Of course!

Son still wanders into our bed many nights despite being six. Breaking the habit would involve one of us getting up and walking him back to his own bed. Since my husband with the overly acute hearing sleeps with earplugs and pretends to be dead at the slightest hint of tiny footsteps, that would mean I have to get up and walk him back to bed. ( I save my spousal sleep punches for very special occassions). So the boy will probably still be clambering into the middle of the bed when he's 23.

The upside is, we have an enormous 'Cal King' bed. Which 42 little boys could climb into and you wouldn't really notice. So most nights I dont even notice. Last night however, he had a bit of a cough, so I stirred just as he was clambering onto the bed. In the half darkness I could see this swollen and mis-shapen blob lumbering towards me. I sat bolt upright thinking the annoying cough was in fact a symptom of the leprosy or elephantitis he'd contracted sometime since 8pm that evening. On closer inspection the lumps reveal themselves to be a selection of toy bears, pokemon, mice and dragons. All stuffed into the waistband and pockets of his PJ,s. He rolls over and goes to sleep.

This evening I'm watching him ritually gather and stuff the menagerie into his troos again. I'm getting worried. Is this going to turn into some weird lifelong fetish? So casually I ask him why he's stuffing his stuffed animals into his trousers. He stops. Looks at me like I've grown another head and replies 'To keep them safe of course! '.

lord help us

At the weekend I ran in a charity 10K/Half marathon event. I did the 10k obviously as I run very slowly and dont have the patience for a half marathon. I say that like I COULD run a half marathon. God, I'm funny!

Anyway. I run the 10k. Do quite respectably. Don't die in the process. Which is always a distinct possibility. I'm feeling quite good about myself.

Two days later the charity who organise the event publish the results. They publish them on the internet, email all participants with the list, post it in the local paper. I'm check my results. Hey, 28th in the woman's 10k. Sweet. (sweeping past the fact that there were only 40 something 10k runners) - it's the first time I've gone down from a 3 figure position, so I'm good with that.

Hmm what's that number on the right? MY AGE!!!?!!! They published my age!!!!?! What the hell!?!!! Palpitations. Cold sweats. Light head. Trauma. Nausea. Oh, there are a few 20-somethings who finished after me? Sweeeeeeet.

mouths of babes

My son has embarked on a whole new life mission. His sole purpose these days is to horrify his unsuspecting parents in public places, bu uttering non-pc statements in the loudest voice he can muster. In Scotland we could get away with this. People would look on, smile whimsically and utter, 'och , he's only a bairn'. But this Northern California people. Any vaguely non-uber-sensitive statement draws the eyes of all around. You can feel them breathing the suspicion 'well you know where he must have heard that'. Mostly I'm immune to this. The 'shag now shag later' incident I passed off with a laugh.

The second in this unfortunate series of events I've only very recently recovered from. Almost. We were at the fairy tale/superhero dress up party of the newly 6 year old Princess Maya Indigo. Kids parties, in my experience all have the potential for disaster. But this one had gone well. The family live in a lighthouse, so the little darlings had frolicked happily in the garden, parents had mingled in the beautiful setting, the cake - a lilac and pink cool-whip marvel was transported safely to table and no-one had thrown up yet. So it was time to leave. My little charmer and I are climbing the hill to the gate at the same time as some of his buddies and his parents. All is mellow and the Walton mountain-esque goodbye series begins. All at a lilac cool-whip and sugar charged pitch. 'bye Ryan' 'bye Gus' 'bye Erik' 'bye Gus' 'bye Mya' 'bye Gus' 'bye little chinese boy' SILENCE

This evening he excelled. Cub Scouts sign-up night. He's blatantly only interested because they've used alluring words like camping, and submarine, and crossbow and BB gun. (American cub scouts obviously). Dad is chatting to some people who have brand new twins. Boy looks into pushchair and goes ' oooh dad, look pixies'. Nervous laugh from dad. 'No they are new little babies.' Top of voice. 'No they are pixies -look they have pointy ears.!'

All very cute unless you are the one looking at the pointy eared mother with nothing to say.

I know, I know, he's just a bairn.

Parental debate

Two CONSTANT sources of heated debate in our house.

1. Childhood nutrition
2. Appropriate viewing material


1. Debate will rage for the next 20 years - I accept that
2. Kids have been blessed with Austin Powers 2 on TIVO. Further debate ensues. Father thinks it's fine (this is the man who gave them Dodgeball and Zoolander). I'm reluctantly persuaded (read ridiculed) that the humor and smut are way over their heads.

Friends arrive next day for playdate. My 6-year old quips to the mom, ' hi - would you like to shag now - or shag later'?

Yep, WAY over their heads.

and I rest my case.

bad thing happen in threes

It's true.

1. Bug breaks down (I know thats old now)
2. apple reduce price of fancy schmancy iphone by 30%. 2 months after we pay full price for one. (I know, I get no sympathy for that)
3. Puncture on Kansas bicycle (I know - I didn't think I went fast enough either)


I've written off the apple experience.
But I need a reliable vehicle.
Seriously considering buying a pick up.
Will SOO p**s off the hippie community at the school gates.
But worth it just for the attention!

llamas again

Had a very California weekend. All wrapped up in our little darlings' busy social life.

Saturday:
Drop hubbie off at Bart to go into city and pick up newly repaired Bug. ($800!!)
Take kids home to change into superhero and fairytale character costumes - boy refused to dress up but took his plastic sword and silver gun 'just in case'. Aye just in case the neighbours didnt already think we were totally non-pc neanderthals. Daughter wore princess outfit with skull and crossbone print leggings peeping out underneath -v Madonna.
Visit kids party at lighthouse.
Dash home to make phone calls.
Meet friend for coffee and bagel.
Back to party for carrotcake birthday cake.
Rush Twinkle home to pick up wetsuits.
Kayak lesson in the harbor
Movie and pizza.

Sunday:
Go for 3 mile run.
Gather children for party at local kids farm
Hang out in the sunshine, kids chase chickens, pick lettuce, feed sheep and bunnies (but not the white ones who have a sign over them saying 'vicious') - and Rusty the llama.
Into town to run 'errands'
Home to cook dinner on barbecue on the deck
Drop visiting playdate home - stay for beer and corn chowder.
Home for a nice Chardonay and a bit of blogging.

All round a busy but lovely weekend.

Oh, and apparently there used to be two llamas, but Rusty killed the other one. Nice. He and the white bunnies obviously come from the Possil side of the farm then!

The gender gap

Life on a temporary visa can be stressful. The ever present uncertainty of what life will be like in 18 months get wearing, and every normal life decision is excaberated by doubt, and postponement. In the car with the family today, my mind was in it's perpetual state of 'what if and should we'.

Should we buy a house here? Should we sell our house in Scotland to raise the deposit? What if our visa isn't extended? We'd have to go back to nothing and lose lots of money on the place here. But if we only borrow against the equity will we be able to afford a place here? We're mad living in the most expensive part of America. Maybe we should move to Texas where housing is more affordable. But would I get work there? Would it pay the same as here or is the housing cost relative to salaries? Maybe we should postpone buying till we renew our visa, but then visas are extended year or year so it would be the same problem for another 3 years. How much will we spend on rent in three years? 3x12=36, 36x$gazillion = $36gazillion oh god thats loads. I'd get tax relief if it was a mortgage, how much tax relief? $36gazillion x.....

'Aww man!!' I'm rudely interupted by husband the driver. Who's looking like he's left the gas on.

'What?'

'I forgot to put HP sauce on my bacon sandwich this morning"!

I swear - I couldn't make that up, if I tried.

Mechanical woes.

Typical sods law car problems recently.
As you may or may not know, when we sold up in Scotland to move here we lost SO much money on cars, I took an oath to never buy an expensive new brief again. So we arrived here, and bought a 1997 Audi and a 1999 VW bug. Both were fine and dandy, although the previous owner of the Audi used to drive in bare feet and we never managed to expell the stench from the carpets. (not good on hot days).

Now, we still dont know if we'll stay here or not. We'd like to stay, but who knows when you have to keep reapplying for visas. (was speaking to someone at the beach party yesterday who has lived here legally for 20 years, has 4 american kids, is married to an american, and still feels sick every time she comes through immigration because she's not a citizen). But if we do we'll need a mortgage and to get a mortgage you need a credit score, to get a credit score you need credit, the easiest credit to get is a car loan - you know where I'm going with this. So we bought a new car. Fine. Much negotiation about what old car to get rid of. Husband is advocating the bug (its mine) I'm advocating the Audi (his). Both cars are fine. The Audi still smells of feet. I win. Off into the sunset goes the Audi.

6 weeks later the Bug starts to play up. A couple of stressful breakdowns - we get it fixed. Everyone says - get rid its a vw once they start to play up ...
10 weeks later (Thursday) I drive up to SF for a lunch meeting. All well and good. Its scorching hot. I jump in the black bug - which is like and oven when its sunny. Set off for the coast. Get on the main access road to the freeway - its 3.30pm - Stop at traffic lights. The bug just stops. In the middle of 2 lanes. Right in front of the ball park main gate. Just stops. I sit there being honked and shouted at trying to phone AAA. I am deeply unimpressed. But not as unimpressed as the-trying-to-escape-before-rushhour SF business district piling up behind me.

Now, breaking down in America is interesting. Unlike Britain where only murderers stop to speak to you, one has lots of conversations when stranded in America. (I think I blogged this experience the last time the bug played up - the 6 week point. But just for the record.) I was waiting almost an hour for my pickup truck (Ramone from El Salvador). In that time I chatted with: 2 visiting rednecks in a pickup (they pushed my car to the side of the road), 2 SF motorcycle cops (20 minutes apart), an Asian guy who lived in the posh building I was in front of (not impressed cos it wasnt a mercedes), the security guard from the building I was in front of (Rosie, 69 years old and still carrying a walkie talkie, who patrols a building site in Golden Gate park at night and hides in the bushes if she hears anything), a posh gent on a foldup bike who thought I was stood there for the fun of it and stopped to admire the design aesthetic of the bug ( you can imagine my tone there), 3 well buffed young men in hair gel who were walking in their small yappie dogs and 1600 horn honkers who I eventually hid in a doorway to avoid. (Which is how I met Rosie and the asian chap).

To add insult to injury, when the tow truck dropped the car off, the boy from the garage jumped in and it started first time.

The bug is still in the garage. It will be on Craigslist shortly. Going cheap.

The audi apparently is still going strong at 152000 miles.

Our new office building is finally finished

and we moved in 2 weeks back. 3 mile commute to work, its GREAT. I take my little bicycle, stick my laptop in the wicker basket and head off down airport boulevard like an escapee from Kansas. Occassionaly I shriek 'I'll get you my pretty' at a passing pick-up, just for the hell of it.

I love the fact that some of the guys from work arrive on their uber racing bikes, all pointy helmets and neon lycra and click-in shoes, sweating profusely - and I draw up at the same time in a cardigan and ballet pumps with a genteel glow. Now to be fair, they are travelling a whole 2 miles more than me. And going 700 times faster. But still, I get to smirk at them with very European nonchalance - especially when they gasp and shake their heads in horror at my complete lack of cranial protection. (Americans!)
Although, admittedly it is to them I turn when I get a flat tyre or my saddle is at an odd angle or there's a squeek, or one of my 7(!) gears is odd. Then they miraculously produce gadgets, and wrenches and technical things from nowhere to fix it. Amazing what you can stash in lycra and click in shoes - apparently!

enid

Shortstories posted a comment under the 'pants' entry (nice to know someone is out there) saying I should be getting more mileage out of the word 'fanny'. It reminded me to share this one.

Being a conscientious mother, I encourage my children to read. I vividly remember the Mallory Towers series from my childhood and reckoned Twinkle was at the ideal age for all those ginger beer-esque adventures, so I hit Amazon with gusto. Nothing! Nowt! Couldn't find a thang. Has Enid Blyton become so non-pc she's been banned? What?

Eventually I find The Adventures of the Faraway Tree. Aha! I remember that, different worlds on clouds, Moonface, Silky, bread and jam. Great!

It arrives 3 weeks later. Twinkle DEVOURS it! Loves it, recommends it to all her friends. I sit down to read it to her brother.

The main characters are Jo, Fanny and Dick.

That'll be us barred from the 4th Grade reading circle then.

my goodness a month has passed almost to the day

since I last blogged. Not that I've been hugely busy, just always have other stuff to get done. Like my blog buddy shortstories lamented, it sometimes feels like a big time commitment when you get into blogging. But oddly , i miss it when I dont do it. Especially now that I've acknowledged I'm increasingly becoming a scatty old woman. I worry that I'm losing my life experiences for ever because my RAM is full of stuff I don't need. I forget the oddest things - and remember even odder stuff. I have been known to forget where my car is parked - or the fact that I took a ride that morning and have no car with me! How the valet guy laughed at that one! Or I forget that I took my laptop home the night before (despite working on it for 5 hours) and go all the way to work only to have to turn around and go return it because I have no hard drive to work from).
My grey-matter filing system has definately become 'bespoke' in recent years. Suppose it comes to us all in time. Although, I can always take comfort in knowing I'm not as bad as hubbie - who I did manage to convince once he was a year older than he actually was - with no effort at all. How he swung between /irked/pleased/cross/annoyed/delighted a year later when he got to celebrate the same birthday all over again.