Lucy doesn't crawl

Lucy has two teeth, and is working on a third. She sits up nicely and loves to try the food she sees the rest of the family eating. Fish fingers, green beans, sweet potato casserole, tender cooked broccoli and many other things have delighted her. If she is minded so to do, she can turn over. 

She's not often so minded: usually putting her down on her tummy results in a cry that sounds like she's been put down on a tack. And she absolutely does not crawl. Why should she? As you can see, the service around here is pretty good, if you're a baby.

A winter day

It was a lot colder on the windswept hills in north Yorkshire than I had imagined. But the boys were undaunted, having their first lesson in hurling from Liam on the playing fields at Ampleforth. (Shhhhhh...don't tell! I think the boys got a little carried away with their hurling sticks: the evidence was all over the field.)   

Meanwhile, Patricia took Lewis, Anna, Lucy and me for a look at the church. Lovely--and out of the wind, which was a definite selling point! Anna enjoyed looking for the little mice that are part of the decor, on some of the chairs and benches. 

We had a lovely time, anyway, though the inside bits of the day (lunch at the pub--yummy fish & chips for me, the abbey church at Ampleforth, and tea at Liam & Patricia's) were far more enjoyable than the outdoor bits. 

Plays well with others

It's something I hope that will be said about the children, and this week they're practicing. Iain and Thomas have been playing all sorts of pretend things together. This morning they were suited up in makeshift army gear, on a mission.

Thomas said they were looking for someone. 'He killed one of our best soldiers, and now we have a mystery to solve. We have to find him.'

Pretty soon, they were all outside, and Lewis was watching a documentary about the Russian front in WWII. And they didn't come back in until they were tired of playing--no squabbling or bickering.

If not peace on earth, at least we've seen peace in our backyard.

The second day of Christmas

Or, as it is known here, Boxing Day. Of course, there is a reason there's no 'Christmas Day' blog. At least four reasons, in fact: Anna, Thomas, Iain and Lucy. On Christmas Day, the usual noise ('oh the noise, noise, noise, noise!') and chaos increase exponentially. Partly, this is so because, well, it's Christmas Day, much anticipated and anxiously awaited; everyone has been up since...EARLY; and parents are preparing the culinary delights, which we have been eagerly awaiting. 

Yesterday, despite the chaos, was full of the usual pleasures and some unexpected treats. The children behaved astonishingly well in a very crowded narthex during Mass. (I thought, as we knelt during the Creed: here we are, adoring the Christ child in a crowded place. At least there aren't any barn animals in the mix.) The rolls were nearly forgotten in the run-up to dinner, and we never got around to eating the cheese, but the food was spectacular--as usual. Others might differ, I am sure, but my absolute favorite part of dinner was the sausage and chestnut stuffing. And the company was excellent, too. The kids had Violet, Camille, and Belen to play with, and we had their parents (Brandy, Matt, Eric, Tara, plus Tara's friend Amy) for conversation around the table. 

My special thanks, however, go to Tara, for singing the following lyrics I devised (to the tune of the 12 Days of Christmas) in honor of Lewis:

It's Christmas at the Ayres' house, and here's the scene you'll see:

Champagne a-pouring

iPad a-charging

Daddy outside 'egging'

Mommy a-kneading

Anna a-singing

Iain a-drawing

Lucy a-fussing

Thomas wearing Chelsea strip

Chestnut stuffing's on

smells so good

time to tidy-up

and on the Big Green Egg, a turkey!

Not quite up to the usual standards of entertainment at festive gatherings I've attended at the university, but then--as I am made more and more aware all the time--I am not English. 

It was such a busy day, in fact, that it wasn't until this morning that Lewis remembered to tell me that yesterday was the 70th anniversary of the fall of Hong Kong. Now that is a busy day.

business as usual

on Holy Island in October

Tomorrow is Thanksgiving. In the US, that is, tomorrow is Thanksgiving day. What are we doing here? Well, Anna has dance club after school and the boys are going to a friend's house for supper. Lucy will be at nursery as usual in the morning, and Lewis and I both have to work.

So it goes for the American living in Britain, married to an Englishman. True, he really enjoys cooking and eating Thanksgiving dinner--but only in the States. Here in the UK, we can't be quite that counter-cultural. If only: it would be great if I could get some canned pumpkin, thus making the pumpkin-pie-baking a much easier task...sigh.

Tonight, however,  we are getting the kids ready for bed, because they have school tomorrow. Fortunately, they're not too bothered. That's good: the last thing we need is an excuse for Iain to plead 'day off' from school. I can just imagine him saying, 'But I was born in America. I should have Thanksgiving day off!' Not, of course, that he's interested in the reason for the celebration, or eating the turkey--or even the pumpkin pie, for that matter--he just yearns for days off from school

With any luck (and a miracle at the UK border agency), he'll spend extra days off over the Christmas holidays traveling to California.

He won't want turkey then, either, or pumpkin pie. But we'll have it all the same. After all, a girl has to get that pumpkin fix sometime.

babe in arms

Here is Lucy, on a recent trip to Edinburgh (it was cold!), having a little sleep in the stroller (translate this to whatever word works for your region). Why is it photo-worthy? Because Lucy has taken to sleeping in the stroller only when it's moving. That is, she sleeps in the stroller when she can't sleep on me. 

Don't get me wrong: one of the loveliest things about having a baby is the soft, warm, cuddly feeling of your infant falling asleep in your arms. The memory of that feeling is what got me through my pregnancy this time around. Overwhelmed as I was at the prospect of child number 4, I could say to myself, but at least when the pregnancy is over, for a couple of wonderful years, you'll have a baby. You know, one of those little creatures who smiles and coos and makes you feel like the most important person in the world. They don't talk back, and, for the first few months at least, can't get away. I imagined having back all the things I missed most about Iain's babyhood. (He was, though I say so myself, the most wonderful baby.)

Lucy, lovely, lovely Lucy, is most of those things. And more: she sucks her thumb. I know this will be a problem later, but at 6 months, thumb-sucking is pretty darn cute. There is, however, one trait that she seems to lack: transferability. I mean, when you try to put her down in her bed after she's fallen asleep on you, she instantly opens her eyes and begins screaming as if you'd put her down on a bed of nails, not a mattress. She had about a week of sleeping through the night (or 6-hour stretches, which is nearly as good), in her own bed; she even fell asleep there. All that changed with her experience of jet lag, and since mid-August we've been suffering with her.

Eventually, I know I will have to remind her that she can go to sleep on her own, and she can sleep for long stretches of time in her own bed. I don't look forward to that. So today, when she woke up (in the bouncy seat, even) after just a few minutes' sleep, I took her and let her sleep on me while I finished reading an essay (on the theological virtue of hope in the ethics of Thomas Aquinas, if you're interested) and drinking a cup of tea (lapsang--my favorite). 

Then it was time to take Thomas to buy a newspaper. (Lewis has taken to reading the Financial Times at the weekend, which doesn't have a sports section. Anathema, according to Thomas, who thinks that the main reason for a newspaper is sports reporting and a list of which football matches will be televised, and when.) I opted for the walk, primarily because Lucy could stay asleep on me. 

She did. She slept through the trip, and stayed asleep while I read a whole section of the Financial Times (the arts bit) standing up in the kitchen. (The baby bjorn isn't really meant to be worn while sitting down.) I know that in the long run, this isn't helping. 

But it sure did make for a pleasant afternoon.

teeth time?

Well, there's no way to be certain whether Lucy is awake at night because she's getting some teeth. If only she were getting some words--that would be most helpful. All I know is that sleep is a precious commodity, one I seem not to be able to afford at the moment. If I could buy three hours of connected sleep, I would. If only. 

Lucy had to have some surprise up her little sleeve, though. Being the fourth child isn't interesting unless you can keep your parents guessing a bit. I remember when Iain was a baby, thinking that he never stumped me. Even his dramatic visit to hospital at thirteen days old, which included a spinal tap, chest x-ray and 48 hours of IV antibiotics (while remaining in hospital) did not puzzle me. I was grateful for my experience with Anna in the cardiac ICU, which made the whole hospital ordeal psychologically manageable. Not that it was easy, of course--just manageable.

Thankfully. Lucy presents us with challenges of a less dramatic, if more exhausting kind. Often, I put her down between  9 and 10, and crawl into bed myself, absolutely shattered, only to have her wake up at 11.30 and not let me put her down again. All night. If I am lucky, she'll lie down with me for a bit and I can catch a few minutes of horizontal sleep. But only if I am really lucky. 

We're thinking it's teeth. There is physical evidence to support this hypothesis. So we've got the calpol (tylenol) and bonjela (whose US equivalent I've forgotten--but it goes on her gums directly). She seems to be a bit better with these interventions.

And me? Could you pass me that bottle of syrah, please, and tell me that this will pass?