rain rain go away

come again... NEVER!

ugh. I know, I know. I should have been "prepared" for this weather. When most people think of London, certain images come to mind: Big Ben Parliament, double-decker buses, The Queen and usually the leader of the pack: rain. And boy have we had our share of rain. And wind. And more rain. I do think my gym comrade was accurate in his weather forecasting - summer graced us with her presence for two weeks, never to be seen again. Welcome back old man winter. *

Thankfully, we did have a short break in the torrential "showers" on Saturday for a few hours and we were able to walk to Regent's Park, where a large Green Fair was being held. At one of the organic children's clothing retailer tents, the saleswoman said how delighted she was to have summer back. Summer? Oh no - I looked down and took note of my attire - boots, jeans and a wool sweater.

So while the days are damp and dreary, we do have a little ray of sunshine who makes it all the more tolerable.

Charlotte's Mr. T picture (notice the naturally occurring Mohawk)

*Note: This post is not intended to deter visitors. We promise we will order beautiful weather, should you wish to venture to London in the near future.

Eggs, allergies and parties

So... we had quite the "exciting" day on Tuesday. Not only was I preparing for our first dinner party in London (yeah!), but I also had the pleasure of escorting Charlotte to the ER (A&E here in the UK). You see, I am not a worrisome person, but due to my allergy oddities, I have been slow with moving Charlotte into the solids phase. Allergies and choking are my TWO greatest areas of concern for this little bugger. I try to talk myself off the ledge, but I still have such anxiety about both issues. I'm working on it... but any suggestions are welcome. (I just can't fathom how someone can eat without teeth?)

I thought I would introduce Charlotte to scrambled eggs - I figured she needed a bit of protein after weeks of fruit and veggies. After one-half of a teaspoon of eggs, she began to cry incessantly and rub her eyes and pull at her ears. Within two minutes, her eyes started to swell shut and she had massive hives all over her face/neck. Yikes. Because I still haven't taken the Baby First-aid course, my only thought was to call 911 (999 in London) after not getting a connection with her GP. Perhaps I jumped the gun a bit too quickly, but the ambulance was here in a "quick" 25 minutes. Thankfully she was breathing fine and had started to settle down by the time help arrived. (Note to self, walking to the A&E is faster than getting a ride in the ambulance.) We took our first, and hopefully last, ambulance ride together to the hospital. She seemed to thoroughly enjoy it - go figure. Needless to say, she is highly allergic to eggs. Poor bugger, but nothing a little Prednisone, nursing and napping couldn't help to ease the pain... Looks like I will continue to be the only family member eating all of the bakes goods I have been making. ugh

On a culinary note, we did host a dinner "party" for three of Tim's co-workers who were in town from the PA office Tuesday evening. I can say "party" because when you only own 4 chairs and there are 5 people present, I call that a successful party! I whipped up fig and blue cheese stuffed pork tenderloin, brown and wild rice with fresh herbs, a mixed green salad with strawberries and candied walnuts and a Swedish apple pie. Tim told me the raisins in the pie are polarizing... but I think he just likes to use fancy words.

All in all, Tuesday was a successful day. I came home from the hospital with a healthy baby, we had a great time with Tim's co-workers, and I now have 3/4 of an apple pie to finish off...

All the small things

While this is the name of one of Tim's favorite bands' songs (Blink 182) and I now have the lyrics running through a loop in my head, I am actually referencing a small epiphany (of sorts) I had experienced this past week. If you like cheese, get the crackers (or biscuits, as the locals say) ready because you're in for a bit of a cheesy post this morning. And it you like quince, it goes really well with a nice cheeseboard.

Life just seems to happen. I prefer to move at a mile a minute and I'll be the first one to declare my extreme lack of patience. Tim will easily second this. I like to stay active, have an agenda and the thought of a "lazy Sunday" is sheer torture.  I do believe this may have changed a bit for me this past week.

The sunshine is in full force (though I hear our summer may have occurred and is now weaning, I hope these crazy Brits are wrong) and no better way to celebrate than to go to the park. At the park, Charlotte kept rolling herself off of the blanket and onto the grass. At first I could not grasp her fascination with the grass and was getting a bit annoyed after repeatedly trying to wrangle her back onto the safe space of the blanket, until it dawned on me. This is the first time she has experienced the feeling of soft, dewy grass on her warm skin. To see her excitement and intrigue from a mere blade of grass brought such a calming peace to me. Small things...

We went out to lunch on Sunday with two of Tim's co-workers and Charlotte was so well behaved, better than usual for her very active self. I was sitting next to an open window and I kept placing Charlotte's face by the open pane so she could feel the cool breeze. She couldn't get enough - Tim took her outside when she began to fidget a bit and all she wanted was to feel the wind on her cheeks and through her spikey hair. Small things...

And for the first time on Sunday, she wore a little sundress without tights. If only you could have seen the joy in her face when she felt the sun on her chubby little thighs for the first time. All the small things...

Too often, I don't take time to just stop, breathe and watch as I'm sure most people are guilty of the same crime. Having a child has changed this for me, as I  now slow down a bit to just be present in that moment. While I still don't like the idea of a "lazy Sunday", I am content knowing these are the days where memories are being made. But don't even think about carrying over to another day of the week!

Oh, he's so cute

Not once or even twice, but we hear this constantly from complete strangers.  From the grocery delivery man to the woman waiting in line at Starbucks to the woman crossing the street (pushing a stroller, with an infant BOY inside). And all too often I find myself consoling said stranger after telling them his name is Charlotte. "Oh don't worry about it, you can't tell when they are this age." Or, "I know, that purple jumper would look great on either a little boy or girl." Really? I'm starting to get a complex for Charlotte, as all of these inaccurate comments bring me back to the winter of 1984...

It was a dreary and dark winter in Maine that year, and I'm not talking about the weather. It was the winter that initiated my perpetual anxiety (sheer terror... ha, get it?) for the hairdresser and provides that dull pain in my side when strangers ask "How old is he?" in reference to Charlotte.  Sitting in the hairdresser's chair that infamous winter, the stylist kept cutting and cutting and cutting, until there was mere peach fuzz remaining. The final straw was when she asked me if I would like it spiked. SPIKED?  You're asking me if I - a 5 year old little girl - would like my hair SPIKED? I want hair so long that I can suck on it all day like my older sister does with her hair. And you're asking me if I want it spiked? At that, I made a mad dash for the bathroom and locked myself in there for what felt like days - just staring with horror and disbelief at the little boy-girl in the mirror. I'm still not sure how I was coaxed out of the bathroom, but I'm sure it had something to do with the mention of sprinkles and Dairy Queen. Unfortunately, proof of that life-altering event can be seen in a Christmas photo of my brother and I sitting on Santa's sleigh - the only way you can tell us apart is that I am the one wearing a dress. Oh yeah, and he has a long bowl-cut.  

So perhaps my complex for Charlotte is a bit over-exaggerated, but I can't help it. Have you seen her spikey hair? It seems all too familiar to me. The only comfort I have is knowing that the spike is unintentional, and that she's not old enough to understand those strangers aren't able to see her pink onesie underneath all of her Padres gear.

I'm 7 months old today ya know

Charlotte turned 7 months old today. And I promise you, she instantaneously seems older. It could be that I awoke this morning to her percolating coffee and giving me grief for wanting to sleep in past 6:00 am. Okay, so that's a lie. But she is growing out of her 6 month onesies - and that's the truth.  It is truly amazing to watch the changes that occur with each passing day. Mind-boggling, actually, is more of an appropriate term for what is occurring on a daily basis.

With each passing day, she is getting funnier and starting to develop a little personality ("little" in the sense of her size, not the depth of her personality). Tim and I are always boasting to our family's how funny she is, but I think they are skeptical. It could have something to do with her deer in headlights demeanor the moment Skype initializes. (Poor girl, I think she takes after me in the sense that she freezes at the mere sight of a camera - Have you seen my grade school mugshots, err... I mean photos?) Until we are able to travel back to the States for a visit, hopefully some of the pictures will help tell her story. The first picture below is just to help me accept that she is 7 months old and the second picture is to showcase a mere glimpse of her humor...

Birthday 10/15/11

7 months old 05/15/12

Like Father, Like Daughter

I guess it is the law of physics such that what goes up must come down and what goes in must come out. Except, I wish this latter concept were a bit less, well, stinky. Within the past few weeks, I have been introducing solids (well, pureed solids) into Charlotte's diet. Perhaps I was a bit delayed in doing this, but that seems to be the theme around here. Honestly, I was trying to avoid the inevitable diapers that coincided with this mew milestone. Tim and I have been wondering how early is too early to start potty training? And we haven't yet introduced the aromatic foods such as meat, dairy or seafood.

She has thoroughly enjoyed her rice cereal, porridge and carrots thus far. And then came the "green stuff" - peas... Coming from a veggie lover, I thought peas would be a neutral "green" to include, as most health related books barely even quantify peas as a vegetable. She shakes, shudders and gags with each approaching spoonful. Tim told me he doesn't blame her and that we should try other non-green veggies. No way is Charlotte getting out of it that easy. The future quickly flashed before my eyes - The vision of two family members now carefully dissecting and segregating the little green veggies to the side of their plates after thinking I masterfully camouflaged these in said meatloaf.  A few more days of tough green veggie love until we move on to the next green adventure. Sorry kiddo!

After going to The Other Art Fair yesterday in Marylebone, Tim and Charlotte had fun planning their coup d'veggie ...

whole grains and toupees

In looking through my very limited stack of cookbooks recently (somehow my favorite cookbooks were sent to storage but a Buffalo Bills bumper sticker made its way to London... go figure), I came across one of my go-to quick and easy recipes. This recipe comes from Mark Bittman's Food Matters book - Whole Grain Flatbread.  I seem to now have a slight addiction to this (and Peeps, but that's another story) and make it at least twice a week. We are obviously observing a low-carb diet. But I wanted to share this as it is so easy to make, a healthy and fulfilling alternative to pizza and looks pretty - the last of which is of utmost importance.

Here is the recipe: http://content.markbittman.com/recipes/easy-whole-grain-flatbread and a few pics to showcase the delectable results. (Just a note: Please do not grab the handle of the skillet without an oven mit after the skillet has preheated and is ready to go back into the oven with the dough mixture. One occurrence can be translated into an accident, but twice, well - I  suppose I just wanted a matching scar to show off.) Because I am constantly "tweaking" recipes, I have found that coconut oil works well in place of olive oil and you don't need as much as it called for in the recipe. And any herbs complement this bread. Pesto, fresh tomato, basil and mozzarella are heavenly on this bread. Since dinner doesn't seem to count unless there is meat involved, our flatbread below had chicken and pepperoni... A salad with a house-made citrus, honey and shallot vinaigrette is a lovely accompaniment.

In an unrelated yet quirky topic: At the gym yesterday, trying to work off my whole grain flatbread and peep consumption from this past weekend, I was watching a show (on one of the 4 TVs in the entire arena) comparable to Antiques Roadshow. Talk about motivation! Well, I came across a line that is now going to make its way into my dictionary. Rather than saying "Tip your hat to so and so..." (should you say this in the first place), they say "Take off your toupee to so and so...". Lesson #2