Just a normal Wednesday...except it's Friday.

What a week! I know one thing for sure: I am not cut out to be a Nanny. I (stupidly?) agreed to watch two little girls for two weeks while their childminder is on Holiday. I think it would be easier to herd cats or Honey Badgers.  It looks like a Toys-R-Us threw up in my house. Oh well, at least they had fun. Me? I wondered if taking shots of whiskey at 11 am was acceptable. I built so many forts I lost count and finally refused to build/repair another fort within the same five minute period in which I erected the first fort. I think Mongols could have learned a thing or two about destruction from this crew of three. 

The Bean and M1 (There are two girls, both with M names, so I will call them M1 an M2, respectively) had Mad Science Camp on Tuesday. We arrived late, due to the unexpected closure of the parking garage beside the facility. So we had to hike the half a mile to get to camp. This experience was much like how I imagine herding cats would actually be, only a bit more painful. Simply for the fact that cats, while having the ability to meow, do not whine or complain. I am mystified how a child can run rampant in a playground, open field or at an amusement park, but as soon as you need to get them from point A to point B they do not have the energy to propel themselves. 

The camp was in Cambridge, at a place called Park Road Leisure Center. Imagine the children's disappointment when they realized they were there to attend a science camp and not to play in the football field size pool complex we had to walk through to get to the activity room where the camp was to take place. There were no less than four pools, a massive hot tub, water slides and splash parks. This was torture. Some organizer should be punched in the throat for making this arena the location for the 'boring' science camp. If I'd had cheese to go with the 'whine', I would have been drunk and there would have been cheese for the children's snack later. (I briefly entertained letting them swim, as we have a second day of science camp tomorrow, but I would rather take a real cat herd swimming than try to keep up with three children with different swimming ability levels in that massive pool complex.) 

M1 had a great time, but the Bean - not so much. ASD strikes again! He is just not a 'group activity' kind of guy, but he comes by it honest. His Dad would much rather be poked in the eye repeatedly than to engage in any kind of group activity. So one of the camp staff had to call me to come pick him up early. I half expected as much, but the Hubs thought camp would be a great idea, and I knew that 'Zany Inventions' Day' was not the best choice to keep the Bean interested. No interest = naughty behavior. 

M2 is a fantastic shopping buddy. We strolled up to the Cambridge Market Square to see what was going on. I also had a Marks & Spencer gift certificate as a perk from one of the utility companies we signed up with when we landed. I had never been to a M&S, but it was pretty nifty. We had a good time and M2 has some kickin' fashion sense for a 3 year old. I had to giggle and the other shoppers thought I was daft for asking her opinion, but so be it - we had fun! The Market Square has tons of little shops and we stopped to buy a real fruit Icee.  It was hot and the cool refreshment was just what we needed. I am still on the hunt for something cool to send my (eek) 16 year old Niece, but always second guess myself out of fear that whatever I buy will be 'uncool'. I see lots of things I think she would like, but I hate to get something she will not wear or use.  I think one of those mustache-themed scarves would be fun, but perhaps that time has passed. There are quite a few little dresses I think might be OK, but I wonder if she would actually wear the one I picked out. M2, a chic after my own heart, really like the skull print dress, but for my Niece I am not too sure. 

Just before we left the Market Square, I saw this advert for an upcoming exhibit at the Fitzwilliam Museum:

I think we will be going to see this one. This is what I love about living here, there is so much cool stuff to go see. 6000 years of history about the Afro comb? Seriously, check out the exhibit explanation. 

Thursday's camp day promises to be better. The Bean is a sucker for Mighty Machines. I am hoping that the topic will keep him interested. If not, I guess I will get a phone call and go pick them up early (again). It still buys me a little, much needed, alone time. This time I will not be strolling along with M2, who has a doctor's appointment that morning. I am going to a new friend's house while the kids are in camp. I am always excited to get to know other people and this time is especially poignant. She is the wife of one of the Hub's coworkers, and they, too, have just recently boarded the ASD party cruise. It's nice to be able to commiserate with another mom who knows, first hand, what you're going through and we get to compare notes and strategies. Her son is a year behind the Bean, but her son's behavior is strikingly similar to the Bean's. It is strangely comforting to know another 'normal' mom who has a son with ASD. It helps relieve the guilt you feel that it was 'something that you did'. They are a nice, normal, salt of the earth, kind of people. I will visit for a while until I need to meet M2's dad after her doctor's appointment and hopefully have a lunch date with the two of them. I have a feeling we will be going to Nando's. If you have never been to a Nando's, if given a chance, GO! 

I felt the need to stay at home this past weekend.  We rearrange the house (again) and I made the boys go grocery shopping with me. I was not about to take three children to the grocery store. I would have needed therapy. I have to give kudos to the parents of multiple children. I realize that having more of your own children is probably different that watching other people's kids. I get that part. The Jane Goodall in me likes figuring out what traits of the parent are exhibited in the child. I can also appreciate the differences in parenting styles. Boys and girls sure are different. The Bean is exhausted and has really been complacent today playing with his toys and watching a Curious George marathon on DVD. The neighbor hood kids came by and they, too, got caught up in the magic of the curious monkey. (Thanks, Aunt Angie - you hit the jackpot!) 

This is the least funny, least amusing post to date. I have to admit I am exhausted. For the past week, I have fallen asleep with the Bean while putting him to bed. Yea, put me in a semi-dark room in a luge-position and I am down for the count.  

Well, today is Friday and I am not a happy camper. I haven't had a moment's peace to post this blog, much less the ability to stay awake past 9:30 pm. So far today, I have managed to place yet another call about our boiler, now my kitchen ceiling is leaking, and I half a load of whites stranded in my washing machine. (Which, by the way, take 2 hours and 42 minutes to wash in this crazy British washing machine.) I have had two of the three children complain about sand on their clothes, when on a normal day would have no problem depositing the sand all over my house, and would only survive the day with a new set of clothing. At least two out of three are fully toilet trained.

Oh well, I guess I just need to take a pause and change my frequency. I cannot control the circumstances, but I can control how I react to them. Seems so simple, yet some days it is so hard to find the right wavelength. I need to remember that any day on this side of the Daisy's is a good day. One day, in the distant future, when I need a little internal giggle, I will remember the look on Karma Kitty's face the day the children cornered her in the Solarium, closed the doors, and painted her fur.

I need a nap. Not gonna happen. Tell you about Thursday's science camp later.

Until next time...


Lisa

Bean's 5th Birthday Bash!!!

Whew, I am glad that's over. Don't get me wrong, a great time was had by all, but I am glad that is over. I didn't take an official head count, but I made 25 gift bags and I have four left. So that means that 21 of the 21 kids I had ticked on my list came. Yea, it was a party. The cake turned out fabulously. I have to give Andre his props, it was a fantastic cake. The construction equipment actually looked like it was pushing the frosting around and the snowplow had tracks left it its wake. I got oooo's and ahhhh's from the adults as well as the kids!

I wish we'd gotten a better shot, but as soon as the word 'cake' was mentioned, I was mobbed by tiny party-goers vying for the best view of the confection.

This was the Hub's view from the middle of the crowd. He was soon shoved to the back by tiny, sharp, elbows and the trampling of small pointy feet. They were in awe that we had 'real' toys on the cake. I do have some concerns about the blue dye used on the cake and cupcakes. It looked like the Smurf population had been decimated and their remains consumed.

My decorations were pretty simple. Few construction toys scattered about and some party decals hanging in festive places.
I used the roll of caution tape that was inside the 'fort building kit' my sister-in-law gave Bean as a Christmas present.  (We have build many a fort with that kit.) The killer hard hat was also in the fort kit. I managed to get a picture or two before Bean abandoned it. After all, the guests had started to arrive and shower him with affection and gifts. Oh my, did that child receive gifts!

Did I get a picture of the gift table? No! I was hopping like a one-legged man in a butt kicking contest! The monster truck ramp was a big hit, but as the sugar overload hit the kids' bloodstream it became a make-shift slide. Thankfully a mom (and professional teacher) was there to curtail the sliding before anyone did any bodily harm. The flowering plant that was under the ramps, however, did not fair as well. I hope it takes the abuse and recovers fully next spring. 

Here is the rousing game of 'limbo' which features the ramps before the carnage. 

Man, some of those kids were sticklers for rules. The older ones had a problem with some of the younger kids 'not playing right' and I had to explain that it was hard for a five year old to get the concept. I think they all had fun regardless. They were a bit miffed there was no prize for the winner. I used the old 'everyone's a winner' crap that I usually hate to spout. 

The paint center, which I originally had envisioned to keep the little girls busy, was a smash hit with everyone! 

At the height of the party I had pictures up and down every window in my solarium, on the french doors, and on the window ledge. The kids were very happy to have their art on display and many of them took their works of art home with them. 

As for the adults, the American moms came to the rescue pitching in and helping out wherever they were needed. The Brit moms, not so much. Some of them dropped their kid off at my house and left. This is a totally foreign concept for me. I guess if you are comfortable enough dropping your kid at my house when you barely know me - well that's your bag. The moms that did stay crowded in my kitchen and devoured the food table. I brought out my 'now famous' Buffalo Chicken Dip and realized, very quickly, I should have made more than one pan. I also was surprised to find out that root beer is a coveted beverage here in England. I had one mom take me aside and ask if I could get her some 2-liters and how many could I get at one time.  

We had a pretty fun-filled day. As if on cue, at the stroke of 4, they all grabbed their goody bags and hit the road. We'd run out of chicken dip and root beer so the party was done. (No one touched the pasta salad or the veggie tray - which are usually the first items for refill.) I learned that promptness is another admirable Brit trait. You may drop your child off at 2 o'clock, but you're there promptly at 4 o'clock to pick them up as well. There were no major causalities and no damage done to the house. (There was a piece of cake suspiciously left in my drain grate where the gray water exits the laundry room into the storm drain system, but...)  I am missing one blue bean bag from the bean bag toss, but hopefully I will unearth it before I have to take the game back to Outdoor Rec tomorrow. At the final frenzy of the party the bags were not tossed, but rather used as weapons of mass destruction. (Found the bean bag!! Woot!)

I did gain one glittery head-band and a cute little girls' periwinkle blue sweater. I am hoping for a phone call or maybe return the items to their rightful owners once school starts. 

Some of our American guests stayed once the brunt of the other guests had departed. The ladies were so gracious and helped me clean up the food, the kitchen, and gathered all the abandoned plates and cups. I was so grateful and could not thank them enough for all they did (without expectation!) to help me pull off the party and keep the mayhem to a dull roar. My child signaled the end of the after party by stripping off all his clothes, down to his tighty-whities, and clinging to me in a near comatose state. After two nights of backyard camping, getting up at first light, and consuming an ample amount of sugar- he was done.  

And blessed be the parents whose little firecracker slept until 9:30 the following morning. I am always a little panicked on those rare mornings when I wake up on my own and not to the sound of little feet running down the hallway. I came out of the bathroom to find him snuggled in the bed, next to the Hubs, and he greeted me with a very horse and very plaintiff, "Mommy". He sounded like he'd smoked a pack of camels and looked like he'd attended an all-weekend rave. He still had traces of indelible food ink on his face and smears of paint and dirt streaked his skin. I guess all that running and screaming took a toll on the little dude. 

Yep, only 362 more days to plan the next Bean bash. 

Good times. Until next time, here's a picture of the abandoned cake:

Lisa

Happy Birthday, Bean!!

Today's post will be short and sweet. There are no pictures because 'ain't nobody got time for that' right now. Today is officially the Bean's fifth birthday. Hurrah! Who'd of thought we'd be celebrating his fifth birthday in England? Not me, but I think we will have a good time.

I have approximately 21 (yes, twenty-one) kids that will be showing up at my house tomorrow at 2 o'clock. The voices in the back of my head are screaming in unison:  "What in the hell were you thinking?" There will probably be close to 50 party attendees at the height of the frenzy. Between school mates, neighbors and the Hub's coworkers, I am pretty sure I will lose what is left of my sanity.

I went to the Commissary on base and tried to order the fancy construction themed cake we saw in the order book a few weeks ago. I thought, since there was a deli/bakery in the Commissary, this would be a snap, even with the usual Monday closure plus the Tuesday closure due to the furlough, but I was mistaken. I cannot imagine the look on my face when the guy behind the counter told me it would take fourteen (14) days to get that specific cake. I told him, "I want a cake for a party, not to bronze! Is it made out of gold?" He replied, "seriously", and asked me what I wanted. I told him the construction cake. He leaned in, and I inwardly giggled as if we were about to engage in an illegal transaction, "We can make them here," he looked around, "but we don't have the little toys to go on top. Think you could bring some?" I was delighted. "You bet," I told him, "How about a selection and whoever decorates it can work their magic?" His response, "Perfect. Can you bring them on Friday?"  The deal was done.

My original idea to have a bouncy house fell flat (haha, flat bouncy house!). If you've been keeping up, you already know the Bean has an affection for the bouncy house. I learned, at another birthday party, that the Outdoor Rec Center (on base) will rent them for dead cheap. What I didn't take into consideration was the shoe box size of my back yard. So I hope the kids aren't showing up for a bouncy house, or I may have a riot on my hands. So I fielded some ideas from my friends of Facebook, and got some bomber ideas. I have a cubic ton of sand for construction, a water table, a monster truck ramp ( I have to finish detailing today), painting center, building blocks, a train track, Lego station, bean bag toss, horseshoes, limbo and tons of food.

Now my only worry is since all my activities are planned for the out side is that it will rain.

The Hubs and Bean celebrated early by camping outside last night in our huge tent. The two of them slept peacefully last night with a futon mattress, a couple of blankets, the Bean's 'wild amnimals' and their own internal blast furnaces to keep them warm. (I probably could have squeezed the bounce house out there, judging from the size of the tent, but then there would have not been any room for anything else.) The woke bright and early with the rising sun - which was about 4:30 this morning. I am guessing both my boys will need a nap this afternoon.

I have totally rearranged the house, twice, and all I have left to do is vacuum and clean a few surfaces. I've already moved all my breakables to other locations and put the Hub's guitars in his upstairs man cave. I have been stressing all week about this, but the Hubs has done a brilliant job of wrangling me in and occasionally holding the brown paper bag so I don't hyperventilate. I keep telling myself that people are coming for a birthday party, but let's face it - people come to see what your house looks like.

Veggies are cut. Buffalo chicken dip is made. Pasta salad is prepared.  Monster Truck Racing Track is finished.  Direction and parking sign is made. I think we're about to party!

OK maybe one picture. We caved and let him open a gift or three. After all it is is his actual birthday today. I told you they had trouble keeping their pants on!

I'll most certainly have a post-party post...wish me luck!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY BEAN!!! WE LOVE YOU!!!!!

Take care!!
Lisa

Keep it Classy, Greater Yarmouth

Well as furlough Friday #3 rolled around we needed a plan for how we could entertain ourselves. We had been frugal and thrifty thus far, so we decided to make this trip an over night stay. Looking on the internet on a website called laterooms.com we found a family room at the Marine Lodge for £70. This included an en-suite bathroom, a double bed, a single bed, and an amazing view of the "Gentlemen's Club" across the street.

Here is the view of the front:

The hotel webpage didn't mention this little tid-bit at all. I cannot bring myself to include a link to their website, but I will tell you that they have "Pole Fitness Classes" if you're interested. This is a 'reverse mullet' business principal that college courses neglected to cover. Party in the front and business in the back. Not sure I would want my little girl to attend the 'Fallen Angels' school of dance, but got to give the owner kudos for having a semi-reputable side operation.  Notice the bricked up windows alongside the classic architecture. This will become a reoccurring theme. I would guess at one time this building was either an Inn with a livery stable (known as a "Coach Inn") or an old fire brigade station.

We were worried that the hotel room would be loud and had visions of drunken men brawling out on the sidewalk at 2:30 in the morning. I am happy to report that no such instances happened and at 12 o'clock - the town got very quiet. So for a room adjacent to the parking lot and across the street from 'live entertainment' we were pretty happy.

We arrived Friday just after one o'clock and were very happy to be able to check into our suite.

Notice the Monster Truck line up. I am seriously going to blog about their adventures. They go everywhere with us. The room was pretty tight, but nice and clean. We don't spend a whole lot of time in the room anyway, so it was fine with us. We lathered on the sunscreen and hit the beach!

It looked relatively close from the hotel restaurant window, but that did not prepare us for the half a mile walk from the boardwalk (or "promenade" as the English call it) to the actual shoreline. This was the sandiest beach we've been to thus far. It seemed to take an eternity to cross the sand, as though we were crossing the Normandy beaches under fire on D-Day.  The tiny rocks were very painful, and the sand seemed to go on forever.  The water was very cold, as was the overall temperature, so after a short while the Bean packed his construction equipment up and declared he wanted to go back to the hotel room. He also wanted to go to the 'pavilion'.

This is our catch-all term for any amusement type of activity at the beach. About five or six blocks of the beachfront was devoted to carnival-type attractions. The only frame of reference I have to compare this beachfront extravaganza to is the 'strip' at South Carolina's Myrtle Beach. And the patrons were just as classy. (Smell that? It's sarcasm!) Lots of inappropriate clothing, ridiculous tattoos, shifty-looking carnies and jarring rides. This is my 'I'm gonna need a chiropractic adjustment after this' face (please note that this is a scarf I'm wearing and not a cervical-adjustment pillow, which would have been more appropriate):

Friday  was warm during the day, but as the sun went down the evening got chilly! I daftly thought since it was the beach  we did not need to pack any warm weather clothes. (Which is surprising, because I always have a piece of fleece or a Bean jacket in the car, but when the Hubs packs the car for a trip he brings in all the items he deems 'unnecessary'. My cache of reusable bags, the jackets, toys, hats...well you get the picture. The stuff I thought was there had been brought into the house while I was gathering supplies for the trip.)

We persevered. We walked the shoreline amusements and went into the main boardwalk of the strip. Whoever owns this place has the hook-up when it comes to those sit and ride machines you find outside of every major grocery store. Barney, Bob the builder, double-decker buses, lorries (semi-trucks) and other characters I did not recognize. This one was my favorite:

Maybe I have a soft spot for Bigfoot because when we lived in St. Louis, I worked just down the road from the home of Bigfoot- the original monster truck. I wonder if Bob Candler knows there is a Brit knock-off of his famous truck.

We wound down our Friday night by playing on the most lucrative invention known to man, besides the frozen daiquiri machine, the illustrious bouncy castle. This pavilion had not one but TWO bouncy castle play areas. For £2 you get twenty minutes in four different bouncy apparatus and the attendant wasn't concerned how long you bounced.  Let's just say they were more interested in their next 'smoke' break.  I haven't seen or smelled that many green funny clouds since my last Dave Matthews concert.  This was £2 well spent.  When it comes to bounce houses, the Bean plays hard. We did limp out with a small scuff mark on our head.

Saturday morning wasn't so spectacular. We awoke to fog and light mist. Not enough to dampen our adventures, but a day at the beach was right out.  We went directly to the next bouncy castle apparatus for more fun. On the way, however something else peaked our interest: Donkey rides.

I am learning from the Great Yarmouth tourism site that Donkeys are a big deal. I think we paid £2.50 for a donkey ride. It was worth the poundage. Not only did I get to see the little dude ride like a natural (knees in, like if you were riding bare-back), but the Hubs and I got many a giggle out of humming 'been through the desert on an ass with no name'. The attendant led the mule-train down to the shoreline and back. At one moment, I briefly wondered if the fog would swallow them up, but they made it back.

Here is one more of the little dude:

Then off to the bouncy arena. Let the games begin!

The  name of the 'Mr. Wobbles' play park was strangely accurate because, due to the foggy weather, the bounce houses kept falling in on themselves. We tore the Bean away from the bounce houses and continued our exploration of the strip. We popped into a craft show and I got the killer scarf previously referenced. I should have bought more. When will I learn? 

Just when we thought we may pack it up and drive back to our little corner of the world, Hubs suggested we take a walk down a side street where he thought there may be more shoppes to pop into. This is where we hit pay dirt. This was like an airplane crashing into a caravan of ambulances on their way to the train wreck. I wanted to avert my eyes, but I had to keep them open to absorb all the phantasmal wonders. Gently wafting from a CD store was a recording of British guy crooning  "The Gambler". Just let that sink in for a moment. There were 20 somethings to 50 somethings all tatted up with the latest in classy neck tattoo art work.  And when I say "latest", I mean no later than 1996.  Skulls, mermaids, rainbow unicorns, nekkid ladies, and all the other fantastic skin-art one thinks of when one wakes in the morning, raging gin-hangover-and-all, and says to oneself, "You know what, I'm gonna get me a big ole neck tattoo today!  And, you know what, I'm gonna get some 5/8" washers inserted in my ears while I'm at it!"  Nothing says "employable" or "upper management material" like gauges in your ears and a topless woman riding a unicorn tattooed on your forearm.  But they sure do love them li'l babies they started having when they were 14. 

Just across the street was a 'Western World'. Note the rebel flag. I shed a tear and felt like I was in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Yes, if Tennessee and Myrtle Beach had a love child that spoke with a British accent, it would be Great Yarmouth. They had howling wolf screen printed tees, huge belt buckles with Elvis and pictures of old western movie stars. I winced a little when I realized that this perpetuated stereotype of Americans is why everyone we meet marvel how we're 'not what (I) expected'.  For example, over the Fourth of July weekend, British Telecom celebrated with a marathon of 'Duck Dynasty'.   The English seem disappointed that the Hubs does not have a beard that reaches his navel.

 And this was just the beginning! We stopped for lunch at an amazing restaurant, The Arches, which is  a family run restaurant tucked in the midst of this slice of Britain they would probably rather not serve. I should have been concerned when they had a sign that read: Spotted Dick (with cream) and Chocolate Mouse. They were Polish, so I forgave them, especially when they exuded customer service that we haven't found in any of the traditional pubs.

In the mist of this bustling euro-trash side street was an old, crumbling, Gothic stone church. They were having a fund raiser to replace the dilapidated roof. All I could think was 'this is a job for Whoopie Goldberg and those zany nuns of Sister Act'.

  

 Always classy, Hubs bought a holographic picture of Jesus with astrological signs in the background.  Jesus shifts his pose when you move the picture, which the Hubs seems endlessly delighted by.

Yea, I am pretty sure we will be driving the bus to Hell, so book early and avoid the rush. We will be serving ice water.  (On a side note- I've now redirected the Bean to sing "Highway to Bowling" since I came home and had to yell at the ignoramus Hubs for playing AC/DC while the Bean was in the house with him.  Do men ever learn or grow up?  I don't think so.  I'm just glad the two of them occasionally wear pants.  When I'm around anyway...)

The one very cool thing about Great Yarmouth is they have an off-shore wind farm. I'd heard the rumor that North Carolina was mulling over whether or not to erect an off-shore wind farm and the general consensus was that it would be an eyesore and a detriment to tourism. I am here to tell you, no, it would not. In fact, it looks rather progressive and neat-o. Furthermore, Great Yarmouth had an education and hands on center to educate the populous about the advantages of off-shore wind farming. The center was called E-on Energy.  

Oh my friends, I will be going back to Great Yarmouth. You bet. That ranks on one of the top places I've been so far in England. I will leave you with this final picture of the KFC rip off we spotted just before we headed back home. 

And just in case you'd thought I'd lost all hope:

But now, I must concentrate on the Bean's 5th birthday party happening this Saturday. 

Until next time, keep it classy.

Lisa

Not so much a bang but a whimper

Well we certainly know how to start off our summer vacation! Bean woke up this morning with a raging head cold. I hate to admit this, but I gave it to him. I seriously thought it was a severe allergy attack. I was mistaken. Heaven forbid that the Hubs get a cold, too. Infections Disease will have to quarantine the house because no human alive will have ever suffered with an aliment as life threatening as the medical anomaly the Hubs has contracted. So I will spend the day making sure the Bean is hydrated and disinfecting every surface in the house. 

For his last day of school on Friday the Hubs and I took him to the beach! This time we went to Hunstanton Beach. The recent temperatures were in the 80's, so we thought this would be a terrific time to go to the beach on a sunny day before the rest of the children started their term break as well. Let me just say that this beach is awesome, so awesome that my child walked right thought the rides at the pavilion to get to the sand and surf.

We had a wonderful time at the beach, and this time there was actually surf and sand. The water was kind of warm, and the Bean really enjoyed 'swimming'. I am guessing the chilly water was one of the factors leading to his illness, but you try keeping a kid out of the water and let me know how that works out for you. I am thinking that I need to start a campaign to educate the general populace here about sunscreen. There were a lot of people who wound't feel so hot when the sun went down. More like broiled.

Speaking of school, or rather the end of term, I have some mildly exciting news to report. His reception teacher, along with the upcoming term teacher, made the decision to promote Bean to the 1st year class along with his peers. They felt that keeping him in reception for another term would be detrimental to his development and his psyche. Basically, he would be bored and they predicted this would cause more behavior problems in the long run rather than just promoting him. He is very bright and is either on par with his expected learning achievements or surpassing certain expectations for his age. For example, he is already reading at a 1st years ability and his spacial and engineering concepts are off the charts.

The pseudo bad news is that he does extremely well with one-to-one support. He needs an adult to help him transition and keep him focused on the task at hand. The school has assembly every morning. His first assembly he couldn't stay for more than five minutes, but by the end of term he was able to sit for a whopping hour and a half! However, in the 1st year class, he will not have access to one-to-one support. They have acknowledged this is because of funding. So they are intentionally setting Bean up to fail so they can show a need for extra funding to support him. He will have to show extreme behavior before the school can make the case for support funding.  I have mixed feelings about this plan. I understand the rational behind it, but I want to do whatever I can in the meantime to avoid sending Bean to school, fully aware of his limitations, to be miserable.  

I filled out paperwork in May, so here in July, I finally got my notice of 'appointment time' for the local community services. This was after the school repeatedly contacted the SSC via phone calls, bi-weekly email inquiries, and numerous follow up letters. I have to say, the school has really taken up the charge to get Bean the help he needs. It probably didn't hurt that they didn't want me as public enemy #1, either. I can be pretty mean when it comes to the Bean. So I am strangely optimistic about this appointment.

It has also helped that one of the Hub's coworkers just had one of his twin girls diagnosed as being on the moderate scale of Autistic behavior. I think this helped us realize that Bean's diagnosis wasn't caused by anything we did. After all, the first thing you do when you learn your child is 'on the spectrum' is try to find out what you did to 'make this happen'. Was it the peanut butter I ate by the gallon while I was pregnant? Was it the undue amount of stress caused by the shitty company I worked for at the time? I felt more to blame because I was the vessel that carried the little dude for 9 months. Eventually you just get on with life as you know it. Normal is just a cycle on your washing machine. I also felt guilty for having the opinion that some parents welcomed a diagnosis so they wouldn't have to actually parent their child or to have an excuse for bad behavior. "Yes, I know little Barney has ASD, but if he doesn't stop jumping on my sofa like a bouncy castle I am going to loose my cookies. Now put down your wine and parent."

We all live and learn. Bean amazes me ever day with the stuff he comes up with. Last night, around 11 pm, I found him in the bathroom. When I asked him what he was doing, he said, "Bear needed to make a poo poo." After making certain that he was not the one who needed to sit in the business chair, I took him back to bed. He snuggled up to me and said, "Mom, I am a bit lonely." I didn't think it was possible to have your heart melt and break simultaneously. So I snuggled him up, kissed his head, and we talked about the strange and wondrous topics rolling around in his head. I sang a lullaby and shed a tear as I lay in the dark and listened to the rhythmic breathing of my sleeping Bean.

He is my joy and a blessing in technicolor. He is my Bean, and I am his Mum. Not the end of the story -just the beginning.

Until next time,

Lisa

Cambridge...on a sunny day!

Well I must admit I am suffering a bit from a company hangover. Sure it's nice to have my house back, but not the doldrums after the frenzy of excitement. I will remedy my pain with a bit about our visit to Cambridge.

This is the fourth time I'd been to Cambridge. I have failed to document the first ever visit to Cambridge. Perhaps I have blocked it out of my mind. Let me set the scene for you. It was March, and it was cold and snowing. The cold wasn't so much out of character for England at that time of year, but the snow was a bit of an anomaly. Several other people were just starting new jobs here also, so the bosses thought it would be a good idea for the newcomers to meet the tenured people. Most of the 'seasoned' professionals, it was rumored, lived in Cambridge and so the group settled on Jamie's Italian restaurant. This is a restaurant owned by the much-famed Jamie Oliver who has his own cooking show and numerous cook books.

We map the restaurant on the GPS and jump into our "Carl's Automatics" rental and headed toward Cambridge. Well, this is where the fun started. Or rather, the lack of fun. Unbeknownst to us first time Cambridge drivers, the maze of one-way streets and major thoroughfares are blocked to vehicular traffic. When I say blocked, what I really mean is that unless you are driving a bus, or are a taxi with a special device in your car, huge bollards rise up from the streets and prevent you from entering the city. Here is a spiffy video illustrating the rising bollards by The Nodding Cat Channel. The child's piano playing in the background is just psycho enough to make you want to poke yourself in the eye with a sharp stick. Much like driving in Cambridge.

Here is what a bollard can do to your car, after hearing the phrase 'Dude, I think I can make it':

So, we're driving along, following our GPS and I just happen to look up and said, "Hey, what's that rising out of the street?" Then came the cursing and screeching of breaks. The little lady in the GPS refused to reroute us. We ended up driving in circles for about 15-20 minutes before swerving to miss a biker and hitting the curb rather sharply which resulted in a flat tire. Nice.

However, there was a can of fix-a-flat in the trunk. That would have been nice, but it did not work. So we ended up limping the car to a bus turn-off and attempted to change the tire. No problem, the Hubs has changed many a tire in his day. True to Murphy's Law, one of the lug nuts was a 'locking' lug nut and the special wrench was not in the trunk. We phoned 'Carl' whose business card claimed to have '24 hour assistance'. Apparently not. To make a long story short, we ended up leaving the car at Jesus Green and getting a cab to the restaurant. We show up 45 minutes late and the Hubs looked like he'd just left his shift at Goober's garage. His knuckles were busted and his hands were covered in grease.

To add insult to injury, the food was meh. I like Italian, but I do have a bit of a problem paying an absorbent amount for pasta I can cook at home for a fraction of the price. Jamie would have been displeased. There is nothing fantastic about 'squid ink pasta' if the sauce is rubbish and the scallops were shaved paper thin. The risotto dish I had that night isn't on the menu anymore. Want more insult? The other coworkers, who lived in Cambridge, didn't bother to show up for the event. Apparently, it was too cold and snowy for them.

The only break we caught that evening was one of our dinner companions had a 'saloon' (Sedan) (also from Carl's Automatics) and could give the three of us a ride back home.

So my first trip to Cambridge was not a good first impression. However, I do believe in second chances. This trip to Cambridge we would drive to the Cambridge Park and Ride. Much better. You park your car (duh) and a double decker bus takes you into the heart of the city. Armed with this brilliant knowledge, we wiped the slate clean and made it a point to enjoy Cambridge with our out of town guest. She just graduated with her Masters in English, so Cambridge was definitely on her list.

After popping into a few bookstores we stopped to enjoy the Cambridge Market. The market has tons of booths. You can find all sorts of food, from German wienerschnitzel to Asian noodle bowls. There is always fresh produce, flowers, and local cheese (I never understood why people would choose cheese as a 'dessert' until I tasted local cheese. Now I know.), clothing, tourist trappings, old vinyl records and books.   I bought some gummy worms and sour bears from the candy vendor. He had just about every kind of candy imaginable. This was the Bean's favorite stop.

We just had to experience 'Punting on the Camb'. Which has nothing to do with football, actually. Punting is this:

A long, gondola-type boat you propel with a long pole. You can 'DIY' or you can hire a guide to take you down the River Cambs. Becky and I opted for the latter.Our boat-mates were Jenna and her daughter Daffodil. I feel the need to note this because their heads were in almost every single photo I/we took.

Here is our tour guide, Patrick:

He was fantastic. He was especially excited to learn we were American and amazed when I asked if we would be passing the 'Mathematical Bridge' and the 'Bridge of Sighs', because these bridges are the prints I have from the artist I referenced earlier in a post. I 'declare' having the least little bit of a southern accent will get you pretty much anything you want.

The Mathematical Bridge, he informed us, appears to be fashioned from curved wood, but all the beams used to construct the bridge are, in fact, straight. And the Bridge of Sighs gets its name from the last sigh prisoners would expel on their way to execution.

Here is the Mathematical Bridge:

And the Bridge of Sighs:

This is a must-do! We had a great time and learned a great deal about Cambridge, the architecture and the history. We probably got really lucky- there were just the four of us in the boat.

From there we ventured into the town proper. Becky needed to get a strap on her purse repaired so we stopped at a leather shop. You know what's better than getting your bag repaired? Yep, getting a new leather bag. I was slightly jealous. The bag she bought was rockin'.

Here is a picture of the Bean and me outside of the leather repair shop. Yep, those are Monster Trucks resting on the end of the centuries old, stone stair rail. Those monster trucks have been everywhere. I should have a blog devoted to their impressive travels. Hum, maybe next.

We wound down our day by meandering through the 'The Backs', which refers to the backs of the colleges. Becky and I met up with the guys after our Punting in the Barron of Beef. After a local pint, we headed back to the bus stop to catch a ride back to the Park and Ride lot.

I wish I could think of a more exciting way to end my post, but it really was a relaxing and low-key kind of day. The weather was perfect, and, since we took our trip on "Furlough Friday", it was not super crowded.

OK Cambridge, I've forgiven you.

Until next post!!

Lisa

Girls Trip to England

I know I was going to post an outrageous story about my first girlfriend's weekend to London, but I must admit it wasn't too 'Girls Gone Wild'. Don't get me wrong, we had a great time, but I broke my first rule: Proper Planning Prevents Future F-ups (also known as the "Pettys Method" after my dear friend, Karl).

We knew we were going to London, but that's where the planning stopped. I told her to let me know what she really wanted to see and do on her trip here and her answer was 'everything'. We couldn't decide what to do first, so in a frenzy of excitement- we ended up just walking and walking and walking. I'm not complaining. I got to see a ton of London that I had never seen before. At one point her 'Fitbit' pedometer started smoking. That may have been the 86 degree temperatures or all the miles we clocked, but all I know for sure is we walked a lot.

We stayed at the fabulous Twickingham Mariott, which is prone to cause arousal if you are into rugby. Here is me at the bronze statue in front of the complex:

Yea, these folks like some rugby. There are rooms in this complex that have a birds eye view of the arena from your hotel room. Our room afforded us a fantastic view of Twickingham and the rooftop terrace over the porte cochere. The room was lovingly paid for with redeemed points from Becky's hubs.  I should have taken a picture of the view, but exhaustion does not begin to explain the level of tired we were when we got to our accommodations that evening.

I would like to take the opportunity to mention that 86 degrees is HOT for London. There was more pasty, white flesh than should be legally permissible. And that was just my legs. The warm weather brought out locals and tourists alike. One of my favorite sports is people watching. The rumor is that fashion trends start in the UK and trickle over to the states. I hate to report that one trend this year is to cut off your jean shorts so short that your cheeks are exposed. Not a big fan of this look. I just don't think you should be allowed in public with your cheeks hanging out- and some of those cheeks were hanging out. I kept humming 'do your ears (cheeks) hang low'. I may be an old fashioned girl, but I believe your shorts should be longer than your fanny...and yes, I mean that fanny. (For you first time readers, here, a 'fanny' is not your bottom. It is not a hands-free, waist-storage pack used by travelers. It is slang for 'girl parts'.)

One cool thing to happen while we were in London was tennis player Andy Murray ended a 77 year wait for England to win the Wimbledon Men's title. The last time a Brit (male) won the trophy was in 1936. We were on the River Cruise. Here is Andy Murray on the jumbo-tron as we sailed past:

If you spot the yellow tent on the right side of the picture, you will see a chap in a white hat and shirt. That would be Andy Murray during the final match. When he scored the final match point, the crowd erupted and so did the whole of England. It was pretty darn cool to be there for such a historical moment in British history, even if he is a Scotsman. They'll take it!

The London Cruise was awesome. The tour guide was funny and pointed out several highlights along the Thames River. Plus there was seating and a constant breeze.

Here is the actual London Bridge. We arrived just in time to see the bridge open up to let a boat pass through. That was neat-o.

We skipped going up in the London Eye. Quite frankly, it was too hot to be crammed into a pod with 40+ people. I am not a big fan of crowds and small spaces freak me out, so we were content to snap a few shots as we cruised by. Here is the London Eye:

Here is me at Ben Ben:

Sunday we had much better luck. We went to the fabulous Camden Markets in North London. That was a sight to behold. Way too many people for my comfort level, most with out the knowledge of deodorant, but I persevered. I bought a fantastic new handbag, so it was worth the stench. We use USD on base and GBP on the economy, so I needed a bag that had easily accessible pockets for both.  I also like the hands-free bonus of a messenger bag style for looking through clothes racks and Bean wrangling.

We walked, much to my poor feet's dismay, to the Tower of London and The Globe before we decided to call it a day and head back to King's Cross station to catch the train back to our little village. However, we stopped and had a few pints which ultimately made our trek back to the tube station much more bearable.

These are the sculpture lions guarding the poor sots who were waiting to be executed following their brief stay at The Tower of London. These were pretty cool. The lions were fashioned out of mesh fence and the detail was astonishing.

I am amazed at all the history London encompasses. I find it baffling that the locals walk around seemingly oblivious to the plethora of history surrounding them. Especially since the good ol' US of A just celebrated her 237th birthday. It is very humbling to sit in a pub that has been serving cask-drawl ale for centuries and walk the same cobblestone streets as kings and queens once trod.

There is so much to see and so much I still haven't seen, that, I hope, when my friend makes her second trip to visit, with the family in tow, that I will be able to guide them around Rick Steves style.

Now I have to go bake brownies for the Bean's teaching staff. This Friday is his last day of school for the term. I am looking forward to having seven weeks off with my little dude. I am sure we will find some mischief to get into. I see some swim lessons and weekend camping trips in my future.

Next post? Cambridge!

 

Coming up for air

Well, since my last post I have received a ton of support from friends and family! Apparently, I appear to be holding it all together in spite of the mess I think I am. I referred to my last post as 'verbally vomiting' and since then I feel much better. It's easy to forget that no matter if you haven't talked to someone in ten years, or if you just talked to them yesterday, a friend will always think of you and wish you well. The new skill I am try to master is to accept help in the manner in which its given. Learn to trust, learn to forgive and learn to move on.

It's funny how people pop up just when you need them.

I just had my first house guests this past weekend. My house is in reasonably decent shape for someone who has just been here a scant four months. The Hub's cousin, his wife and daughter came to stay with us. We had not visited with them for seven years. It was very good to see them and now I have family semi-close by. Tara made me promise to call her before I hit 'crisis mode' in the future and that she would be happy to be my sounding board especially since we are in the same time zone.  She's also familiar with some of the different school systems and can answer any questions, however daft, and set me on the right track. Tara also has a wicked sense of humor and I find sarcasm strangely comforting.

Life is much more level a the moment. I finally bullied the teacher and the special needs coordinator into letting Bean attend first thing in the morning. (There are only four weeks left of term, but I picked my battle.)I reasoned that he would be involved in the actual school routine and not just coming in at the end of the day when the class is participating in free play time. The change in his behavior is short of a miracle. Well, to them maybe. To me, it was pretty common sense. It was a big deal for the Bean to be able to walk with his classmates and peers to school and line up with all the other kids saying good-bye to their Mums. It made him feel like part of the group and not the outcast who can only attend the late part of the day. He is sitting for lesson, attending assembly and his tantrums and mood swings have settled down. I also got to witness what a 'lady's man' he is already. Yea, apparently his social skills in that respect are top notch.

However, his 'openers' need a little work. We were at the playground the other morning when a little girl and her grandpa came to play as well. They introduced themselves and then Bean followed up with, 'Do you like spiders?' Smooth - like butter. Meh, we'll let that go for now.

I will have another house guest landing this Thursday (Eek! That's tomorrow!) My first 'American' visitor. It promises to be a ton of fun. I get to play tourist and the 'warden' has even granted me a night away in London.  Since Becky is allergic to cats, this will be a good trial run for the in-laws visit next Spring. I have dusted, vacuumed, washed bedding and sealed off the premises to keep the cat hair accumulation to a minimum. But in true cat fashion, every time I go open the door, she zooms into the room like I have open cans of tuna, empty boxes and catnip tossed everywhere. It doesn't help that she thinks I bought the vintage telephone table just for her leisure. Here is what a telephone table looks like, in fact it looks exactly like the one in my guest room:

Thank you British Heart Foundation Furniture and Electrical Store. I have found some really cool stuff there and at very reasonable prices. My coffee table is another sweet deal I found there, too. I would really recommend frequenting thrift shops and local charity shops for a plethora of shopping needs. So far, we have managed to bag two beautifully framed countryside prints and two signed and numbered prints of bridges in Cambridge. Here's the artist's website. Not to mention the wealth of books,  pottery, and one slightly used scooter. The scooter in the storefront of the sports store adjacent to the charity shop where we purchased Bean's new wheels (for four pounds fifty, mind you) was seventy-five pounds. The scooter had some nicks and scratches, but nothing worse than what the Bean would do in an average afternoon.

So now I am off to the base to get some necessities at the Commissary. I have been stoked since I found out  that the Commissary will take coupons up to six months out of date. Even more excited that the Family Readiness Center on base has tons of coupons for the taking- you just have to sift through to see which ones you will actually use. The last time I went to the FRC to get the coupons they were closed. I was bummed. I took my binder and everything. My plan was let Bean play while I plowed through the mountain of coupons.  I am not one of those coupon divas - but I do feel that every little bit helps and if you have a coupon for something you know you're going to buy anyway then it's a win-win.

Next post will probably have incriminating photos of my overnight stay in London. It will be titled: "What to do in London when you're childless and husband-less for the first time in five years". OK that may be a bit wordy, but you get the point.

Cheers!

It's Not All Fun and Games...

I would be remiss if I lead anyone to believe that uprooting your family and moving away from everything and everyone you know is a cake walk. It most certainly is not.

First there is your family to contend with. I'm not talking about your nuclear family, but the grandparents, brothers and sisters, cousins and close friends you leave behind. We viewed our move to England as a grand adventure and a once-in-a-lifetime experience to share with the Bean. He, four months later, still wants to know when we are going back to 'the brown house' where his neighborhood BFF's live back in the States. Every time we get in the car he wants to know which grandparents' house we're going to visit. (Hear that sound? That's my heart breaking.) We do Skype and Google+, but it is still not the same as a hug and a kiss.

I stupidly believed the transition would be easier on the Bean than on us. I thought as long as we were with him,  he would roll with the punches and take the move all in stride.  To him, I reasoned, it would be like a vacation! He will have tons of fun! He will make new friends! He seemed pretty happy when we were staying in temporary housing on base. He made new friends and liked playing on the playground. He had some toys and a few of his favorite DVD's. He had a little trouble going to bed, but you try sleeping on a fold out sofa with people slamming metal doors all hours of the night and let me know how refreshed you feel in the morning. Then try that for another 30 days. Um, yea. Not so much.

I didn't realize how much he was affected until we tried to put him in a British school. We threw him into "Reception" in the middle of April. This was approximately half way through the semester. Reception is the Brit form of Kindergarten. He'd been in a wonderful school in the states, and I assumed he would be ready to get back to school and meet new friends. Once again, I put the ass in assume.

You have several choices of where to put your child in school. As a member of the military forces, we had the option to place bean in the DOD school on base. You may also wait until you find housing and then enroll your child(ren) into one of the schools in the 'shire' in which you live. The first thing you will have to do (after you finally receive your house goods and locate which box has your sanity packed in it) is find out what your local 'shire' is and contact that office to make a request to enroll your child in one of the local schools. If you try to complete the form online, as I attempted, make sure you are submitting it during the open enrollment period. Disregard the fact that the form is still online and appears to be functioning no matter what point in the school year you attempt to enroll your child. The council will then contact up to three schools and see which school has a spot for your child. We chose a school which was in walking distance to our house and where he would attend the same school as the neighborhood children.

Here is Bean is his spiffy school uniform:

His entrance into the system went over like a lead balloon. By the time we enrolled Bean, all the other Reception students had processed through all the crying, screaming, snot-slinging, separation anxiety part of going to full-time school. They were perfectly fine, after all, they'd had 10 weeks to fall into routine.

It would probably bear mentioning that just before we moved, the Bean was diagnosed as 'on the spectrum' for Autistic behavior. As if that bomb wasn't enough to deal with, before we could get any kind of support system in place or get any therapy started, the second bomb dropped that we were scheduled to transfer to the UK. Great. Not only will we be moving, we will be moving to a place where I am starting in the basement of ground zero. And five hours ahead of any of my familiar support system. But you just put on your big girl pants and deal. By the way, 'pants' are in fact your 'panties' or 'undies', so don't go around talking about your 'pants' and then act surprised when you get a few raised eyebrows and snickers from the locals. And a 'fanny' is not your bottom. Think a little further north. Yep, refrain from saying 'smack your fanny, sit on your fanny or any other statement that involves the word fanny. But the P word? That's just a cute little kitty. Feel free to talk about your pussy all day long. No one will even flinch. I can hardly type that with out feeling dirty!

But I digress.

I advised the school of the Bean's diagnosis, but they informed me they were reticent to accept this information with out performing their own test first. Great! A second opinion of Bean's condition! Well, it would have been great- if (there is always an 'if' right?) they had at this time (8 weeks later..) to actually perform any screening tests. I've had numerous chats with the school, gone to the village General Practitioner's (or surgeon as they are referred to here), filled out evaluation forms and offered to help in any way I could. Short of throwing a full-on, throw-myself-on-the-floor-and-have-a-screaming-and-kicking-fit, I am beyond frustrated. Which, incidentally, is pretty much how Bean's first week went. After his first day, they told me he was having 'issues' transitioning into school. It took every fiber within my being not to say, "No shit? What part of 'Autism Spectrum' didn't you understand properly?"

As a result, he has only attended partial days since then- which is putting him farther and farther behind his class. The semester ends in four weeks, and there is no way he will be able to move up to first year class next term. I am beyond frustrated. If only they had listened to me back in April when we toured the school, or when we had our first meeting, or after the first time they had to call me in after he'd had a meltdown.

The truth is, everybody is 'on the spectrum' to a certain degree. We all have certain quirks. Know anyone who plays with change or keys in their pocked obsessively? Know anyone who has to check the door three times to make sure they've locked it? Know anyone who bounces their leg constantly? A child that will only wear a certain color of shirt? Someone who refuses to let the different foods touch on their plate? Well, those behaviors all fall 'on the spectrum'. The Bean's difficulty rests in his verbal and social skills. He is highly intelligent, so his brain travels at warp speed, but his ability to communicate his thoughts with words travels at snail pace. So, in order to process the overload of information, he flaps,hops and makes a 'mmmmm' sound. He has difficulty transitioning from one activity to another if he has not completed the task he's working on or hasn't finished playing. This behavior makes it difficult for him to function in a super-structured environment. Tack in a whole new country, whole new accents and different phrases, a completely anal-retentive adherence to routine and you've got a prescription for disaster. Most Autistic kids can't handle even the smallest change in their routine, so we pretty much threw the Bean a underhanded curve ball.

Here is a 'tractor' Bean build all by himself:

I think this is pretty fantastic. He is a pretty creative and smart little dude.

So, do I wish I had done more research before we came? You bet. However, I had no idea where we would find a house to rent. You can look on line all day long, but I've learned my lesson the hard way about renting a house site unseen. I want to look at the other houses in the neighborhood, find out if there are any kids close by, where the nearest playground is, and so on and so forth.

I was, and still am, dealing with more than just a transcontinental move. My husband had three surgeries between August and December of last year beginning with a lovely, seven day, all-inclusive stay in the ICU. Roughly at the same time, my mom fractured vertebra in her back and I was 12 hours away dealing with her condition over the phone. Then came Bean's diagnosis. By this point, I was barely hanging on to sanity and a lot of the time I had to tie a knot at the end of my rope just to avoid slipping into the abyss. Some days, I wished it was a noose.

It has taken us some time to get settled. We have been here since March and in our house since April. I have just now gotten all of our boxes unpacked. I am still organizing and moving stuff around the house. I can tell you if feels like we have been here longer than four months. Do I still think this is a wonderful opportunity to enrich our lives and the lives of our child? Without a doubt. Nothing worth doing is ever easy.

SO, in the midst of all my whining and blabbering, I am still having a grand time. We have the uncanny ability, in spite of our circumstances, to land in exactly the right place. We have moved to an incredibly fantastic neighborhood. I can walk to the shops. I can walk to the butcher. There is a duck pond on the way to the playground. Best of all, I really like my neighbors. I have met three extraordinary women who I can call my friends.

What happens now? I will keep working with the school to get Bean the assistance he needs to succeed. I will keep exploring my village and the surrounding areas (thank you Google Navigation phone app) and continue to :

Now I must jump on my scooter and roll up to the butcher's shop to get a loaf of crunchy bread to go with dinner.Yes, I took the Bean with me and, yes, I do have some mad scooter skills.

Until next time....

Lisa