Signs

Just a few weeks into living back in States and fresh from a European mindset, I found myself staring at this sign while Hubby ushered Tadpole into a convenience store bathroom:
Good stuff. Never having too much. Junk food. Oh my. Welcome back to America!

Tooth Time

My chunky Cubby, who is now 19 weeks old, just cut his first tooth - a bit on the early side, but perhaps he is anxious to be up to speed with his brothers. For mom, however, the first tooth is a bittersweet milestone: exciting, but somehow marks the end of the newborn phase. I guess I am just a sucker for a baby's adorable toothless grin.

Anyway... sigh... we celebrated Cubby's milestone with the introduction of rice cereal! Cubby's been going through a growth spurt which has indicated he's been ready for awhile. The first taste and he didn't stop opening his mouth, downing about 2 oz of the stuff! The four subsequent feeds he's been a bit less eager, but hey, who's rushing him to grow up?

Not me...

Crazy Glasses

What I’ll Miss About London, Part 4: High Streets

It won’t be anytime soon that I’ll walk into my local Super Target and be greeted by name, asked about one of the kids’ birthdays last week, and extended verbal credit when I discover I have left my money at home.

There is definitely something special about the High Street shops and shopkeepers that I have grown to adore about life in London, and will miss severely. They may be criticized for their general lack of creativity and charm, but in my mind High Streets offer their own unique personality and unmatched convenience for daily life.

And after spending four years living in less than a minute’s walk from the shops on St John’s Wood High Street – the necessary bank and cashpoint, everything-you-really-need grocery, an amazing bread shop, requisite Starbucks, quaint local library, stocked pet shop, expensive but first-class fishmonger, brilliant butcher shop, adorable boutiques, eclectic charity shops and more – well, let’s just say that getting into my new minivan to drive to the one of the neighborhood’s many superstores lacks desperately in charm.

But give me a few weeks, and I’ll be blogging on how much I love, love, love Super Target (which is the absolute truth)!

Hats & Hands

Three of my four boys, strolling together in the burning sun of the lazy beach town of Apalachicola, Florida.

What’ I’ll Miss About London, Part 3: Fewer Preservatives & Additives

It took all of about 15 seconds to realize that the food in the UK, in general, contains fewer preservatives and additives, or “junk.” We first discovered this when a loaf of bread went bad after about three days, and the milk went bad after about four.

I love this. I absolutely love this. Of course, the lifestyle led in London allows it, too: nearly everyone lives literally a stone’s throw from the nearest green grocer and corner shop, with a “real” grocery within 10 minutes walking distance. And nearly everyone has a tiny refrigerator so miniscule that you can’t buy and store more than about a pint’s worth of milk anyway.

This issue was made even more obvious once we discovered that Tadpole had a severe allergy to milk, and a half dozen other products (soy, nuts, sesame…) that he has since outgrown. The allergy instigated the need for me to meticulously read product labels.

Let’s take bread, for example. A favorite purchase in London was Hovis Wholemeal, who’s ingredient list includes: WHOLEMEAL FLOUR, WATER, YEAST, MALT FLOUR, SALT, BROWN SUGAR, VINEGAR, MALTED WHEAT, TOASTED WHEAT, FERMENTED WHEAT FLOUR, VEGETABLE FAT, SOYA FLOUR, EMULSIFIER: E472(E); FLOUR TREATMENT AGENT: E300

My usual American purchase was Nature’s Own Whole Wheat, who’s ingredient list consisted of: STONE GROUND WHOLE WHEAT FLOUR, WATER, BROWN SUGAR, YEAST, WHEAT GLUTEN, CONTAINS 2% OR LESS OF EACH OF THE FOLLOWING: SALT, VEGETABLE OIL (SOYBEAN OIL OR CANOLA OIL), DOUGH CONDITIONERS (SODIUM STEAROYL LACTYLATE, CALCIUM, STEAROYL-2-LACTYLATE, MONOGLYCERIDES, CALCIUM IODATE, ETHOXYLATED MONO AND DIGLYCERIDES, CALCIUM PEROXIDE, DATEM), CULTURED WHEY (MILK), VINEGAR, CALCIUM SULFATE, MONOCALCIUM PHOSPHATE, YEAST FOOD (AMMONIUM SULFATE)

Now I’m no scientist, nor am I an expert in food additives, and [DISCLAIMER ALERT] I am pulling this example off the top of my head while writing an unofficial, casual blog from inside Panera Bread Company. So don’t sue me if this isn’t the best example or comparison – you get the idea.

But these two things you can’t argue with: 1) the UK bread label is much easier to understand and 2) the UK bread will still go bad about 10 days before the US bread.

And this alone is compelling. At least, compelling enough for my simple mind to miss food shopping in the UK and wonder this about lots of US food: what in the world am I putting into my body?

I won't get started on organic food now…

No Love Lost

Bye-bye to my disastrous, slow, inefficient London washing machine. Trust me, there's no love lost here!

Cute Cubby

I know I'm the proud mom, but if this isn't adorable, I really just don't know what is...

The Mummy Bus

When I'm out with all three kiddos, I get comments ALL the time about having my hands full, look at all those little ones, etc. I was on my way to Primrose the other day when someone exclaimed as I walked by, "Wow! Now THAT is a mummy bus!" This is what they saw:

What I’ll Miss About London, Part 2: Ocado

It didn’t take long after moving to London to discover that hauling groceries home was a lot of work when you don’t have a car. No more going to Target or Publix and loading up a big trunkload of heavy cans, bulky toilet paper, and cumbersome cases of Coke. Which explains why Londoners visit their local Tesco or corner grocer nearly every day, and why grocery delivery has been a raging success.

I quickly adapted to this way of life. Grocery delivery for the weekly “big shop” and then a walk around the corner to get fresh stuff or things that I just couldn’t quite manage to fit into my pantry-less and desperately-lacking-in-cupboard-space kitchen.

And oh how I fell in love with Ocado. This place rocks. An easy-to-use website, one-hour delivery time slots, happy drivers, plentiful amounts of fresh organic produce, color coordinated bags for frozen or cupboard foods, good customer service that is otherwise so noticeably lacking in this country, and even excellent turn-around times on complaint emails (not that I had any, just a few times I had to report a punctured tub of Alpro or blueberries spilled and thus squished in one of the bags).

Even my kids fully embraced the experience of the grocery man coming. Did we run out of fish sticks? “Email the grocery man,” Tadpole would say. Is the Ocado truck here? “Yeah!!!” they would yell and watch him unload his lorry. And then, unpacking the groceries was always a highlight of the week, as the kids would hurriedly open up the bags as if they were birthday presents, and ferry them into the kitchen for me to put away (hey, saved me lots of bending and squatting).

The excitement! The ease! The experience! The event!

Oh, if they only delivered to Florida…

Tigger's Disneyland

It was a chilly, rainy Friday afternoon and the kids were restless, as was I, having had an entire day in the house with no playdates, activities, or time with our nanny extraordinaire, Michelle. So I spent the requisite 34 minutes it takes to get everyone bundled up and out the door, and we were off.

After some brief toddler debate, we settled on going to the library and headed north on the high street. Walking through the zebra crossing, Tigger suddenly yelled out from the front seat of the e3: “STARBUCKS!” in a very clear, extremely enthusiastic tone of voice. (Yes, he got smiles from several amazed and humored fellow pedestrians.)

There are two things that are surprising about this joyous declaration from Tigger. One is that he is just 16 months old, and kids his age are typically working on clear pronunciations of words such as “food” and “brother,” not STARBUCKS. The other is that I rarely visit the fine coffee establishment, and if I do it’s not usually with the kids, so the excitement the sighting generated is quite curious. You would think that I had just announced that we were going to spend a week at Disneyworld!

Pictured: The main intersection on our high street, with Starbucks distantly in view beyond the phone booths.

What I’ll Miss About London, Part 1: The Regent’s Park

Ah, Regent’s Park. It’s practically paradise for me, in an everyday sort of way. Probably because I’ve spent nearly every day I’ve lived in London walking its vast open spaces, exploring its nooks and crannies, weathering cold and rain and wind just to get some fresh air and ‘escape’ the city.

I can remember the first walk we ever took there, when we visited London on our scouting trip. We entered the southeast corner and only took in a snippet of the immaculately manicured flowers in Avenue Garden, but on that perfectly sunny April day it was like entering the Garden of Eden. If this was London, I could live here.

And we did. Part of the appeal of our first flat was location, location, location: just a few steps to the end of our mansion block, through a zebra crossing, over Charlbert Bridge and across the canal, and we were in. When we moved house a few years later, we didn’t want to be far from the entrance to the park we’d become accustomed to having at our back door.

Before any of our multiple dependents arrived on the scene, the first hint of sunshine and we would join Londoners and foreigners alike in the quest to find a perfect spot to lounge the afternoon away, with a blanket and picnic, and a curious excess of books.

When we first got our pug Claussen, before it was acceptable by English standards to take a young puppy for an actual walk in the park, we’d grab the dog carrier and bring him into the park with us, sitting on a bench and allowing passerbys to admire and stroke our tiny pure bred, our adorable pride and joy.

In the first year of our London time, Hubby worked on the south side of Regent’s, and frequently made his commute on foot through the park. I often seized the opportunity for some quality time together and joined him in the brisk morning air for some exercise or greeted him on his way home during the long summer days.

Tadpole came along, and the park became an escape for this tired, cooped up mum, and learning grounds for my wide-eyed, attentive little guy. We covered every inch of this big backyard of ours, me pointing out endless birds, friendly dogs, airplanes coming in and out of Heathrow and Gatwick, animals we could see along the southern fence of the London Zoo, and other little kids.

When Tigger was just a bump inside of me, we took long walks through Regent’s to exercise my swelling pregnant body. As Tadpole got older, increasingly mobile, and restless indoors, the playground by the boating pond became one of our favorite hangouts. And Tigger enjoyed the playground from an early age, visiting at just a few weeks old and soon joining his big brother in play at the huge sandbox and on the swings.

It was my kids’ first playground, where they learned to run, appreciate nature, and enjoy the outdoors. We picnicked there, fed the ducks, read books, watched tractors, played ball, laid on the grass and spotted airplanes, caught some football and baseball games, met with friends, and chased the dog around until he had FRAP (Frantic Random Activity Periods).

I even made a few friends there – with other mums, American women with whom I had an immediate affinity, dog walkers and pug lovers, even foreigners asking for directions.

And I have probably taken it all for granted way too much, for now, as I think about leaving behind my park, my paradise, my escape, I well up with tears. For it’s the part of London that I have known the best, one that’s seen me in joy and sorrow, offered peace and quiet from the city noise, and been a pivotal part of my children’s lives.

The Interview

Ever since Nana came in November, she’s been doing daily “school” with Tadpole – a curriculum with various themes each week, the learning of shapes, colors and letters, fun art projects, and of course lots and lots of reading. Tadpole LOVES his Nana, and he LOVES school.

Obviously, Nana won’t live with us forever (imagine that!) and one day I need to take over the teaching. Sudden change can be traumatic for a toddler, however, so I decided I’d begin slowly – by first mentioning Mommy teaching school, and then taking over a few days each week.

So Tadpole and I were excitedly chatting it up the other day about all the fun things he is learning, and I said to him, “Can Mommy teach you school sometime? Maybe I can do art and reading and games with you?”

Tadpole eyed me skeptically for several moments as if pondering whether or not I knew enough to teach him. Slowly he asked me, “Do you know what a pentagon is?” [Indeed, my toddler has started answering questions with questions.] I confidently replied, “Yes! It’s a five-sided shape!”

As if that one tidbit of knowledge was the complete key to teaching, Tadpole responded by saying, “Ok, Mommy, you can do school with me.”

Perhaps the shortest and sweetest interview I’ve ever had…

This Week's Top Ten

Oh that I could remember (or that I’d immediately write down) all the comical things that Tadpole, my 28-month-old son, says to me! And oh to capture the hilarious tone of voice he uses! Here are a few from this week that I did remember or record…

TEN. Tadpole went downstairs, grabbed his toolbox, said that he was going to work, and then promptly put his toolbox on the table and sat down in a chair. When I asked what he was doing, he declared “I’m taking a break!”

NINE. While pumping breastmilk on my bed one morning, Tadpole came running in my room to say good morning. He took one look at what I was doing and shouted “Mommy! That’s a really big boob!”

EIGHT. Ever obsessed with my breast health, one day Tadpole seemed to take note that I was pumping and with a very concerned voice told me “You need to buy more breast pads to cover your boobs, Mommy.”

SEVEN. For several weeks prior to, and several days after, my c-section, it was difficult for me to bend or lift much. Partly due to that, and partly because he is a very capable big boy, I told Tadpole on a few occasions that he (not me) needed to pull up his trousers after peeing. The other day, I followed him to the bathroom to help at the potty. After his pee, he asked me to help him pull up his trousers, but I told him that he needed to do it. He replied, “Oh Mommy, you can help me, you are all better from your surgery now.”

SIX. We love Skype, and especially with Nana here have used it frequently to talk to Baba. One morning a few days before he was to arrive in London, Nana and I were chatting over breakfast and mentioned Baba. Tadpole’s ears perked up and he rather dramatically exclaimed, “I LOVE him! I do! I talk to Baba ALL the time on the computer.”

FIVE. I was enjoying a rare glass of wine at dinner one night when Tadpole asked what I was drinking. I told him, and explained that it was an adult drink that was sometimes served with dinner. He paused, studied my glass for a moment, and – as if he understood something about alcohol consumption – questioned, “Are you going to have another glass?”

FOUR. Still several weeks away from our trip to Florida, I asked Nana to help me remember a particular item I wanted to bring with us. Tadpole’s eyes got wide and he shouted, “I need to pack NOW!”

THREE. It’s fun to teach kids trivia about themselves and the family. Several months ago I taught Tadpole where each of us were born. The other day I quizzed him, and this was our dialogue:
Me: “Where were you born, honey?” Tadpole: “London”
Me: “Where was daddy born?” Tadpole: “Witchita”
Me: “And where was mommy born?” Tadpole: “Minneapplesauce”

TWO. We’d all been sick off and on since Christmas, so Tadpole was finding it even more exciting to use his new doctor kit. (“I’m a doctor, mommy. I’m a DOC-tor.”) One day, sitting on the floor playing with the kids, I asked Dr Tadpole to take my temperature. He shook his head NO in response, saying in a scolding-like tone, “No Mommy, because I took your temperature yesterday and you are just fine.”

ONE. Tadpole always has interesting things to say about the food I make. Yesterday, a few minutes after serving him a plate of mashed potatoes, peas, and meatballs, I asked how his food was. Without missing a beat, he replied, “You mashed these potatoes really nicely, Mommy.”