who wholeheartedly agrees with me, but we both like cloudy days and a bit of drizzle, so I'd ended up concluding we were both bonkers.
It was so unbelievably refreshing and validating to hear someone come to the same conclusions.. This is a great town, but it's toxic. I half thought his comments were a trap, I half believed I would find my in-laws crouched behind a filing cabinet waiting for me to agree with him so they could leap out and yell "aha! we knew you were planning on stealing our son from us." I also thought, hang on a minute, why's he saying all this to me, why does he know it'll resonate? Do I have the worry-etched face of the negatively amortized? Has he been doing some research - is he going to spring a loan proposal on me? That's how rare it is to hear anyone, anyone say anything critical about this town.
I know that these days people are struggling to live everywhere, but to deliberately set yourself up to fail in a town that's too expensive to live in has always seemed insane to me. I've always felt like saying, it's not that great. Yes it's beautiful, the climate is amazing, and we can swim in the Pacific whenever we want, but is it worth it? Is it worth the sacrifice? I've always felt a little alone in questioning this town's halo. I'm not trying to say we'll be leaving any day now, I do honestly enjoy a lot about this place, I'm just trying to put in words how nice it felt to feel understood by a perfect stranger, to not have to initiate the conversation, to be on the receiving end of someone else's conclusions that echoed mine and made me feel a little less alone and a little less insane.
Somehow Santa Barbara seems a little more beautiful, a little more livable and human now that somebody else has seen its flaws.
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