Tut Tut, It Looks Like Rain!

It's a drizzly day out there for us today, so I felt like now was a good time to remember the rainy days we hoped for with these pictures.  We needed some good puddles for our umbrella and boots to work right.  Maybe we could have waited for a better day, a better puddle and place.  I'm glad we enjoyed our first few rainy days here, though!

 

Of course I would have loved to have had a great old fashioned umbrella with the curved wood handle.  Knowing we were going to be abusing it something fierce, however, I went ahead and used the plain modern one we already had and could easily part with.  We had just as much fun with our prop as Christopher Robin did with his, I'd dare say.

There really were so many more charming scenes of the boy and his bear than Eddy and I were able to replicate.  I'll end on this homey series of a cozy evening at home, after a wet and fun day of play.

Nicknames, British Style

I've been keeping a mental list of some of the funny baby nicknames the British have for things.  Depending on the day they make me smile or roll my eyes.

Collin and/or I've heard these, or read them on signage and posters.  It's part of the culture, apparently, for perfectly grown up and proper people to use these phrases.  I first heard "bickie" from a lady on the TV who takes tea with members of the royal family, for example.

pulling a sickie--pulling a sick day at work
prezzie--present or gift
bickie--biscuit or cookie with tea
pickie pickie--picture
brekkie--breakfast

I'm sure there are more and maybe I can add to this list in time.

Silly, or what?

Adding more summer 2015:

rellie--relative
spreddie--spreadsheet

A Girl and Her Animals (Horsey, Piggy, and Teddies Nursery Rhymes)

Goldilocks and The Three Bears
as retold by Eddy

Goldilocks eats some of the daddy and the mom's then she eats all of the baby's.  Then Goldilocks came by and she goed into the bedroom and she fell asleep in the baby bed and then the three bears  came by and saw her asleep.  Then they woke her up.  Then she run away and they said, "rrrrarrr."  Then, the end.

Learning to Apologize

I have a temper.  Unless you've known me as closely as my family knows me (i.e. lived with me) you may think I'm relatively steady and gracious.  At least I hope you do!  I work hard to keep my temper under wraps.  I like to think I've grown and matured a lot more than my temper tantrums all growing up--and by that I mean until I was eighteen or nineteen.  I'm talking weekly stomping to my room fits and blowing up at my parents and siblings almost daily.  (So, so sorry!)  But the temper is always there, simmering under the surface, needing to be reminded to shush and stay put.

My children and husband mostly see the impatience side of my temper manifest.  I loose my patience pretty quick around 4:00 or when I'm at all hungry.  Or after the third time I've said something.  I snap.  I raise my voice (not always yelling or screaming or anything, but it's definitely louder than strictly necessary).  I recognize immediately I was out of line and try to cool it and apologize as soon as I'm ready to speak kindly.  I have to give myself time outs.  Overall, though, I feel on most days I'm doing ok.

However, recently I've had to apologize to two strangers for an unacceptable loss of temper.  It's really embarrassing.  I am mortified to have lost my dignity.  I've learned some poignant things for me to remember and teach my children, though, so I'm going to relive the situations here so I continue accountable.

First incident came a few months ago at our local leisure center (think rec center) where the boys take a football and a swimming class.  Each are weekly, so we are there two afternoons a week.  I love the lessons--the teachers are great.  The design and running of the center drive me crazy.  So inefficient.  I'd had problem after inconvenience after issue.  Little things, annoying things.  I let a lot just go.  I gently took care of what was most important to me.  Then came the second week in a row that the lift was out of order.  I bring our big comfy buggy, a bag with all the kids' stuff for their lessons, both their scooters, all our warm clothes and extras.  I'm talking a serious boat load of stuff.  I need that elevator ride down to the basement level.  There are two, but only one operates down.  The only staircase is narrow and twisty and there is a constant flow of traffic, including lots of small children.  I went over the the service desk and asked the lady there if there was another alternate route for buggies when the lift was out of order.  She said I'd have to carry the buggy down the stairs.  I asked if I could leave my buggy in a safe place on the main level.  She said no.  I said I would just put my buggy aside while I carried everything down the stairs then come back for it after my baby and all the things were out of it.  She apologized for the inconvenience but waved me away.  I put the buggy in a quiet corner.  She called over to me that I had to move it so some switch or something on the wall would be accessible (for the five minutes it would take me to come back?).  I lost my temper and told her the customer service at the leisure center was the worst I had ever encountered and that the situation was unacceptable.  I grabbed the stroller and carried the buggy--Eliza and all--down the stairs sideways forcing all upcoming traffic to go back down the stairs.  I was steaming mad.  During the lesson, though, I cooled down and realized that loosing my temper was uncalled for, despite my irritation at the situation and all the little things leading up to my annoyance at the place.  That lady did not deserve to have all my anger come out on her.  I realized I would have to apologize to her in front of my kids, if only for them to see that I could be wrong and make it right-ish.  So I did.  I went up to her on our way out and apologized for the tone and words.  Here's the thing, though.  She didn't know how to accept an apology and started in on explaining how the lift wasn't working and when that happened I'd have to use the stairs.  I cut her off rather tersely and said I understood that, I just wanted to say sorry for being unkind to her.  She still didn't accept my apology so I finally just had to smile and walk away, kind of irritated again.  Sigh.

Second incident was a couple weeks ago at the park.  It was during the holidays, so Collin was there too (which makes it the more embarrassing).  I'd been brusque with Eddy for lally-gagging getting ready to walk out the door so I had already made myself a little low on patience.  (I'd apologized to him.)  At the playground there was a set of grandparents and an extremely spoiled grandson.  I got some sense of the situation in my cursory glances at their interaction but they didn't really draw my attention until the boy was trying to climb on the large climbing structure, one with all those ropes strung together.  He was having a hard time and he was fighting against his grandpa who was trying to help him go higher when (to my opinion) he wasn't ready or confident to do so.  Davy and Eddy climbed up into the middle of the structure--far enough away to be out of his way, they thought.  But when they started jumping the ropes all over the structure started moving and the boy got understandably nervous.  The grandma went over and asked Davy and Eddy to please stop jumping, which they did.  But then the boy started yelling at them but froze physically.  He couldn't go up or down.  My boys were unsure of the situation so I went over to intervene.  That really was my intention, but then my temper spiked when the lady said, "Your sons are making my boy scared."  I said, "They've stopped jumping so he can get down now."  She said, "They were jumping and it frightened him."  I said, "you asked them to stop and they did.  So he can get down now.  I'll make sure they don't jump for a few minutes so he can get down."  I was talking over his yelling so I'm sure I sounded louder than I meant to.  The grandpa called over to me, "You don't need to yell.  What kind of example are you setting for your children, loosing your temper like that?"  What shreds were left of my temper after my children had been accused of making that other boy scared (which wasn't true to my eyes) totally left me then and I did loose my cool.  "I'm fine!"  I yelled, for real this time.  "You need to get him down NOW!  My children are trying to play and he's scared to be up there."  What came back, "There's no need to yell.  You're an adult, your children don't need to see you yelling."  He said all this in a perfectly monotone and cultured British accent.  "I'm fine!"  I repeated, stomping my foot (yes, I really did.  So mortifying.)  "Just get him down!"  The man muttered to his wife, "We're going to have an international incident on our hands soon."  That actually made me laugh with indignation through my anger.  But it snapped me out of it.  I turned to Davy and Eddy, who were watching in perfectly still fascination several feet up in the air.  "Boys, please go to the other side of the climbing structure."  The woman called out her final words, "I think that would be for the best."  I called back to my boys, feeling mean and petty, "Jump as much as you want over there."  I walked away shaking with humiliation and mama-tiger anger.  Being treated like a two year old has a way of making one act like one.  The smug superiority, insulting first my children's behavior (which was perfectly fine, again in my biased opinion), then treating me as an inferior, then getting a dig in to my nationality.  I was so mad.  But I realized after a little while that I had been wrong to yell and that they were hopelessly out of their league with their spoiled grandson (who continued to yell at his grandpa, then climbed higher than he was able, got totally stuck and had to be rescued by a random dad at the park, then ran circles around his grandparents, refused to mind and even disobeyed when ice cream and cake were offered as a bribe).  So before they left the park I went over and apologized to them for loosing my temper.  The lady started to rehash the situation, but I cut her off (knowing I was in no condition to calmly go over that again), and repeated I was simply offering an apology for my behavior.  The gentleman accepted my apology (but offered none in return.  Not that I deserved it, necessarily, but you know . . .)

And finally, here comes the What I've Learned.

Do not--repeat do not--try to rehash the situation.  With a stranger there is little reason to go over the incident again.  It's too fresh, too little benefit to start it all up again.  If you're in a long term relationship with someone you love and care about, of course you need to do a blow-by-blow to understand why someone said this or responded this way to that so that in future you can create a more productive environment for conversation and disagreement.  I've done this with my parents, with my husband, with my children to my personal growth.  I don't want to do this with a stranger I frankly hope never to see again.

Accept an apology graciously and simply.  All you gotta say is, "I accept your apology."  If you want and are able to say more, go ahead and say, "Thank you for coming to apologize.  That took bravery and I appreciate your maturity."  Something along those lines would always be welcome.

Honestly apologize for what you think you should apologize for.  I wasn't actually sorry that my children were jumping on the playground, as was totally within their right.  I wasn't sorry they stopped when asked, so politely.  I wasn't sorry I was miffed about the leisure center situation and service.  I was very sorry for my own behavior--my tone of voice and the childish words I threw around.

Honestly apologize in return, if you think that is right and generous.  I received no apology in return for either of mine.  It took a lot of grown-up guts for me to do that hard thing.  Maybe I didn't deserve an apology in return.  But if someone apologizes to me I feel compelled to think how I may have contributed to the situation and I usually have something to say sorry for as well.

There it is.  I have learned a lot about myself and that I need to keep a lid on it, that pesky temper of mine.  I've learned how to make apologies a little better (unfortunately I keep having to practice this skill, ugh.) and how to teach my children to give and accept them just a little better.

There's Always Pooh and Me

There's something about old trees that make a place feel deeply of slow and steady life-long-lived.  A place to feel small and protected.  Almost all the magic of Winnie the Pooh happens in the woods.  We live in the middle of one of the most urban cities in the world, yet the Royal Parks shine like little green gems.  The trees in them are old and knotty.  The weeds are allowed to grow wild and wispy in strategic areas.  Light filters and is diffused through the clouds and leaves.  Our special place last summer was a quiet slope of Primrose Hill, tucked up and away from the foot traffic and perfect for our own Hundred Acre Woods.

To iconic door-in-the-trunk was one of the first images that came into my mind when I was mulling over this project.  After weeks of thinking of over the top ways to make the image happen and crossing out each one by one because none were at all practical.  I was sure I'd have to let the door in the trunk be a blip in my dreams.  Then I bought something from IKEA that had a good sized piece of cardboard.  I realized that I'd have to adjust my expectations (almost always the answer . . .) and looked at it this unassuming piece of recycling with a more child-like imagination.  It's a far cry from the fairytale I wanted to recreate, but for our intents and purposes I think we fulfilled our goal of making a gate from one world into another.

Funny anecdote about this one, though.  We were in Regent's Park, in a forgotten corner where I thought no one would pay any attention.  I prefer to think no one is watching as I go to "work" as the reality of my little shoots is the definition of pandemonium.  It was a little bit windy and that "door" kept blowing over, so I'd have to run over and help Eddy set it up again, then run back for the shot.  After a few times of this I heard a giggle off to the side.  I looked over and there was a little old British lady (you can tell by their clothes, you know, before they ever even open their mouths) watching the snafu unfold.  She giggled again and asked if I wanted a hand.  Before I knew what was happening she had come behind the cardboard box and was crouching down to help hold it still.  I now kick myself for having deleted all the shots of her behind the box, with her wrinkly hand grasping around the side.  I thanked her most politely (though she hadn't really been any help, besides helping me laugh about the absurdity!) and she asked if I was a magazine photographer.  I was beyond flattered but wondered if she'd gotten a clear picture of the chaos that was behind me--Eliza and Davy running wild and crazy, our assorted scooters and buggy strewn all over--because that could only belong to a non-professional!  We chatted for a little while and she was as charming as could be, in her eccentric and quirky British way.  I'm glad that we drew the attention of someone, after all.

Paper Airplanes (and thoughts on making family videos)

I'm not sure how best to respond to all my family and friends who kindly take moments out of their life to comment on mine. I wish I more often made a reply directly back to you, so it's more like a give and take, fair conversation. Because I love when you do write me a note. Makes my day! (No obligation to give me more--it's nicer when there is no expectation on either side, right?) I feel too silly doing some sort of FAQ answer because, well, I'm little old me and this is a small family journal that some lovely people are generous enough to peek in on. I am aware when I jot my thoughts down that I am in a funny position in regards to my audience. You'll notice (if you look at all) that I waver regularly between writing solely for myself to process thoughts in my own head, journaling for my children and their children--family history, eventually, and for you the omnipresent readers. It's strange to not have only one audience. I like the flexibility, but I wonder how it will read fifty years from now. Will my grandchildren (already planning on 'em!) be at all interested? Or will this conversation I'm having right now with myself and ya'll be too strange? Because the comments don't get "slurped" into the software where I'm putting together hardcopy books, this may seem very one-sided to future parties. But it's not for me, here, now! I do see this as a lovely (if one-sided and narcissistic) continual conversation with those I love best and are most supportive of me and my family.

Whew, I don't know where all this comes from. I was just going to try to get around to responding particularly to a few questions/comments my friends have made. Today, since posting yet another video project, I wanted to put some notes about how and why. So, here goes: Since getting my fantabulous Canon camera I have been slightly obsessed at capturing moments in movement. Most of what you've seen in the past few months--all of our trips (after our first to Bath/Stonehenge) and a few of the short, spontaneous ones--have been shot with the Canon 5D. Before then I used my (slowly and surely dying) iPhone4. Some of my favorites of those were the book reading, peek-a-boo, the cookies. I liked doing the bus and tube ones and I think they are fun for my kids to watch, but they aren't necessarily my favorite artistically.

I learned a lot from using the point and shoot camera phone, though, about timing and angle and capturing the real stuff I wanted in the videos. Once I added in the focus and exposure and all the other technical bits on the big fancy camera I at least had a sense of where I wanted to point the thing. Because Davy, Edward, and especially Eliza love to watch the family videos (and they get exemption from my pretty strict show-time limits) I get to analyze my work a lot. I still feel proud of some of my work. I feel most fond of those that came to me in a flash and were the cathartic creative process of an afternoon of shooting and an evening of editing (e.g. cookies, books, peek-a-boo). A lot I would love to re-do, but know I won't so instead learn to love for the sake of growing and being good enough.

Like I said, I love the themed projects that are done in a whizz and a bang, like I got blessed with a streak of creative lightning and had to serve as a slave to the muse (theatrical much? Probably time for bed . . .). The meaningful ones of the kids' real-life snippets--where there is totally piles of unironed clothes in the background and who knows when they were last bathed--are pretty special to us too. Those accumulate only over time, naturally. I caught up best I could--then just today found several other toddler Davy gems. I'm trying to now stay on top of the game with a vague idea of making some more of those truly home-videos at some point. I upload them into my program immediately I pull them onto my computer so I don't loose them and just pray my computer doesn't crash. So far so good, those random shots are tidily away in a file to come back to later. It doesn't burden me, though, like other unfinished projects. I'm happy for the gathering process.

One of my friends, who is a professional videographer and married to one as well, told me very early on in my little journey, that people generally stop watching these types of videos after a minute--max.   I find this to be true of myself, unless I know and love the people or it is extremely well done and gripping.  Since I do this mainly for our own personal use and my children think longer is better for any show, I stretch the time a bit.  I do find that the best thing for me to do to cut down to the very best parts is to find a song that is a minute and a half or shorter, then work the clips down to fit with the music.  I get more brave and brutal with my editing when I'm limited to a song's arch. 

I'm wrapping up now. Except for one last thing. In the travel videos the majority are big camera with all the fancy depth and color. But I inserted Collin's perspective when he had a clip from a phone and I can only barely see the difference. The whole picture comes together nicely.

Oh, two last things. I use iMovie because it was there and is the first one I became comfortable with, but I just downloaded the Quicktime Pro so I may fiddle with that program. The learning curve was a little hard for me and I had Collin showing me how to do everything.  Enough time and grit and it is now easy and enjoyable to process the movies.  And I (now) pull my background music off the website Freeplay.com.

And because this is too-talkative-mood me:  finally, finally, I'm not asserting myself as an expert here at all!  I've simply spent too many hours on this new pet hobby and am starting to see life in little moving clips as well as still pictures.  Seeing how my children love to watch themselves and each other--and remembering how much my siblings and me loved seeing ourselves and our parents when they were little, before memories are so individual--I feel it's a worthwhile effort of my time and energy.  I'd love to see some that you make of your family, if you share!

Piecing Pictures Together (snapshots catch up)

I still have all these iPhone pictures on my assorted devices from the last time I purged.  So in a matter of minutes we'll see a range of fall to more wintery activities.

You know, it's a running joke that the British talk about the weather an inordinate amount of time.  They tease themselves about how much they complain, and I think it's true from what I've observed.  The thing is, I love the weather here!  The grey days are nice in their way and the sun shine is always welcome too and the more glorious to see. Cold but not steal-your-breath-away bitter cold.  No snow.  Rain, yes, but apparently it's not actually the rainiest city in Europe.  With the right clothes we can totally take anything!

I love the rare chances I get a few minutes one-on-one with one child.  Eddy helped me run some errands for Davy's birthday celebration preparation.  We spent most of the time on a bus and in a store, but it was still special just us.  

Then one Sunday I looked down the pew halfway through church and realized Davy and I were unintentional twinners.  He's still young enough to think that's cool.  :)

We went through a couple weeks of sick, even at home before and after and between the Fall trips.  Those were sad days, but cuddle-filled days.  Knock on wood, so far in the new year we've been remarkably healthy and I'm praying that continues.

The other day I had my phone out texting a friend when the children began to read together on my bed.  Davy asked, "Are you going to take a picture of us?" because I guess I always take a picture of them reading together.  I had to remind him that I'm taking a break and wouldn't this time but would probably the first time in February.

A couple of foot pictures.  Not usually my thing, but trying on mama's shoes and the stripe-sock-club are.

Davy borrowed my phone one day to write Daddy a text.  So funny that this is our children's world, even resisting it doesn't completely take away the reality.  Technology is here to stay as far as I can tell.  We'll combat that by reading ever more books.

 

 

 

Eliza is so much further into the toddler tantrums already than I remember the boys being.  Maybe that's just my memory at fault, maybe it's just her.  Either way, these things are beastly.  She does better when sleeping and eating well, communicating and getting her way, of course.  Short one or the other of those needs and we've got a serious problem.

The Paddington Bears are gone from London.  I heard from my mom that the movie is out in the states.  We haven't seen it yet (waiting for the UK version of Redbox, I guess!) but we sure miss those bears popping up around the corner.

A couple weekends ago Eliza and I took a long afternoon rest while the boys went on a choose-your-own adventure.  The boys got to choose a tube stop--as random as could be--and Collin would escort them there to see what they could see.  Elephant and Castle is one of the coolest names, but, in Collin's words, "Now we know we don't ever have to go there again!"

Last Saturday morning we went into central London to ice skate.  Every year there are several rinks set up in London at pretty swanky places.  I'd love, for example, to go skating at the Tower of London.  This year we were late to the game and there were really only tickets available at a very few places and times.  We went to the courtyard at Somerset House, which is a museum and really beautiful.  Still, maybe next year we'll remember sooner and try our luck earlier in the season.  If the kids even want to go!  The first moment of Collin and two boys coming out on the ice was one I will never forget.  Bambi legs everywhere.  So frightening and so hilarious.  Collin's a good skater (all those years of roller blades!) but luckily an ice guard came to the rescue to help the kids to the smaller rink and the balancing bears.  Davy got pretty steady with the help of his little polar bear buddy, but Eddy was having a rough go of it even then.  Collin told me my self-imposed photo ban was lifted for the morning because he was asking me to do it and I didn't want him distracted while on the ice.  So yeah, that's my justification.

It's so amazing how a place can grow on you.  We intended to love London.  We loved it sort of before we came.  Walking the streets and talking with people (and most of all overhearing other people's conversations!  I'm totally one of those people who eavesdrop.) makes all the difference in the world to feeling a place belongs a bit to you. 

For a little while there Davy would pick up the scriptures on his own and read to himself.  Then our routine got turned upside-down and I haven't seen that in a few weeks.  Maybe I'll show him this picture and remind him of how sweet that was.

There was a rainbow ending at our apartment building at the end of one rainy autumn evening when we were all walking home from the park.  Collin and I laughed about it, knowing how much I don't love where we live.  That, even, has grown on me a tad.  And when the choice comes down to the cost of a move or an adventure I think I'll know which one I pick.

The zoo, the zoo.  I forget, maybe these pictures have already shown up here?  Anyway, we love the London Zoo.  Always have a great time there.  Always want to go back.  Except for a certain point on the big hill to climb on the walk home when I always hear, "Why do we have to go to the zoo?  I hate walking this hill home!"  At least we are consistent.

Brother selfies on my phone and making dens/forts in the woods.  Good times.

We are really learning to get out in almost any weather, at least once a day.  Davy took that picture of me so I'm going to include it.

Explore, explore, explore some more.  But please go to bed when I say!

That's not the worst it's been with the marker, either.  The kids are so cute with their Pledge of Allegiance.  The boys know the words (though probably not what half of them mean) and Eliza always salutes.

Guy Fawkes day is perhaps the biggest bonfire and firework day of the year.  The kids were glued to the windows the whole evening and I worried they wouldn't ever get to sleep.  Boy, do the British love their pyrotechnics, though.  Seriously at least once a week we have a random showering of fireworks in our neighborhood.  Like, the big stuff.  Airborne shooting stars from a few houses over, just because.  It's so funny to me, having grown up in a pseudo-desert with pretty strict laws of when ground fireworks were allowed, to see it.

We felt privileged to feel a small part of the WWI memorial year last year.  Besides the Tower of London poppy exhibition, my favorite memory was the Sunday the whole city wore flowers and we had a special two minute silence in our sacrament meeting.  I get choked up just thinking of it again.  It was a profound thing to consider the generations affected by that war.

Pumpkin smashing.  More reading.

Yogurt beard and hand-me-downs from fun friends.  Lucky girl.

I'm turning into my mother, carrying my camera safe under my coat to protect it from the rain but still have it accessible.  I was always mortified when my mom would do it.  I'm still aware enough to feel a little silly about how I must look.  But I'm grown-up enough to ask Collin to take a picture and post it online.

More leaves and raincoats.

School work going well.  We look a motley crew on our way to the leisure center for football and swimming lessons.  Now it's getting staying light a little more each day, but for a while there it was totally dark so early, but the kids still had plenty of play in them.  We had to get creative with getting out.

Eddy waits all day for pajama time so he can dress up and show off his sweet moves.