Chalk and Cheese

As in, when a British friend of mine saw Owen she said, "Wow! Your kids are chalk and cheese." (Translation: They couldn't be more different.)

Owen is eight months old today. He's officially speed-crawling. If there's some overlooked crumb, choking hazard or Margot toy, he's on it in a flash. He stalks Margot, chasing her around, trying to play with her. Occasionally, she obliges. Mostly she bellows. Fortunately, she's at nursery for three hours every morning so I let Owen play with her stuff then. I'm fully aware that will cause me trouble later.

When Margot does acknowledge his existence, Owen beams. He flashes his four teeth and giggles uncontrollably. It's just hysterical when they both get the sillies.

We think Owen is approaching 22 pounds and Margot is nearly 26 pounds. We might need to start a pool to see when he overtakes her. They've started wrestling. Margot sits on him, and I panic. "Be careful. He's just a baby." Owen just cracks up and gives her the straight-arm. He's not exactly delicate.

We're just entering the clingy, Mommy stage. When I leave the room, he freaks out. As he's generally pretty social, I'm hoping this phase will pass quickly.

Here are a few slice of life photos.

The Harvest Festival

Margot's nursery held their annual Harvest Festival today in the Anglican Church within which school is held.

The kids decorated shoe boxes and we went to Tesco and found some non-perishables to put in them. I explained to Margot that we were going to have a ceremony and offer thanks for the food and donate it to the needy. I went on about how there are people without Mommies and Daddies to make them nice meals and they go hungry. I talked about how nice it is to have a home where we can stay warm and dry. And, I reminded her that they were going to sing songs to make some needy people happy and know that they're loved. She thought about that for a minute. Then, she turns to me and says, "What do you wear to something like that?" She decided a dress might be appropriate. She thought some more. "Will there be clowns?"

So, the parents arrived at the church today and waited for the entrance of the students. They marched into the church carrying their decorated boxes with food, and they each placed their gifts on the church altar. Then, they sat in their seats lined up in front of the altar. The minister welcomed everyone and talked to the kids about food and the harvest, and the importance of saying thank you and sharing food. They fidgeted a lot. Then, the wee ones sang a bunch of food-related songs. Some yelled. Some, like Margot, sat like statues. But it was very cute.

The parents were all standing around taking photos and videos, myself included. Afterwards, one of the parents (a Brit) chastised another Mom (an American) for taking too many photos and using her Flash. He told her it was inappropriate and couldn't she just have waited at the end for a proper group shot (which never would have happened, by the way.) If his tone hadn't been so pompous, she might have let it go. Instead, she turned to him and said, "F*** you."

Ahh, so glad we're celebrating the Harvest together.

Rites of Passage: First Day of Nursery

Margot had her first day of nursery today. She's been in a frenzy all week about starting school. Every morning she burst into our bedroom at 6:30am asking, "Is today the day I start school?" Finally, the day arrived and she almost spontaneously combusted.

Nursery starts at 9:15am so we still had nearly three hours to go. I filled her with a big breakfast of pancakes, bacon and fruit. She fretted about her outfit, finally settling on hot pink t-shirt under a sundress with hot pink socks and hot pink sparkle shoes. She wore her monkey backpack and a purple sparkly headband (because the hot pink sparkle headband broke).

We took some pictures in front of our building and embarked on our 4-minute walk to school, with Owen in the buggy, oblivious to the major milestone. We arrived at school - the Crypt Room of the local Anglican Church - and waited for the doors to open. We were the first, but gradually a bunch of munchkins showed up - some confident alums and some nervous first-timers. The moms looked just as anxious as the kids.

The doors opened and the kids stampeded in. Margot found her hook and hung up her shoe-bag with a change of clothes, her jumper and her monkey backpack. She ran into the room and dove into all the activities - playdough, painting, legos, etc. She was frantically trying to experience everything in the first ten minutes.

A number of the new parents stayed for some transition time, including me. There are four teachers - three women and one man - for 24 students. Strangely, they never introduced themselves to the new students. Neither did they explain procedures like what to do if you have to go potty or that you have to find your nametag and drop it in the mailbox for keeping attendance. I mentioned this to some people, and they felt that was just typically British, fostering self-reliance. They are all kind and excellent caregivers, I just found that lack of structure a little disconcerting on the first day.

After about 20 minutes, I told Margot I was going to leave. She got a bit forlorn and her lips started to quiver. One of the teachers, Lizzie, immediately brought her to the reading corner and started reading her some stories. Margot was engrossed so I made my exit. I lingered outside a bit with some other Moms of new students, then we wandered away not sure what to do with ourselves. We went out for coffee and waited, checking our mobile phones for panic calls from the nursery. Nothing came.

We returned at 11:30am - school goes until 12:15pm but they had us come back early just in case. Margot spotted me through the window and made a break for it. As soon as she saw me, the tears started and we decided to call it a day. She was already clutching an invitation to a birthday party - a wizards and fairies party - in a few weeks.

When we got home, Margot tossed her shoes and backpack aside and threw herself on the floor. She looked like a hostage who, upon release and return to her home country, kneels on the tarmac and kisses the ground, shocked to ever be home again.

She seems to realize that she's going back to school on Monday and everyday. It's going to be a long week.

See more photos here.

Play That Funky Music White Boy

We went to the Prince concert last night at the 02 Millennium dome in London. What an amazing show. We knew we were in for a treat when Maceo Parker showed up for the first song. From the start, the platform-shoe'd-one - man, he is tiny - got the crowd all funked out.

The arena is the new corporate approach to concert-going. You arrive in a giant mall, with all these chain restaurants and bars in it. We ate at some generic Thai place. I ordered a vodka tonic with lime, and they have me a vodka tonic with tons of lime juice. I tried to choke it down, but it was gross. Guess you have to ask for fresh lime. We're still having weird ordering miscues at restaurants.

Anyway, we had a blast. His tickets were only 31 pounds - not like these other geriatric rockers who charge hundreds of pounds/dollars, and they barely make it through the set. Speaking of which, we're supposed to see the Police next weekend. We'll have to compare our teenage heroes, and how they're faring in their boomer years.