Family time

Last week the kids had their half term break, and we had a visit from auntie, uncle, baby cousin, grandma and grandad. A good time was had by all!

Iain bombing Auntie Sara's Pooh sticks.

We ate the whole thing!!

Thomas had a birthday present from his grandparents.

 

Of course, for all the visitors, some preparations had to be made, so Tuesday was cleaning day:

Excellent work!

november already

Well. Birthday season has come and gone. My babies are now 12, 10 and 7, and their little sister (the real baby of the family) is 2-and-a-half. I always breathe a sigh of relief after the last birthday party. From the end of the summer until the middle of October, the calendar seems absolutely packed. Then, come November, it slows down.

This usually tricks me into thinking I have some time to relax, to attend to the things that were dropped during birthday season. Inevitably, the result is that suddenly I find myself at the end of the first week in December, thinking, what?? Advent, already? Christmas is just around the corner, and here I have been twiddling my thumbs (or focusing on teaching, writing, and that sort of thing--which, as far as the children are concerned, might just as well be twiddling my thumbs).

I would say this year I am determined to do things differently, but it's unlikely. So November will be the usual joy it is: really, truly autumn, with time for family walks and meals with friends. We had a visit from Lewis's family last week, which was delightful. Lucy, who has just begun to remember things properly, keeps asking, 'Where baby Zachary [her cousin]?' and 'Where grandma and grandad?' Already she's looking forward to a trip to London at the end of the month 'to see baby Zachary.' From her point of view, that's the main thing, though I am taking her along to London because I have a meeting.

Iain's birthday party seems like a year ago already. Thank goodness it hasn't been that long: I am not ready for anything like that again. Twenty-five kids at an adventure park, with a birthday supper and ice cream in a room too small with terrible acoustics. And not cheap, either. But it was what he really, really wanted (until it got noisy in the room), and he had a blast (apart from the very noisy room). He continues to be interested in tanks and battles, and draws and paints all sorts of things. He wants to have an art show...

The big news in Thomas's world is that he is now playing for the school football (soccer) team, and they win a lot. Their season is over (thank goodness), and he only has a few more Saturdays of the current season with his other team. Even that team won one last Saturday, so things look up. This is especially important, since Chelsea (Thomas is a rabid Chelsea supporter) lost to Newcastle last weekend as well. I was glad that the plan to take him to the match ran aground. The experience of being there would have been unbearable for all concerned, I think. So he has a match in London to look forward to in the Spring. Another trip for me, and I don't mind. I enjoy the experience of the football stadium and we'll plan to go to a game Chelsea will win easily. Good times!

This evening, I told Anna and Lucy that it was time to go upstairs to get ready for bed, and Lucy promptly informed me, 'Anna reading me a story.' Indeed. Although Anna still hasn't quite got the hang of reading the words, she's always been very good with books, and can narrate a board book effortlessly. So, yes, in a sense, Anna was 'reading' Lucy a story. Beautiful to watch.

So goes November. It will be over before I know it. And if your Christmas card is late, I apologize in advance. At least now you know why.

Irreversible

Today I was spluttering and fuming about the boys being late out of school. Thomas thought he had practice (soccer or football, or futbol, depending on your country of origin), but he didn't. So he appeared after all the rest of the kids in his class, fully kitted out. He didn't get the message--either about the cancellation of practice or about being out promptly so we'd be back for Anna when she arrived home. The mini-bus won't drop her if we aren't there, of course, but I hate to make them wait, and hate even more the extra half hour she spends dropping off the rest of the kids if we aren't back in time.

 

Needless to say, I was feeling pretty stressed. Iain couldn't help but notice. 'I have something that will cheer you up, mummy,' he said in his most cheerful and pleased tone of voice. 'Look what's on my jumper.' On his school sweatshirt he had a round sticker that sparkled just a little, and read 'Headteacher's Award.' Inside, I am thinking, That's lovely, but we are still going to be late; aloud, I said (as you do), 'that's great, Iain!' in the most cheerful tone I could muster. 'How did you earn that?' I asked. 'For knowing what the word irreversible meant.'

 

Irreversible? This is a kid who draws and paints and makes really cool stuff out of Lego, who also still writes b and d and k backwards quite often, and who is just deciding that reading might actually be of some use (i.e. it might be fun). 'So,' I responded, 'what does it mean?' He said, 'it's like when you cook an egg; you can't ever get it back to the way it was before.'

 

For a moment, I forgot entirely about the fact that we were late. In the end, we turned onto our street with Anna's minibus just two cars behind us. And I will try to keep in mind that moments like those are part of the irreversible process of my children growing up--absolutely priceless.

 

 

 

She's almost a teenager...

Anna is twelve. So she's into makeup, likes Monster High, and goes to secondary school (which would be middle school in the US--6th grade). After school, she usually goes up to her room for a while. When she re-emerges, she's wearing a totally different set of clothes. But she still plays with Barbies and lines up all her dolls and cuddly toys to play 'school.' And she still enjoys the 'How do dinosaurs...' book series, as well as If You Give a Mouse a Cookie and all of its sequels.

One of the fantastic things about Anna being twelve and having a little sister who's two is the way they (sometimes) play together. This evening, I was reciting (not singing--I didn't grow up with it, and don't know the tune) 'Round and round the garden, like a teddy bear.' Suddenly Lucy turned to Anna and held out her hand, for Anna to repeat the nursery rhyme and the motions (that end with a tickle, if you aren't familiar with it). And so she did--over and over. She enjoyed Lucy's giggles as much as I do. Saying the nursery rhyme wasn't a chore, it was a delight for her as well as for her little sister.

Ah, maternal bliss. Don't worry. I'm sure it won't last long...

like this

Yesterday, I took Anna, Iain, and Lucy along to Thomas's football match. Usually he has two matches on a Saturday, one at 11:20 and the next at 12:30. The break between them is too long, and the others tend towards chaos. But yesterday it was just the one, at 11:20. Lewis had work to do, so I thought I'd take everyone out.

Lucy fell asleep on the way there. So when we arrived, I took a few plastic shopping bags (you know, the strong, reusable ones you keep in the car) and put them in my tote bag, so we'd have something to sit on. If I have to hold Lucy, I can't stand around for an hour, and the ground is always damp. Always. Of course, as soon as I put Lucy down on them, she woke up, and I thought we might be in for a lot of fussing. But no. We had a snack, then moved to where Thomas's match was about to begin.

Iain played behind us, and Anna found some stickers in my bag. Lucy happily stuck them to her top, and I actually watched Thomas play. I thought, as I looked around, 'this is what I thought it would be like...' Girls playing happily, Iain staying close, allowing me to support the team.

Of course, it only lasted about 5 minutes. Then Anna spotted someone's dog, and we never sat down again. But it was nice while it lasted.

Half rubber

Here is Thomas, on the last day of our beach holiday. Above, he's pitching, below, batting.

It looks like baseball, from this distance. The bat is the same. The ball is different. Apparently during the depression baseballs were cut in half, so you got more baseball for your dollar (or probably a lot less than a dollar). A game developed around these oddly-shaped balls: half-rubber. In some places in the south, it is still played, and we met a family who are enthusiasts. Because the father who invited Thomas to play with his sons came from a large family, the siblings and their children can get a pretty good game together now when they gather for family holidays in the summer.

Thomas gravitated toward the action as soon as it started, of course. His instinct that a sport is being played is uncanny. And he's instantly riveted. I was glad for the hospitality of this big family, who included him in the warm-ups and taught him how to hold a baseball bat. Thomas took to it straightaway, and would have played all afternoon and the next day, too, but we were winding up our time on Tybee and parted with great disappointment.

Our time at the beach was fantastic: a good time was indeed had by all.

One red VW

If I ever do write the memoir of my time in Durham, which I want to call 'Driving in England', the story of Anna's ascent of a neighbor's car will have to find its way in. She has always been a climber, and is pretty skilled, actually. If I hadn't seen her standing on top of our car a number of times already, I might have freaked out and not just told her to get down. Might have been better all around if I had. Because of course she didn't get down, as she could see I was in a conversation with a different neighbor. As I turned back to check, the owner of the car and his parents (?) emerged from the house shouting, first at Anna, and then at me.

 

I am pretty sure nobody has ever shouted quite so abusively at me before. The man yelled about his car, worried that Anna had damaged it (with her crocs?), while the other two people shouted rhetorical questions about the quality of my parenting. Shocked, I took Anna by the hand and walked away, utterly speechless. He demanded an apology and threatened to call the police. Nothing I said made any difference, though; he just kept getting angrier and eventually swore at me in front of the children. By the time I got Anna back to our house she was crying. The man and the two older people with him spent the next 45 minutes wandering around the car musing loudly over the damage Anna caused. So when I had to walk past a few minutes later to collect Iain from another neighbor's, they started in on me again. Thankfully the other neighbor offered to keep Iain a little while longer and walk him back, thus sparing him the ordeal. Eventually the owner of the car called me a moron, and demanded to speak to my husband, since I was useless.

 

Obviously Anna shouldn't have been there. But I was (and am) completely flabbergasted by the response. Really? This is the procedure for dealing with an 11-year-old girl climbing on your car? I apologised; I offered to pay for the damages. He didn't seem even to hear that. He followed me home and returned later to speak to Lewis.

 

Tonight as Anna was getting ready to go to bed, she clung to me in the way she does in a scary scene in a movie. I asked her what she was afraid of. 'Him', she said.

 

I didn't have to ask her who 'he' was.

 

 

 

 

'fashion paints'?

There are plenty of stories from our visit to the US this summer. Iain improved his swimming dramatically, Lucy discovered the joy of water wings, Thomas learned to handle a kayak, and Anna found that she likes crab. Consider this post the first installment of the 'holiday' series. Hopefully it will be cheering for all (not least of all, me) as the seasons change and our tans fade.

We vacationed on Tybee Island during the summers when we lived in Atlanta, so we were delighted to go back to somewhere fun and 'foreign', and yet familiar...and hot! Dressing for the day involved choosing which bathing suit to wear for the beach or pool. Wonderful.

One day, as Anna and I were walking back from the beach together, she insisted on 'fashion paints'. It wasn't the first time, either. The day before, when we were sitting at the table, she had said she wanted 'some of those paints'. Which paints? I asked. 'Those fashion paints', she replied. Fashion paints? I wondered. Some new nail polish maybe? No. That wasn't it. Clearly, it was something we had seen together before, but I couldn't figure out what. Eventually I said that she would have to point it out the next time we saw it. Patient girl!

Somewhere in the back of my mind, though, I must have been working on the puzzle. When she asked me on the way back from the beach, we rehearsed some of the same things. Then I remembered something we had seen and talked about: airbrush tattoos. Ah-ha! Which one do you want? CAT. She even knew that she wanted it on her leg:

Mystery solved!

Iain enjoys sports day

Iain isn't a competitive boy like Thomas (who, incidentally, came first in the egg-and-spoon race and second in four others, including a sprint). He's perfect for sports day, actually, because it's all about taking part. The big finale is the relay. As Iain took his place, he made certain I was going to take his picture while he was running. So I did:

 

Lucy was tugging at my skirt, as I had put her down to take Iain's photo. I picked her up and looked at the field in time to see Thomas coming...but not in time to take a photo. Oh well: here he is preparing for an earlier event:

 

He's determined, there on the starting line. The race was a sort of modified steeplechase, I think. Thomas came...second.

 

It was a great day for the event. Beautiful and sunny, with a nice breeze, and occasional cloud cover to give everyone a bit of a break. I missed the morning events, as I am getting us ready for a trip to the US. But I was there long enough to see the boys compete and to chat with a few other parents.

 

Apparently this year there was a new mums' race--some sort of dressing up thing. I missed it, which was probably just as well. My last mums' event at sports day is probably the reason there isn't a sprint anymore. Also the reason I don't sprint anymore. But that's all right: Iain (and Thomas) really enjoyed sports day.

 

 

hand-me-downs

We love hand-me-downs! Our grandma always brings us loads of things when she comes, and we enjoy wearing many of them. Of course, we can be particular about what we wear, so some of grandma's finds become a blessing to other friends--or to their friends! Here's what our mum has to say about our clothes:

Hand-me-downs are economical, of course. Lucy has a friend at nursery who passes on the most posh things--the best way to get clothes from Zara and Monsoon! And it saves time, as the business of clothes shopping might otherwise mean long days at the Metrocentre or Dalton Park or Newcastle.

But that's not the real reason I like hand-me-downs so much. The truth is, I am terrible at deciding. If I am going to pay for something, I have to be certain that it's really what I want. I have to like it. And quite often I am just not sure about that. So a bag of clothes to explore and try, and like, or not-like-so-very-much, is a great gift indeed. Anna loves trying on the things her grandmother brings (of which there are usually loads). Sometimes there are things too small, too big, or just not suited to Anna. So we pass them along. Sometimes the things Lucy and Anna receive are not quite new-looking. Then I never worry about them being spoiled.

There are times, of course, when shopping is necessary. School uniform must be bought, most of the time. The school year always seems to start better with fresh white shirts and new cardigans. And we'll shop for smart clothes for a dear friend's wedding this summer.

But by the beach and by the pool, you'll find us in hand-me-downs.

Ishy

Until yesterday, that's how Lucy referred to herself: 'Ishy.' It had been sounding more like Oo-shy lately, I admit. But last night there was no mistake: she said 'Lucy'!

 

 

She wouldn't stand still enough for me to take her picture, though :)

 

Untitled

Thomas wanted to be with his classmates for their first Holy Communion. So we went to the Mass, Thomas in his red tie and looking very smart. The head teacher welcomed him and included him in the photo. I think he was well pleased; it was definitely the highlight of the weekend for him.

 

As for me, well, I was there to support Thomas, and mostly spent my time in the back of church trying to occupy Lucy, who was far less interested in the goings-on. Later, at the party, I was fascinated by the sea of white shirts, dresses and veils. Thomas and Anna's class at church was small--just five children--so the group of nearly 30 from school looked enormous. I snapped the photo of these two girls waiting to receive their certificates as Thomas looked on with me. He applauded for them all, genuinely pleased for his friends.

 

And I was proud of him all over again.

 

Spring at last

Maybe even summer. We have had a few really nice days in the last month or so--warm, sunny days. It's pleasant to be outside, and the garden has enjoyed much more attention of late. Several weeks ago, it looked abandoned. Now it looks, well, lived-in. Not beautiful, but at least it looks like somebody has made an effort. The children have helped, even. (Though the would-be helper was behind the camera--or, in this case, my iPad--in the photo below.)

 

Probably we were all encouraged by the handful of plants I brought back from the Chelsea Flower Show at the end of May. A generous invitation provided a great opportunity, and I went down to London for the day. Little did I think I would bring back marigolds, daisies (just visible in the photo above), and a couple of things yet to be identified.

 

It is perhaps especially nice to be outside in the sunshine after a virus knocked me and the boys flat a couple of weeks ago. Fevers, chills, general malaise--maybe a stray flu? Whatever it was, we were glad to see it go, and I was thankful that the girls and Lewis didn't catch it.

 

Iain helped quite a bit with the gardening, I am told, while I was out with Thomas on Saturday morning. The evidence, however, is that his activities in the garden also included photographing various aspects of the work as well as odd corners of the garden. So I have no photos of the marigolds or the unidentified plant. I have a number of blurry photos of buttercups, as they're plentiful at the moment. I have a portrait of the new mower, as well as a picture of the box in which it came. (Some assembly required, apparently.) I also have a series of photos of Lewis, walking across the garden. All in all, it's hardly a representative set, I think.

 

Then again, maybe I should just be grateful that I have some photos.

 

 

What does that say?

When I was a toddler--my mother liked to tell the story--one of the first things I said was, "What does that say?" So she taught me to read. She enjoyed telling the stories about me as a toddler, reading the word cards she made for me, understanding what she was teaching me about contractions. I get the impression that was one of the best stretches of my childhood for her.

 

So when I discovered I was pregnant with my first child (somehow I knew it would be a girl, from the moment of the positive test), I was looking forward to that same stretch. I was thrilled. Imagine my dismay (no, don't) who I found out that Anna might have Down Syndrome. All bets were off.

 

Over the past few years, teachers have been working hard to help Anna to learn to read. She loves books--one of her very first words, when she was using signs, was 'book'--so I thought she would probably learn to read eventually. For years she has memorized her favorite books. She has been able to recite 'How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight?' since about 2008, I think. But give her a new book and she would always narrate the pictures. Recently, she has started to sound out words--or at least pretend to sound out words. I'll never forget her sounding out a-l-l-i-g-a-t-o-r when the word actually said 'crocodile'. Asking her to look at the words, trying to correct her? Not much point. She wasn't too interested.

 

Last week, she came home from school with an award for good work in phonics. 'Phonics?' I wondered. This week she had a day off school with the usual cold-like thing. Lucy was at nursery, so we got out Anna's reading book, and I made up a phonics game for her. (Games are better, because the rules are part of the fun.) We had fun, and it seemed that she was actually sounding out the words this time. Amazing.

 

And then at dinner, she pointed to the front of Lucy's high chair tray, to the 'chicco' label, and asked me--clear as day--'What does that say?'

 

 

 

 

Thomas the patient

Usually Thomas excels at self-pity. Disappointment or failure, insult or injury--it's all so overwhelming. I understand. But today, when he came home from cricket after school and just wanted to lie down, there was none of that.

 

He came in to thank me for preparing supper. He said he was grateful to have food when so many go hungry. While I was giving the girls a bath, he rubbed my shoulders. 'I just want you to be happy,' he said.

 

Who is this feverish child??!?

 

 

 

the kitchen floor is dirty

This is not news. This is everyday life. It strikes me as painfully ironic that when you most need your kitchen floor to be clean enough to eat off of (there's no way to put that phrase that doesn't end in a preposition), there is no way you can get it that way, much less keep it that way. So the dirt sticks to the raisin that falls on the floor, and before you've realized that the 9-year-old has dropped raisins on the floor, the not-quite-2-year-old has eaten three of them.

That's life.

The children don't seem to mind. Lucy doesn't care if the bottoms of her socks (or feet) look like she's been walking around outside, and the boys would probably rather I not scrub the floor. I mean, when the floor is clean (for the whole 5 minutes it stays that way), they have to be obsessive about taking muddy shoes off at the door.

In fact, now that I think about it, the children would all probably prefer that I leave the house untidy and not bother too much about the floors. The main result of it, from their point of view, is that then I am far more likely to ask them to pick up toys when they've finished playing, and way more likely to recoil in horror if they walk into the house in muddy shoes. (And, as this is England in spring, muddy shoes are pretty much the order of the day...) Dusting would be ok, and cleaning the bathrooms doesn't disrupt them too much.

Then again, maybe I should just go for a walk.

Baked beans go with everything

I admit that this isn't news. Not a 'current event' of the sort that bored me as a teenager. Truth may be stranger than fiction, but I always found fiction more compelling at that age. I suppose that what I am about to post is the former: truth, stranger than fiction. Or at least I find it so, since I am from Southern California, where baked beans go with hot dogs and hamburgers, next to the coleslaw.

Here, in England, beans go with a lot more things. Toast, for example. Baked beans on toast is one of my kids' favorite things, especially with soft boiled eggs. If you're British, you probably don't find that odd. (Then again, you might--my British husband doesn't like eggs, so he's not a reliable source.) I don't mind. It makes the kids easy to please when their dad is away. They think it's a treat.

And then there are those intercultural moments in our house, when baked beans find their way onto plates with really odd pairings. Today, it's enchiladas. One of Iain's very favorite meals is enchiladas with baked beans. It still disturbs me slightly. I stick with refried beans, which are the fitting accompaniment to enchiladas.

Green enchiladas aren't something you find much in Durham. Maybe not at all. The Central American proprietor of Salsa y Sabor (next to the bus station) does the green salsa. I was going to post the recipe (and probably will eventually), but now it's time to eat.

Anna keeps us home

Well.

Lewis was supposed to give a paper in Cambridge on Wednesday. I was going to meet him there tomorrow and catch up with a couple of people as well. But he's not in Cambridge, and I am not going. We've each spent at least one night away from home this week, though, and stayed with Anna in the university hospital of north Durham. This is good: having to go back and forth from Newcastle in the summer of 2011 was much more taxing.

Anna will be fine. But a girl who doesn't take medicine well under the best of conditions was not about to drink the vile potion that they said would fight the infection that was making her face red and swollen and sending her temperature sky-high on Tuesday. So IV antibiotics it had to be. She's pretty chipper and the doctors will send her home tomorrow, where she'll continue with a more pleasant-tasting antibiotic.

In the meantime, she's watching lots of movies with her dad, having her nails painted by me (and doing mine as well--photos to follow, or check them out on facebook), and generally charming the socks off everyone in the ward.

That's my Anna!

A homily for Thomas

Last week, Thomas gave me a homily. So this week I returned the favor: http://thinkingcoramdeo.blogspot.co.uk/2013/03/fifth-sunday-of-lent.html

Oh, and happy St Patrick's Day!

Posted with Blogsy

book launch

A book launch isn't the place that you'd expect to find many children. I am glad, though, that my children weren't the only ones there. Anna was her usual self, alternating between charming people and getting into mischief. Thomas was my publicist and chief book-seller. (I admit it was difficult to get him to hand over the cash. What £40? he asked...) Not that many books were sold. Just two, in fact. Given that the crowd were mostly students at the theological college in which I teach, it's not surprising. Some of the university students might have fat allowances, but those preparing for ministry don't.

Special price £39. Thomas thought I should get the money. I am really grateful that a couple of people actually bought the book!

Iain brought a tank. Who wouldn't? He was soon tearing around college with his friend Bleddyn. Book launch? What book launch?

Some folks actually had a look at the merchandise. I appreciated everyone who came, though, even if they only came for the wine. I even appreciated the student who showed up towards the end, expecting another event, who'd forgotten entirely about the book launch. Never mind--he had a look at the book, anyway.

Lucy smiled at everyone and made friends. She insisted that I pick her up frequently, though, with the result that when it came time for me to say a few words, I did so with toddler on hip. Since I wrote most of the original text during kids' naptimes and precious hours while they were at nursery, it seems appropriate that they were close at hand for the speeches.

Anna, enjoying a still and quiet moment, between dashes for the stairs or kitchen.

I think they all had a good time. I'm just glad nobody had a tantrum or spilled anything. As not-conducive to book-writing as the children are, I know with absolute certainty that I couldn't have done it without them.

sisters

Lucy is in that wonderful phase in which new words and phrases are being added to her vocabulary daily. One of the words she enjoys is 'sisters,' and she's clear about how to use it. 'Anna,' she'll say, pointing at 'Anna.' And then, still pointing, 'sister!' 

Like her sister, she loves dancing. She loves the Wiggles, though it sounds more like 'Billig' when she says it. Maybe someday she'll be doing ballet with Anna, in matching outfits like Anna and her classmate in the photo. 

I can't keep up with all that goes on around here, really. Sometimes it seems crazy even to try. Still, I ought to find out what the noise downstairs means... not sisters, this time, but their brothers.

Sometimes no news is good news

When I started this blog, I had no long-term purpose. Anna was having three surgeries in the space of a summer, one of which was a heart surgery. I just wanted a way to let friends and family know how she was doing.

Thankfully, I haven't used this space to report that sort of news lately. Of course, Anna keeps us guessing: last weekend the kids all had a virus, which seemed mostly to have run its course. But then Anna spiked a fever (40.1C/103.2F) and broke out in a rash, and had us all in a dither. (Well, not Anna, exactly, but the doctor who suggested that if she hadn't improved after 24 hours of oral antibiotics, we would have to have her admitted to the hospital.) A couple of days later, she was dancing around the dining room to her new favourite song. But that's Anna.