Sunnyside

As I mentioned before, we are TIRED from the effort required in adventuring. We baked a banana cake and made soup all day yesterday and today we spent nearly all morning piddling the time away. We talked about trying again to go for Sunday Roast at the Golden Retriever, as we have yet to have the roast turkey because we cannot get there before 5 pm, however hard we try. Our biggest ambition for today was to get to the GR by 12 noon and have the roast turkey...with cranberry!

Mike announced that he wasn't feeling that plan, and should we do something else? Afterall, we are in England, there is a point to all of this, a grand plan.

But what to do...go to London? the abbey in Reading? Stonehenge?

I got on Wikitravel and looked up Reading, and we saw a house with a church and watermill on the Thames near a town called Mapledurham.

Today is the last day the home and the water mill are open until Easter. It seems many places close for the fall and winter and part of spring. This tends to worry me since I have no friends and need NOT to be trapped in our house for long stretches. At any rate, we made it and it was gorgeous. The house is big and old and filled with musty, dusty things. Lots of chairs embroidered by 9 sisters who lived in the home a long time ago and had no Gossip Girl to entertain them, a library with catholic books left by Alexander Pope, a collection of strange looking bath tubs and funky porto-potties. Massive stair cases, lots of massive portraits of dead people and a muy muy elderly historian in every room ready to chat about the house, its content and owners. Just the sort of place you want to bring a hyperactive almost 7 and 5 year old.

We spent about 10 minutes going through the house. No joke.

This is where the boys had the most fun. As we approached, we explained to them why we think it is important to be respectful in a graveyard, "we want to respect the families that have loved ones buried here, and we want to respect the dead people who are buried here." Ummmm...no one said not to play hide and go seek behind the gravestones or not to leap over the tombs. True that.

This is the inside of St. Margarets, where local residents have been worshipping for 900 years. OMG, it smells like it has been worshipped in for 900 years. I would love to see a service, Mr. Collins or Mr. Elton preaching from the small pulpit. And Jane Austen is one of my dearest friends.

Here is my favorite part of the grounds. The water mill. From 2 to 5 pm on Saturdays and Sundays from Easter to the end of September it is a working mill, grinding corn and wheat flour. I bought a bag of wheat flour and I am excited to bake a loaf of water mill/stone ground flour bread, with some oatmeal thrown in...mmmmm. Today there were 2 teen-aged swans paddling around, looking bored and annoyed with their parents. The teenagers are starting to lose their gray fluffy feathers, you can see the white poking through.

Mike and I can see our own white feathers poking through, more and more every day. Another reason to celebrate this adventure.

Dinner at the Bengal with Dane, forever grateful to Kwesi and Anita

By the way, I am a fan of must. It brings back great memories of the summer we spent with our Taylor cousins, Aunt Teri and Grandparents in New Hampshire in an old musty house.

Will they? Won't they?

The accent started the second full day in England. Mike and I left the boys with Babette at the Wokingham Hilton to go on our Ikea odyssey.  There is a very handy Wii game near the lobby and when we returned late in the afternoon Michael was yelling that he wanted to "thraaahsh the computah!" Wow, I thought, that was fast!

The first two weeks I heard them playing with the accent many times. They seemed to enjoy the challenge and novelty of it. I imagined that starting school might rip their American accents away, never to be heard again for two years. So far they sound like they live in Tucson. Will they? Won't they? I dunno.

What I do know is that we are tired! Late last week it hit, while grocery shopping at Tesco. I suddenly felt like I had been hit by a Mack truck. The adrenaline I have been flying on for 2 months is wearing off. I notice it when I have to do something slightly to very stressful. Yesterday I drove with Babette to Costco in Reading, to get my new computah.  It required me to drive on the M4 for the first time, 70 mph with "Cartrina" our "sat nav" telling us how to get there, "at roundabout take...5th exit..." When we got there I felt like I needed to take to my bed for a week, and we still had to get home. This applies to lots of other things too; we are taking the boys out of school tomorrow for a day to spend the weekend in London. When I picked up Dominic this afternoon I mentioned to his teacher that he wouldn't be there tomorrow and why. "Oh!" she said, "Well, you will need to apply for permission to take him out of school, and the Head Teacher will most likely not give it to you, it's the law."
What??
I felt like crying.

I want to be here, I want to be doing this!

When I see people in the grocery store with sure signs of being recent immigrants: looking lost and bewildered, often speaking something sounding like Chinese, I want to grab them and hug them and say, "Oh my God, you are so brave and daring!!" Can you imagine the stress of the pilgrims? People made that voyage with children, months at sea, to arrive in a place with no Ikea to speak of. Yikes. All to get away from this place. Sometimes I look at the people that are from here and wonder why their ancestors stayed, and why mine left.

So I want to visit the town of Longton and see Wales from where my mother's father's family, the Harlans, fled. Visit Normandy, where I believe I have Viking roots. Doesn't my dad seem like he was Viking material?? We want to go to the tiny town of Prezza, Italy, where there are Spacones on every corner, to Germany where we both have roots, gotta find the Kesslers, Adams, Katters and Kotters.

But first I need to ask permission to pull my boys out, and by the way, Michael fancys a girl in his class named "Heathah".

Businesslike

"Help to give your child confindence when you bring him/her to school in the morning; be fairly brisk and businesslike when you come into school, leave your child promptly with a firm 'goodbye', and be on time to collect your child at the end of the day."
Advice from a booklet, When I start at Oaklands Infant School...

Michael and Dominic have started school. The uniform is gray trousers, a light blue polo, navy blue jumper (sweatshirt) or cardigan with the school badge. Michael started Monday and is immersed in lots of writing and spelling. Dominic's first day was Thursday and he wrote his name for the time by copying his nametag.

"I LOVE SCHOOL!"

I cannot express how proud I am of our guys. They are working HARD. Moving to a new country, into a new house with very few toys, no TV, no Sam Bosco or Rohan or Henry. Starting a new school before any of us has our bearings, and into a new system that teaches "literacy and numeracy" in preschool.

In May Michael finished kindergarden in a dream of a school in Tucson called Second Street Children's School, and Dominic was all set to be in the Bear class this fall. At Second Street they follow the Reggio Emilia philosopy of education which has as it's focus relationships and community, not literacy and numeracy. I am pointing this out to show the drastic change that Michael has encountered. His new classmates not only were reading and writing in kindergarden, they were spelling correctly also. It is going to be a big year for him. He, of course, is chipper. On our way to school day 2, he was singing at the TOP of his lungs, "I LOVE SCHOOL, I LOVE SCHOOL!!" over and over and over. (We are starting to notice how much LOUDER we are than anyone within hearing distance)

Dominic is not to bring "Blankie" to school. Those of you who know Dominic know Blankie. When I heard this I anticipated nervous breakdown size L. To my utter amazement he handled the news very calmly. Day one without Blankie went very well. This morning he announced he was NOT leaving home without Blankie. I said ok to that, and we walked out the door with Blankie in tow, along with backpacks, raincoats, etc. On our walk to school he sniffed up a storm and seemed completely bummed. As the walk progressed he threw B my way and dashed off to cavort with Michael. Arriving at Oaklands he announced B would not be coming with him, but he needed one last sniff. I was holding it and he buried his blond head into my side and sniffed for a full 2 minutes. Oh my baby boy!! To be honest I was thrilled to have Blankie on the walk home. I felt like going to bed for 6 hours to cuddle Blankie.

When Mike and I went to St. Peter's in Rome 10 years ago, we had a tour of the Vatican museum. Our guide told us the Michelangelo felt that his sculpures were already within the stone, placed there by God for him to uncover. I was deeply moved by this and I feel this analogy is true in life. Treasures are buried in our lives and it is our privilege to uncover them. I wrote Mike a note on his birthday in August, 4 days before our departure, that I was excited to discover the treasures buried for us in England.

What I never expected was that the first treasure we would uncover would be our children. I am so moved by their courage and spirit of adventure. I am so thrilled by their ability to have fun at all times. They are so funny, loving, warm, selfish at times, generous and dramatic (right, Lowell?!). Being here with the boys, Babette and Mike for company has focused my attention and opened a door into my boys life that I had not fully experienced in our previously beautiful, full life. I am grateful for this special time.

Treasure #2, Krispy Kreme donuts for sale at the local Tesco. So good and sooooo EXPENSIVE!!

So Far So Good On England

We officially have the basics down, beds, blankets, pots, pans, apples, pb and j. Still missing: phones, internet, cars, new computer to skype on, winter coats, etc.
The big news of this past week is that I drove (our rental) for the first time! It had to happen. The wrong side of the road wrong side of the car is the least of it. It is the roads that are so narrow 2 cars can barely (or not) pass each other, cars parking all along the roads, pointing this way and that way.  Add buses wider than one lane of traffic, windy, confusing roads without road signs, drivers who love to honk, and a lexapro free american and you've got yourself excitement!

Do I look nervous?

The absolute best part of driving was scaring Mike. I endured his first week of "Behind the Wheel, Welcome to the UK," sweating, slamming on my invisible brakes, wincing, praying, laughing and yelling occasionally. I noticed a distinct change in the closeness to the left side of the road he has driven, after riding with me in the driver's seat. (If you need to re-read that last sentence, I don't blame you) It is frightening to sit in what should be the driver's seat and let someone nearly/actually run you into the side of the road over and over and over. That said, I think it is going pretty well.

Our boys start school this week. Michael will have Mrs. Terry, a darling 20 something-ish English doll. She is about 6 inches taller than he is and probably weighs 5 lbs less. Dominic was with me and got to meet his teacher and Michael's. Dominic's teacher is my size and age, a lot frumpier (than Michael's teacher) and happens to have frizzy hair. A feature I believe I also possess. After meeting both women, we walked away from the school and Dominic stammered, "Mom, was my teacher...was...was my teacher....the one with the....crazy hair?" When I said yes, his reply was, "Why?"

As promised, we visited Legoland, which is about 20 minutes from our house through beautiful countryside in Winsor. They have the crown jewels in Legos. Charming! It was a highlight for the boys, who have been waiting months for this part of the adventure to happen.

It has been wonderful to see how well the boys are adjusting. We have a nice play set in the backyard and have had nice weather to enjoy the outdoors. The parks here are amazing, packed with tons of children and pregnant women.

Shorts and bare feet

At a fun fair Henley-on-Thames

We visted Henley-on-Thames yesterday with Babette, http://www.henley-on-thames.org/. It is charming almost beyond belief, as are many other towns between here and there. The book The Wind in the Willows was inspired by this part of England. I wish everyone could see this area!

To my sweeties and loved ones I send my warm saludos, hugs and kisses. I miss you and love you.

Here are a few photos with my babies before we left.

I will leave you with Dominic's observation to Mike as we were walking along the wooded path behind our house. He and Michael were running ahead dressed as knight and king and Dominic turned around for a moment and yelled, "Hey Dad, so far so good on England!"