Kissing Cousins

When the kids and I went home in November for my grandpa's funeral, Kate got the opportunity to play with her cousin Clara, the almost-4 year old daughter of my cousin Linsday.
Clara is 3 months older than Kate, and they hit it off immediately and loved having somersault and dancing contests.

This picture makes me smile, because it reminds me of Lindsay and myself when we were young. This was taken at my grandparent's house, where we spent many long summer days playing. Lindsay has always had the prettiest light, light blond hair, like Clara does, and I have always been dark-headed, as Kate is. We are also very close in age, about 8 months, and I always looked forward to spending time with her. Even when she told me scary ghost stories in bed (collaborating with my big brother John to scare the pants off me) and grandma and grandpa had to get out of bed to come tell me there were certainly not any ghosts in the closet, under the bed, or out in hallway. And no, there were no dead people out in the garage either.





Doesn't Michael look like he loves being sandwiched between the two of them?

Extreme Makeover, Michael Edition

Having a child who looks like a movie star can be a good thing. But not when it is this guy:




I suppose it is a childhood rite of passage: having a bad haircut. But my cute little man now has a most unfortunate one:



I'm reminded of my own bad-hair childhood days. Of which there were many.


I took Michael to get his first haircut yesterday. I had trimmed up the front myself a few times, but the back was starting to look frighteningly like a mullet, so I thought it time to call in the professionals.

Before



Many children boutiques here do hair too, so I took him to the chic boutique on our high street.

He was most definitely not a fan. The phrase "screaming bloody murder" would be appropriate, or as Kate would say, "screaming his face off". I don't have any pictures of his fit, because I was busy trying to calm him down. This is right before the tears started:


Perhaps it was because he was screaming and wriggling, but the hair cut is not stellar. She did what I asked, but it doesn't quite look like I expected.





Oh well. It is only hair, and I find it fruitless to fret much about hair that will grow out. But he is going to have to endure a few weeks of looking like a total dork.

London, and the Green Living is Easy...

What is that? It is our food waste container, provided by our council. (A council is the government of the area in which you live that is responsible for trash collection, streets, housing, etc.).

According to the EPA, the decomposition of food in landfills produces methane, which is 25 times more potent than carbon dioxide.

And in the US, food waste is the single largest waste produced, with Americans throwing away 25% of food that they prepare. That is 96 billion pounds of food a year.

Here in the UK, it is estimated that 20% of the UK's greenhouse gas emissions are caused by food.

So alarming are these facts, that many councils now provide bins for home composting, without the work! We have this small kitchen caddy that we empty all our food waste into (except bones, which do not compost). theSaevas don't believe in wasting food: leftovers are always eaten, stale bread is turned into croutons or bread crumbs, cheese rinds are saved for soups, oldish veggies are used for making stock, etc. But there is still a fair amount of waste that is unavoidable. It is really surprising to see how much those banana peels, egg shells, squeezed lemons and potato peelings add up. I would say that we average a full container every two days. We don't have a garbage disposal, so everything gets put into the container.

We then empty our small container into a larger curbside one (kerbside if you're British!) that is collected weekly with the rest of our recycling. You can even buy those handy dandy bags that are 100% compostable, so there is truly no mess and no excuse not to use the containers.

Voila! Less green guilt and making yummy compost for new plants to grow.

I had toyed around with the idea of getting a home compost back at home before we moved, but just never pulled the trigger. I've since been turned onto worm composting, which is what I think we'll do when we move back and no longer have oh-so convenient food waste collection.

Mama Called the Doctor, and the Doctor Said...

It's not chicken pox, which I had pretty much figured out by last night when his rash wasn't blistery. I was concerned it might be measles, and also wanted to rule out meningitis. The GP said it was just a viral rash, that sometimes occurs in children when they are ill. I've never seen such a thing before, but then again I didn't go to medical school.
So, now we give him lots of TLC and wait it out.

Did I mention that he started going to preschool one day a week? And last week was his first week? One day exposed to germs, he is down for the count.
He is by far a more sickly child than Kate ever was. Honestly, I can count the times on one hand she has ever been ill, and the times I have had to give her medicine (including Tylenol!) on two hands. Obviously his immune system needs some work!


****

In other news, I think the grey furry thing hanging up in my last post is some type of deer. It didn't have a head, so it was a little hard to be sure, but that is what I was thinking. It was nearly as tall as I was. Oh, and since I was asked for the eggnog recipe I use, here it is. I use single cream, which is the equivalent of half and half in the US. And obviously, use free range, organic eggs. I don't worry about raw eggs here nearly as much as you might have to in the US b/c all eggs here are vaccinated against salmonella. So we eat lots of carbonera, chocolate mousse, soffritos thickened with eggs, etc.

Brrrrr....Borough Market

Borough Market is like Mecca for Foodies. It is a huge market that is held weekly with tons on incredible artisan foods. They have monks from Italy selling Parma Ham, Polish sausages, stalls of olives, artisan bread, small farm meats, handmade candy, organic seasonal fruit and veg, olive oil from Spain, Greece, & Italy. There is also hummus, local cider, Indian food, Greek Food, British food, juice bar, etc.


During the warmer weather, it is one of my favorite places to go wander and be inspired. Yesterday, Danny wanted to see if they had a stall that sells Masa Harina so that we could make some tortillas. So we woke up, bundled up, and headed down to London Bridge where the market is held.



We knew it was cold out, but we didn't really realize how cold it was (21 F when we left the house). So we got there and I was promptly frozen and already ready to leave. All of the olive oils on display were solidified, as they do when they are refrigerated.

We bought some sea salt caramels from Burnt Sugar, pondered some very fresh duck breats (see below!) , but then left empty handed.



It was simply too cold to be wandering around, and so we left.

Michael screamed bloody murder on the train on the way home, and when we got him home we discovered a nice rash on his face, back and chest. I'm thinking it is chicken pox, but we'll have to wait to see what the GP says tomorrow to be sure.

The Queen's English

I realize I post a lot about the kids, but I do want to post things about England and our way of life here. Everybody realizes that there are differences between the Queen's English (what they speak here) and the bastardized American version (if you ask the Brits what we speak).

I wanted to enlighten you on some of the differences of our two similar languages.

A subway is not a train that runs underground (that would be the Tube), but a pedestrian underpass that goes under busy intersections so you don't have to cross the street. If you are in a tube station or a store, you won't find an Exit, but a Way Out. And of course you don't take the elevator, you take a lift. The first floor is the floor above the ground floor. (So, in the US the 2nd floor is the 1st floor here). A police man is affectionately known as a Bobby, and it's a fire engine, not a truck. A truck is called a lorry, a station wagon is an estate car, and a mini-van/van is a people mover. You don't rent a car on vacation, you hire a car. You drive your car on the carriageway and park it in a caravan park and put your purchases in the boot, not the trunk. Bumps in the road to slow down your vehicle are sleeping policemen. And of course it isn't a vacation, but a holiday. You fly there on an aeroplane. Your doctor is a GP, and his office is the surgery. You have operations in a theatre. A lawyer who argues cases in court is a barrister, while the person you see to write up your will or get a divorce is a solicitor. A Realtor is an estate agent. A school principal is a headmistress. When you need cash, you go to the Cashpoint or the hole in the wall, not an ATM. The main street where are the shops are is the high street. A crossing guard who helps children cross the street is a lollipop man/woman.

Babies don't wear diapers, they wear nappies. And they don't drink from a sippy cup, it's a beaker. Weaning doesn't refer to stopping breastfeeding, but only starting them onto solid foods (while they are still nursing or taking a bottle too). They don't use a passaphire, they use a dummy. They don't nap during the day, they take a rest. They ride in a pushchair or a buggy, not a stroller. When they urinate, they take a wee. Ask for a restroom or a bathroom in any public place, and you'll be met with a look of either confusion or disdain. It's a toilet or a lav. Q Tips are cotton buds, and cotton balls are cotton wool. A band-aid is a plaster.

When it is cold outside, you don't put on a sweater, you wear a jumper. Trousers are what go on your legs, and knickers or smalls go underneath. Boys/Mens briefs (tidy whities) are called Y-Fronts. Costumes are fancy dress. Your sneakers are trainers.

You ring someone on the phone, and if your phone number is 755 333 you say "Seven double five treble (not triple!) three". You have a mobile ("Mo-bile"), not a cell phone. The mail is the post, and it is put into your letter box. The thing you watch programmes on is the telly. You go to see a movie at the cinema, and while you're there (the Brits would say "whilst you are there") you can get either sweet or savory popcorn. If you want to see a show, you go to the theater. The pages in your magazines urging you to buy something are adverts. Pantomime doesn't mean silently acting something out, but a specific type of theater that is usually put on around Christmas, and usually involves men in drag. You don't turn something counterclockwise, you turn it anticlockwise. Playing checkers is playing draughts. Tic-Tac-Toe is "naughts and crosses", not x and o. Every two weeks is a fortnight.

Everyone knows that chips are french fries, and US-style chips are crisps. A cup of coffee or tea is referred to as a cuppa. Store bought cookies are biscuits, while a homemade one is still a cookie. Ground beef/lamb is called mince, cilantro is coriander, and "pasta" is pronounced with a long a sound (kind of like faster). Peanuts in the shell are monkey nuts, sandwiches are called sarnies that you eat on a bap (roll), and pickle refers to any number of picked vegetables, usually cabbage, radish and carrots. Beets are beetroot, and the Brits love them. A rutabega is a swede, and a jacket potato is a baked potato. You won't find eggplant or zucchini, only aubergine or courgettes. Bubble and squeak is a dish made up of leftover mash (mashed potatoes) and cabbage. Arugula is rocket, and any type of lettuce is a salad. So when you get a burger with lettuce on it, it comes "with a salad". A fairy cake is a cupcake, and cake is sponge. If they have sprinkles on top, they have hundreds-and-thousands on them. Icing sugar is powdered sugar, and an ice lolly is a popsicle. Strawberries from the store come in a punnet. A can of tuna is a tin of tuna. A soda is a fizzy drink. Lemonade is Sprite/7-Up, while cloudy lemonade is the kind made with lemons and sugar. Wrap your leftovers up in clingfilm or tin foil. The dessert course is called pudding, even if it is cake or ice cream. Aluminum is pronounced "Al-e-min-yum" and a paper towel is kitchen roll. Your put your rubbish in the bin and you cook on the hob, not the stove. When you need to vacuum your house, you need to hoover.


Your buddies are you mates, and a guy is a bloke. Your grandma is your nan, while your mom is your mum. A senior citizen is an OAP (old age pensioner). A jerk is a tosser. A woman of questionable morals (aka slut) is a slag, but to slag off is to badmouth someone behind their back. Lovely and brilliant are the most typical adjectives, and are synomous with great or awesome. If you are going to a shady area or encounter some scary looking people, it is dodgy. A chav is a low class person who wears designer rip-offs, big tacky jewelery, and lots of tracksuits. A hoody is a young trouble maker. Someone who is overweight is a salad-dodger, likewise someone with questionable personal hygiene is a soap-dodger. A bald man is a slaphead. If you are happy about something, you're chuffed. When you are really sad you are gutted. A child talking back to their mum is being cheeky. Drinking too much is getting pissed, blotto, hammered. Being tired is being knackered. You wish someone a "Happy Christmas". Of course soccer is football, and they don't have games, they have matches which are played on the pitch, not the field. Their fans are called hooligans and their coaches are called managers or gaffers. When you've made a mistake, you have made a cock-up. If someone is being silly or crazy, you tell them not to be so daft. If you are astonished, you are gobsmacked; if you are complaining than you are whingeing.

If you need ten pounds, you need ten quid. If you are broke you are skint. A scheme refers to any type of plan, as in "the teachers scheme to help the children".

You refer to your weight in stone, which is 14 pounds.

I could go on and on, but I'll guess that you are bored now and stop. As you can see, it is almost a different language altogether! There are also words that are only spoken by the "lower or working classes", and upper class people do not use them. Britain is still very much a class-based society, and what you wear, drive, and say can be very telling to other British of your background. An example of this is "serviette". A serviette can refer to a paper napkin, but it is a non-U word, meaning it is only used by the lower class and an upper class would never utter such a word.

Merry Christmas from the Family

Neither mom nor dad got drunk at our Christmas Party, even though we were drinking homemade eggnog. (bonus points for those of you who get the reference!), but a grand time was had by all. (BTW, they don't do eggnog here apparently. Danny & I adore it, so I've gotten good at making it just like grandma used to. But we like it with lots of brandy!).

We had our friends Mike & Beth over for dinner of Christmas Eve, and then we all went to the vigil Mass that evening. Kate found it hilarious that the Angel in the Christmas play had tinsel on her head.

We opened some presents that night, and then headed off to bed to wait for Santa.
Children here leave Mince pies out for ol' SC, but we're old skool and did traditional cookies for the big man and carrots for the reindeer. They also leave their stockings on their headboard here, but Kate didn't want Santa to come into her room while she was sleeping, so we stuck to leaving them on the mantel.

Kate models her new princess slippers, courtesy of Mike & Beth. She adores them:








We were anticipating an early start the next morning, but both of the kids slept in.
Kate ran upstairs to our bedroom and said "Daddy! It's Christmas!!". We went downstairs to the reception room where the tree is, and Kate thought that Santa Claus was still going to be here. We explained to her that he just comes and goes, and was probably in Kansas at that time, visiting Baby Alex.

Santa brought Kate her much-asked for and much-anticipated suitcase, which brought shrieks of delight. She can't wait for our next trip so that she can bring her own bag! He also brought this little pop-up tent for both Kate and Michael, which may just be the best gift ever for cold, rainy London. It folds up tiny in an instant, and the kids have a BLAST playing in it.


Just like I used to do when I was little, Kate distributed all the presents to everyone and gave orders on who should open what when. However, unlike I used to do, she also announced what each present was as she gave it to them: "Here Daddy, open this. It's a bunch of underwear. Here Michael, open your fire engine toy. Daddy, you can open your DVD now". So much for surprises!


Kate was pleased that Santa remembered Dexter too:





After we got dressed, we took a car service over to Mike&Beth's house for Christmas dinner. The tube does not run on Christmas Day, so we indulged in a chauffeured car, which we never do. It is soooooo much easier to just hop in the car with the two kids vs. trekking it on the tube with the buggy in the cold weather. I've really started to yearn for a car lately, but it is just too much trouble and expense.
We had a delicious dinner of turkey with all the trimmings. There was another couple there who is Muslim, so Beth kindly made a halal turkey to accommodate their dietary needs. It was delicious, and I think that it was their first "traditional" turkey dinner! Obviously, they don't observe Christmas as a holiday, but R said she likes to celebrate for just about any good reason, which is a fun attitude to have, I think.

Back home, and then the kids fell into bed with visions of sugarplums dancing in their heads.