Apple(s) of my eye

Where does the time go??

A little while ago, we took a short family trip to NC to go apple picking. It was our first overnight car excursion since Baby E arrived. As far as excursions go, the trip was a success. As far as overnights go, well, umm, we learned a whole lot for next time!

We went to Sky Top Orchard in Henderson County, NC, about 4 hours away. We left at noon, taking advantage of the kids' nap times, and, while Toddler J only slept an hour, Baby E slept for over two, which was great. We stopped at a mall in Spartanburg for a mid-afternoon bottle and snack and stretch-our-legs activity. J found an old coin operated rocket that was rickety enough that it moved/shook on its own when he jumped around in it, so he was amused for half an hour or so while E ate. We then took a short detour to a dollar store in the mall to find ibuprofen and a book for bedtime stories (the two things I forgot), exactly the sorts of things you expect to find in a dollar store, though why there happened to be one in this mall is beyond me.

We stopped a short time later at our hotel. We stayed in a perfectly serviceable Days Inn in Tryon, NC, a town that contains a grocery store, a few restaurants, a hotel, a gas station, and a laundromat, as far as we could tell. The one playground turned out to be broken down and all the shops closed at 5pm, as the husband and J discovered later that evening when they went out to find something to do. Luckily, a malfunctioning water fountain provided enough amusement!

Then began the longest evening of our life. Bathtime and stories when swimmingly, but things derailed after that. We had a crib provided by the hotel but thought J could just sleep on one of the queen beds blocked in with pillows on one side and furniture on the other and Baby E could sleep in the crib. How wrong we were! The freedom of the big bed was just too much for J, who got up and out and then, once I was sleeping with him in an attempt to engender calm, he simply could not close his eyes. He talked, he sang, he ranted, he rolled, he flopped, he cajoled, he connived, he bargained. Eventually, fed up, the husband picked him up and dropped him unceremoniously into the crib, at which point he cried for 10 minutes... and then went right to sleep. Meanwhile, I had gotten Baby E to sleep (and managed to keep him there during the crying) on one side of one of the beds, so the husband fell into the other and we all finally slept like the dead.

The next morning, we got up late, for once, enjoyed our complimentary breakfast, and set out for the orchard, 20 minutes away. We arrived around 10 am and immediately began tasting apples so we would know what to pick. The place was perfect, the weather cool, and the apples low to the ground and close. In addition, it turns out that this orchard is, as the husband characterized it, the Disney of orchards, so they provided playhouses and playgrounds and picnic tables and a tractor pulled "hay" ride and fresh cider donuts and cider slushies and a petting zoo and animal pens and a duck pond and pretty much every apple product you could imagine. We picked almost a bushel of assorted varieties, ate half a dozen cider donuts, had a picnic lunch from home, and left at about noon once more, toting lots of apples and two very tired boys. This time, both slept for two and a half and three hours, respectively, which was fabulous.

Success!

Everybody have fun tonight

We have returned! And my oh my, what an exciting trip. Well, at least the actual traveling part of the trip was exciting, though not in a good way. The actual visiting part was nice and relaxed and quite pleasant, though exciting would be a stretch. But all in all, a great Thanksgiving! Here's the travel portion of the story, to be followed in the next few days by the visiting portion of the story, complete with pics. (You don't want pics of this next part, trust me!)

Our flight(s) out were more eventful than necessary, owing to some inexplicable traffic that kept us on the island FOREVER and made us uncomfortably on-time for our flight. This delay was compounded by a kiosk snafu caused by our "special item," the car seat, which was apparently too much for both the online check-in and our subsequent kiosk check-in as well as two different desk agents too handle. Why oh why do airlines have policies if none of their employees bother to read them? Eventually, we did get our boarding passes and headed over to crack Charleston security, where our suspicious chocolate milk and apple sauce caused our bags to be screened separately (even though I had separated these items and alerted the screener, per TSA regulations). Then I was told I had to be screened separately as well, since I brought in the apple sauce, so over I went, holding J and had to hold out first one and then the other arm, still while holding J because the kid had no shoes on, since his shoes were being x-rayed, of course. The screener was VERY careful going over my pregnant belly, clearly the most suspicious thing of all, while J was dangling precariously from my arm and the husband was busy trying to gather up three people's worth of shoes, bags, and strollers. And what to our wondering ears should appear but the gate agents calling our flight moments after we finally escaped security. Thank you, Charleston!

Coming home was just as eventful, if more, umm, humiliating? Checking in was a nightmare of disorganization, and security was inordinately protracted, even without special screening. The flight from Phoenix to Atlanta was long and oversold, so we ended up with a window and a middle seat next to a woman who promptly fell asleep as soon as we took off. Fine for her, but not so good for my bladder, since it meant I got up only once to hit the facilities with J. The flight was okay besides this, but just before we landed, J fell fast asleep, perfectly timed, of course, since we had a tight 30 minute connection in Atlanta. So I got off the plane with him and went to the gate to sit and wait while the husband waited for the gate checked stroller. And waited. And waited. And waited...until finally the pilot arrived and went down and up came the stroller, after everyone had already gotten off the plane. The husband came roaring out, threw J in the stroller, slung my bag on back and took off running, since we were at A1 and had to get to B1, two entire concourses away. I ran off after him, holding my belly, and, after a few gates, realized the flaw in my bathroom planning. That's right, ladies and gentlemen: I peed my pants. The pregnant bladder can only handle so much, and running on full is apparently not in the cards. So I slowed down to a fast walk, which was fine, but I saw the husband getting further and further away and realized this would never do, so I blessed the fact I was wearing black pants, steeled myself to the inevitable indignity of it all, cursed Atlanta, and alternated running and peeing with fast walking. Needless to say, by the time we arrived at our plane, I was soaked. And dying a little inside. But there was no rest for the weary, as we were virtually the last people on board. I am trying to ignore the fact that then we waited at the gate for another 20 minutes for a maintenance person to sign some sort of paperwork, as the pilot kindly informed us.

As I said, no one wants pictures of what we all looked like by the time we got to Charleston, by which point J, too, had wet through his clothes, there having been no opportunity to change anyone in Atlanta and no chance to get up on the next flight. We were happy to be home and only slightly the worse for wear, but I do wish things had gone just a TAD more smoothly on the way back (or that I had packed an extra pair of pants)!

Little children never said a word

What has happened to me?? A week between posts? I'm ashamed of myself. And there's not much of a reason. I've been no more busy than normal, but time for blogging seems to keep slipping away. So let me repent:

Today, for Mommy and Me, we went to a park to see ducks and seagulls. Actually, from J's perspective, we saw DUCKS!!! SEAGULLS!!! PUPPIES!!! TURTLES!!! and, most importantly, FOUNTAINS!!! He was in heaven. I was, umm, slightly terrified, because where there are ducks and fountains, there are also ponds, with no guardrails. J came very, very close to the edge many times in his excitement, overwhelmed by the proximity of the animals. He was so unruly some guy with a huge dog passing by was acting a little afraid of J instead of the other way around. When the Irish Setter's owner is afraid of your son, should you be proud?

J also loved climbing up..and falling down a foot bridge. He got the concept of being careful on the way up, but then raced headlong downhill, building up speed until he fell head over heels and skinned his elbow. Oops! Of course, he's tough, so I didn't even notice until some other mom pointed out the scrape...cause that's just the kind of observant mother I am! We've since learned about band-aids and anti-bacterial ointment.

Play group also involved edible paint for finger painting, but J was having none of it, except when he tried to abscond with the purple for some reason. He's at a strange age for play group. There are lots of 3 and 4 year olds and lots of baby babies and then J is somewhat in the middle: toddling around but unable to speak and/or interact very much. So he's sort of the odd man out, too young to run alone with the other kids, too old to sit still with the moms and nursing babies. Hopefully we'll find our place soon enough.

I took pictures but can't seem to get them off my camera so to be continued.

Success is my breathing space

True confessions: I've been home for a while, just blogging as if we were still in London because I wanted to get caught up while it was still relatively fresh. Hence the time big time jump today. Ta da!

So, let me catch everyone up: we got home and tried to settle in. Emphasis on the word tried. Returning was abrupt, to say the least. We arrived home at night and went straight to bed, hoping J would sleep well and ignore the time change...which he didn't. La la la, no sleep for the weary. But now he has finally adjusted and is back to his regular schedule, with just normal interruptions for the constant teething.

We started seminary the next day, trying to get back in the swing of things. Apparently, the teaching had been spread around 4 different parents or so while we were gone, and some of them even gave the boys breakfast, a horrible precedent for which we've taken them to task! In our absence, they'd slipped even further away from the behavioral levels we'd finally reached before Christmas break, so we're back at square...two? Who knows? One asked me this morning if I could think of anything better than getting up early in the morning and spending time with them...really? On the one hand, I love the comic relief. On the other hand, goodness, could we please just get through one lesson without having a random discussion about cheerleaders in drag or Yoohoo the chocolate-y beverage? Let's aim for that, shall we?

I spoke in church on our first weekend back, which talk went relatively well and uncovered still more people who know/knew my mom (She was part of my talk, and she makes quite an impression on people!). What with our computer crashing (and the edited version of my talk with it) just as soon as we got back (and yes, there was weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth and yes, it's all better now, thanks to the Apple genius bar) and my general post-vacation exhaustion, I had no time to be nervous or worried or anything, which was great!

Ah, real life....

There was no sunlight

Our last Saturday in London, we decided to divide and conquer. The husband took the train to Nottingham in the wee hours of the morning to hook up with two companions from his mission in Canada. They had a great time, watching football, hiking, and hanging out, but he will tell you all about it, in much more vivid detail, when he gets around to blogging.

In the meantime, I went to breakfast with an old college friend and his wife and baby daughter. My mom and Baby J came with me and we met up outside my parents' flat and walked across Kensington Park to a great French place. I had yummy scrambled eggs and prosciuto, J ate his weight in baguettes, and Mom had porridge with stewed fruits. We all enjoyed the sinful praline spread. It was fabulous fun to catch back up with T and meet his wife A and their adorable baby CB. We all had a great time chatting and joking and sharing baby stories. This whole meeting was the successful result of Facebook, since that's where I reconnected with T, who is currently working in London. Score one for social networking!

After breakfast, we headed home for lunch and naps, and then my parents and I headed back to Bethnal Green for some souvenir shopping. I ended up buying an everyday Indian outfit, "for casual dress" as they informed me, a black tunic with a little embroidery over black pants with a coordinating olive green and black screen-printed shawl. Later, I stopped by Queensway near my parents' house and picked up some pashminas in green and blue and some gelato for my parents to reward them for shlepping Baby J all over the city that day.

Our last full day in London began with church at the Spanish/Portuguese branch again. Unfortunately, most of the meeting was in Portuguese which, surprisingly, is not really all that close to Spanish when it comes to translation. Indeed, I sort of felt a little silly, since I could understand about every third word perfectly but couldn't make any sense out of them as a whole. Oh well!

After church, we headed to the Science Museum just across the street (the LDS building is remarkably well positioned for tourists, sitting right next to the Science Museum, the Natural History museum, the Victoria and Albert Museum, Prince Albert Hall, and Kensington and Hyde Parks). The Science Museum was fabulous, if extremely crowded (the term break business again). It is full of interactive stations teaching kids all about energy and viscosity and gravity and magnetism and you name it, along with more traditional displays about ships (again!), industry, agriculture, and plastics. Much of all this was over J's head (often literally, in the case of the water bottle rockets), but he still had fun, and the husband was practically giddy with excitement himself. If we had had more time in the city, we definitely would have returned here, and we highly recommend it, particularly for the 4-10 crowd.

That night we packed and decided if we could handle carting everything home that we'd gotten (verdict: just!). We had dinner with the study abroad program (including a FAB pasta salad for which I'm going to steal the recipe) and went to bed relatively early to be ready for our flight.

We were very sad to leave London. Baby J loved his early morning snuggle sessions with his grandparents (and I love sleeping in a little), his yummy yogurt breakfasts (he even tried rhubarb flavor, adventuresome child), and the constant attention. Life at home isn't nearly as stimulating for him! We loved having time to explore, a great home base, and time to hang out with my parents in the evenings. The weather was great, with just the one snow incident and no rain at all while we were out being tourists. In many ways, London was an experiment, to see just how much we could do with a one year old in tow, and we feel like it was a success. The real world just isn't nearly as exciting now!

Follow every rainbow

The next day we headed to Greenwich, for the day I will subtitle "The Day of Walking." After our last trip on the DLR, we were excited to take it to Greenwich. Sadly, our stop was under construction so lift was out. And the escalators. And remember how the DLR is elevated? Only at certain stops, it goes underground for the stop itself, so we had to climb stairs to get out. Over 8 flights. I lost count in there somewhere, along with my breath. The husband carried J, and I carried the stroller (it collapses into a backpack-like contraption, unwieldy but manageable empty), and we almost died. In fact, I thought the elderly woman, there with her grandson behind us, really would die as she got further and further behind me. Eventually, we made it and headed over to the Royal Observatory by way of the Maritime Museum grounds. There were all kinds of Christopher Wren sights we missed along the way, but J really isn't as into architecture as one might imagine. But the Prime Meridian? Well, he could really get behind that one!

That is, until we saw the Royal Observatory, picturesque in the distance...and at the top of a VERY steep hill. I mean really, it was steep. We think it was at least a 20% grade. Of course, one would expect an observatory to be at the top of something, one (read me) just didn't expect that one would have to climb to the top of that something. People were dropping like flies on the way up and zooming down precariously. The husband took on the task of pushing J up, and the fact that he was in a stroller made very little difference in the husband's overall burden, believe me. But then we arrived and were able to stand in both hemispheres at once, see all kinds of clock and time contraptions, look at a camera oscura, and generally revel in the mass of information there. One display was called "When time stood still" and invited patrons to fill out cards describing the moment when time stood still for them. Most were the usual, marriage, birth, death, etc., but one was a person after my own heart: "Time stood still for me the day Christopher Eccleston turned into David Tennant on Dr. Who." Priorities, people!

Next we visited the National Maritime Museum. The husband saw much more than I did, Baby J having fallen asleep after his exciting trek up to the Observatory and death-defying plunge down, but what I did see was interesting, in a "man, this museum is all about ships!" sort of way. We also visited the Queen's House, the summer place of, well, a queen, known for it's impressive Tulip spiral staircase decorated with lilies in wrought iron (which people thought looked more like tulips, hence the name). The rest of the house is empty except for lots of art. A strange place, really. I think much more could be done here, given the intensity of the surrounding sights.

We decided to go to a different DLR stop because that would allow us to walk under the Thames. Unfortunately, the lift on our side of the river was out, so down we went, 8 more disappointing flights of spiraling stairs, then the long walk under in the cold tunnel filled with bicyclists patently ignoring the many posted injunctions to walk their bikes (but can you blame them? The Thames is wider than you might think!). Helpfully, the lift at the other side was operating, a lift the size of your average bedroom, octagonal in shape with wood paneling. I'd show you a picture here, but we were strictly forbidden to take them (more signs). Why? Because the Brits don't want us to know they have some sort of crazy giant lift technology they don't utilize anywhere else? Who knows!!

That night, I visited Primark in the evening while the husband put J to bed. I thought that perhaps the crowds might have thinned by then. I was wrong. If anything, there were more people and more employees in funereal black uniforms, folding clothes as if their lives depended on it and growling at customers who might need to find a size on the bottom of a pile. I did manage to get two cute shirts and would have gotten more but the place was actually more than I could bear, shopper that I am, so I headed instead to get a few more groceries on the way home.

That was a VERY long day!

Day 12: stitches removed "remotely," trip to pharmacy for plasters and baby food, H&M, Sir John Soane's museum for me and Hunterian Museum for the husband and Baby J, Covent Garden Market with schlock and street performers (cured me for Camden), Leister Square and Picadilly Circus craziness.

It's not like he's innocent

Day 9 found us at the Museum in Docklands, a museum exploring London's history as a port city. I know, I know, this hardly sounds like something to get out of be for, but, in fact, the museum was one of the best we visited and the children's play area turned the trip into fun for the whole family. The Docklands are reached via the DLR or the Docklands Light Rail, a train that starts below ground but quickly becomes elevated. This train is also operated by an attendant that does not ride at the front of the cars, meaning that children seated in the first two rows of seats on the first car can act like they themselves are driving the train around. Sitting there was a huge hit with Baby J.

The museum is filled with interesting displays, such as a scale model of one of the older iterations of the London Bridge and video of the bombing and subsequent fires set off in the port during the War. In addition, showing impressive attention to detail, the museum also hosts a replica sailor town display, complete with cobble stone walkways, appropriate sound effects, cool breezes, and, most amazing of all, accurate smells (of urine, sea air, body odor, tobacco, that kind of thing) piped in. Really. The effect is stunning...and slightly odd. There is more to read in the displays there than can possibly be tackled in one day, but that isn't even the real draw of the place. In addition to the more traditional offerings, the museum also hosts the Mudlarks play area for under 12s. Those over 5 can learn about ballast and damming rivers and building bridges through hands on stations. Those under 5 can romp in the maritime themed "soft play" area, which was really a jungle gym covered in thick, gymnastics-like mats. Parents were not allowed in, so we watched from 15 feet away as Baby J learned to negotiate his first stairs...and fell down his first stairs...and climbed back up like a pro after watching his fellow children and following their example. He absolutely LOVED playing here; I wouldn't doubt it was the highlight of his trip.

That afternoon, after much playing at Mudlarks and riding the DLR back, we headed to Bethnal Green and Brick Lane, an Indian section of the city. We saw some beautiful and outlandish saris, had some amazing Indian food (though we don't really understand the appearance of coconut in so many Indian dishes, even those from very different regions, in English Indian food destablishments. We bought some fabulous mandarin oranges and found and used a giant Tesco, a large grocery store for which we'd been searching, in order to find a better selection of baby food. Even so, we ended up buying such delicacies as tomato, bean, and bacon and rice pudding (with huge amounts of sugar, just for fun) and one interesting invention, squeezable baby food, this one pumpkin, blueberry, sweet potato, and some other fruit flavor. I couldn't decide at first if this invention was the most useless thing I'd ever seen or absolute genius. On the plane, when we squeezed it into Baby J's mouth with a minimum of mess or fuss and he actually enjoyed it (or would have if the flavor hadn't been so odd), I decided it was BRILLIANT!

The next day, we spent the morning doing laundry and coping with a very out of sorts baby. J was a trooper for much of this trip, but he was also, we later discovered, cutting numerous molars and regular teeth all at once. This morning, all that discomfort was more than he could take so we took it easy for a while. But, undaunted, in the afternoon we visited Sir John Soane's museum. Or, at least, we attempted to visit Sir John Soane's museum, and some of us were successful. Baby J fell asleep on the walk over, so I stayed outside walking him around until he woke up and the husband started in on the museum. Unfortunately, when J woke up, the officious attendant at the museum informed me that buggies were not allowed. Umm, okay, so we'll just kill some time...out here, in the cold. Eventually, we went to the local Sainsburies and bought groceries for dinner (gnocci and filled tortellini--chicken and bacon--what is the obsession with bacon?). When we were too cold to go on, we went back to the museum and hoped that the husband would be out early (which he was, thankfully).

After dinner, my parents offered to put J to bed, so we went out to see Jersey Boys at the last minute. It's the story of the Four Seasons, filled with loud music and oddly endearing dancing and Jersey accents. I had no idea how many songs were originally Four Seasons tunes that have subsequently been covered by a gazillion people (including lots of girl groups and Billy Joel). It was a fun show, even from the very high, very cheap seats. Good day!

A bad case

One week in, we headed for Trafalgar square and the National Gallery. The square was crowded, as was the museum, but we stuck with our plan in order to see some really great paintings. This time we picked our favorite periods and artists and then saw whatever happened to be on the way to them. The husband was becoming more and more comfortable with our new approach to museum viewing, particularly as it became more and more clear that Baby J has only a finite tolerance for crowds and art. We went into St. Martin's of the Fields, just in time (they said) for a lunch concert, so we fed J and thought we might get to see at least the first piece while he chilled out, fed and happy. However, the concert started late and then there was an issue about our stroller and its position in the aisles or not and J was getting more and more restless, so we had to skip that idea, sadly.

Instead, we walked and walked and walked and walked, first past Big Ben and the London Eye and Westminster and then on to Buckingham Palace. We had lunch in the park on the way while J napped, featuring another assortment of odd sandwiches we tried on our travels. I have decided that the only way to manage the strange selection at a British convenience food area is to avoid all sandwiches involving egg or salmon and pick the most flavorful sounding option you can find (like chicken and chutney or their version of fiesta ham and cheese). That way you won't end up with some gloppy, cardboard tasting option or something totally unsatisfactory, like a chicken salad sandwich that turns out to have chicken, lettuce, and tomato on dry bread. Yummy!

After lunch, J woke up and we went to St. James' playground, which he loved. It's just across the street from Buckingham Palace and has bathrooms only for children. Love that idea! Then we walked from the Palace up to what we had thought previously was the Marble Arch but was instead just two totally other marble arches, not particularly significant in any way whatsoever. Indeed, I think there is no such thing as THE Marble Arch, just a bunch of fake out arches spread all over the city to trick tourists. Then we headed to Oxford St. for some window shopping. I resisted buying a fabulous pair of red patent leather boots and innumerable mary jane pumps that I coveted, and we walked into the much touted Primark (like H&M only five times as large), only to walk right out again after the insane press of people overwhelmed us all. For a store to overwhelm a shopping devotee such as myself, it has to be PACKED, and this one was. It was mayhem, and not an enjoyable, ooh, look at all the funny people sort of mayhem either, but a peoplecrushinginonallsidesohmigoshIhavetoescapeRIGHTNOW kind of frenzy that I did not find at all entertaining. So much for that!

And finally, we caught a bus home, having been tipped off by my mother that there were two that ran right from Oxford St. to our street, a blessing after all that walking.

Rock around the clock

On Day 5, we returned to the Victoria and Albert Museum, after our truncated-because-J-woke-up visit previously. This time, we followed my mother's advice for museum visitors with different tastes: set a time to meet and split up. I'd tried this idea with the husband before, but he thought it was some sort of betrayal of vacation togetherness. But it worked well for us because I like to go through museums like this: fastfastfastfast and the husband likes to proceed like this: slooooooowwwwww. So, on my jaunt around, I concentrated on the materials and techniques wing and saw, among other things, a great collection of 20th century design (of all sorts, from Macs to chairs to shoes), the impressive ironworks collection, and a fabulous exhibit on the Man Booker prize that I loved. I ran into the husband in the silver and together we saw some sculptures, frescos, jewels, and more iron. I did find on my jaunt that the V&A is not all that stroller friendly. I eventually had to commandeer a young British guy into helping me down a flight of stairs before I ran into the husband. But we enjoyed our selective and not at all exhaustive visit this time.

After the museum, we went to Harrods, just to see. And see we did, crowds and crowds of people. We did use the "luxury bathrooms" and found their changing facilities to be top-rate, with free baby lotion and diaper cream and nappies on sale, as well as a padded and spacious changing area. We then headed up to the fourth floor to visit the yummy chocolate bar. We sampled four varieties of hot chocolate: vanilla (yummy, my favorite), rosewater (just a hint of rose at the end, quite nice), equator (bitter with strange taste of orange, not a winner), and hazelnut praline (the husband's favorite, rich and velvety). J tasted the chocolates, his first try, but wasn't all that impressed. We, however, thought it was all lovely!

After lunch, we took a loooong walk while Baby J slept in the stroller. We went down Hyde Park the long way, on our way (we thought) to the Marble Arch. Eventually, we did arrive at a Marble Arch...with another one just beyond it. Very confusing, this. After messing with the map for a while and after J finally woke up, we decided to take the tube home since it was getting close to dinner time, but our trip turned out to be longer than we had planned since it was rush hour and we were not where we thought we were. Indeed, some sort of map or tube confusion has afflicted us at a few crucial times here, but not too too terribly often, so we've soldiered on.

Day 6 was Sunday and because my parents are assigned to a ward forever far away and the tube was on reroute anyway, we decided to go to the much closer Hyde Park building (very near the V&A). Because we were lazy, we also decided to go at 12:30pm, which meant we ended up attending the Spanish/Portuguese branch. Luckily, most was in Spanish, and bad Spanish at that (former missionaries who hadn't spoken all that regularly and who were therefore very slow and easy to translate). We just went for the first meeting, trying to minimize nap disruption while on vacation and then headed for the behemoth British Museum in the afternoon.

Following our shorter visit to the V&A, we decided to do the British Museum's top 10, as outlined in out guidebook. Really, this was the only sensible decision, given the vastness of the collections and the throngs of people (did I mention somewhere in here we ran into term break hordes? Yes, February, totally a good time to do things in the US, not so much in Europe!). So, we saw tombs and friezes and frescos and stones and bones and marble aplenty. And we felt quite satisfied with ourselves when we were done, though I am sure students of culture the world over are turning over in their graves to read of our exploits!

Give me the news

Day 3 arrived very quickly after a sleepless night for me and (this time he really seemed more like a) Baby J. He went to bed at his usual time, woke up at 10:30 pm hungry, got a bottle, and then wouldn't go back to sleep. I walked and sang and rocked (in a not so cooperative office chair) with him for an hour and a half until I caved and gave him some Benadryl. Some 45 minutes later, I put him down on my parents' king sized bed just for a break and he fell asleep...about a foot from the edge. So I put pillows on the other side and crawled in next to him to keep him from falling and slept uncomfortably and fitfully while he tossed and turned restlessly until morning. At that point, I woke up the husband and said I had to get some real sleep. The husband jumped up and took over and eventually decided to go on a mammoth two hour walk around Kensington Park while I napped. Thank goodness! Baby J also napped after an exciting encounter with multiple dogs and some swans by the pond. That's his kind of vacation!

By the time they returned, I was feeling human again, and we decided to head to the V&A and Natural History in afternoon. We spent just a short time in the V&A because J's second nap was truncated by all the squealing school girls and he wasn't really impressed with the rest of the collection there. We did see some of the Fashion and Sculpture galleries, but shortly after arriving we went to the Natural History Museum, which seemed much more J's speed. We were right: there were displays with touchable rocks, a recreation of the Kobe earthquake on a shaking platform, lots of jewels and some skeletons, and some space exhibits. We felt quite proud of ourselves for completely covering at least one museum...until we read later that we'd missed two thirds of it, all in another building we'd never seen. Shoot!

We came home and met Grandeur, J's grandmother, returning home from her trip to Wales and had pasta with ingredients we'd bought earlier in the day. After all that excitement, J slept long and soundly, which allowed us to do the same. Huzzah!

We began day 4 with high sight seeing hopes, now that we were getting in the swing of things. Unfortunately, while putting away some dishes in the morning, I jostled a glass, which fell off a shelf, hitting another shelf on the way down and breaking into large chunks, one of which sliced my arm open as it fell. I took one look at realized I was seriously injured (I could see many layers that shouldn't be exposed to the light of day). The husband clapped a washcloth on the wound, I applied pressure until he tied the washcloth on with first his belt and then strips of my mother's extra pillowcase, and my mother went about the, as it turned out, difficult task of finding out where I should go to get the stitches I was pretty sure I needed.

Eventually, we headed by taxi to Victoria Station to a pay clinic, where we waited for 35 minutes only to have the young man who worked there (doctor? nurse practitioner??) take one look at the wound and say "No, you don't want us to do this because we're not sterile." (WHAT??!! Not sterile? What kind of medical clinic are you?) He did manage to redress my wound, which had finally stopped bleeding...until he took off the also not sterile makeshift washcloth and replaced it with gauze and a wrap. Then he told us there was no charge (because you didn't DO anything!) and directed us to the nearest National Health System office, to which we walked and at which we waited even longer, once they ascertained that they could, indeed, handle stitches. (Again--??) However, once I was seen, I was taken very good care of. I got 4 stitches and orders to keep the wound, which had started to gush while the being stiched, clean and dry (oh, fun) and have the stitches removed
in a week at the minor injury clinic, to which we apparently should have gone in the first place. Who knew??

After all the excitement, we finally returned and later, while Grandeur watched Baby J, the husband and I went to see the Tate Modern in the afternoon. Anyone who knows me knows that modern art is not really my thing, but I did find several pieces I quite liked, though lots I didn't, especially the video installations, which always make me a bit queasy, even if they aren't eating raw chicken on film (which some were). I particularly liked a Brazilian artist's three dimensional pieces, all the architectural exhibits, and a dramatic installation called "30 Pieces of Silver." We then walked over the Millennium Bridge over to St. Paul's and made our way to a tube stop and home. That night, we had a typical fish and chips dinner and introduced J to mushy peas, which he quite liked, surprisingly, given his earlier unsuccessful encounters with smashed peas. I'm pretending there was nothing in the peas but peas, by the way, just to make myself feel like a more responsible mother.

Over reach, out of time

Trip Update Days 1 and 2:

We left for Charlotte on Tuesday afternoon, leaving ourselves plenty of time to get there, park in long-term parking, take the shuttle to the airport, and check in early for an international flight. The trip down was uneventful, right up until the last moment. We were having some difficulties figuring out which of the many long-term lots were open, since all appeared to say closed, so we drove a short way past them in order to turn around and try again.

Unfortunately, as we were about to turn, we were rear-ended. Of course we were.

The husband was looking over his shoulder in preparation to turn, I was looking ahead to check for oncoming traffic, and Baby J was, thankfully, still buckled into his car seat. A minivan (driven by a pregnant woman who was NOT happy) slammed into a smaller car which then slammed into us with a HUGE and sickening thud. We were stopped, ready to turn, thankfully, so we didn't move much, and the husband quickly turned off the car and got out, while I got out to check on Baby J who was screaming, mostly in fright as I quickly determined. The guy behind us yelled at the husband that this was a double yellow line and you couldn't pass (??) which was irrelevant since we weren't. The minivan woman drove off to a nearby parking lot while a nice man who was uninvolved stopped and came over to see if we were alright.

Mr. Nice Man offered me his cell phone since we had left ours at home (note to self: bring cell phones even if planning to turn them off for the duration of the trip) and I called the insurance company to get things started. The police arrived and the officer in charge came up and said "So you were stopped, this other car hit you, and that's the third car that caused the accident?" Which was exactly what we wanted to hear. We explained our predicament (needing to leave for London) and he rushed through getting all the info, gave us a website to refer to for details and let us go on our way. Sadly, our insurance company took longer than he did to put much less info in the computer so we were standing there using all Mr. Nice Man's minutes and time. However, as he informed me when I asked, he had just flown in from Minneapolis for business the next day and had nothing to do today so it was fine with him to wait. See? That's why he gets capitalized!

So, soon-ish, we were back to parking and hoping our sore necks weren't really that sore. (second note to self: always, always, even if it seems silly, give yourself the extra time recommended by the airport. You never know when you'll need it.)We checked in, ate some fried comfort food (we were still pretty shaky), and checked in again (for passport control, they said). Our flight was 1/4 full, so we had loads of space, which we used in shifts for sleeping when Baby J decided he could do so. Unfortunately, he decided for several hours in the middle of the plane ride (as well as last night in the flat) that he really didn't want to sleep, so it was a rough ride for all of us. The space helped, however, and we learned some tricks for our return trip (which I am trying to avoid dreading even as I type).

Some 7 hours later, we arrived in Gatwick, which likes to welcome international travelers with a 5K walk to baggage claim. Omigosh, it was far! Customs was non-existent and immigration (or emigration? I never get those right...) was pleasant and fast. We then got on our cold weather gear and headed for the train into London, which arrived quickly. We were right in front of the handicap access car, which turned out to be the perfect place for the stroller (oh, excuse me, buggy). And then we got to Victoria Station in a jiffy and were ready to catch our bus, the last leg of our trip.

Or so we thought. Turns out, our bus directions were a bit faulty and the bus driver claimed to have never heard of our destination or that is was on another route, but we were already on and decided to just take the bus into the general area we wanted to go after confirming with a lovely local woman that this was a good idea. After we got what we thought was closeish, we got off and then went immediately to buy a very detailed map (third note to self: always bring a map). We found that we were, indeed, relatively close, but we needed to walk (uphill) for several blocks to find our way to our destination. We did, cheerily, since at least now we were sure where we were and the end was in sight, and got into the centre with no problem. We did manage to climb all the wrong stairs (5 flights) at first but then got ourselves sorted and climbed the right stairs (5 1/2 more flights), lugging Baby J and our bags behind us.

That afternoon, we got settled (the parents aren't due back from Wales until tonight), unpacked completely, walked around the neighborhood to check it out (I am going to have to do some shopping in London, it appears), at some Indian food (light samosas and chicken tikka masala with coconut--yummy) from the place around the corner, picked up some groceries (we were drinking all my parents' ginger ale at an alarming rate), gave Baby J a much needed bath and put him to bed, and then went right to sleep ourselves. The night was rough for me since J woke up at all sorts of times throughout, but eventually both he and I got some rest and woke up at a decent time in the morning, meaning that (we hope) tonight will go much more smoothly.

Cheerio, everyone!

Because, because, because

Our departure date arrives. In the meantime, the in-laws have been here, showering (can we still call him a) Baby J (and us) with gifts and affection. J responded by performing well and not napping at all, of course. It took him a little while to warm up to his grandparents whom he only remembers seeing on Skype, but in short order he was jumping from my arms to grandma's, because he's no dummy!

They left Sunday night, helping us eat up the last of the food in our refrigerator and keeping me from stressing out about packing and leaving more than is necessary. (Minimal freaking out is good for you, you see.)

And now, we move into last minute packing mode. My goal is to go to the store only once for last minute craziness. We'll see how that goes. The husband, in the meantime, is getting things wrapped up at work, or as wrapped up as they can be. And baby J is crying in his bed. I'm trying to get him to take more than a half hour nap now that the distraction of the grandparents is gone. Of course, the point is somewhat moot since we leave for a transatlantic flight to see the other grandparents tomorrow, multiplying the distractions tenfold!

So, in light of all I have to do, I decided to clean the oven. Because now is the perfect time for that, right? Turns out, the juices from our luau that overflowed into my oven are, ummm, one step below nuclear in their strength. The surface grime cleaned right up. The luau caked on, burned on, charred mess? Still there, mocking me with its resilience. And me with no time to research better cleaning methods. It will all have to wait until I return. But then...I'm going to kill it!

And, we're off!

Get your motor running

Baby J and I are alone this weekend, as the husband has motored off to a conference in Florida for a few days. And when I say "motored," I mean motored, as in drove his motorcycle some 8 or 9 hours down to Orlando. Honestly, I cannot think of a more boring prospect, but he was giddy with the excitement of packing his backpack and saddlebags (which makes me think we are living in the wild, wild west whenever he says it) and taking to the open road, so more power to him. I am, of course, praying fervently for his safe travels, for everyone else on the road to be extremely attentive and courteous, and for good weather. Join me, won't you? I'm also slyly hoping that the vicissitudes this little trip will quell his desires to take any long distance motorcycle treks for pleasure, something he hints at repeatedly. We shall see....

In the meantime, in between bouts of prayer, J and I are left to our own devices. During the day, this translates into "doing exactly what we do every day," and thus, today we have run a few errands, taken a few naps, eaten some meals more or less compliantly, played around on the floor, and gotten various Christmas packages ready to mail (nothing like waiting until the last minute, huh?). One of our errands took us near a Christmas tree selling tent, so we wandered through there to help us get into the spirit. This jaunt was not as successful as one might have hoped, since the trees were EXTREMELY overpriced and the saw used to trim them was VERY loud, leaving both J and me a little less than full of holiday cheer, but we did get to smell the pines, so I suppose it was worth it.

Our visit also had another purpose: reconnaissance. In less than a week, we are having a Christmas party at church for which I am partially responsible and, to be totally frank, everything is going along swimmingly except the decorations. Because, to repeat, I am partially in charge, and I am hopeless, completely WITHOUT HOPE, when it comes to snazzy decorating schemes. One need only look around my house at the blank walls and cobbled together furniture to see that this is true. But I did have a thought that pine garlands might be useful and seasonal, so I was pricing those while we browsed. I've been doing a lot of browsing, actually, in preparation for this shindig, hoping to get some inspiration from those who do have the decorating gene, but I'm still filled with all kinds of fear at the thought of pulling this off. My only hope lies in strategic (read: dim) lighting. Christmas lights, while all sorts of festive, also hide myriad other ills. Or so I hope!

Shining like the sun

In an effort to be more socially responsible, I visited the new SUPER Bi-Lo near my house. Supposedly, they are in direct competition with Walmart, so I thought that if this was, in fact, true, and the experience of visiting them was in any way enjoyable and somewhat cost comparable, then I could give up some of my Walmart-loving ways and support a (more) local chain. My thoughts:

Dang, this store is close to my house! We were able to go down, eat samples, find all our items in a totally new environment, and be back in time for lunch. Amazing! Our quick trip was aided by the parking situation. When I got to the store, I saw an empty space right next to the entrance and drove there, thinking "surely this is a handicap space, but it's worth a shot." Sure enough, there was a sign above the space. Rats! However, when I looked more closely, the sign read "Reserved for pregnant mothers or new parents" with the picture of a stroller. ??!!! How, well, SUPER is that? I pulled in happily, and our shopping adventure was off to a great start.

Can I just say a word about new shopping carts? I would never have noticed this pre-J, when my interest in shopping carts was largely tied up in whether they rolled or not, but lately I have been very disappointed generally with shopping carts. Time and time again, not only do they not roll, their safety belts for babies are old, cut, or missing entirely. My child likes to turn completely around in the seat. The only thing keeping him from falling out is the belt. When its missing, things do not go well. But here, they had SUPER new carts with functioning belts that rolled along soundlessly. Ahh, bliss!

New stores are very clean. You like to think all stores are clean, and then you visit one that's been open a week and you see the gleaming floors and the immaculate shelves and the spotless meat counter and the pristine olive bar and you realize how truly dirty most of your life really is. Of course, new stores become less new and less clean quickly, and soon all the eager-beaver employees (I was greeted no less than 7 times during my visit) will most likely turn into disgruntled employees just this side of going postal, but for now, the SUPER cleanliness was refreshing.

And here's the bad news: except for "grand opening" sale items, the prices here were SUPER expensive, prohibitively so. I did find some great deals but not enough to make going there often worth my time. Oh well, the experience was worth the trip!

To grandmother's house we go

Charlestowne Landing was a fun trip. We began in their visitors' center, where they have interactive exhibits on archeology (it's an active dig site) and on the settlers. The settlers exhibit involved twelve rooms about shipping, traveling, settling, planting, and the like, where you could see, hear, and touch various items related to the settlement. We also toured their animal exhibit, in which we saw animals that were native here when the settlers arrived, including bison who performed admirably, gregarious turkeys, staid deer and an elk, missing in action otters, many large pelicans and egrets, and one very sleepy bear and an even sleepier though impressively large puma.

We also took what the husband (or perhaps it was my father in law...?) called the Lexus of golf carts down to where they used to have a period ship. Apparently, they tried to reconstruct their ship but failed and it sank, so a new one (an old one?) is in the process of coming down from Maine where it was built. The ribs of the old(er) ship are now available for children to climb on, or will be once the new(er) ship arrives. But the grounds themselves are lush, with lots of old live oaks and huge magnolia trees. Apparently, the manor house on the grounds is used for weddings, which I can only imagine would be very picturesque.

The weather was fabulous, particularly on the drive down to the ship. J liked being outside and riding like a big boy in the cart, though he crashed in the car ride after we left.

We thoroughly enjoyed having the husband's parents here. Not only did we get to see new sites as we played tourist in our own hometown, they generously took us out to dinner, filled our pantry, outfitted our house with new shelves, and even gave me my Christmas present early, a new sewing machine! We'll have to be careful or they'll never come back because they won't be able to afford it! They also spent lots of time with baby J, who lapped up the love like a puppy! He crawled around a lot...also like a little puppy! All in all, it was a great visit!

Over the river

Matt's parents have been visiting us this weekend, so we have lots of tales to tell, since we don't ever do anything fun until we have visitors to go with us!

On our first day, we went on a carriage tour of the old city. Apparently, the carriage industry is regulated by the city, so there are three different routes and only 20 carriages allowed out at one time. When a carriage leaves, they tell someone the number of people on their carriage, so they can be taxed accordingly; then they are told if they can venture out into the city and which route they get to take that run. Our tour guide, our friend Lance from church, and his narcoleptic steed, Jeff the draft horse, took us by some fascinating and architecturally interesting houses, and we learned many tidbits I would share with you here, but you might come and visit us, and I don't want to steal my own thunder! We had lunch at Jestine's, made (more) famous by Rachael Ray's visit there, where we sampled Lowcountry food and the famous lemon cream pie with a graham cracker pecan crust. If you come here, you must try it!

The next day we went to Patriot's Point to see the Yorktown, an aircraft carrier turned museum. There were numerous planes above and below decks and lots of informative displays, including the interactive Medal of Honor museum, narrated by Tom Brokaw, the only one of its kind. The Yorktown area also include a submarine you can board (J and I did not and were the better for it, since apparently it was a tight space not designed for babies, as you might imagine) and various other ships you could tour. The place was filled with boy scouts and veterans, the former there for summer camps in which they get to sleep on board the carrier and the latter there for various reunions. That day we had lunch at Melvin's, a barbecue joint serving southern mustard based "secret" sauce and some of the best ribs and pulled pork we've tried.

Sunday was Sunday, so we went to church and took it easy. The in-laws really came to play with baby J, so we had to make sure there was plenty of time for that, after all! Beth made pork chops for dinner, the recipe for which is so easy I may have to adopt it into my repertoire and share with you, my loyal readers. Today, Monday, we plan to visit Charlestowne Landing, home to the original settlers in the area, so more reports will ensue. Stay tuned!

I'll cry if I want to

Well, I didn't end up getting funnel cake in Myrtle Beach. It was too dang hot, ya'll! But the trip was a success without the fried deliciousness. We went with our friends and their two girls, so we were a merry party of seven.

Myrtle Beach is like many East Coast beach towns: lovely houses, cheesy stores, lots of ice cream, cheap t-shirts, odd amusements, and the beach. We ate at Friendly's when we arrived (I know, very exotic, but the baby was having a meltdown, and the parking lot was empty--a match made in heaven!) and then proceeded to walk to the boardwalk. Once there, we played skee ball (me, badly, the husband, annoyingly well) at an arcade with the kiddies. Then we visited the Gay Dolphin, "the largest on the East Coast" (I know, right?), a "gift" emporium filled with "treasures" on every surface that reminded several of us of some of our mother's or grandmother's houses. You know the kind of stuff I mean: painted sand dollars, glass dolphins, shell jewelry, preserved alligator heads, the usual. I found it hard to resist the back scratcher made out of a preserved alligator claw, but I did manage to walk away.

Next, the kids and the dads (minus J) went to the mirror maze, where they wandered around disoriented with the help of unhelpful disorienting glasses while the moms went to a nearby ice cream parlor to cool off and feed the baby. Later, we went down to the beach, where the girls swam and played in the sand, and J decided wet sand was fine but water rushing in over his toes was decidedly NOT fine. Overall, though, J performed remarkably well throughout the whole day, most of which he spent in his new backpack carrier, which he loves because it makes him as tall as everyone else. We went to Outback for dinner after wandering back down the boardwalk and ate dinner at Outback on the way back home. All in all, a fun trip.

Unfortunately, the one souvenir we did bring home from the beach was a sinus infection for J, his first illness requiring antibiotics and his first real sickness of any kind, not counting jaundice. He slept in the car on the way home, but then was unable to breathe and gasped his way through the night, meaning we both slept not at all. In the morning, I took him to the doctor, who gave us an antibiotic and recommended tylenol, benadryl, a decongestant, and saline drops (drugs, much?). He was miserable all day and most of the night but now seems to be on the mend...ish. Poor baby! It's so hard to hear him gasping and wheezing and struggling to sleep! Frown!

Don't know when I'll be back again

We are going to go to London as a family in February to visit my parents while they are at work with a study abroad program. We just purchased our tickets, and I thought I would check out the international baggage requirements and airline restrictions for infants so I can start preparing now (because I'm obsessive like that). Instead of all kinds of limitations, what I found was this list under "making travel easier" for infants flying on British Midland Airlines (our carrier):

When travelling with infants and children, to help make sure your journey is as stress free as possible, you can take advantage of our services:

advance seat assignment
priority boarding
kiddies packs suitable for ages 3-7 and 8-12
children under 3 years old will receive a teddy bear onboard
children's meals
bassinets available for infants up to 72cm (10kg) in premium economy and economy cabins
onboard changing facilities and limited supplies of nappies, talc and lotion
onboard baby warming bottle facility
dedicated children and family audio and video selection
over 30 Nintendo games and PC games

A teddy bear?! Bassinets?! Bottle warming?!! On our last flight, the flight attendants were aghast when I suggested using the warm water in the bathroom to make a bottle but then didn't have any other alternative other than a styrofoam cup filled with boiling hot water designated for coffee. And a bassinet? No such luck, nor anywhere to change the baby besides my lap, the floor, or balanced on top of the oh so sanitary toilet seat with the lid down. Never mind that my child is already 10kg and will not be able to use the bassinet. It's the thought that counts! And a TEDDY BEAR???? Why don't I live in the UK again? Oh, right, all the drugs are different there, and they put their commas and periods in different places sometimes. Dang it!

The last known survivor

As some of you know, I'm a stroke survivor. Yes, I'm as young as you think I am, but I still had a stroke at an even younger age, in January 2004. We are still not sure about the cause(s) of the stroke, though I did have subsequent heart surgery to close a hole that allowed the clot to pass into my brain, but we are sure about the effects. The clot landed in my left temporal lobe, the speech and language center of the brain, leaving me temporarily unable to speak or write at all, a truly terrifying time. Because, you see, I could think perfectly clearly; I understood what was going on, but I couldn't express myself at all. This is a fate I wish on no one, and the idea that this particular condition could have lasted longer or become permanent, as it is for many other stroke victims, still fills me with intense fear whenever I happen to think about it.

Because now, four years later, I'm lucky: days go by during which I don't remember that I had a stroke, until something happens to remind me, either something internal (such as the fact that I still mix up "he" and "she" to embarrassing results or, more frequently, I type something and read it back and think "did I just turn into a trained chimp right there? Sheesh!" because the connection between my brain and my fingers has gone on the fritz) or external (a youngish character on a TV show has an unexpected stroke or, more frequently, someone has to have an MRI--I HATE MRIs now). And then I remember, in vivid detail: the frightening inability to speak, the inexplicable headaches, the distressing lingering aphasia, the ongoing mental deficiencies, the "fun" heart surgery while awake, the many, many aggravating, anguished visits to the neurologist, the cardiologist, the maternal fetal medicine specialist (they are concerned when stroke survivors want to have babies, you see), the constant questions, etc., etc., etc. You see, when you have a cryptogenic stroke (which, if you know your Latin roots, means a stroke of unknown origin), the questions go on and on and on.

Fortunately, there is someone out there trying to eliminate all the unknowns about strokes and heart disease, the American Heart Association. And now here's the pitch (you didn't see this coming, did you? Sneaky, huh?): now you know someone directly affected by heart disease or stroke. Chances are, you knew someone already. Stroke is the country's #3 killer and heart disease is #1. To help support heart disease and stroke prevention efforts, the husband and I will be participating in the annual Lowcountry Heart Walk next month. We need your help to reach our donation goal and help raise critical dollars for heart disease and stroke research and education.

You can help us reach our goals by making a donation online here. And we will really appreciate it. As will any future survivors. Or, better yet, perhaps with your help we can dramatically reduce the number of victims there have to be in the first place.

And thank you for your support!

Down around the hole in the ground

We went to a park today for the for the first time. Or, I should say, we had an abortive trip to a park today that ended in near disaster!

We appeared to be all prepared: we had sunscreen, hat, stroller, back up bottle, towel in case the swings were dirty, etc. We walked to a park near our house that I remembered had baby bucket swings. It was close by but still a little stroll, so it was a perfect choice. Or so I thought.

Getting there was fine. It was overcast so while it wasn't exactly cool (this is SC in July--let's be real), it wasn't overpowering. J likes sitting in the stroller like a big boy, without his infant carrier (which we are phasing out anyway, because, well, he's HUGE and looks and feels like a big boy already). We had a great time walking over, chatting and enjoying the change in scenery.

And the swings looked ideal: two baby swings and all kinds of jungle gym equipment (for later). And J fit right into one, though he wasn't totally convinced this was a good idea. He smiled on the upswing, but, as he came back to me (I was in front for moral support), he would grunt and look a little wild. But he got increasingly comfortable with the whole idea and perhaps would have enjoyed the outing if I hadn't put a stop to things after approximately 90 seconds. Because this set of swings was cordoned off by a rubber enclosure filled with bark or wood chips. And those chips were filled, FILLED with LITERALLY thousands of mosquitos.

How do I know there were thousands? Because I got 12, count them, 12 bites in those 90 seconds, and I did the math. I was so afraid that J would get bitten that I rushed him off the swing, back to the stroller, and out of the park as quickly as possible. I have awful reactions to bug bites and didn't want to find out if he has inherited this tendency from me. We strolled back home and J fell asleep in the stroller, so I sat on the porch and rocked him to prolong his nap, which was a perfect set-up...until the fire ants started biting my feet. Sheesh!

So I called it quits and our trip ended. Next time we'll bring insect repellant and...ant poison? Wow, and I thought my diaper bag was already getting too heavy!