no news

While it may be true that no news is good news, it's not exactly so in this case. Not that the news is bad, but that 'no news' is a failure on the part of the reporter rather than the absence of news.

The news--now no longer so very new--is that we are on the move again. This time it is a temporary move, to South Bend, IN, where Lewis will be a resident fellow at Notre Dame's Institute for Advanced Study. We'll see how we weather the midwest winter, and discover the true meaning of those three little words we associate with the area: lake effect snow. Any complaints about the inclemency of NE England's winter will be forgotten by Christmas, I imagine.

In the US, we'll have plenty of other new experiences as well. Anna will discover the joys and tribulations of middle school, as a pupil in the special ed section. We hope that interacting with typically developing peers at school will be a good experience for her. Lucy starts preschool in September, having turned 3 (I can't believe it!) in May. Thomas, Iain, and I will embark on a very different kind of adventure, as we try homeschooling. The hope is that we can keep the boys basically on track to rejoin their year groups next May.

Lucy enjoyed her birthday celebrations, of which there were a few: presents in the morning (above), cake with her godmother on the day (right), and a lovely sweater from grandma (below). Being three hasn't diminished the cuteness, but the mischief factor seems to be increasing steadily. The naughty step has a new occupant, and Lucy is good at finding ways to get herself put there! Nothing out of the ordinary, though--and getting into stuff might be naughty, but it shows a healthy intelligence and curiosity, as well as a growing independence.

Next birthday, we'll be in Indiana, hopefully enjoying a warm spring. When we do return to the UK, we'll have a new address as well--and I will have a different job. I've given up my post and will return as a research fellow: less teaching, more writing.

We'll be sad to say goodbye to our little corner of the northeast, even if it isn't forever. It is a beautiful part of the world, and I will miss the gently rolling hills and the sheep I see on my way to work.

I promise to be more regular in updating this blog--lots will be happening.  So although I may fail to report sometimes, that doesn't mean there isn't any news!

To the lighthouse

 

 

 

It was windy along the cliff top!

 

Souter Lighthouse--with a very handy play area in front.

 

Lucy loves to slide:)

 

Inside, lots of dressing-up things keet us occupied and out of the wind.

 

Day trips

Our Saturdays have been taken up with football for the last 18 months or so. We used to visit castles on Saturday, quite often. After many weekends that seemed to involve mostly housework and trying to keep the kids from watching too much TV, we've gone to see some new things these past couple of weekends. Iain's class had a trip to Souter Lighthouse that captured his imagination; we went back to see it as a family last weekend and had a great time. Today we had a reprieve from football and went further afield, to Bamburgh Castle. Because Bamburgh is on the coast, just south of Holy Island (Lindisfarne), we have seen it at a distance a number of times. Finally, we went all that way and didn't go to Lindisfarne! And we were delighted with it. The castle is amazingly complete--usually we go to see ruined castles. Bamburgh has the distinction of being both very old (Lewis would remember the exact date it was first mentioned, but it is in the middle of the sixth century) and very well looked after.

Enough with the narrative, though. What you want are the photos. Go to Bamburgh Castle if ever you get the chance!

 

 

 

Rat fink

If you have ever played rat fink, chances are you haven't played it according to my family's rules. I googled it once, trying to remember all the details. Wikipedia and many other internet sources identify 'rat fink' with a version of Egyptian ratscrew. That is, it is a game like Hearts, with taking tricks and so forth. It has been so long since I played Hearts that I would need to be taught all over again.

But I remember playing rat fink, around the table at my grandparents' house, when I was old enough to play and young enough that my grandmother's aim was to help me win. You know that age. It was a lot more like Uno than Hearts, except without the possibility of reversing the direction of play. I was a terrible loser, so the experience of the game was often bitter. That wasn't the important bit, though. The important bit was the family, gathered around the table--cousins, aunt and uncle, parents, grandparents. There was hardly room to move in the room once we had all taken our places, all squeezed into the small dining area next to the kitchen.

I loved being there, even if I hated losing. Eventually, I started to teach the children to play--hence the internet search. (Somehow it was the middle of the night in California when I was trying to remember if an ace was really worth 20 points, and things like that. Otherwise I would just have called my dad.) And the kids took to it. It is a bit more difficult, since Lucy is still far too little to play, and would rather snatch the cards from my hands, and because it takes all 5 of the rest of us really to get a game going. There's potential there, though, for some family fun, not least because the person who seems keenest to play is Anna.

Out of the blue, she'll say, 'I want to play rat fink'. That's my girl--far better than I ever was, because she is a team player and is as delighted when someone wins, even when she isn't the winner. I can teach the rules, but I still have a lot to learn about playing the game.

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.