Showing posts with label being married. Show all posts
Showing posts with label being married. Show all posts

Friday, September 19, 2014

Absentee Blogging

In the craziness of two little boys, and freelance history-ing, and weekly 5ks, and the occasional pause for a deep breath, a chapter of a book, and a mocha coconut frappucino, this poor little blog has become neglected. Blog Protection Services should be making weekly visits to my laptop to ensure it doesn't suffer from benign neglect. Of course, they'd probably be the same sort of organization that took away your terrarium and potted succulents if you were talented enough to kill the things in them. Put you on crafting probation if your dip-dyed curtains were a hot mess. Freeze your accounts after another Etsy rampage.

But none of that for me! I've been Tweeting (the refuge of the blogger too busy to blog, but too convinced of their own wit not to share their quips with the internet) in between all the work and cleaning and running and baby-keeping-alive. I'll share those and frightening photographic evidence of just how much my sons have grown since last I kept a regular schedule of blog posts. Seriously, though: how has it been so long!?

Top row: Tristan
Second row: Ethan
Third row: Ethan, boys sharing pound cake, boys at National Trust site, Tristan
Fourth row: Brand new brothers, slightly less new brothers, sunglasses, and finger chewing

























Work has been brilliant. Who knew you could do the whole historian gig as a freelancer? Well, as a stroke of luck would have it: you can! So I've spent a few weeks going to east London to teach workshops on archives, genealogical research, and WWI. I fully admit to feeling all grown up (thus negating any true semblance of adulthood) when all the little tweens called me "Miss" the other day as they excitedly shouted over each other in a desperate bid to show me the results of their research. You have not enjoyed teaching until you honestly hear a 12-year-old give a disappointed sigh at the end of class only to announce, "Now I'll have to look up Hitler at home..."

Also, I've read some lovely books lately, which I must gush over in more detail. Consider the Fork is the all-around winner, though The Little Coffee Shop of Kabul was fun, if chic-lit-like, and The Girl Who Saved the King of Sweden was hilariously sympathetic.

Some day, I will manage to do all of these things with greater balance. I will schedule longer runs, I'll bake with Ethan, and get Tristan to sit through more than one book at bedtime. Perhaps more freelance projects will come along, and maybe - just maybe - I'll even get to have a date night with the Husband! Hey: a girl can dream...


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Wednesday, July 2, 2014

At 4 Years, You Give Blisters

So, as evidenced by my hinting at the subject for ages, as well as the title of this post, our fourth anniversary trip was a walking holiday in Cornwall. We divested ourselves of the boys by leaving them in the loving care of their grandparents in Berkshire for four days while we traveled as far west as we could go and still be in England.


The first day, we arrived in Penzance and strolled west to Marazion in order to go and see St. Michael's Mount. Alas, we were too late in the day to walk the causeway (the tide had come in) but we had a nice boat ride there and back and got to enjoy walking up to the top of the island and touring the castle (a National Trust property).

In the end, we covered about 11 miles going around the island, through Penzance, and along the South West Coast Path - our chosen highway for most of the walking holiday. My initial plan had been to walk 7 miles the first day out to St. Michael's Mount and back, followed by 17 miles to Land's End, then 22.8 miles to St. Ives, then back down 12 miles across the peninsula along St. Michael's Way - the old pilgrim trail - to end up back in Penzance.

Surely, we thought, this would be a piece of cake. Sure, we'd be tired, but we'd manage it easily. That, I can confidently say, was my hubris talking.

This is just a sample of the sort of terrain we covered during our nearly-17-mile hike over to Land's End.

Over rocks and under rocks; up hills and down cliff faces; along beaches and through hedges, we hiked, slogged, and limped our way to our destination. You see, neither of us bothered to check the elevation along our chosen route, and so didn't factor in just how tiring it would be to add in all of the ascents and descents.




But, in the end, we made it to Land's End and gratefully soaked in hot baths, lounged on the bed watching crap telly, and called the in-laws to see how our boys were treating them.


The next day, we had breakfast in the gorgeous restaurant: about 200° views of the Atlantic ocean through all the conservatory-style glass walls. We were stiff and sore and blistered, but decided to attempt to press on...if in truncated fashion. So we set off past Sennen Cove and along the Coast Path. Eventually, we turned inland and made our way towards St. Just. The village itself was adorable; the walk, however was vicious. Scorching sun, biting gadflies, overgrown footpaths, and boggy fields. In the end, we decided the better option would have been to stay on the Coast Path for longer, even if it added to the distance we traveled.

But, we made it there in one piece and sat to have lunch and enjoy the scenery before taking the open-top tourist bus to our backpackers' hostel in Zennor.

St. Just Church...much nicer inside than we'd initially thought!
The hostel - The Old Chapel Cafe & Guesthouse - was brilliant. The rooms were spacious, clean, well-appointed, and took full advantage of the gorgeous windows you get in an old church building. The cafe downstairs was cute and there was an adorable gift shop full of snazzy little handmade & small production gifts...many from local artists & companies. Plus, and this is an entirely irrelevant detail - the whole place smelled like my old summer camp, Arlington Echo. Seriously: the smell of the cafe was the smell of the old dining hall from all my years of band camp. Nostalgia is a lovely thing.


St. Senara Church in Zennor...very big on the mermaid theme.

The next morning it was on to St. Ives and the journey back. By this point we'd done 11 miles on Thursday, 16.5 on Friday, and 6.5 on Saturday. 34 miles in three days was still wearing on us, so rather than try to hike the 5 miles to St. Ives over what we'd been told was very difficult terrain, we opted to take the tourist bus instead and have a relaxing last day in Cornwall wandering St. Ives and doing a bit of shopping.





St. Ives was gorgeous and loads of fun. There were cute shops, fun restaurants, awesome art galleries, all sorts of opportunities to bring back nice little gifts for everyone (including ourselves!), and a great prominade facing the bay where we sat and ate lunch from a scrummy little pasty shop.

We arrived back in Penzance just in time to catch a bit of the Golowan festival. We were tired and not quite in the mood for working through a claustrophobic press of people, but there was still a fun vibe, lots of tasty-smelling food & drink, and some relaxing outdoor music as we made our way back to the car.

We'll definitely be going back to Cornwall at some point in the near future: it was just too much fun not to! Even if we did break ourselves trying to hike the Coast Path. Ah well: happy anniversary to us!

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Monday, April 28, 2014

Oh, yeah...that blog thing...

First my sister came. Then, my parents came with two of my step-sisters to take us on holiday to Dorset. Then, the Husband went away for a week on business to the States. Then Easter showed up with its attendant family visits. And finally, to top it all off, the boys and I got ill and have been hunkered down in the house for nearly a week now.

Great-Grandchildren...all in pairs.


So I'm still the horrible person who has yet to charge the batteries in my camera so I can download the pictures from my sister's stay and the family trip to Dorset, but I have a few Twitter updates and pictures from my father-in-law to make up for it all. Call me low-maintenance, but I can still rustle up a quick update every once in a while.


































Ah well. In the midst of generally struggling at life (and looking up preschools, and booking GP appointments, and clearing eye-bogeys all day) I get a break at last! Tomorrow I get to go to London for a set of history lectures at my old university. History, London, the Tube, and scrummy frozen yoghurt...sounds like a good evening to me!
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Monday, March 3, 2014

Vicarious Tourism: A Little Bit of London

In an effort to be more proactive and start doing things as opposed to just talking about doing them, the Husband and I took the boys out to London on Saturday.

It was a brilliant time. E has been absolutely obsessed with Big Ben for a while now, and so - in tribute to this deep and abiding fascination - our first stop after getting off the Tube was to come out and watch the clock chime the hour.
Our timing couldn't have been better, after snagging some free on-street parking thanks to a tip from our sister-in-law, we got to Westminster just in time to get situated on a nice bit of pavement so that E could revel in pointing and shouting about the Big Clock.
After the Big Clock, it was time to head over to Westminster Abbey for a quick look-around. We were fairly sure E wasn't going to stand for enough church-wandering to justify the £18-a-head price tag, so we just went into St Margaret's Church right next door and took a few pictures.
After letting him drop some change in the donation box - a must-do for him anywhere there's a chance to handle money - it was on to bigger and better things: The National Gallery.


The walk took us through St. James's Park and past Horse Guards. Then through the Admiralty Arch and into Trafalgar Square. This is one of the bits of London I know best. During my Master's programme, not only did a few of my classes take place in the National Portrait Gallery - which is also pretty cool - but a lot of this route is how I would walk home from class on nice days. Campus was just over on the Strand and I lived up past Marble Arch...so central London was my neighbourhood.
The Gallery itself didn't go over terribly well. It was right around E's usual nap time, so he was getting a bit angsty after a brief sprint through the rooms with his dad. I, on the other hand, took the time to get Tristan out of his baby carrier and give him a quick feed. Talk about eating in style: grabbing a quick feed on a leather chaise surrounded by Renaissance paintings. Besides: in a Renaissance painting gallery, what's one more exposed nipple?


With one boy fed, it was time to feed the other, so we headed out of the Gallery on the heels of a tantrum to get some McDonald's. Faces sufficiently stuffed it was off to another well-loved part of London for us: South Kensington.

This is where we met; where the Husband went to school; where we had our first date; where we spent at least part of most weekends together. It's also where we took our engagement photos, which - frighteningly - is now a little over 4 years ago...

We took the boys to the latter of those two locations above - the Science Museum. It was a great time. We let E run around and play, gave Tristan another feed, and had fun enjoying the exhibits and the interactive play area. Seriously: London has some of the best museums I've visited.


After a long day in the city, it was time to head home. So, tired babies in the car, we waved goodbye to the Tube - literally. Ethan had to wave to every passing Tube on our walk back to the car - and headed back on the motorway to home and to bed. It was quite the adventure doing our first trip out with two little boys, but it was definitely worth it. Not sure where we'll go next, but with two family visits coming up in the next month or two, we certainly won't lack for opportunity!
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Monday, February 24, 2014

Mommy Mondays: transitional pieces

So as we keep moving on towards figuring out what our new normal is - and I start getting to the gym and going back to my normal - it's time to start building up my workable wardrobe again. There's not too much I need, but since "normal" is bound to be in flux for us for a while, it's nice to have things that work both now and later. Like tops that allow for breastfeeding, but aren't specifically maternity. Witness:


Sainsbury's has really been revamping their TU clothing line lately. I stopped in the other night after our date to grab some supplies and had to take a peek. Loads of lovely new tops and jeggings; jumpers and dresses. This chambray top has already proved brilliant for feeding Tristan, plus - while I'm still in transition back to my usual size - it's really forgiving of my mummy tummy.

It's nice to know I can be casual and baby-spit-up friendly and still look nice.
Speaking of looking nice, the Husband and I got a date night on Saturday. With the boys both in the care of their grandparents - at E's request...he badgered me all week to go see them - we got the chance to head out into Newbury town centre and have a nice dinner out. We apparently have a thing for Italian food. Our first date was at a place called Carluccio's; our last date before I went back to the States was at Ask; our first anniversary dinner was at Bella Italia...and now our first date since having two kids is back at Ask again. Seriously: it's becoming a trend. Of course, to really do it justice we ought to go to Italy itself. After all; it's not that far away!
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Friday, February 7, 2014

Finding A Groove

The second week home with two little boys has been much more calm than the first. Sure, there was the incident where Ethan tried to intubate his brother with the antenna of a LEGO car, but everyone still seems to be alive and in one piece.

Monday was fairly quiet, but on Tuesday we managed to drag ourselves out to the park for a bit. In the interests of donating some old maternity clothes and baby clothes neither of the boys really wore, I decided to get out to the charity shops...which meant a convenient stop for E at the best of the local playgrounds. I could only countenance letting him play for about half an hour, though: it was frigid outside! (And, stellar mother that I am, I forgot to bring his hat & gloves.)

No matter how long it is, he never forgets his love of the roundabout.
Wednesday was play group in the morning followed by the world's longest naps. That meant a Doctor Who marathon for Mama. Also? The cutest cuddling session known to man.
Thursday started early with a family trip to the dentist. Then the afternoon saw us out for a few hours hanging out at the library with our friends and then running a couple of errands that I'd been unintentionally procrastinating for days. The evening meant a lovely night out for me heading to the gym. "Me Time" that's also exercise is great: I can just unplug and listen to music. I don't have to think, I don't have to change anyone's nappy or run anyone to the potty posthaste, I don't even have to maintain conversation about whatever Disney/Pixar movie is currently playing: I can just recharge my batteries and work up a good sweat.

The really hilarious part of Thursday, though, was this:
E decided he needed to take a turn with the breast pump. He proceeded to lift his shirt and shout, "Get milk out! Get milk out!" Today, that progressed to his request to help feed his brother a bottle. Luckily, he was actually really good at it, and Tristan accepted his big brother's inexpert but enthusiastic help like a champ.

With all the rain and freezing cold wind this week today would have been a great day to get outside, but E wasn't having it. So I threw open the windows and did a bit of tidying while the boys played & slept in the living room. I even got a chance to try some Ballet Bootcamp during naptime!
I have to admit, this is feeling pretty good so far. Of course, there are those moments where both kids are crying, or they've both managed to soil themselves, but the good & the manageable moments definitely outweigh the bad & the frantic.
And now, to round out the day with a bowl of chili, some TV, and a cuddle on the couch with all three of my boys. It's nice to feel like things are reaching even a tenuous state of equilibrium. Here's to the beginning of our family of four!
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Monday, February 3, 2014

A New Normal...Sort Of.

I had wonderful plans of a return to blogging on Friday. I was going to have wonderfully witty and pithy statements about how I managed to make it in-tact through each day: my first week with two little boys.

Monday was great: we didn't do much, but I got some tidying done and the boys were still well-behaved and in one piece. We even got to Starbucks to meet up with friends for a couple of hours. Tuesday went over a treat as well: more cleaning, successful naps, and a whole slew of errands in the morning. Wednesday was play group and a quiet afternoon in. That's when things started going wonky.

Thursday morning I woke up feeling a bit sore. Babies who occasionally sleep through nighttime feeds will do that to you. There's only so much milk a boob can hold, after all. (#keepingitreal) The day wore on, I felt more and more tired...and that soreness wasn't going away. I kept feeding (when Tristan would cooperate), kept pumping; but by the time I had to break out the paracetemol & hot water bottle, and then a fever started setting in, I came to the conclusion that - joy of joys - it was mastitis. Goody.

So I spent the night feeling awful. We limped through the next day with some much-appreciated help from my friend Nikki, - who watched the boys while I napped and settled Ethan for his nap - the Husband, - who came home early - and my GP who prescribed antibiotics. A big shout out also goes to McDonald's. Some days you just need comfort food.

So with most of Friday under my belt, imagine my mood when I realised that E was getting sick, too. He spent the whole night in our bed with a barking cough. Saturday progressed to a fever, more coughing, and lots of wheezy breathing. By Saturday night, I was convinced it was time to call someone to see what else we ought to be doing. Turns out that "what else?" meant a trip to Paediatric A&E and overnight observations. Oh yeah, and hourly sessions with an inhaler. For my two-year-old.

 

The Husband stayed in overnight while I headed home with Tristan around 1:00 in the morning in an attempt to get a bit more sleep. Four hours of sleep later at 7:30, I was up and getting dressed to go back to the children's ward of our local hospital to see how my boys were doing.

In the end, it turns out Ethan was having a reaction to a viral infection in his chest. Loads of sessions with the inhalers and nebulizers, a couple of x-rays, numerous pokes with stethoscopes and ear thermometers, and a failed urine sample later we were finally discharged to go home with him. I now have two inhalers and a giant volumizer sitting next to my couch. Every four hours I get to listen to my poor little boy, with his hoarse croaky voice say, "Keep breathing! Keep breathing!" while I attack him with medicine for 90 seconds. It breaks my heart hearing him say that: it's just so pitiful!

So this week we're getting over our rather sensational-sounding bout of illness and attempting to get more towards whatever our new "normal" is going to look like. I have my gym membership back (le sigh, my happy place), and we have a few play dates to make good on. Add that into the mix with the ever-present cleaning that needs doing - oh, and don't forget that I ought to start looking at nursery schools soon! - and I think we've got enough to be getting on with.


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Thursday, January 23, 2014

In the Space of a Breath

I am tired. And I'm meant to be having a nap. The Husband has just taken both boys off my hands so I can rest after a lovely morning that shouldn't have been stressful at all, but somehow felt it as we got in the car to drive back home.




See, my friend Yasmin is a photographer and we got her to do a newborn shoot of our newly finished family of four this morning. She was brilliant: putting on Finding Nemo, pulling out toys and books, letting E have a go outside in the garden; carrying, rocking, and cuddling my littlest boy so he would settle for some cute photos...and then taking all the photos she could of my men and me. I barely had to do anything other than pose, feed E snacks, eat cookies, and be patiently urinated on as I breastfed on the couch. The experience was a lovely one, and I'd do it again, no questions asked...but I suddenly found myself tired and short-tempered as we drove home.

Two weeks and he's already changed so much!
E was asking for sweeties, T was screaming because his binky had fallen out, and rather than fishing in my purse or reaching around in my seat to address either of these concerns, I clenched my hands in my lap and closed my eyes as I tried not to yell at two people who very much did not deserve it.

"Do you want me to stay home this afternoon and take the boys so you can nap?" Oh, sweet lord, yes.

I let out I breath I didn't think I'd been holding and just felt utterly relieved. I wouldn't be wrangling a hungry newborn and a toddler who had missed his nap all by myself! Though he must be as sleep-deficient as I am right now, my husband is a saint. We are technically at the end of his fortnight's worth of paternity leave, but he's accrued enough time to stay with me for another day before heading back into the office. If only I could now not feel guilty about my desire to cry, eat hash browns, and fall asleep watching Sherlock reruns.

So now, covered in milk, milk sick, wee, and tears from my sons, I sit in bed, torn between being so tired I could weep, and wanting to unwind by reading design blogs. I can hear Owen Wilson as Lightning McQueen shilling Rusteeze Medicated Bumper Ointment on the TV in the next room as I look around at the mess in my bedroom. There are clothes and muslins that desperately need washing, presents that need Thank You notes written, junk mail to sort through, and two half-empty packets of paracetemol on the dresser next to a pacifier in its sterilising box. There is dusting to be done, rubbish to be taken out to the skip, carpets to be vacuumed, and post-natal exercises to do. Right now, the knowledge of all these things threatens to drag me under like James Bond falling through a riverbed in the title sequence to Skyfall.

Yasmin and the Husband are a brilliant, baby-posing team
So, for the moment, I will live a fantasy. Two gorgeous Englishmen - tall, pale, dark-haired and blue-eyed - will save me from the utter exhaustion of even the best days of motherhood: my wonderful husband...and Benedict Cumberbatch. Bring on the Sherlock, baby.


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Monday, January 6, 2014

New Year, Old Bump

So the new year has come and still I find myself with a bulging middle, wildly displaced hips, and no outside baby to cuddle. Needless to say, I've been doing a stellar impersonation of Grumpy Cat lately. But currently, my youngest brother-in-law is playing trains with my son on the hallway floor, which means that not only is my son being enthusiastically entertained, but it's happening while I get to have some calm time to myself to relax with some cocoa and Pinterest before our next preemptive run to the potty.

Fruit Ninja: entertaining adults and toddlers alike.
The holidays were lovely. It was great to have the time to relax and sit on the couch and not worry about anything but when this baby was finally going to decide to show his face. Incidentally, that did mean that some moments were more stressful than relaxing, but overall we did enjoy quite the break from everyday life over Christmas.

So what have I been up to in the lull between the end of the holidays and this Thursday, when the midwives will finally insist on getting this baby out of my uterus?

1) Watching the new season of Sherlock. I'm a little bit in love with Benedict Cumberbatch.
2) Watching BBC's Luther. The Husband and I just got around to watching this months after my long-suffering sister recommended it to us. Seriously people: taut scripting, good acting, excellent pacing, brilliantly witty dialogue, and a skeptical nerdgasm nearly every episode. I love seeing a dramatic show with level-headed characters who don't morph into credulous hysterics at the first sign of a crisis. We're only one season in, but we're thoroughly addicted.
3) Reveling in E's newly acquired skill. What does a snake say? Hisssss. What does a horse say? Yee-haw! What does Gollum say? (In the creepiest voice possible) PRECIOUS! Yup: he's been trained by nerds.
4) Spending as much time with the Husband as I can before we both get swamped in the sleep-deprived world of two small boys who will run our lives (and in all cheesy sincerity, our hearts) for as long as they can. I almost wish I could say I was approaching being a mother of two with some sort of sensible trepidation, but at this point, I just want this little boy to make his appearance so that I can be done with pregnancy and get on with adjusting to new motherhood again.

So, here's to holding out until Thursday, when my new year will feel as if it has well and truly started.
I'm so done looking like this.
(And not being able to roll over in bed.)

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