Lasts

A few minutes ago, as I prepared to take a shower, I did a little jig in the shower room (There is no tub. There is no toilet. There is a shower (and a sink)! Hence: shower room).  'This is the LAST TIME I have to take a shower in this shower room!' I said to myself.  It's not like the shower is completely horrible or even horrible at all. Our landlords renovated it while we were living here so it's high quality and has good water pressure, but, for people of our proportions, it's small.  When I shower, I have to make sure that I don't make any sudden movements or I'll crash into the wall with my elbows.  And forget two people being in there at once.  Over the past five and a half years, Jim and I have gotten into the annoying habit of racing each other into the bathroom. Whoever doesn't get there first stands cursing outside of the door.

Anyway, the small joy I felt at not having to shower in our tiny shower anymore led me to think of other lasts that I'm either looking forward to or not.  Here they are:

This is the last night  we'll sleep under our crazy neighbor. She is loud, she stomps, she is volatile, she has made enemies of everyone in the building (except us. The only reason is because we live under her) and we sometimes have to turn our TV up so that we can hear it over her radio upstairs.  She also has been very nice to our children.  So that redeems her, slightly.  I will still be happy to be the ones doing the stomping in our new house!

The last bath. The girls have lived here their whole lives. I have bathed them since birth in their little (cursed and too small for normal sized human beings) tub. It has been the site of much terror (when they were babies), crazy soap hair styles, bubble blowing, hysterical laughter, tsunami-like splashing and, now, independence.  Evie prefers to give herself a bath these days, but tonight she agreed that I could wash her hair one last time before we move.

The last bedtime. We have a bedtime routine that we've been following for years and tonight was no exception.  After bath and teeth and bathroom, each girl picks a book, we snuggle up in Millie's bed and we read.  Then we kiss and hug and butterfly kiss and squishy kiss and I lie in Millie's bed with her for a few minutes before they go to sleep. It's a nice way for us all to end the day and tonight was the last time we'll have that time in this flat.

This is the last time we'll ever have white tiles and white counter tops (if I have anything to do with it)!  We are four not so compulsive types (and a cat) living in a house with white tiles. They are frequently splattered with food, footprints, cat prints, dirt from the garden and other things that wouldn't show up quite so much if we didn't have white tiles.  Therefore, I rejoice at the thought of the ugly linoleum tiles in our new kitchen.  They might be ugly, but at least you can't see just how filthy they are!

Yesterday was the last time it will be easy for either of us to get to work (in our current jobs).  I am so not looking forward to our new commute that I can't even write about it.

Oh, but despite the small shower and the crazy neighbor and the white tiles, this has been a happy home for us and we're really going to miss it and Hampstead. Tomorrow we'll start fresh in our new house and when we have internet again in a week I'll be able to compare neighbors, showers, bedtimes and bath times.  Stay tuned...

In Boxes..In Pieces

Seven and a half years ago, we moved to London facing many unknowns.  We had left our families,our friends and our pets behind, not knowing if Jim's job would last more than just a few months (a detail he neglected to tell me until AFTER we moved to London).  We were grateful that we were moving to an English speaking country, but despite speaking the same language, we struggled in the beginning to grasp British culture.  We couldn't even figure out how to use the washing machine...and then we couldn't believe that we were expected to dry our clothes on a clothes rack in the damp bathroom upstairs instead of a tumble dryer.  We couldn't understand why they didn't have 'regular' Cheerios and when I made the trek to Asda (the UK's version of Wal-Mart), it took me about fifteen minutes to figure out that I had to put a coin into the shopping cart to get it to detach from the rest of them. THEN I could hardly contain my disappointment that Asda was so NOT like Wal-Mart (seemingly forgetting that I was never a big fan of Wal-Mart in the first place).  We were flummoxed when, on Thanksgiving Day, we couldn't find a turkey OR Crisco (to make biscuits). We missed our families in a painful way and the loss of all of the conveniences and familiarity of the USA--our cars, our one stop shopping, our drive throughs, our giant washers and dryers--seemed almost unbearable.

We couldn't have imagined that, seven and a half years on, we would be so settled and happy in London, with two beautiful little girls and so many supportive and wonderful friends.  We didn't anticipate that we would embrace the culture and love our lives here so much.  We also didn't know how hard it would be to stay here, so far away from our families, with very little help with our busy and energetic children and with demanding jobs.  We didn't know until a year ago that we really wanted to stay here and some days still, when things are particularly inconvenient, we have mini-tantrums about how much easier it would be just to move back home.  And we mean it. And it would be.

After nearly six years in Hampstead, we are moving...but only to a new neighborhood in London.  While our new neighborhood is only a few miles away, transport links are not convenient and we'll likely move the girls to a new school.  Packing up this flat that is so full of memories, where we have lived as a little family for so long, is an emotional process for all of us.  Last night, on our way back from a frustrating visit to Ikea, Millie asked if we were going to our new house and Evie replied, "No Millie..we're going to our home."  This little flat in Hampstead IS our home...the only home that the girls have ever known.

Every time we go to Houston, we drive past our blue house on Peden--the first home that Jim and I shared together in the early years of our marriage.  We usually drive by slowly or stop, hanging out the windows and probably making the house's current residents nervous.  We tell the girls funny stories about our dog Buster and our crazy neighbor from across the street.  We talk about the lady with all the cats and the time Aunt Kate and Marco came for New Years.  We laugh at the things we did and things we saw.  We feel a little wistful about that previous life.

As excited as we are to be moving on to a new chapter in our lives, this house on Thurlow Road in Hampstead will always be a very special place for us and a place that also is full of stories and fun and love.  I'm sure, as time passes, we'll come back and stand on the sidewalk outside, re-living all the happy memories we have of being here.  When the girls are older, we'll remind them that this was their first home and the site of a lot of firsts for us too.

London: Brick Lane and American Mother's Day

 The past few weeks have been marked by a nasty bug, which has made the rounds (sometimes twice) in our house.  Last week I spent the entire week ministering to one child or the other and then to Jim, considering myself lucky to have dodged the bullet myself.  Alas, this morning I too woke up with the family sickness: sore throat, fever, achy back and neck, and drowsiness.

While I lay in bed this morning, the girls pattered back and forth, getting dressed and checking on me.  Evie came in and felt my forehead and, after kissing it (like I do when she is sick) she clucked and said, 'You feel very hot, Mama.'  Then she brought me a piece of bread and supervised while I drank some water.  Millie was less concerned, but no less sweet, snuggling up to me and showing me her outfit for the day.  When they left for school, I went back to sleep and woke up thinking they were standing next to me, looking concerned (They weren't. I just had hallucinatory fever.)

And so, from the sickbed: Mother's Day in London.  Not UK Mother's Day, which happened in March, but the US Mother's Day that I'm always angling for (I strongly believe that I should get TWO Mother's Days. Jim thinks this is Mother's Day overkill).  This year, with so much going on in our lives, I decided that I didn't have the energy for our annual American Mother's Day argument. 

It's been a few years since we've been down to Brick Lane and the Sunday Upmarket and we are both in the market for a bike.  Having heard that cheap bikes could be had in the Brick Lane Market, we wanted to check it out (Side note: said bikes are clearly stolen bikes so, despite their enticing prices we were too moral to actually buy any). 

Shoreditch in East London is vibrant and artsy and trendy, full of hipsters and artists and funky people much younger and out there than we are.  There are lots of galleries, and vintage stores, in addition to the fun markets that happen on Sundays. 

After wandering past an amazing looking (and cheap) fruit and veg market, we stumbled on some live music a la Adele.  They were just warming up, but the girls settled right in and ate the complimentary dried pineapple snacks that were on the chairs.

 Post musical interlude, we finally made our way to Brick Lane Market, which sprawls through several parking lots/car parks.  In addition to the stolen bikes there were all kinds of toiletries, some slightly musty looking clothing, wires of all sort, various computers, cameras, chintzy jewelry and other 'bric a brac.' The girls tried to convince us to buy them each a junky ceramic animal figurine, but the 1 pound price for each was just too steep.  Our feeling about the Brick Lane Market, despite it being amusing and fun to visit, was that it is pretty seedy and also that it should be the first place you look for any of your stolen goods!

 Further on, we encountered a second hand clothing shop that was having a 'super rad' sale.  They were playing fun music and had an LSU baseball shirt hanging in their window, so we knew it was a quality place.  Or at least a good place to play dress up for a few minutes:

 And if you ever desire some colorful, Indian shoes, Brick Lane is the place to go!  I love them.

 Next stop, obviously, was lunch!  Since the last time we were at the Sunday Upmarket, the food options have expanded, with three or four food halls filled with all kinds of international street food.  We got there on the early side of the lunch rush, but our chosen food hall was still bustling with hungry people trying to decide between so many tempting culinary options. Usually there isn't anywhere to sit, but we managed to squeeze ourselves into the end of a picnic table, which we shared with a French family. I was beyond happy with my delicious vegetarian Ethiopian Food:

 Jim got something Mediterranean, after deciding not to chance Mexican food (wise, I think) and the girls enjoyed South African hot dogs followed by homemade caramel ice cream.  Delicious and always the highlight of their day!

Post lunch, our next stop was Jim's choice: Rough Trade Records, which has the biggest selection of music in London (or something like that).  Rough Trade Records with two small children is probably not the record shop experience Jim was hoping for.  I think, in an ideal world, he would have liked to have wandered through for hours, exploring the new artists, finding vintage Cure vinyls that he wouldn't be able to play because we don't have a record player, listening to music on really awesome and outrageously expensive headphones...

 But, instead, he got a brief jaunt through the store, chasing after one girl while I chased after the other, followed by a very exciting trip to the Rough Trade Records Bathroom!  Where, to Millie's glee, she could write on the walls with abandon! (unfortunately, she seems to think, since having this exciting experience, that she also can write on OUR walls with abandon. We're working on that).

  (I know, Mom, "Fools names and fools faces, etc. etc.")

We spent about half an hour in the bathroom so that everyone could get their fill of writing on the walls, then we headed to the Upmarket (outside of which was the self-proclaimed 'Home of Meat Porn.'  Whatever that means.  We call it Brisket and Burgers where I come from.)

 Recently, I have been taking advantage of my children by having them give me foot massages.  They get really excited about it because they get to use my usually forbidden cream and they can pretend to be the spa ladies. This is not child labor because then I give them foot massages too (but Millie is too ticklish so she kind of gets the short end of the stick).  Evie LOVES to have a massage, so as soon as she saw the chair massages at the Upmarket there was no stopping her.  She and I each enjoyed a 7 minute chair massage that actually was very nice and relaxing.  Jim and Millie looked at us like we were crazy and wandered off for the duration of the 7 minutes.

 Other highlights of the Sunday Upmarket included:  Sunglasses

 Dancing

 And a guy playing a wooden tenor sax.

 Back at home, I changed into my pajamas at about 3:30, expecting a long afternoon of relaxing, but my beloved children and husband had other ideas.  It was time for the Mother's Day Restaurant to open and the dress was 'cocktail.'  So I donned my finest little black dress (which I was pleasantly surprised to fit into. When so many months--err years--go by without an opportunity to dress up, you just never know!)

 My waitress took my order (Wine, main course, and an apple for dessert)

 The table was neatly set with beautiful flowers from Jim's garden:

The chef was slaving away in the kitchen, but he took a break to come and dance with us at our New Orleans jazz themed dance party.

 And then I found my Sudoku book, which is always all consuming (and a good way to kill time when waiting for your main course to arrive).

 Rose attempted to join us for  my Mother's Day meal too.

 The waitress served up the delicious main course: buckwheat pasta with vegetables and shrimp and salmon and an Asian inspired sauce.

And this is a rare shot of Millie actually eating her dinner (although I think she only ate about three bites):

 It was a good American Mother's Day and I'm a lucky mama to love and be so loved by these beautiful little girls and their sweet daddy.  Looking forward to all the Mother's Days to come!  And now, back to bed...

Bedford and Killarney

In the interest of minimizing backseat vomiting, we decided to take the short, not winding way to Killarney.  The short, not winding way was considerably winding and there were some peeps about upset stomachs from the back of the car. Luckily there was a place for us to make a pit stop en route in the form of a Toy Soldier Factory and as we approached it, a giant white bus full of tourists passed us going the other direction.  This, we knew, was the place to be!

At the Toy Soldier Factory Warehouse we were greeted by a slightly socially challenged woman who was passionate about her toy soldiers.  We wandered around looking at the varieties of toy soldiers and metallic creatures.  The options were limitless and included dragons, fairies, Christmas ornaments, ballerinas, super heros, unicorns and more!  For 9 Euros you could make your own. Evie chose to make a ballerina and Millie chose to make a reindeer Christmas ornament (despite my best efforts to persuade her to make something more seasonally appropriate like, for instance, an Easter egg).

Our tour guide did the melting and pouring and the girls held their molds in place until they were solid enough to remove. 

Then they brushed them with a wire brush, to get all the filaments off and moved over to the painting table.

The painting table was no slapstick affair and there were very strict rules about the amount of paint you could use.  Only one color allowed at a time. Only one drop of color allowed. It was essential to rinse and wipe your paintbrush between every color switch....you know, all the ways that children who are ages three and five DON'T paint.  But I guess when your job is to make and paint toy soldiers, precision is key!

The result: two proud and happy little girls and four adults with a lunch stop referral!

When we arrived at our lunch stop, the same giant white bus was in the parking lot and we were soon to find that we were about 60 years younger than everyone else in the restaurant.  We didn't have the fish chowder this time, but the girls enjoyed their healthy platters of chips and sausages.  It was one of the few meals in Ireland that wasn't that good.  But the people were really nice (and so was the Irish soda bread) so that made up for it. 

Back on the road again, things started to get hilly and our giant van suddenly refused to shift gears.  We considered turning around and going back to the restaurant where we had just eaten, but mostly we just wanted to get to our next destination so, at a speed of about 30 mph, we chugged up the hills to Beaufort.  Thus began several days of international calls to London and within Ireland to negotiate having the van towed, getting a new rental car (because without one we were stuck in the country), getting the old van back, etc. etc.  Luckily we were staying in a beautiful place that had other children, a working fireplace, FOUR bathrooms and THREE amazing chocolate labs.  So five of the six of us weren't worried at all about the car problem.

There was the rushing River Laune nearby, from which one of the dogs--aptly named Cadbury--enthusiastically retrieved logs and stones and where we had some pretty competitive games of 'Pooh sticks.' (I always seemed to lose)

There was also a non-motorized go-cart and a swing that provided hours of entertainment:

But for those of us who were running out of underwear, perhaps the most exciting part about our self-catering accommodation at Beaufort House were the washer and industrial sized dryer!

Dad was also pretty excited about the woodpile.

The day after our arrival, we finally managed to get a new, slick and tiny (in comparison to the Transporter) ride...

and off we went to do some hiking!

Looking back on these pictures, I'm pretty impressed with the girls and their stamina, because this was not an easy walk for little legs (although it said it was on the sign).  It was supposed to be about a 2 hour walk, but it took us considerably longer than that.

Up we went to our first destination: The Torc Waterfall in Killarney National Park. 

Then we ascended some very steep steps...which just kept going for about a mile. (this is the view from the top of the first set of steps)

 

And this is the view from the bottom (Millie was clearly thrilled):

 

Eventually, we all straggled up and took a slightly tilty family picture with The Lakes of Killarney in the background.

Followed by a healthy lunch on some rocks:

The path evened out and the scenery became more lush.  We kept the girls motivated to keep walking by initiating a 'leprechaun hunt.'

We also stopped to chit chat with some friendly walkers who assured us that some day we, too, would be able to do lots of country walking and hiking again.  They were from Dublin and were going off piste from their larger walking group by taking a hike through the Killarney National Park.

Looking for leprechauns!

Leprechauns or Blair Witch Project?

Taking a rest:

And hitching some rides. Jim and I had very big shoulders by the end of this trip.

There was great rejoicing when, after about four hours, we made it back to the car!

And were we tired?  No!  Not too tired to go to Muckross House down the road and do some wool shopping.  Mom's enthusiasm for buying discount woolen goods knows no bounds and this was just the beginning of a two day wool binge that ended at Kerry Woolen Mills the next day.  We came home with several scarves each, some placemats, wool socks, sweaters and three wool blankets. Just in time for spring!

Here, Dad and I model our newly acquired Muckross wool scarves on the streets of Killarney:

We were clearly tourists.   I had been warned by an Irish friend that Killarney was focused, these days, on attracting American tourists and I can now confirm this.  Lots of hokey live music venues and LOTS of Americans having a good time.  The town itself was pretty tacky, but the park and the scenery around the town was spectacular. Jim, Dad and I had a delicious dinner there at Bricin Restaurant, where I had my first Irish pancake (Boxty).  It's kind of like a crepe and mine came with ratatouille. Delicious!  We finished off with shared Creme Brulee and then waddled down the street to find some rather disappointing live music. 

The Gap of Dunloe was just a few minutes down the road from where we were staying so for our next family adventure we decided to hike up to it (three miles there and three miles back.  Don't ask me what we were thinking).  Upon arrival, we were stopped by a very earnest Jaunting Car driver who insisted that we would never make it by foot and for a mere 70 Euros he would drive us up in his cart.  I was adamantly against this plan but was outnumbered and, ultimately, he was right. We never would have made it up by foot.  So he and his trusty horse Tom took us halfway up.  

Jaunting should be called 'jolting.' We got rattled around so much that I thought we were going to fly out of the back of the cart.  The driver kept hopping out to encourage the poor horse to keep going and finally, having had enough of this nonsense, Tom stopped and turned around to head back down the hill.  He was panting and sweating and it was with great relief that we hopped out and gave him an apple for his efforts.  Poor horse.

Looking a little nervous in the jaunting car:

Poor tortured Tom:

Happy to be free of us!

The Gap of Dunloe is very barren and rocky and populated by sheep raising families.  Said sheep were hanging out high up in the rocks above us and we could hear them bleating across the lakes and through the valleys.  The Gap is also famous for its echos and we had fun yodeling from the top of rocks.

Greetings from the rocks!

Mom and Dad before Mom left us in her dust.

It was cold and windy en route to the Gap...

And the clouds were rolling in, so we decided to make haste back down to the parking lot...

 stopping only for lunch on the way (during which it started pouring).

Skipping helped to keep us moving.

 

but eventually Jim and I ended up with a child on each shoulder.  It was a relief to get to the touristy cafe in the parking lot where there was coffee, hot chocolate with an abundance of marshmallows and a roaring fire waiting to warm our soggy bones.

The next morning we packed our giant van (which had been repaired and returned to us)...

said goodbye to our new doggy friends (who we managed to feed an ENTIRE BOX OF DOG BISCUITS IN THREE DAYS)...

took a picture in front of the beautiful Beaufort House (http://www.beaufortireland.com/)...

and off we went to Galway!