Big House in the Little Woods

Did I tell you about how good my sweet Lili was on that international flight?  Did you hear me bragging about what a little star she was throughout all of our journeys, flight connections and hotel stays?  She was an absolute charmer and made friends everywhere we went.  Even the macho Scotsman who sat on the other side of her on the long flight from Heathrow was playing peek-a-boo before the 81/2 hours was up.  I was ever so grateful for this, because I know that things could have gone very differently.

In fact for the last five days, things have been very different.  Lilianna Gwyneth is having a hard time coping with these American germs and viruses.  I haven't heard so much screaming since Justin Bieber came to town.  Additionally I have become a walking human-Kleenex.  Have you ever tried unpacking several hundred boxes whilst holding a snot-dripping, hollering infant.  I'm sure you have, so you know what I'm on about.

Don't get me wrong, I am still in relatively good spirits (despite that little temper tantrum I threw in the car this afternoon when I shouted, "I can't take any more of this crying!!").  My (mostly) positive attitude can be attibuted to what a lovely place this appears to be.  The people are friendly.  The temperatures are perfect, and the view from my bedroom window is darn near heavenly.  This morning I was tiredly feeding a grouchy baby in our bed, when I looked up and saw a beautiful, brown deer tiptoeing across the woods in our backyard.  She lingered for several minutes while I sat perfectly still, not wanting to disrupt the magic.  Later in the day I sat with all three girls on our back porch swing.  As we swung, I looked up and saw treetops, blue skies and a few wispy, white clouds.  I could so get used to this, y'all.

Hopefully I will have some photos soon.  I have misplaced the USB cord that goes with my camera, so I am trying to sort that...

Until then, I leave you with this, the state motto of Michigan: "Si Quaeris Peninsulam Amoenam Circumspice."
(If you seek a pleasant peninsula, look around you."

I Left My Brain on Aisle 7

We have been back in the Land of Plenty for a week now.  I know it is the Land of Plenty because the backsides are much larger here on average than they are in the UK and because the grocery store here is about 400 acres in size.  Emma, Lili, and I went to our local supermarket on Thursday where we found ourselves feeling completely overwhelmed and over-stimulated.  I actually felt my brain lock up on the cereal aisle where there appeared to be thousands of varieties of flakes and puffs and o's.  Emma and I scanned the aisle back and forth and up and down.  "Where is the Raisin Bran, Emma?"

"I don't know, Mom!!  There it is!  No, wait, that's raisin-something else."  We were struggling.  My fellow Americans, y'all are completely spoiled for choice!  I had forgotten there could be so many different kinds of cake mixes and cookies and crackers and juice drinks and, oh, the list goes on!  I have now been to the grocery store twice.  Both times I have spent hours wandering around feeling utterly bewildered.  Don't worry though.  I have no doubt that I'll be racing around that place like a pro in no time.  I'm still an American.

I was expecting this sense of bewilderment.  They even have a name for it.  It's called "reverse culture shock."  I have read about it, and I was prepared for it.  After living in the UK for five years, I knew that the American lifestyle was indulgent and even decadent compared to much of the rest of the world.  What I was not prepared for was being introduced to my former indulged American self from five years ago...

We closed on our new house on Tuesday evening.  A truck load of our "stuff" that was packed up five years ago and placed in storage was delivered (finally) on Thursday morning.  Wow.  We had a lot of stuff.  Living overseas apparently taught me the value and beauty of living more simply.  I didn't realize that my values had changed so much.  As I unpacked boxes and boxes of superfluous material nonsense, I immediately began to feel the burden of it all.  So for the last three days, when I haven't been soothing a very unwell Lili (she is processing new American germs and viruses, it seems), I have been sorting and purging... all the while wondering, "Was there any kitchen appliance/ gadget bandwagon we didn't jump on??"  How on earth did we survive in the UK for five years without the "Set it and Forget it" at-home rotisserie machine??  Somehow the new Meredith made it through the last five years with only a good set of pots and pans, a few proper kitchen knives, some nice baking dishes, an electric kettle and a roasting pan.  We ate well, and didn't miss that George Foreman Grill at all.

Who would have guessed that the most shocking thing I'd come across after moving home would be me?  Not I!  I think this has been a rare opportunity.  I am busting out all over the place with self-discovery y'all.  Don't worry though; I will clean it all up when I'm done.

Love,
Meredith

I Think I'll Miss You Most of All, Scarecrow.

I began writing this before we left the UK, but never published.  Now we are all safely in Michigan, in our new house, surrounded by boxes and chaos, but that is another story...

This is much worse than those tearful goodbyes at summer camp back when I was a kid. Although it is a bit similar… I have forged a somewhat new way of life immersed in a different culture far away from mom and familiarity. I have developed a few deep friendships and even adopted a “surrogate family.” What would I have done without the Collinses during my postpartum nightmare? I have picked up bits and pieces of a new language and am even taking home the best souvenir ever… a Welsh-born little girl.


I will miss the vibrant green of Wales when I am driving through our different-green American countryside. I will not miss navigating down those narrow British lanes, but I will miss the charming places to which they led, and I will miss the friendly faces that were waiting there.

Saying goodbye was just as hated and bittersweet as I expected it to be last Sunday.  I didn’t really believe it was real until our taxis pulled up (yes, there were two of them due to the numbers of people and bags and cats we were transporting). I, then, had to say goodbye to our lovely neighbors, "the Geraints" and to the Collinses, who stuck by us until the bitter end helping us clean and clear out our house. There were gut-wrenching embraces at that last minute, and I wiped away more than a few tears as we drove away from the waving Collinses in our driveway.

The next morning the five of us, twelve pieces of luggage, and our cat travelled across six time zones to Chicago and then on to Michigan. We made it all in one piece, and a new adventure began...

To Be Continued

Mama Carson's Sex Ed Tips...

You asked for it, Shay...
First of all, let me begin by saying that I am, by no means an expert on sex or sexual education, but I think I am off to a pretty decent start with my lot.  So here are a few of my tips listed for you handily in bulleted form (as requested).

• Forget about "the talk."  Children should have innumerable talks with their parents about sex starting as soon as they are old enough to have questions.  If you wait until little Johnny is thirteen to have "the talk," you will be far too late and far too embarrassed to effectively communicate.  Talking about sex will feel completely normal and natural if it is commonplace in your house from day one.  I have told my daughter Emma, "If you have questions, don't worry about saying something rude.  You're not going to say anything I haven't heard before.  Also, if you hear something from other kids that confuses you, please come and ask me or Dad.  We can surely give you more accurate information than an eight-year-old at school."  Emma agrees that this all sounds perfectly sensible.
• Teach kids the proper names for their body parts.  I think it's also okay to use cute nickames, but kids should know about their bodies including: head, shoulders, testicles and toes.  When Emma was two she knew that she had a 'gina and that her Dad had a 'peanut.' Close enough.
• Answer their questions (in an age-appropriate fashion), and stop when they are satisfied.  When a three year old asks where babies come from, you needn't go into the hot and heavy details of sex on the beach after too many margaritas (not that you would.)  Most three year olds are happy to hear, "You grew inside Mommy's tummy, and then you were born on your birthday."  Some will ask, "How did I get out?"  So answer the doggone question lest you have a ten year old who thinks he burst out of his mother's belly button while she was sunbathing one afternoon. Some (like my daughter Emma at age 3) will continue to push, "But how did I get IN there??" So...answer the question.  I told Emma about the very basic mechanics of intercourse, and then she happily chirped, "Oh, okay" and skipped back to her Barbies.  No big whoop, apparently.
• When kids are older, don't act shocked or squeamish when they ask you about serious, advanced-level junk that would make your granny's toes curl.  If you freak out, little Sally won't come and ask you next time.  Wouldn't you rather be the one explaining it instead of that 8th grade boy in the black leather jacket on the backseat of the school bus.  If kids are comfortable asking you, you are able to insert your family's moral values into the explanation.  My 8 year old daughter Emma already knows a) what sex is and b) that she is waiting until she is at least 25 and married to a fabulous person whom she deeply loves to have it.  That's the plan we are all happy with right now, at least.
• Give them accurate information.  If you don't, then really what is the point?  I dread the day that one of my little darlings comes home and asks me what a &%*# job is, but when they do, I will do my best to explain it without turning beet red.  If I am asked, it also means I get to explain that, despite what Bill Clinton may have said, this activity IS a kind of "sexual relations" and shouldn't be done casually.  Fortunately we are not there yet.
• Monitor what kids are viewing on TV and at the movies.  Your 10 year old daughter should NOT be going to see the new Sex and the City movie with you... no matter how mature you think she is.  My husband will attest to the fact that I get extremely annoyed when I see parents dragging little kids out to adult-themed movies at the cinema.  Let kids be kids.  If you don't have a babysitter or a granny to look after Junior, you should be going to see Toy Story rather than I Know Who You Did Last Summer.  Come on!  Isn't this common sense?  That movie is rated PG-13 for a reason.  A 10-year-old should be protected from having to mentally process all of that stuff... in my humble opinion.
• Be comfortable with your own body.  (Yes, this is totally easier said than done.)  For us, it comes pretty easily.  I grew up in a house with just my mom, so nakedness was no big deal.  I still tend to trot around the house half dressed pretty regularly (much to my neighbor's horror, I imagine).   All of my girls still shower with their Dad and think nothing of it.  You don't have to be a happy hippy, but try not to model embarrassment for your children.  All of this free-spiritedness at my house means I got to walk in on a discussion about dudes' body parts between Sophie and her Dad last week.  She later explained to me, "Some people call them balls, but Dad says that is a grown-up word.  I should call them tentacles."
• Finally, nurture little girls and their feelings about their girly parts.  This is obviously a big one at our house.  There is a LOT of negativity out there in the world about women's bodies.  Little girls should be taught how to care for and about their bodies.  I think the parents of girls need to actively combat some of the nasty notions and misconceptions that are "out there."  Never refer to a little girl's genitalia as the stuff that is "down there" as though it were something too horrible to speak of.  You needn't refer to her va-jay-jay as a beautiful flower or cover her bedroom walls with Georgia O'Keefe prints, but little girls need be taught at home that their bodies are fantastic, amazing, and capable of miraculous things.  Banish any ideas about girls being dirty or smelly "down there" PLEASE!  I hope I haven't alienated any of you mommies of little boys.  I don't have any little boys of my own, but from what I can gather, most little boys (and big boys) don't need much help loving their penises.  Enough said.

Enough with the bullets, here comes a charming anecdote.  When Emma and I had our fabulous late night chat on Saturday, the topic of sex came up when Emma asked about my birth control pills which are on my nightstand.  "What are those for?" she asked.  I told her what they were and the conversation continued sounding something like this:

Emma: But Mom, you know how a baby gets made.

Me: Yes, I believe I do.

Emma: So just don't do that.  Then you don't need to take those pills.

Me: Sometimes moms and dads do have sex even when they aren't trying to make a baby.

Emma: (absolutely confounded) WHY?

Me: Well, Emma, it's really nice when you're married and in love.  It makes two people feel very close and lovely toward each other.

Emma:  (after a brief thoughtful period) Does Dad think it's nice too?

Me:  Yes, Dad thinks it's really nice.

Emma: Hmmm, interesting.

The conversation continued for quite a while, and when it winded down and we naturally drifted on to a different topic, I felt so pleased that we had had this talk with a minimum of awkward moments.  At one point Emma clammed up and didn't want to ask what the word "sex" meant because she thought it was rude.  I pounced on this teachable moment with glee, and cleared up her misconceptions.  As I drifted off to sleep that night I felt so satisfied about the fact that I am raising a daughter who, at this point, feels free to talk to me about practically everything.  Yay.

Home is Where the Heart Is

Last night I had a lovely small "leaving party" at the Collins's house.  It was a perfect evening.  Friends gathered for a chilled out evening in the garden where the atmosphere was warm and pleasant.  We chatted, ate Joanna's organic homegrown strawberries, and passed Lili around like a parcel at a children's birthday party.  At the end of the evening, the ladies presented me with a beautiful floral Cath Kidston tablecloth to take back to the US.  Do they know me or what?  I was completely surprised and giddy.

All that being said, my favourite part of the evening happened after the party was over and involved the little smiling cutie pie whose picture is situated at the top of this posting.  When we got home, it was past every little girl's bedtime.  Sophie and Lili went to bed quite easily, but as usual, Emma lingered longer than necessary, brushing her teeth painstakingly slowly in my bathroom.  In the end she ended up flopping down on my bed and the two of us had the best, extemporaenous girly chat I've had in a long time.  We discussed sex (which isn't what she thought it was), relationships and religion and had a good and proper cwtch, making Emma the happiest little girl this side of the Atlantic.  By eleven thirty I could hardly keep my eyes open.  I turned off the light and didn't bother to make her go back to her own bed.  When George arrived back at home about and hour later (finally returning from HIS final work "leaving do"), he carried that gangly, happily sleeping princess back to her own bed.

Emma and I really needed that quality time, and she also reminded me that although I am leaving a lot a great things behind here in Wales, I am taking ALL of the most important and wonderful things with me...

“Home is not where you live, but where they understand you.” ~Christian Morganstern

I Don't "Do" Goodbye

Lili had a big night out in Barry last night.  She helped us celebrate Leanne's 40th birthday.  Disco lights and sparkly mylar balloons are a baby's best friend... 

Wow!  She was impressed, as Sophie would say.

On a more somber note, there are only two weeks between me and a long flight to Kalamazoo.  (Ok, I'm not actually going to Kalamazoo, but it's in the same general region, and isn't it just fun to say Kalamazoo.  Go on... "Kalamazoo-zoo-zoo-zoo-zoo.")  I have only two weeks left to soak in all that is Wales.  Last night when George (and Lili) and I went to that birthday party, I was very aware that it would probably be last time I saw most of those lovely people.  If you know me, you know that I don't care for tearful goodbyes.  I really cannot even face tearful goodbyes.  I am always afraid that if I start, I won't be able to turn off the tap.  Please don't tell me goodbye.  Let me leave with my digntiy and my mascara in tact.  You are, however, allowed to hug me and say, "See you later."  "Alligator" is optional.  Have we now clearly established the ground rules? 

I know I've got a lot of "goodbyes" ahead of me in the next two weeks, so I need to make sure we're all on the same page here!  And just so you know, here is what Lili thinks about it all...

"Saying Goodbye, Why is it sad?  Makes us remember the good times we had.  Much more to say, foolish to try.  It's time for saying goodbye."  -The Muppets (just before they "took Manhattan")

I Wanted a Baby!!

For years we hemmed and hawed about having another baby.  We knew it would be lots of work.  We feared it might negatively impact the dynamics of our family.  We never dreamed it would wreak such havok on my body, but that's another story.  Finally, two Christmases ago, we decided, YES, let's have another baby... someone little and sweet who coos and giggles.  What we got, although wonderful, was not what we were expecting.  Lili is a baby who does not fancy being a baby.  She has something to prove.  She crawled at seven months, stood up a week later, and appears downright annoyed that we expect her to be a "baby" for an entire year. 

See the above photo??  This is a rarity.  Unless she is starving and being offered something exceptionally delicious, Lili will NOT take food off of a spoon offered by someone else.  She has also given up her high chair.  After wrestling her into it several times and receiving her telepathic message: What the helicopter do you think you're doing putting me in this chair designed for babies??, she is now in a booster seat at the table just like the rest of us.  And she is very happy about that.

So now I have a cupboard and freezer full of pureed baby food that are of no use to us.  Mashed carrot and swede, anyone??  Lili has moved on.  Sliced berries, asparagus, toast fingers with cream cheese or butter and small bites of chicken and fish are among her favourite finger foods.  Kids!  They grow up too quickly these days!!

Blackberries... I did it MY way!