Another post without photos: you were warned

An American guy came to my office yesterday to present a seminar on WRITING TO WIN.  He was a little guy but had a big voice, striped socks, and a lot of confidence even though he didn't have too terribly much to say.  Interestingly, as I type I am breaking all of his rules but I don't think I'm worried about it.  He says you really use his rules in the editing process anyway and that doesn't count here because in case you had not already noticed I do not edit this here blog.  I barely write anything in the first place and editing takes me longer than the original writing as I am a very fast typist and an even faster thinker.  If I edited, I would have to cut back on television and I barely get enough of that as it is.  Anyway, this guy's first rule (which must be the most important if you adhere to his other rules, one of which is make your best point your first point and don't expect your reader to absorb any more than the first point, especially if your reader is American) is to skip commas and instead use dashes.

And this made the English solicitors go cross-eyed.

I love it when a big group of adults talk about the rules of grammar.  I mean, I understand that one ought to know them and I am painfully aware that I likely do not follow them as well as I ought to BUT there is a point at which it all becomes a tiny bit silly and my friends, I had about two hours of silly yesterday.

But the best part is when he discussed how one must present to American audiences.  He suggested two things that struck me as absurd:  one, that because Americans are used to listening to preachers that you make it sort of sermon-like, and two, that you always always always end with a positive message.

And I should've raised my hand, I should have, but this was after he said that speaking to a group of Americans is roughly equivalent to speaking to a group of fifteen-year-old boys and so I was already sort of confused.

Because while I can understand the usefulness of stereotypes at some times, I don't think that making sweeping statements about an entire country is useful for a group of people who obviously have corporate clients.  Who might not be interested in religion and sunshine when they have a problem and want your view on it?

My lord.  I would so so so love to know how much that guy was paid.

Random

Hi there.  It's a rainy Tuesday afternoon here in London.  We had a nice day yesterday but now my iPhone weather forecast is back to only rain.  Which sort of makes me hate it a little bit.  As though the phone is responsible for the weather?  I think I won't get a new phone until it gets sunny here just to make sure that I need one. 

Eli and I went to a fun dinner on Saturday night.  I work with another American and it was her birthday, and she does really neat London things because she is only here for a year.  It was put on by a chef who cooks with local ingredients in random places.  Ours was in an old car garage.  They had picnic tables and put up paper lanterns and announced that we shouldn't touch anything in the garage apart from the food because they didn't know what might be there.   (The announcement was just in time as I had not yet lay down on the floor for a nap.) 

We sat near my barrister friend (who took me to lunch in that neat old building, remember that post?) and he told us about how he lost on a college quiz show because he had two difficult questions at the beginning -- and guess who knew the answers to the questions?  MY SMART HUSBAND.  Anyway, so when Eli and I were walking to the Tube afterward, he said, "there are just some people in this world who are obviously really smart and smarter that you, you know?" (He meant that Dan was smarted than himself, not me, though it would have probably been an appropriate comment if he had meant me.)  And I said, "YES, and that's how I feel about him too!"   

This guy got a job at one of the best chambers in London.  He was one of 700 interviewees.  He's just really smart.  And also really nice and very fun.  It's quite fun to have smart friends because they know so much.   

Eli and I have been watching the show "Girls" and now I have a new favorite song.  You should listen.  And that chick who writes and stars in that show? IMPRESSIVE.  Why to do it, Lena Dunham.  (While this blog began as a way to keep my children's grandparents updated  on their status in London, I am not actually recommending "Girls" to my own parents or my in-laws.  I think I'm about the oldest person who can watch that show and find it so touching.  It just kills me.  But I might be wrong?) 

And so we arrive at another weekend.

This has been a big week.  Mom is retired yesterday AND it's her birthday today.  Lizzie started preschool.  Tommy went back to school after nearly a month off.  Eli got a promotion.  And guess what happened to me? I worked.  I have been quite busy at work and finally on Thursday night my boss decided to finish the project we've been working on.  And so, we worked all night.  This is not a lie.  I sent a text to my sleeping husband at 4:45am to tell him that I was in the taxi finally on my way home.  The sun was coming up over the river and it was a sweet London moment.  

So, we're all very happy that it's the weekend and we've celebrated by having a very relaxed day.  I hope your weekends are just as lovely. A better blog post will come as soon as I can think normally. xo

Wellies

It rained all day long today.  I overheard on my way to work three separate conversations about the fact that May is meant to be the worst May on record in a century.  When I look at the weather on my phone, it shows rain every single day. 

And, today was Miss Lulu's first day of preschool.  So I first walked Tommy to school, and then returned to get Lulu and Mandy and go to Paint Pots.  From Paint Pots, I took a bus to the Tube and then the Tube into work. 

So I did what any smart person would do.  I wore my rain boots.  Here, they are called wellies, and mine are navy blue with bright pink trim and small white polka dots.  I bought them from J Crew on sale for $25 about five years ago.  And they work.  My feet stay dry.  I like that. 

Imagine my surprise when more people commented on my "wellies" than about the weather forecast for May.  It began with parents at Tommy's school and stretched into every single person I saw at work before I could get into my office and kick them off my feet!  Even the security guard who stands at the door all day said (with a smile to his credit), "I see you've come prepared!" 

Why, yes, I have, thank you. 

Is this not the land of "wellies"?  Don't we all wear them? Why is this comment worthy? 

First Day!

It was raining, and she was unhappy to be put down (that's right, she's old enough to go to preschool but insists on being carried everywhere) and unhappy to be out from under the umbrella.  But she loved school!

???

 

Sometimes I find myself walking around writing blog posts in my head.  I always forget them, but today it startled me to realize that having done this for two years it's become something of a habit.  I don't get twitchy in the way that I do when I skip the gym (like today) but I notice.  All that to say that this is a random one because we are busy and I am a bit scattered (what else is new).

Tommy has received birthday gifts from so many of you and while you should look for a thank you card with some big wobbly letters in your mailbox, I must take this opportunity to tell you all that it is really so lovely to realize how many people love my kids (or at least care about them enough to send them birthday cards and gifts).

One of our London friends braved a trip to Hamley's and then sent the perfect Lego gift along with a birthday card that had a poem (she calls it a rhyme, but then, I consider this blog writing and I'm sure there are many people who would not) in it.  I think the poem is so cute that I'm going to attempt to do them from now on -- but as I tend to be last minute with gifts, this will be a stretch for me.

The Lula woke up in a pool of vomit this morning which I must admit I did not even see, so awesome is my husband.  Lulu and Tommy are both on the couch next to me watching Dora while I decide which things on my mile-long to-do list I want to accomplish before noon when Mandy comes and I head back to work.  I have been at work quite late for two nights and it looks as though I will be at work all weekend, and so while I should be just relaxing and spending time with my children, I am unable to do so.

I am unable to do so because Friday is my jobs day AND because our totally unreliable cleaner canceled yesterday AND because we have notice that we received a package and I think it might have my new shoes in it (please God).  Eli says our cleaner comes 50% of the time and I would put her attendance at 65%, but either way, you know she's a freaking awesome cleaner that I deal with it.  Because the fastest way to grumpsville is (1) to ask me if I'm crabby and (2) a dirty house.  Anyway, it is particularly important to me that the kids' spaces are clean and so I have just done a quick vacuum and bathroom clean upstairs.  And do you know how much laundry a two-year-old with a tummy bug generates?  Do you feel sorry for me?  Have I mentioned that I'm so tired that I'm dizzy?

But look!  I have found ten minutes during which to publicly complain about my pretty much perfect life (and I do not say that whole thing about perfect life flippantly).

We have a new member of our group at work -- she seems awesome -- and on Wednesday morning we gave a presentation to the larger group of which we are a part.  I was really anxious about it but you know what? My part went well and during the rest of the day people streamed into my office to tell me how entertaining I was (one woman said, "it must feel good to make people laugh" and I thought "why, yes, it does, but I'm not sure that's what should've been happening during today's presentation") and how interesting I made construction law.  Let's stop and examine those words:  how interesting I made construction law.  My boss does not believe that there could be anything uninteresting about construction law but we all know the truth don't we.  So, I consider that my presentation was a huge success (even if I did seem a tiny bit silly).

Tommy just looked at me and said hopefully, "do five-year-olds still have to go in a car seat?"  He is disappointed to say the least that he will still be in a car seat when we next ride in a car (June?).

And Lulu's been meowing.  Especially when she wakes up in the morning.  No more "good morning" or "hi" just meeoowww.

Happy weekend!

Totally random, but maybe we'll say the subject is mostly Lego

I took the kids to Gambado on Friday.  It's a soft play area, that is enormous and chaotic and I lost Lulu twice.  The first time our friends found her at the top of the slide.  It's not a gentle slide, it's very high and fast.  The second time, I found her because I could hear her crying (this is impressive given the noise level of that place) but I couldn't see her.  She was in a tunnel, just sitting there crying.  So I got her and then I got the kids some lunch and she had about four bites before she tried to run away again.  "But you were just crying in a tunnel, honey," I said.  "No, no, not!" she replied.  Sigh.  But also.  I'm impressed that my peanut of a daughter is independent and confident and not at all worried that I won't find her if she chooses to cry for me while in a hiding spot.

So let's talk about something that is killing me.  It's the fact that despite investing a fair sum of money in very un-earth friendly plastic bins, playmobil and Lego keep getting mixed up.  Yes, obviously I am a bit OCD and I don't say that in any sort of flippant way.  I know I am.  For example I will not touch anything on the Tube and then touch my face or my hair so I have to always hold on with the same hand so I can move my hair out of my eyes or scratch my nose with the clean hand.  (And shockingly I am the only person I ever see using hand sanitizer as I exit the station.  Does everybody else wait until they're at their office? I don't understand.)  This subway situation, however, is manageable because I control it.  But I do not control the toy bins.  This morning I forced Tommy to go through them with me because I cannot identify each piece and he can (well, except for one which I put on his nightstand so that we can ask Eli tonight).

To make matters worse, Tommy and I "built" one of his new Lego sets together and right when I was feeling proud of our progress, he announced that he had to use some of the pieces for his own ship.  And so we (I) couldn't finish building the real ship because quite a few key parts were unavailable.  I am embarrassed to confess that this also drove me crazy and I kept taking deep breaths and reminding myself that if Tommy doesn't care that his Lego is never built as pictured on the box, I should not care.  But!  I do!  I want the satisfaction of completing the Lego.

These are the parts of parenting I never would have imagined would be tricky and they're the ones that require extraordinary amounts of patience and maturity on my part (and let me confess right here that the patient and mature parts of me do not always win).

******
Yesterday, we went swimming (after Gambado, so without the aforementioned neurotic behavior on my part, I would have been the best mommy ever) and two eight-year-old girls got into the pool with us and headed straight for Lizzie.  They wanted to hold her and know how old she was and her name, and her big brother was very jealous of the attention.  "Her name's Lizzie.  She's my little sister, but she likes to play by herself.  You know what you need?  To play with a FIVE-YEAR-OLD!"

And then today, we were walking down the road and he asked me if people ever wake back up again after they die.  Again, a challenging parenting moment which culminated in talking about advances in medicine so I'm sure he is completely confused about death at this point.  Sigh.