Wherever Ewe Go, There Ewe Are

Taking Over the Turkey Duties

2009-11-26T17:25:00.003Z

Hello, everybody! My name is Lambchop and I've been asked to take over the turkey hostessing duties this year, because my brothers, who handled it last year, are otherwise engaged.

As you can see we have two cute little turkeys in the house ... well ... four if you count my big brothers. hee hee

Since my brothers never actually managed to name the turkeys, I've decided to name them myself. It's only polite. So please say hello to ... hold on, let me check ... okay ... well, that answers that question ... Fred and Tom. Yes, Fred and Tom, the Ewe Household turkeys.

What? You want to know what they do?

Well, I can tell you that they're not edible. Believe me, I've tried. In fact, I pretty much try to eat or suck on everything I can get my little hands on.

And they're very gossipy. In fact, Fred and Tom can be downright rude when they spend their time gobble gobble gobbling to each other about all the latest turkey news, completely ignoring me!

If they continue to gobble and ignore me for too long, though, I just separate them. That usually does the trick.

And if it doesn't, I play toss-the-turkey. I'm getting really good at it ... although the game does require a second player, someone who will happily keep picking up the tossed turkey and returning it to me for more tossing.

That reminds me, thanks Mommy!

Anyway, I have to fly now ... another thing my turkeys can't do, by the way.
hee hee

Fred, Tom and I hope everyone had a brilliant Thanksgiving and enjoyed their stuffed chicken.

She's Twenty Weeks Old . . .

2009-11-11T00:01:00.003Z

. . . and too cute to be denied anything.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . And don't I just know it.

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

What Lambchop Was Thinking

2009-11-02T12:56:00.006Z

"Holy crap! Mommy's making me go out in public in this pumpkin get-up?! Oh, the indignity!"

The Trio is on Holiday...

2009-10-26T20:07:00.004Z

... in Edinburgh.

'poof'

Back in a few days.

She Only Has Eyes for Her Big Brothers

2009-10-21T21:34:00.003+01:00

But they're absolutely lovely to her, so it's hard to blame her.

;-)

For (almost) Wordless Wednesday.

My Family

2009-08-19T09:39:00.004+01:00

. . . will be together again late tonight when the boys come back from their mini beach break.

Poof

For almost Wordless Wednesday.

Some Kind of Holiday

2009-08-17T11:51:00.005+01:00

So . . .

My husband left me this morning. And he took the boys with him.

No, we're good. I just sounds funny to say it like that.

But we did wait too long to book a holiday at the beach along the Norfolk coast. When we decided last week that it sounded like a great idea, we quickly discovered that everything we could afford was full up. And camping in a tent, probably the only available option, was not really an option on account of Lambchop. She does need to travel with a fair amount of accessories at the moment...

But the boys were extremely disappointed at the idea of not going. We'd taken them last weekend and they loved it. And we'd made the mistake of suggesting the idea of renting a beach cottage for a week, of course, and G took this week off to do it... but, after many hours searching all the web sites and making some calls, no affordable cottages seemed to be left.

And the weather is supposed to be spectacular this week, too . . . So on Saturday I suggested G call his sister, as she and her family live on the south coast, ten minutes from the beach. And they even have their own beach hut, a very cool plus. His sister and family were more than happy to have us down for a few days, and her girls were delighted at the idea of their cousins coming to visit.

After much discussion, I decided that Lambchop and I would sit this one out at home. Juggling a baby and all her 'accessories' on a beach holiday, while also trying to keep an eye on my two active monsters in a home that isn't mine, when there's lots of sun and sand and sterilizing to be done on top of it all, didn't really appeal. Plus, the boys wouldn't be able to get their bikes in the car if we had to pack a stroller, basket and sterilizing equipment, etc. (whereas we could have just taken both cars to the Norfolk coast, as it's only two hours away). And the boys wouldn't have to schedule around Ms Lambchop's needs at all if we didn't go . . . . So I suggested G take the boys and have a few days of wild beach and park time with their cousins while Lambchop and I relaxed at home.

So early this morning I helped G pack up the boys and the car and they were off! The boys were a little sad that I wasn't coming, but I suspect they'll be over it in no time once they land at their cousin's.

I suspect Ms Lambchop and I are going to be just fine on our own for a few days. For an almost eight week old, she's been sleeping really well the past ten days or so --from 6-8 hours of straight sleep a night, every night!-- and fairly easy going in the mornings after she wakes up. Afternoons and early evenings, she can be a bit of a handful, as that's her primary 'wake' time, but we'll manage. Primarily because of those 6-8 hours of sleep every night....

So we'll be putting around here while the boys are frolicking at the beach for a few days... maybe I'll actually get to catch up on my blog reading and on my own posting! Who knows?

Road Warriors

2009-07-29T11:40:00.005+01:00

The little pink bike has been put away for Lambchop's future first-bike use. Why? Because a couple of weeks after I brought it home, I saw an adorable, sporty little boy's bike in the same smaller size in front of a pawn shop. It was in nearly perfect condition, and a mere £15 pounds (instead of the £80-90 it apparently retails for new... shudder). So home it came for BooBaaa.

It turned out to be great motivation for BooBaaa to really focus on his pedalling: he was so excited and kept asking "For me? For me?". And after a couple of short (Boo-imposed) frustrating sessions on the driveway, it all suddenly clicked and he was off, pedalling furiously up and down the driveway with his brother.

Racing . . .

And always with a big smile when his adoring audience applauded his new skill. . .

The only problem now is when we go biking in our neighborhood, the daring duo have a tendency to just take off, forcing me to work to keep up with them, even though I'm usually pushing Lambchop in her stroller . . .

I suspect I'm going to need a bike trailer for poor wee Lambchop sooner rather than later, so we can all go biking at the weekends!

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

First Bath

2009-07-22T10:19:00.001+01:00

And, remarkably, not a tear in sight.

I'm going to be a fish when I hit water, just like my big brothers!

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

Making it Through the Week

2009-07-17T14:54:00.006+01:00

Or, perhaps more aptly titled: How To Survive the Week After Monday's Stupid Mommy Trick, Especially When The Universe Tosses in a Few Curve Balls Along the Way

Tuesday: Help pack up boys and have husband deliver them to their private nursery before 9:00 a.m., as this Tuesday session happens to be their long-awaited all-day field trip to the zoo! Have husband pick them up the boys at the end of the day. In the interim, strategically set up camp in the living room with the baby and all required baby-accessories so you can spend the day on the couch with your ankle up. Get up only to get necessary food items for baby or for self and to put dinner in the oven. After the boys' return, be regaled with all the exciting stories about the animals at the zoo. Look appropriately impressed when your littlest boy demonstrates repeatedly how the big tiger roared at him through the fence. Opt to sleep downstairs on the couch, with baby nearby, to avoid having to deal with stairs during the night.

Wednesday: Cancel private nursery afternoon session as husband can't deliver or pick them up. Instead, call friend down the street and take her up on her offer to take the boys for most of the day to play with her own kids. Repeatedly thank her when she insists on keeping them for meals because she knows you're trying to stay off your feet. Spend most of the day, again, in the living room, foot up, with the baby, save for the twenty minutes or so it takes to put another decent dinner in the oven. When boys return, they are still oozing excitement from having spent the day with their friends down the street. As husband is working late again, decide giving the boys a long bubble bath before bed is a fantastic idea because it only requires you to sit there and watch them play happily in a contained area. After they're in bed, opt to spend one more night on the couch yourself because the stairs are still a bit tricky.

Thursday: Sitting around so much has paid off, because it is now possible to walk carefully about the house with very little pain (although coming down the stairs is still a tricky one-step-at-a-time manoeuvre). Pack up a special lunch for oldest boy, who has Lunch Club before his afternoon pre-school session at the local school, and just manage to get everyone into the car to deliver said oldest boy to his pre-school at the appointed time, 11:30. Limp into the pre-school room with all three wee ones, then limp back to car with youngest boy and baby at 11:40, strap everyone in and go home....

Not. sob

Instead, try very, very hard not to cry when you discover that, once again, your car won't start.

Seriously. It won't start. No matter what you try.

And you know it wasn't, in fact, the battery, like the dealership initially thought and replaced, because (a) your bloody car won't start!, and (b), well, this isn't the first time it has refused to start easily post-supposed fix by incompetent dealership. Only the other half dozen times it has refused to start, somehow you've managed to get it started. And you've sworn you were going to bring the car back in to the dealership to ream them and make them fix it properly this time. Well, once things settled down a bit back home with the baby and all ... only you just haven't gotten around to making the appointment yet... and now your bloody car won't start and you're now stranded in a primary school's tiny parking lot with a 2 year old, a 3 week old, and a sprained ankle!

Call husband, only to discover that he's headed into a meeting and can't come help. He just can't ... but he can pick up and deliver the four year old at 3:00 if that helps...

Start calculating the odds of how much it would set back your ankle's recovery arc by walking home with the baby and two year old. You know, the walk with idiotic curb cuts that initially took out your ankle! Yes, that walk.

Spy a fellow mom you know returning to her car in the parking lot, one of only three cars remaining, and desperately call out to her, "B, can you give us a lift home?" Breathe a HUGE sigh of relief when she says she can, and gratefully load everyone into her car.

Once back home, stew some more about your non-functioning car and incompetent dealership while baby and youngest boy nap on either side of you on the couch. Insist husband talks to the dealership this time and tells them what we think is actually wrong with the car so they'll fix it properly this time! Also let husband arrange with auto club a time to pick up and deliver said car to the dealership after he came home from work.

Upon hearing that arrangements have been made for car to be delivered to the dealership Thursday evening with the assistance of the auto club, ask husband to retrieve stroller from back of car before sending car away.

As ankle is doing better, decide to vacate couch and return to proper bed upstairs for a better night's sleep.

Friday morning. Rush, rush, rush. It's the last day of pre-school for four year old boy, and they're having a Fancy Dress Party. The pre-schoolers are supposed to come as their favorite nursery rhyme character or pre-school story book character. Ressurect last year's Halloween costume, Thing 1, after reminding four year old that Thing 1 and Thing 2 are the Dr Seuss characters who always have the most fun. Have husband drop off Thing 1 at 9:00, knowing you have now committed to retrieving him on foot, ankle or no ankle, later that morning with Thing 2 and baby in tow.

Herd two year old out the door, and strap baby into the retrieved stroller and head off just after 11:00 to collect four year old. Glare suspiciously at the numerous ominous black clouds, and silently curse husband who, when retrieving the stroller from your car, forgot to retrieve it's rain cover. Not to mention the boys' rain slickers which were also in the back of my car.

Feel the first raindrops begin to fall as you head slowly down the street.

Sigh.... figures, no?

Halfway to the primary school, take cover under a bus stop as it starts to pour, pull out cell phone, and call husband so you can tell him why you don't like him anymore. Be glad both you and your husband have a sense of humor about these things. And so does your damp two year old who isn't bothered in the slightest by the rain.

Be thankful at least you had the sun cover for the stroller and a nice towel, as the baby is warm and fairly dry.

Finish the walk, collect an energetic, now-with-colorful-face-paint Thing 1, and walk slowly back home. With both boys asking repeatedly "What's that?!" every time we heard the rumbling thunder ...

Yes, Thunder. And as the thunderstorm was clearly imminent, we were racing, limp or no limp, without rain gear of any sort, to get home before it really hit. We just made it.

So now it's rather dark and pouring outside, with thunder and lightning, the whole show, and I have retreated to my couch as all three of the little monsters are napping. The Dealership has called to say they have actually fixed my car this time, so we will pick it up tomorrow morning first thing. And my ankle will have a fairly low-key weekend to complete it's recovery.

It's actually doing pretty well, helped mightily by being able to stay off of it for most of Tuesday and Wednesday, no doubt.

So that's how we've made it through this week. Hopefully, next week will bring no more curve balls.

Nesting Complete

2009-07-15T21:33:00.002+01:00

Back in May we admired the lovely nesting swan at Haughton Mill.

And in June, we returned and admired their continued vigilance, and we hoped that the duo would have wee ones to celebrate soon.

And last weekend, we returned to see if they, like us, had reason to celebrate.

Instead, we found that the pair had vacated their nest and squatters had moved in . . .

We were disappointed, but as we walked around the river we finally saw the duo gliding in to shore. Seemingly alone . . .

But then we saw the tiny fuzzy grey head peeking out from behind . . .

One precious cygnet . . .

I hope they're as delighted with theirs as we are with ours.

For (not quite) Wordless Wednesday.

And a Happy St Swithin's Day to all. I hope it didn't rain in your part of the world today.

;-)

Stupid Mommy Tricks

2009-07-14T10:22:00.003+01:00

For my first trick --which actually took place yesterday afternoon-- I will over compensate trying to 'jump' our double stroller trying to reach the sidewalk over a curb cut that's still too high to easily manoeuvre onto (oh how I feel for people in wheelchairs in this country, the insanity!), a difficult feat due to my oversized two year old weighing down the front seat, and poor little Lambchop sacked out in the back.

How did know I was overcompensating? Easy. Because we all went down, straight backwards.

I was horrified. Boo crawled over Lambchop to get up and grumble; Lambchop howled because her nap had been disrupted; and, after righting the wee ones and consoling where needed, I checked to make sure the back of my head wasn't bleeding, tried to clean up my scraped up, bloody elbow, and bloody, now slightly puffy knee. Oh the joys.

And then I pushed them the rest of the way home (we were returning from Ramekin's preschool drop off). And sat down. And realized my ankle wasn't feeling quite right, but ignored it while I sat on the couch feeding Lambchop. And then, half an hour later, realized it really hurt to walk on. And then, another half hour later, realized I could no longer put weight on it without wanting to cry. A lot.

Not good.

So after a very long afternoon and early I could, hopping around with the assistance of a kitchen chair, having to keep Lambchop within a few feet of the couch at all times because I couldn't walk and carry her, and 'forcing' the boys to watch television so I didn't have to move far from the couch to keep an eye on them, finally came home around 8:00 pm.

Yes, a truly crappy time for me to have injured myself. G is super busy at work; and I can't carry Lambchop. Ugh!

Anyway, a friend down the street then arrived shortly after 8:00, as requested, so she could keep an eye on the boys while G, Lambchop and I headed off to A&E to make sure my ankle wasn't actually broken. After a bit of a wait, and a couple of x-rays, the good news was it wasn't broken. (I was so very relieved.) The bad news though was it was pretty badly sprained. (Ligaments loosen during pregnancy, and presumably mine haven't returned to normal yet, what with not much in the way of exercise the past couple of months. My awkward fall was enough to tweak them pretty badly in there it seems.)

So I now have crutches I find difficult to use (European crutches are slightly different than the ones issued in the States). We live over three floors. And I can't carry Lambchop about at the moment, which means I have to strategically get everything I need into the living room to deal with her.

Did I mention all the stairs in our house?

And the now three week old that still requires frequent night feedings?

Sigh.

I suspect it's going to be one of the longest weeks of my life . . .

At least the boys are at nursery all day today on a special fieldtrip to the Zoo, so I don't have to worry about them until this evening. G dropped them off on his way to work, and the nursery has already said someone will walk them out to my car when I go to pick them up around 5:00. And then I'll just, well, deal somehow.

Hopefully the little monsters won't run off with my crutches once they're back home!

Heck, maybe I'll even get some of those posts I've been meaning to write/finish completed since I can't do much!

The First Week

2009-06-30T09:25:00.009+01:00

Upon finding both boys down on their hands and knees, peering at a cheerful, kicking Lambchop on the quilt on the floor of the living room, I asked them what they were doing.

Ramekin: Mommy, we're just looking at Lambchop because she's so beautiful.
Me, speechless.

Needless to say, things are going pretty darn well, all things considered.

The boys adore her, and don't seem to mind the attention she requires.

Like Boo before her, she's not a crier, only crying when she wants our attention and usually stopping instantly when she's picked up. My midwife even remarked on how easy she was to calm with a bit of head rubbing by mommy when she was being examined.

The exception, of course, comes when her eyes are bigger than her head and she insists on more food, even though I suspect/know it's not a great idea. Then we get a bit of wind, and resulting upset. It's an occasional issue only, though, and we're working on finding the right balance re when to humor her and when to try to distract her from wanting more.

Lambchop, while a typically confused newbie when it comes to sleep --clearly believing that daytime is for lots of sleep, with intermittant alert cuteness, and nighttime between 11:00 pm and 3:00 am is for a bit of fussing for cuddles-- is actually a good little sleeper. Like all babies, when the option is available, she loves being cuddled while she sleeps. But G and I knew not to cater to this at all times so she'll be a good overall sleeper. And she already is, I think. She's currently sacked out in her moses basket upstairs. And she'll happily sleep in her bouncy chair for a few hours at a time, or on a cool quilt on the living room floor in front of the slightly breezy open patio doors (we're having a heatwave here). And I think I've already cracked the nighttime solution, believe it or not, after discovering she prefers to sleep on her side after feeding.

She's obviously a good eater, based on her grumblings for extra feedings at times, happy to inhale any offered formula or pumped milk.

needless to say, we are grateful that the healthy formula option exists. As for breastmilk, well, mine didn't come in like it should have. Again. Which wasn't really surprising, and almost comedic, since I've done this baby thing twice before and the same thing happened both times. Hence, starting formula within an hour of birth for Lambchop and Boo before her. But I am managing to pump out about a full feed's worth a day now in total, and I think I can get it up to almost two if I keep at it. So at least she's getting the benefit of enough immunity protection to keep her healthy and enough volume to keep her growing.

And if my boys aren't considered the epitome of healthy children, having been started off the same way, then there's no such thing as healthy children. Because save for the occasional runny nose, neither of my boys have been sick since early December (1/2 day, Ramekin), or October (1/2 day, Boo)!

Defensive position over. ;-)

So it's going well. G is still off this week on paternity leave, which is nice. And we putted around with Lambchop yesterday afternoon doing some errands while the boys were at nursery. She slept through the whole trip, except for our mid-afternoon stop at a cafe where we all had a leisurely lunch.

Of course, I fully expect things to get more hectic when G goes back to work next week and I'm left in charge of three little people.

shudder

But I'll deal with that then.

Gratuitous photo op of my lovely, lovely Lambchop.

Oh, and we've almost nailed down a middle name. We're stuck between two, maybe three, at the moment. Once that happens, I plan to do a naming of the Lambchop post of some kind without actually posting her chosen name. I'll see what I can do clue-wise. Or temporary post via comment-wise. Hmmm.

And, if I can find the private time (we have inlaws with us at the moment), I'll post how well her birth went, because it was, hands down, the best labor experience I've ever had. A truly nice, calm one to end my baby-making days on.

Lambchop

2009-06-25T07:26:00.003+01:00

Entered the world safely and quietly Tuesday morning at 3:34 am . . .

Just a few hours old . . .

Daddy's Day

2009-06-21T15:48:00.003+01:00

Father's Day Update: G is still the father of two little boys only at the moment. Which I suspect was more than enough at 7:00 this morning when they roused him to go for their weekly 8:00 swim.

(Side proud mommy bragging notes: During my blog hiatus over March/April, I think I forgot to mention that Ramekin moved up another swim class, passing out of Stage 2 with swimming colors at the end of March while he was still only 3. So now, instead of classes with older 4s, 5 and 6 year olds, he's surrounded by 6, 7 and 8 year olds. It's interesting to watch, especially when they have to remember to raise the bottom of the class pool for him on Sunday mornings so he can reach the bottom. Quite a fish, our Ramekin.

As for BooBaaa, he's following in Ramekin's fin-steps, I believe. He won't be allowed to take actual class lessons until he turns 3 (them's the rules). But as the Stage 1 instructor, whose students didn't show up for some reason, watched him getting tossed repeatedly about the pool by G, and then using a float and noodles to kick himself around the pool, giggling wildly all the while, he commented on how competent our little guy was in the water. G agreed, and said it was a pity he had to wait until he was 3 to start taking classes. Needless to say, jaws dropped when G told him he'd only turned 2 in March, and the instructor stammered, "I thought he was 3!" It's a common mistake. Between his size (big) and his glee in the water, he's probably pretty close to being able to pass out of the Stage 1 class already.

Ok. I'll stop my mommy-bragging now. Please forgive my self-indulgence. I'm just feeling really proud of their progress at the pool...probably because they're napping at the moment and I'm not having to yell at them for driving me nuts.)

But the boys made it up to G when they got home, each presenting him with giant bars of Toblerone chocolate, which he particularly enjoys, and numerous hand-made cards they've been working on at home, at nursery, and at preschool. And a couple of painted pictures by Ramekin.

Of course they immediately wanted Daddy "to share" the chocolate . . . heh heh

So. Anyway. According to the NHS measurements, I'm officially 39 weeks today. By my calendar count, I'm 38 weeks and 2 days. Lambchop is still stubbornly incubating. But no matter. Tomorrow morning, fingers crossed, I'm going to call the delivery unit at 7:00 am on the nose regarding inducement via water breakage. I am on the list for tomorrow. (They only schedule these things Monday to Friday, 9 to 5. Go figure). But that assumes (a) my cervix checks out as ready, and (b) they haven't gotten slammed with other moms in labor.

Which I know could happen; BooBaaa was also induced at 39 weeks via water breakage alone, but we had to wait until the afternoon to have it done because they got slammed on his scheduled morning. Them's the breaks, right?

Breaks. heh heh Breaks. Get it?

Ok. Maybe not actually amusing unless you're a tired, cranky and verrrrry pregnant woman who just wants it all over and done with. And trying to pretend you're not secretly terrified about the whole thing, too.

Oh . . . and still rather annoyed with yourself because you're still struggling with your list of girly names. There are a couple of late runners on the list now, now, names that have tentatively overtaken my previous favorites. Or, I could just be tired and even more indecisive. I.Just.Don't.Know!

What I do know, or highly suspect, is that Lambchop is going to be a much loved but nameless baby for a few days after she arrives . . . hopefully she'll survive the indignity.

Please wish us luck tomorrow -- getting in and getting her out!

Yes, It's Pink. What's Your Point?

2009-06-16T20:31:00.001+01:00

No, no. Not that. Still pregnant. And rather uncomfortably pregnant at that, seeing as Lambchop's head has descended even lower according to today's check by the local midwife. I'm now torn: do I go on a long, long walk tomorrow hoping to trigger her arrival, like I did with Ramekin. Or do I take it easy and attempt to wait until Monday's planned inducement, which will see me safely in hospital with reinforcements in the form of my BIL back at home (he arrives on Sunday to help with the boys).

Hmmmm...

Anyway, the pink I'm referring to is a small second-hand bike I recently picked up at a charity shop for a whopping £5. I couldn't resist it because, well, it was £5; upon closer inspection, the front brakes looked like they could easily be adjusted and fixed (by G, not me); training wheels could be added; and, the big selling point, its wheels were two inches smaller in diameter than Ramekin's little bike, which is just that too out of reach for BooBaaa's feet to reach the pedals. (Which he's desperate to do, despite Ramekin's attempts to thwart him --after all, it is Ramekin's bike.) And eventually, it will probably serve Lambchop's 'first bike' needs, too.

So I brought it home and scrubbed it clean. G adjusted the brakes and attached some new training wheels to it. And voilà! A BooBaaa-sized bike for him to try!

And on Saturday, he donned his bicycle helmet, climbed on excitedly, and tried it out on the driveway.

<---- And if you click on the picture to blow it up, you will see the pure joy on his little face!

Boo was so happy and proud of himself. And also a little frustrated at times as he hasn't completely mastered pedalling, especially 'uphill'. But it's coming, and I suspect he'll be whizzing around the driveway sooner rather than later.

Not to be outdone in the 'trying something new' department, Ramekin wanted to try biking without his training wheels. So, after explaining that he would not only have to wear his helmet, but elbow and knee pads too if we removed the training wheels, G removed them so he could give it a try. And Ramekin happily climbed on and ... panicked a bit. But he insisted on trying in spite of his fear for a few runs, so long as G held on.

I wasn't quite sure he was ready, either, at first. But then G let go and Ramekin actually biked, without training wheels, down most of the driveway on his own, and stopped himself easily by putting his foot down.

And decided he wanted his training wheels back on for a little bit longer.

Which, I think, is fair enough. He did just turn four after all, and we haven't been doing a whole lot of biking this year as we've only just hit the nice weather. I think a few more weeks of summer biking with training wheels will give him the needed confidence to try again without them.

And give BooBaaa time to sort out his pedalling logistics, pink or no pink.

And then I suspect there will be no stopping the duo, who already spend a great deal of time whizzing about the neighborhood on their scooters when we go on our walks.

Oh, and have I mentioned that BooBaaa is not phased in the slightest by Ramekin's new two-wheeled laser scooter, easily manoeuvring it up and down the driveway when he gets the chance? Scarily-coordinated kid, that one. I think I'm a little afraid . .. . impressed . . . but afraid.

Still Nesting

2009-06-15T10:43:00.005+01:00

Just like the pair of swans at Houghton Mill that we went to check on again Saturday evening after we had dinner at one of our favorite family pubs that sits in a marina in nearby Huntingdon.

I was rather hoping to see a flock of fluffy cygnets, probably to give me hope that there is indeed an end in sight to all the nesting that's clearly been going on, both in the waters at Houghton and here at home.

But when the bull swan glided across the still waters towards his partner, I thought I'd be content with a look at any eggs I can only assume are being incubated. Even though it is rather late in the season to still be egg-sitting. And I know how much G and I enjoyed our little peek at Lambchop last week when my Consultant had a quick scan to check her position.

But it was not to be. There was no "changing of the guard" so to speak while we hovered for a few minutes, hoping for a peek at what might lie underneath. Instead, the female swan pulled up a few reeds and pieces of grass while she sat there, tidying up her nest, as the bull guard glided around her keeping watch. It rather reminded me of the cleaning and re-organizing I've been doing around our own house these past few weeks.

So the boys happily ran on to play chase along the river paths. They fed ducks. They threw bread into the sky hoping a handful of little swooping terns would be able to catch them. They watched a boat move through the little loch system on the river.

All in all a nice evening out while we continue our own wait...

Battery Operated

2009-06-12T21:24:00.001+01:00

About a month ago, G and I had (roughly) the following conversation:

Me: Could you take a look at the battery in my car?

G: Why?

Me: I don't know. I think I might need a new one soon.

G: Why do you think that? What's your car doing?

Me: Ummm, nothing specific, really. It's just a feeling I have . . . .

G: Oh....kay....

Needless to say, the subject was dropped.. I had no real reason for thinking my car's battery was on the brink, so G had no real reason to look at it. Especially since I'll be the first to admit I know pretty much nothing about cars run, beyond the turn the key in the ignition bit.

So when the dealership's service department finally got back to me yesterday afternoon, maybe I shouldn't have been that surprised when they said it wasn't the fuel pump line, which is what we thought it might be. No, it was the battery. Specifically, something about a defective cell in said battery, so it needed to be replaced.

Again, I know pretty much nothing about cars --other than how to wield my auto club card when need be-- but maybe next time G and I will listen to my "instincts", or at least give them a fair hearing.

Sigh.

On the bright side, I have transport! We picked up my car at 8:00 this bright, sunny morning, and all is now right with my world. BooBaaa and I "celebrated" the return of the Big Blue Bus by heading off to the cheapie carwash, which he absolutely loves, after dropping Ramekin off at his preschool this morning. And then we went grocery shopping, where he enchanted everyone he came in contact with as he announced he was "help[ing] Mommy shop" with a huge, cheeky smile.

He really was in top form as we cruised the aisles --Mr Happy Happy Happy-- so I was happy to add popsicles to the shopping cart to celebrate.

Because everyone knows there's nothing better than an icy cold popsicle on a hot, sunny day!

Still Waiting . . .

2009-06-11T13:06:00.001+01:00

No, no. Not that. Lambchop is still in utero and, truthfully, I'd like her to come after Saturday morning because I have a long-booked hair appointment that morning. And who knows when I'll get another chance for a while.

No, I'm talking about my car, my Big Blue Bus. On Monday, after the boys and I visited the dentist, we took a quick 'detour' on the way home to put diesel in the Big Blue Bus. I figured I had enough time between the dentist appointment and Ramekin's afternoon preschool session to get us there and back in time to serve up lunch in between.

I'll admit, I've been a little paranoid lately about having enough fuel in the car in the event that I'll suddenly need to be somewhere --oh, say like the hospital-- only to realize that we won't make it there without stopping first to fill up. So my comfort level hasn't been letting my car's fuel level drop much beyone the quarter tank mark.

Anyway, when I got to the Tesco service station down the road, I was quite pleased to discover it wasn't that busy. I went straight to a pump, filled up my car, hopped back in, and ... sat there.

The engine was turning over, but not 'catching'. As in not starting. As in my car wouldn't move. And no matter how many times I tried to get it started, it just wasn't starting.

Crap.

So what does any 9 month stressed out pregnant woman whose car, with two toddlers strapped into their seats in the back, do when her car won't start? She calls her extremely busy husband, of course. You know, the one who's been working incredibly hard knowing he's going to be out of the office for a couple of weeks on paternity leave in the very near future, although we don't know exactly when in the future. That husband.

Poor G.

So with the boys starting to get a little edgy about our extended stay at the service station, I called him. And told him what was going on. Did he want me to call the auto club? Or did he want to come check it out for himself first, before we risked an increase in our auto club premium?

Luckily, he had a 'window' and only works about fifteen minutes from home. So, after confirming I'd done everything possible that I could do to start the car myself, he said he was on his way to have a look. (I tipped off the service station what was going on, and they were very kind about it, putting an orange pylon behind my car so nobody would bug us to move. It's not like the nine month pregnant lady was going to try to push the car out of the way, after all!)

The boys were quite excited at this point, of course. Their Daddy was coming to rescue us! I freed them from their car seats, and they squeezed into the passenger seat together to scribble on paper and await his arrival.

When G arrived, I handed over the driver's seat and watched him get the same 'no go' response that I had. Repeatedly. He checked a few things. And then he checked out the car's 'book'. And then he tried again ... and then, after a few long tries, miraculously, it started!

After much discussion, and turning it off and starting it again a few times, it was decided that there must have been an air bubble or something in the fuel line. I was so relieved; G was relieved and a bit perplexed; and the boys were really impressed that Daddy saved the day. So G went back to work; and the boys and I went home for the fastest 'snack lunch' on record so I could get Ramekin to preschool on time. My Big Blue Bus made the drop off and pick up without incident, so I was happy. And when G got home from work, he went out to start it a handful of times without incident 'to make sure'.

And all was right with the world.

So Tuesday morning, the boys and I headed off to town for our morning playgroup. There was finger painting, messy but happy boys. Then we had lunch with a friend. And then we headed back to the parking garage I was parked in so I could drive them to nursery and then head home for a few hours. I paid for our parking, loaded everyone and everything back into the car, hopped back in and ... you almost guessed it ... the car started. But something wasn't quite right ... and I reversed out of the parking space, feeling a little uneasy about the whole thing ... then moved the car mode into Drive ... moved forward a few feet, but then got nothing, zip, nada when I pushed on the accelerator.

In the middle of the parking garage. So I stopped the engine. Waited a minute. Then tried to start it again and got ... this time you guessed it... nothing.

I kid you not. The exact same thing that had happened at the service station when I turned the key --engine turning over, but not 'catching'-- was happening again. And no matter how long I tried to make it catch, it clearly just wasn't going to happen this time. So I had to call G again. Only to discover that his boss was out, as was another crucial co-worker, so he was covering for all three of them. Which meant he could not leave the office to see if he could get it going.

Now had I gone into labor, that would have been different... he acknowledges that... but being stranded for the afternoon in town? I'd have to sort it.

So I strategically/hopefully tried to start the car again when I saw a rather strong looking man heading toward the garage exit on foot nearby. My desperate ploy paid off. He stopped, turned around, looked at me and the boys stranded in the middle of the aisle, and came back to help. After establishing we couldn't jump an automatic, he generously offered to push the car into a parking space while I steered. I couldn't thank him enough. I then unloaded the boys from the car; pulled the stroller out (thank goodness I had one with me); strapped BooBaaa in; told Ramekin he was to keep a hand on the push chair and walk nicely; and, after tipping off the powers that be at the parking garage, walked the boys to nursery which was about fifteen to twenty minutes away. On the trek back, I called the auto club and explained my predicament, and a really nice man showed up about half an hour later.

It took him a while, but he finally managed to get my car going. I think the advanced state of my pregnancy made him a tad nervous --and who can blame him, it makes me nervous!-- so he insisted on following me all the way to my car's dealership. (My apologies to other people with car issues who were waiting for their turn for help Tuesday afternooon; but, hey, it was the right thing to do, no?)

Of coruse, the dealership service department was swamped. Swamped. And there were no loaner cars available, since those are generally reserved well in advance for routine car maintenance (we do it, too). So I sat there for two and a half hours, reading a book and eating apples, grapes and granola bars for a rather belated lunch. (Luckily, I tend to keep books and snacks in the car for the boys.) G left work in time to swoop by to pick me up, and then the boys at nursery closing time, delivering us home before heading back to his office for yet more work.

So I have no car at the moment, which I do not like. I called to check on its status yesterday, and they hadn't even found the time to look at it yet. Which means I had to cancel nursery for the boys and find a way to entertain them on the wettest, soggiest day of the month thus far. Seriously, it poured most of yesterday afternoon, keeping us trapped in the house.

And when I called just a little while ago, after walking Ramekin to preschool, they said that a technician was just starting to look at it and they would get back to me as soon as they knew something.

So fingers crossed I get my car back later this afteroon ... because I am seriously uneasy about being 37+ weeks pregnant, hixing very frequently, and without instant transportation.

At least my bags are packed. sigh

The Agony Continues

2009-06-04T21:40:00.014+01:00

Back before BooBaaa was born, I wrote a long post about The Agony of Finding the Right Name for my boys. And my naming "rules". Because finding the right name is hard, especially the perfect boy's name.

Or so I thought.

Because picking the perfect girl's name is turning out to be even harder.

Maybe it's because we're only going to have the one girl. Or because it's our last wee one, period. Or maybe it's because there are just so many lovely girl names out there. Or maybe I'm just incredibly indecisive. But I have had baby girl names on the brain for weeks and weeks, and I'm still agonizing over which few names will be the ones we 'take with us' when I go into labor.

And we've barely touched upon middle names yet!

Kat raised the "naming of the girl" topic today over at her place, Seeking Sanity. And I admit I was rather relieved to see I'm not the only one who always thought I'd know exactly what I would name my daughter if I ever had the privilege of having one, but now that I'm actually having one, I'm seriously waffling. There are soooo many lovely girl names out there. And as a result, some of my 'sure thing' name combination options aren't looking so 'sure thing' anymore. In fact, a whole slew of girls names that I have always loved and thought I would give ultra-serious consideration to were almost immediately "off the table" for a whole variety of reasons.

For fun, then, like Kat, I thought I would do a Thursday Thirteen List of Girl Names that I really love. Unlike Kat, however, my list will be girl names that, while loved and admired, we will NOT be using for our impending Lambchop for a variety of reasons.

13 Girly Names We Won't Be Using

1. Freya. I adore the name Freya. In fact, back when I was pregnant with Boo, before I knew Boo was a "he", Freya was at the top of my list for a wee girl. It's a gorgeous name that doesn't even crack the top 1000 list in the U.S., which is a head-scratcher for me because it's a chronic top 20 name in England and Scotland. But, sadly, that's why we took it off our list now that we're actually having a girl; it's waaaay too popular here. I see so many little Freyas everywhere I go here. If we lived in the states, this would be our likely choice. But we don't, so it's out.

2. Malia. Another long, long-time favorite name. One of my sister's best friends growing up was named Malia; and I fell even more in love with it during my six years in Hawaii. It's just so pretty when it rolls off the tongue. But then we elected a new President last year, and guess what? His oldest girl's name is Malia, which means it's going to go straight up the popularity charts. Plus, it's Hawaiian, and my husband isn't quite as keen on the idea.

3. Triona. My love of celtic and irish music led me to this name years ago. It's a shortened version of Catriona or Caitriona. But my husband pointed out that, technically, I was pronouncing it wrong (tree-oh-nah) when it should be pronounced like 'trina'. And he was only willing to consider the full version of Catriona, which faces the same pronuncation issues, which I'm not as keen on. Plus, we already have an Auntie Trina, which violates one of my existing naming rules. (Not to mention the fact that a good friend made fun of it years ago, but I forgive her. She had a good point. heh heh)

4. Audrey. Audrey is just a lovely, lovely name, made famous by the even lovelier Ms Hepburn. But it's been screaming up the charts in the U.S. the past few years, and is clearly headed for the top 20 very soon. An old-fashioned name that is clearly coming back around, and rightfully so. But its popularity means it's not for us.

5. Leilani. Another gorgeous Hawaiian name that I've always admired; another 'no' from my husband.

6. Lorelei. Ditto the Hawaiian gorgeousness. And made even more mainstream in popularity by the quirky television series The Gilmore Girls. And now envision the 'too Hawaiian' name being vetoed by my husband with the addition of an eye-roll. Sigh.

7. Adele. Another lovely, old-fashioned name that I think deserves to make a comeback. But I also can't quite imagine giving it to a baby because it still sounds like an "older" name. I suspect that's the reason it still hasn't re-entered the top 1000 names in the U.S. We'd have to use a nickname, like Ada (and we have one of those in the family already, so 'no') or Addie while Lambchop was little. And, to be honest, I'm not huge on nicknames, so it's an unlikely choice for us.

8. Violeta. Pronounced vee-oh-letta, I think this is a very pretty, sweet name for a girl. A lovely flower name, the prettier version of Violet. But one of Ramekin's best friends on our street is named Violeta, so no go.

9. Annika. On paper, and on the tongue, the name fits all of our potential naming criteria. It's a lovely Scandinavian name (Swedish, though, not Norwegian), which would probably delight my Norwegian MIL. But after much --and I mean much-- consideration while I seriously considered it, I just don't think it will work with our childrens' last names. There's just something not quite right about it for us.... so it was with regret I took it out of serious contention. (I suppose it could make a comeback, though...you never know.)

10a and 10b. Ailsa and Isla. Both names are beautiful, traditional Scottish girl names that my Scotland-born husband really likes. But Isla is incredibly popular right now, so I'm not interested in using it. And, while Ailsa is lovely, the truth is, it sounds foreign coming off my tongue. I struggle to pronounce it properly, and I want a name I can easily pronounce for my own daughter. When I say Ailsa, it sounds more like Elsa, an almost equally lovely Scandinavian name, and, incidentally, the name of one of my husband's (now deceased) Norwegian Aunts. But we know a four-month old Elsa. And I don't like the look of it as much as Ailsa. So it lingers on the discarded names list.

11. Serena. Pretty, but ruined by the existance of the teeny bopper television show Gossip Girl. I can only imagine how many younger moms-to-be will be using this name for their own daughters in the coming years.

12. Joelle. Getting really tired of my husband's eye rolls, which is what I got when I suggested it. And a reminder that we're not French.

13. Arlette. My husband again reminds me that we're not French, the party-pooper.

Bonus round: A few additional lovely, old-fashioned girly names we won't be using because they're just too darn popular over here, all in the top 20: Hannah; Charlotte; Olivia; Lily.

So those are some of the names I really like that we probably won't be using. And I'll continue to roll around our dwindling list of names in my head and out loud when I think no one can see me talking to my tummy. Not to mention continually browsing the internet for names I might have overlooked.

And don't even get me started on our tentative ideas for a middle name ... we can't even begin to address that until we have a first name! Plus our middle name selection is less likely to be 'mainstream'.

Sigh.

So what are your thoughts on girly names?

Focus is Important

2009-06-03T01:07:00.007+01:00

Especially when little pots of yummy strawberry ice cream are involved on a hot day.

BooBaaa, friend 'Abbi' (2, like Boo), and Ramekin at Ickworth in Suffolk on Friday afternoon. The trio had a great time hanging out together, playing in the adventure park and exploring the gardens.

For almost Wordless Wednesday.
...........................................................

36+ weeks and counting ... not to mention a meeting with my Consultant, who delivered Boo, yesterday (Tuesday) afternoon. We now have a Plan, which is probably a good thing seeing as Lambchop 'dropped' into position last night while I was grocery shopping. (My Consultant confirmed the baby's new position with a quick scan at our appointment today.)

It's a very strange feeling when a baby suddenly drops into position out of the blue. Stranger when you know exactly what's happening when it happens. But the sudden change in position was unmistakeable. And I was so paranoid about it --because the boys didn't drop into position quite so 'soon', even though it's late for many at this stage of pregnancy-- that when I got home I packed the duffle bag for the hospital.

Long, short outcome of our appointment: We're again going to try to ensure that I don't face a repeat of the post-birth problems caused by Ramekin's arrival. Because, in spite of a second fast, scary labor that I faced with Boo's arrival, the post-birth problems were minimal in comparison on account of the precautions that were taken in advance. Minimizing them for my third, and last, labor is important, especially since the odds of a third --third! ugh!-- manual (oversized) placenta removal are very high apparently, and we don't want to see a lot of blood come out with it again. Or have my bladder go on holiday. Not to mention the 'new' technical high risk, i.e., my 'advanced' maternal age.

(I'd like to avoid the second degree tear this time around, though. Please that Lambchop has a smaller head then those two monsters I pushed out!)

Anyway, if Lambchop doesn't make a voluntary appearance in the next two and a half weeks, she's going to be induced by water breakage a week early (by the NHS count; it's closer to a week-and-a-half early by mine) on the 22nd of June. Unless the delivery ward is stuffed, in which case we'll play it by ear.

I do love knowing that we have a Plan . . . it gives me something to focus on . . . even though I know we can't really 'plan' these things . . . it's just personally reassuring to know we're doing what we can to safeguard Lambchop's health and my own as much as possible.

And that's important for me to focus on right now.

Nesting

2009-05-27T00:07:00.001+01:00

We discovered the nesting swan at Houghton Mill on Monday afternoon, after our picnic next to the Great Ouse river. Needless to say, both boys were both quite enamored with the mommy-to-be swan who wasn't phased at all by their excited pointing and chattering. I suspect we'll have to check back in a couple of weeks to see the cygnets.

35 1/2 weeks and counting . . . and a fair amount of nesting going on here, too. ;-)

For almost Wordless Wednesday.

Close

2009-05-20T00:01:00.001+01:00

On those rare days I can talk both my boys into having a little rest, BooBaaa will sometimes wait until his big brother drifts off to sleep first so he can then crawl into his bed to nap with him. When he does, I find them like so . . .

It's so sweet. I can't help but smile when I find them like this.

I hope they remain this close, since I suspect they'll be needing each other more than ever in a few weeks . . . .

Nearly 35 weeks and still counting . . .

For (almost) Wordless Wednesday.

Random UK Benefits

2009-05-14T20:45:00.006+01:00

When the post came through my door today, it included a letter from HM Revenue & Customs addressed to me. I generally don't like getting anything from this agency out of the blue, much like I don't like getting out of the blue missives from the IRS back home. But I wasn't too fussed as I assumed it had something to do with our Child Benefits and/or Child Tax Credits, since I'm not currently working over here.

Nope. Not this time.

When I was 28 weeks pregnant, I had an appointment with my midwife, the first time I'd seen anyone since I was about 22 weeks pregnant. She gave me some forms to fill out and told me about the Government's current new program that's supposed to encourage women to have a healthy pregnancy this year, whatever that means. What it boiled down to was they were going to give me money if I met some simple criteria: I had to be more than 25 weeks pregnant; I had to be due to deliver my baby on or after the 6th of April this year; and I had to have received health advice from my midwife or doctor. Oh, and I have to be living here legally, of course. I qualify, so I filled out the forms and sent them off, and haven't thought about them again since.

Until today, of course. Because the letter was informing me that the Government, per its new, Health in Pregnancy Grant program, was planning to deposit £190 (roughly US$290) in my bank account next week and wanted to make sure I knew to look out for it.

My kind of quirky, out-of-the blue state benefit.

Much like the Child Trust Fund benefit that was instituted almost exactly a month before Ramekin was born, wherein the Government sends a voucher worth £250 (roughly US$380) to open a trust fund savings account in the name of the new baby to ensure that they have a savings account when they turn 18. (And if you don't open one within a year of the birth, the Government will do it for you.) Both Ramekin and BooBaaa have such accounts, and Lambchop will be getting a voucher after she's born.

Both random benefits, but much appreciated. Especially since if we were back in the states, we'd be faced with a government that seems to go out of its way to not support parents with new babies and small children. New mothers are all too frequently forced to try to save and then string together their sick leave and vacation days to eke out a few months of unpaid maternity leave, leaving many on the financial brink. Paternity leave, let alone paid paternity leave, is practically non-existent. Good quality childcare is expensive, hard to find, unflexible, and generally unsubsidized unless you're at the very bottom of the economic ladder; everyone else, no matter how much of a struggle, is on their own. And if you don't have health insurance or if you have a plan with high deductibles and co-pays, the cost of just giving birth can be astronomical, especially if things don't go smoothly for mom and/or baby. This is just wrong.

So while I'll be the first to say that I don't think that the UK gets everything right when it comes to traditional families with babies and young children, especially when we compare the benefits here to those of our Scandinavian neighbors, and they get some things flat out wrong, it does seem to be a lot child and family friendlier than my home country in quite a few important ways. Which is why we decided to live here while we have babies and young children.

Things may change in the future, true enough. Especially in the ever-changing economic circumstances the world is currently facing. But for now I'll take the random, quirky, ever-changing UK benefits.

Not to be Overlooked

2009-05-14T00:14:00.005+01:00

My happy, energetic, cheeky, waaaay too coordinated for his own good two year old thinks he knows everything and can do anything he wants. And he perhaps fears that he will soon be an overlooked, woe-is-me middle child. This, based on our discussions about his impending Big Brotherhood that proceeds along the lines of:

Me: Are you going to be a good big brother, Boo?

Boo, laughing: No!

Ha!

BooBaaa's personality is such that he will never be overlooked. He's a handful and a half and knows exactly how to drive me completely insane, not to mention his brother. Terrible (stubborn, bull-headed) twos would be a rather large understatement right now. Being overlooked is not going to be a problem.

Keeping himself off of Ebay, on the other hand, might, because I'm struggling to keep on top of his antics right now.

I don't know what Mommy's complaining about . . . I just like to play and to play hard! What's wrong with that?!

Let's hope Lambchop is big and can hold her own against my littlest gorgeous one very quickly.

Nearly 34 weeks and counting . . . desperately counting . . . and thinking that 37 weeks sounds like a fine week to have a baby.

Sigh.