J U L I E + S I M O N

the chief

2011-11-01T19:22:00.005Z

love be still

2011-10-26T03:46:00.003+01:00

processed palace

2011-10-25T21:03:00.003+01:00

I'm overwhelmed by the abundance in grocery stores here. There are so many options, it's almost sickening. It's even more sickening when your 2 year old is screaming, "MO NACKS! MO NACKS!" Which translates to "More snacks, please dearest mother, most honorable one." And you have to yell to be heard over the squeak-grinding of your cart wheels*, "Shhh. Please wait. You can have a snack in a minute." Mason was trying to escape from that plastic car thing attached to the cart. He soon figured out that he wasn't really steering this car after all, and after swiping a box of cherry tomatoes onto the floor as a distraction, he tried to make a getaway. Roman, meanwhile was being the pleasant angel he is, but having him strapped to me, meant I was slower and Mason sensed this weakness.

The shoppers could see and hear us coming through the aisles. I was almost too distracted to see their uncomfortable smiles, as they dove into the wall of cereal boxes to clear our path. As if I can't maneuver this thing.

One brave soul, however, approached us as if to speak. He handed me a business card.
"No thanks," I said.
"It's for a day care."
(groan) "I'm good."

So what does it mean when perfect strangers are recommending day cares to you? I didn't know either so we proceeded to fill our cart with giant pumpkins and (s)nacks.

*not to be confused with cart wheels

bath, england

2011-08-27T19:45:00.005+01:00

What does it mean when we travel to a beautiful place and end up taking photos of mostly ourselves?

Bath was nicer than expected. We did our first house swap with a mansion in a private forest, with a pool, tennis court, trampoline, garden, playground, and toy room. Oh and cinema room. definitely spent more time at home than in the town. So maybe our perception of Bath was skewed somewhat.

We have a friend who is from here who can't stand to hear it pronounced "bath" as in "bat" so be made sure to say it right "bath" as in "ball" (even though we were only talking to each other the entire time).

The Roman Baths were amazing. I love going to the spa in general, and was fascinated by the (nude) hangout scene that happened here back in the day.

Over 130 of these tablets have been found here, on which bathers inscribed curses addressed to Gods like Hermes, against those who stole their clothes while they were bathing. There were also love tablets attached to locks of hair or clothing of the one you wanted to place a love curse on. Romans could buy pre-written love tablets with a spot to insert a name.

I remember as a child, my dad telling me that people never change, which I didn't believe because I thought the world he grew up in was so distant to my reality and he was too old to see that. But maybe he was right.

melt me

2011-08-27T18:55:00.002+01:00

I know young mothers go on and on about their perfect babies way too often on blogs, so I thought I'd try not to do that. But I tried thinking of something else to say that describes him and can't. So I guess that's that.

suri cruise syndrome

2011-07-22T12:40:00.006+01:00

It's Roman's 1/2 birthday. Once again I can't believe we've made it this far. I wasn't sure there was any room left in my heart to fully love another baby, the way a baby deserves. Seemed to me that all the space was already occupied by M and Simon.

The thing about Roman is, he's charming. Our love grew naturally- as would with a fancy new boyfriend, who becomes your best friend who never leaves your side. I can say that I love Roman more than I thought I could. This bond has brought us close through the hard times we've had together.

These last 6 (12) months have been a doozy. Let me tell you. A year ago I was in the throws of morning sickness (also on a boat in Greece, which didn't help). And it seems like yesterday that I was sifting through baby names with not-so-helpful baby naming apps on my iphone:

This pregnancy came with new aches and pains and a toddler to chase as well. Roman was born a perfect little baby, but soon struggled with silent reflux and eczema in extreme forms. We've enlisted live-in au pairs to help out and we're slowly getting back to normal life. It's been an incredibly challenging time for me, as I have been sleep deprived and stressed with trying to find answers to help him, and care for Mason and a house and work. I've often felt like I was trying to appear normal and say normal things in social situations when all I really wanted to do was curl up on the floor and fall asleep in a corner somewhere. I do, however, feel like we're ready to come out of hiding and participate a little more with reality. Starting with responding to many emails, and adding some posts. Roman has had a good attitude even though he's been uncomfortable, and loves to learn and play. He is so lucky to have Mason as a playmate from the start. Mason loves to make him laugh and they already play together on the floor.

I've been surprised to find how protective M has been of the baby. When someone else holds Roman, Mason cries and leads me to him saying, "baby baby" until I take him and he feels much better. If Roman is crying, he will pat him, hold his hand or rub his head, also leading me to him to help. Once Mason was sick himself, with a fever, and still tried to comfort Roman when he began to cry. I'm starting to see how it is that brothers are such an important parts of the other's life. I can't fully describe one without telling about his relationship with the other.

The best news on the horizon for our family is that we have our tickets booked to the states from Oct-Dec this year. It will be Roman's first trip to the homeland. I can't wait to show him off to family for the first time and give him room to roam (no pun intended).
Our last trip home, I was 5 months pregnant, and just flew straight from London with Mason on our laps. As the plane touched down, Simon leaned toward the window and said,
"I can't wait to party it up in LA tonight."

And was completely serious.

I told him to have fun because I was exhausted and going to bed. I felt him come home around 2 or 3 AM. I woke up around 9 and walked into the kitchen to find this piece of evidence on the table:

Simon wearing a zebra top hat at Dimples Showcase? Hm. I now have this photo on the fridge because it makes me happy to see my boys having a good time.

here comes the sun

2011-04-25T21:06:00.004+01:00

Thanks Jen for the great photos!

romanticalities

2011-03-23T10:50:00.009Z

Yesterday was one of those stressful night/mornings that made me swear I would never have another child. (I know this is a normal feeling for a mother of a 2 year old and a newborn, but still). I was starting yet another day exhausted, and I was grumpy. The baby was barfing down my shirt, which pooled into my bra, whilst Mason was having his first tantrum because I wouldn't let him color the furniture. I was depleted from a sleepless night, feeling anything but pretty. Simon was his usual chipper self, and in an attempt to lighten my spirits, leaned over and said,

"Guess what."

"Don't say it."

"What? Why?"

"Because I'm not ready for it."

"Can I say it after work?"

"We'll see."

The poor boy only wanted to wish me a happy anniversary. I wanted our anniversary to be a special day and so far it was turning out to be a greasy, whiny, poohy mess. Last year I forgot it was our anniversary so I guess it's a step up from that. After Simon left, I realized that 2 kids in 3 years of marriage is a lot to handle, and I shouldn't expect anything extravagant. I called a sitter and begged her to come over for the rest of the day, and felt much better. Simon was able to come home early, so we walked together down the street with the baby- on our way for some head and neck massages, that we would take turns getting. It was just a block away, but that walk together was so nice. We held hands and it was the first warm evening in London. I would have never suspected that a simple walk down the block would have fulfilled my anniversarial dreams. Maybe it was just some peace I was craving.

As I lay there, trying to ignore the fact that the chinese man rubbing my shoulders had long fingernails and kept swallowing his phlegm, I thought about that morning. If someone had shown me that morning before I had gotten married, it would have scared me. I would have thought- How could you let yourself go like that? And -You look terrible-why can't you get that baby to sleep? And -Your house is a disaster; when did you stop caring? Back when I was young and foolish to the ways of motherhood, I swore I would never become a sloppy person with a messy house who can never find her keys. That's easy to say when you make your own working hours and sleep in until 10:30 every day, only to stroll to brunch. Then taking your time to preen yourself, before going out to do whatever you want until whenever you feel like it. Oh, and with a perfect little body you never have to work for.

I know it sounds like I'm complaining. I am. I'm just saying it like it is.

But, looking at the same morning from the other side, having seen everything that came before it, I wouldn't change anything. I would still want the same tiny flat in our great neighborhood. I would still want my mason and my roman as early as they came. I would still want to raise them myself, rather than pay someone else to do it. Which means I want baby Romes to be barfing over my shoulder, because I'm the one who loves him the most. I want to be the one helping Mason learn that tantrums aren't the answer, because no one will be more patient with him than I. And he probably needs my attention more than anyone else's anyway.

There were no gifts exchanged. Just some peanut butter cookies and a movie on the couch. We've packed 5 years worth of travel, business and babies into 3 years, which means we have 2 bonus years to chill out. Bring them on.

meet roman : he's new here.

2011-03-16T21:43:00.005Z

The Story

January 17th. Cold, rainy night.

7.00 PM

I was dressed up, with some girlfriends and having contractions all through dinner. Someone asked me if I wanted to time them. "No, that's silly—these are nothing; happens all the time," I said and carried on eating my beautiful enchilada. Not due for another week. Friend tells me I look comfortably pregnant. Happy I took a cab home.

11.00 PM

Home now and crawling on the floor, complaining to Simon that my back hurts. He advises me to go to bed. Which I do.

1.00 AM

Ow, these braxton hicks are becoming bothersome now. Take a bath, get a drink, walk around. Not convinced.

2.00 AM

"Simon, we're going to have a baby today."

3.00 AM

Shouting commands out to Simon from the bath tub. "Pack him a bottle and extra clothes!" (Mason's day bag).

3.45 AM

Trying to walk down the stairs to the car. Have to break twice and sit down. Simon runs a red light.

3.50 AM

Trying to walk from the car to the lift at the hospital. Not going to happen. Get back in the car. Simon runs to fetch a wheel chair with birthing bag and blanket and pillow around his neck.

4.00 AM

Inside the hospital. Cursing the cold. Loudly. "Why is it so f*ing cold in here?!!" Start sobbing and blubbering about being so cold, turn to see there's a man standing next to me in the lift, acting like nothing outrageous is happening. Smile.

Get in nice, warm pool. Aaaaah. Finally relaxed. Happy, working hard. Pleasant conversation. Sleeping between contractions. Loving the water.

7.20 AM

Time to push already? Wow!

7.45 AM

"He's coming! I feel his head!" Baby born right into my arms. Lift him out of the water and onto my chest. He squeaks, squirmy, wet, and perfect. He's hugged by his mum and dad. roman is here.

Surprised at how much he looks like Mason. Keep calling him Mason by accident.

7 pounds, 2 ounces.

golden hair, blue eyes

1.00 PM

Sitting with my new baby, can't help but think about Mason. I miss him. I wish he was here to be part of this ….but not really because he'd be swinging from IV's and throwing syringes. They bring me a tray of bland potatoes, foamy "tang" and a pile resembling cole-slaw, just asking for a joke on British cuisine. Smile.

7.00 PM

The staff tell me their printer is broken so they can't give me my discharge paper and I'll have to stay the night here alone. I tell them I'm checking myself out and start walking out the door with baby. They scramble to get me a discharge paper and we go home as a family of four. Smile.

turkey.... and i'm not talking about thanksgiving.

2010-12-01T20:02:00.005Z

Sorry this has become somewhat of a travel blog. The travels are over now, but we did have to make a quick stop in Istanbul first, before Frankie comes and we never leave the house again. As you can see we basked in the sun, enjoying every photon before returning to the London gloom.

We were walking one morning between the blue mosque and the Hagia Sophia when we heard the prayer calls for the first time. They went back and forth between the two mosques as if they were singing a long, dramatic conversation at each other. We had never been anywhere like this before.

We of course ate Turkish delight, which will forever remind me of the Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe. I don't know how anyone can eat more than one bite before going into a sugar comatose- it's a little too much for me. And we didn't buy any rugs, although many kind Turkish salesmen would yell out to us from their shops doors, "Hello nice couple. Are you lost? Is this way." (As they pointed inside).

We spent some time thinking about the major world religions, given that they share roots, and probably have more in common than we typically hear about. A few weeks later we spoke with a Christian man who was converting to be a Muslim, and his Muslim wife was converting to Christianity so they could share the same customs. He spoke about how there was good to gain from both sides and their main messages really weren't that far off from each other. I'm also reading The Life of Pi right now, and came across the part where *spoiler alert* Pi wants to become a Muslim, Christian, and a Hindu because there are things that he loves about all of them, and he finds they overlap. This topic seems to keep randomly coming up lately and it's a good one to consider.

In other news, I'm feeling very nesty and am often re-organizing the cabinets in a frenzy rather than resting as I should be. I no longer count how many weeks along I am, I only know how many are left and today there are 7 weeks, 6 days to get everything ready. I've been telling M about being a brother and we talk about babies sometimes, but whenever I say the word "baby" he runs over to the iPad and starts the Justin Beiber song and we end up dancing for the next half hour with the song on repeat. Woah that little man wears me out.

scootland

2010-11-17T12:09:00.005Z

Scotland in October turned out to be marvelous. I spent a large part of my time sneaking up on sheep for a picture. Once they saw me coming with my giant baby belly they would sound the alarm and waddle off the other direction. The boys' sheep bleatings from the car weren't really helping either.

But the countryside was breathtakingly pretty. It seemed as if it hadn't changed in a thousand years.

A Highland Cow.

Simon golfed while I went to the spa. Our hotel was just outside Edinburgh, but felt miles away.

Sadly, Simon and I would have never dated if he looked like this.

According to Nessy sightings, she's most often seen when the water is glassy like this. We didn't see her, which may be because she doesn't exist.

I sat on a fence calling out to this guy. But he wouldn't budge.

all hallows eve

2010-11-04T22:00:00.002Z

M is a man of few words. These are they:

mama
dada
ball
(nodding head yes)
(lion roar)
ba-oo (balloon)
bay-ee (baby)
ma (more)
up
duck
mmm (moo)

So I decided he should be a duck since we could converse about it. I loved it, but he wasn't so sure. Luckily it was cheap and didn't take long to make. Thankfully he still doesn't say "no." I'm trying to hold that one off as long as possible.

And FYI, I learned today that he can actually read some words, being:

kick
yes
yellow
tongue
clap
ball
hat
monkey
bird
bee
knees

He acted all of these out to me or pointed to examples of them. I had no idea. Apparently he can also spell out animal names from scrambled letters. I'm not so sure this is normal for an 18 month old. But now I know that he DOES understand what I'm saying to him and is most often just ignoring me. Well buddy, the gig is up. You can't spell hippo and then act like you have no idea that I'm calling you to come get your diaper changed. Whenever I do, he avoids eye contact, slowly starts walking away, and then sprints into another room. Already he's been trying to trick me, and sadly he's been winning. Trick or treat I guess.

what rhymes with nebraska?

2010-10-28T20:24:00.005+01:00

We did our holiday traveling in September this year as I'll be too pregnant to fly come Christmas. One stop we made was McCook, Nebraska to visit Simon's parents. They like to be in the middle of things, so naturally they chose to live here:

Being responsible parents.

Sue and her horse.

I think this one is really special.

My baby bump is about 8 times bigger now, just one month later. I already look full term and the other day someone guessed I was 8 months pregnant. Nope- this little nugget has 3 more months left to fatten us both up.

Cousin Kennedy.

First time riding bareback.

Squeezable.

I'm trying really hard to find a spot for this photo in my home.

2010-09-13T10:03:00.001+01:00

3 boys and a babe

2010-09-10T20:57:00.001+01:00

Remember that group on Star Search? Or was it 4 Boys and a Babe? Either way, I went through school with one of those boys and always knew that I was studying among a champion.

Did you watch the video? Because that's pretty much what it feels like is going on inside of me most of the day. AND our house is officially filled with 3 boys and a babe. (Me, being that babe- in case that wasn't obvious.) I was almost certain that we were having a girl. When I was pregnant with M I was craving salty beef like a ravenous bear, but this time around all I want are egg sandwiches and fruit bowls, and I'm not all that hungry. So I took that to mean it was a girl. But once again the scan revealed those dangly bits and we were shocked. I like surprises and I like baby boys so this is a good thing. I'm so happy to be having another boy. Simon can't wait to play basketball with them. He'll be the perfect playmate for Mason and I already have all the boy toys and gear. I'm just trying not to imagine all the mischief that will surely be coming my way. Especially with M as the ring leader.

I do have to say that I wasn't expecting Baby #2 to feel like such a big transition. It's scary to become parents of "kids." Once you have 2 kids you're no longer just a couple who happens to have a baby. That single baby is your ticket into the world of families, but you can still keep your foot in Couples Land too. With 2 kids you're a full on family, which is good. But I have this fear of becoming those kind of parents. You know, the ones who are out of shape, overly serious, haven't slept in years, tell bad jokes, and generally look like they've given up on life and pop culture. If you don't know what I'm talking about then take it as a polite sign that you are one of them and you need to start following a current reality tv show. Just joining Facebook isn't enough to keep your youth. And note: if Facebook is coming up as a topic of conversation, you're probably too old to be on it. You'll never hear 14 year olds talking about facebook itself. There's nothing to say. You will, however hear them talking about Team Jacob vs. Team Edward in great detail. Oh my gosh why am I talking about this? This post is about 3 people becoming 4.

........I had a great time being a singleton. So many other fun singles. So much to do and fun to be had. So much laughter. And being married was the same way. I think the more kids I have the further away I feel from that time/freedom. I think this is my problem. I know it's inevitably going to change me/us. Unless you have a nanny, chef and cleaner working around the clock. And even then you'd need a homework tutor, driver, and nurse. I think when you have kids you give up any time you had for yourself, so by the time they're old enough to get a grip 2 decades have gone by and you just can't keep up with that. I just fear the day when I can no longer keep current with technology and good tv shows. Or maybe I won't even notice when it does happen.

It's a serious transition. It's a good one. I had no idea how much fun it would be to have a child. No one can explain it to you. It's way more rewarding than having a night life. So I guess its a different kind of fun now and it changes all the time as Mason learns new things and Simon and I figure out how to balance it all. I have found, however, as I learn to let go of my own youth I'm swept up in Mason's childhood, living it all over again. And I suppose I'd rather do that than pretty much anything else anyway.

happy birthday to me

2010-08-01T16:28:00.002+01:00

It's a good thing Simon's 5 years older than me, so turning 27 doesn't seem so bad. "Frankie" was making me nauseous all day but I was determined to do something fun. So Mason and I went on a date to the aquarium.

First we took the tube 3 stops.

We got off at our stop - and checked the time.

Then we walked across the Thames.

(That's the aquarium on the other side). This was the part that I realized that London is a cool city, and that I like living here. For some reason my morning sickness also comes with home sickness and I long for the states, as if I wouldn't feel miserable just because I was over there. This moment was actually a great birthday gift- and a surprise which is even better.

Then I chased M around as he shrieked at the fishes and tried to run away from me.

you may have heard

2010-07-20T20:44:00.002+01:00

Round 2 (who we've been referring to as Frankie).
12 weeks along.
Sick as a dog.
Insanely tired from chasing an excited toddler around all day, every day.
And feeling kind of guilty for giving baby 2 no attention whatsoever. I sometimes even forget that he/she's in there which makes me feel worse. Are these the hormones talking? When I was pregnant with Mason I was obsessed with him from the start and spent all my time fantasizing and reading baby literature so I'd be ready. Maybe once we find out the gender in 7 weeks I'll start thinking about names and getting the baby gear together. I'm just too tired right now.
BUT we are very happy that this is happening and I would love for M to have a little friend. He's going to love it.

santorini + mykonos

2010-07-14T21:41:00.004+01:00

If you want to make Simon happy, find him some authentic Greek yogurt.

Mykonos was spotted with bored old people- just hanging around as if they've been sitting there since they were teenagers.

Bored old man.

Simon really wanted to eat this. Sometimes I just don't know about him.

italy

2010-07-14T21:31:00.005+01:00

Most of our photos of Italy are ridiculous because our time there was ridiculous.
This is Simon at the candy stand.

My favorite thing is seeing poor English being sold in stores in other countries. It makes me so happy. Not sure what a "Rude Team" from Iowa shirt is doing here.

If you're cool, you would have heard of South Cal.

We traveled with our good friends- Neil and Jes.

Simon begged me to buy him this mask. He thought it was flattering, but I had to say no.

Squizzy.

my very own japanimation

2010-06-24T12:10:00.003+01:00

british nachos

2010-06-09T10:27:00.005+01:00

We made the mistake of ordering nachos in London. They had a base of "Tangy Cheese" flavor Doritos, and if you looked hard enough, one or two shards of cheese. I'm pretty sure when we ordered these, they sent someone to the local quick-ie mart to buy a bag of chips. They have strange flavors names here. These Doritos would be called "Nacho Cheese" flavor in the states, but they can't call them that here if they don't even know what nachos are or what they should taste like.

Mexico is a loooong way away from here.
I grew up 4 hours from the border and didn't know how lucky I was.

new york city

2010-05-18T10:55:00.003+01:00

We spent a week in NYC. This was Mason's second time. We had so much fun but we're glad we don't live in the City anymore. We ate amazing food and went to our favorite comedy club. I ate eel that was shipped in live from Japan overnight. We saw a film at the Tribeca Film Festival and then had brunch at 11 PM. It was a strange feeling to be walking down the street not carrying anything but a slice of pizza. No baby, no pram. I could bolt across the street at will, and go into crowded cafes. I used to run around that city wild and free, and I'm glad I did while I could.

oxford, england

2010-05-12T14:58:00.010+01:00

In an attempt to start crossing off trips on our "Places to Visit" list, we took a day trip to Oxford. It was quaint, and somewhat sophisticated, as you might expect.

Having only seen thatched roofs in movies, my instincts told me it will probably be burning from torch arrows and the village will be pillaged any minute. Not a good feeling.

I hate that black jacket. Partly because it was the jacket I wore for my entire pregnancy. Partly because it makes me look like a beetle with an abnormally large thorax. After this trip I vowed to never wear it again and I proudly haven't.

The Oxfordians carry on with their business alongside the creepiest graveyard ever, casually placed across the street from Borders and Subway.

Mason and I tried to pose for a picture, but he wiggled free.

Then climbed to the top, squealing with delight.

Oxford sophisticates appalled by our lack of germ and parenting education.

What did you say to me?

This couple is lost. I think it was Scotland they were looking for.

Right after this photo was taken Simon put some cookie in my mouth and told me to guess the flavor. That's the kind of day it was.

one year

2010-04-20T21:52:00.005+01:00

Wow this year has been a lot of work. BUT, it has been completely worth all of the trouble. Mason has carved out a little space in our family of 3 and we can't picture our lives without him. He's happy and healthy and we're so grateful. I kept thinking back to what I was doing a year ago... I was in labor right now... 20 hours later....I was still in labor...
I thought I would deserve to be showered with gifts for going through all of that but throwing him a party was better. He was happy, so I had to be too.

I spent way too much time decorating and cooking for his birthday party. It's just the first time I've ever had a birthday party for a child of mine. Many of M's life-long friends were there paying homage and he was showered with gifts and love. Thanks everyone.

happy easter!

2010-04-12T14:05:00.000+01:00

special thanks to hyeku for the cute shirt.

someone's having a party on saturday.....

2010-04-12T13:59:00.002+01:00

Well it's really more of a lunch than a party, and we invited our friends, not his... so I'm basically throwing a party for myself. If you're in London, feel free to stop by for a chat and a bite.

christmas 2009

2010-03-19T20:57:00.005Z

Christmas morning was so exciting we could barely handle it. 99% of the presents under the tree were for Mason. (Thanks to Grandma Linda because we didn't think to get him anything.) He tired of opening so many gifts and had to go take a nap while we opened the rest of them.

At the family Christmas party that night, Mason was nominated to play the lead role as Baby Jesus; an obvious choice.
Here he is getting into character and costume:

The nativity scene went as well as it could have with an angry shepherd and squirmy wise men. Mason was a natural.

But my mind's eye saw this:

And here's my mom's interpretation:

hotpants

2010-03-19T19:06:00.004Z

M and I found these euro swim trunks on our stroll today. I'm pleased knowing that I'm starting him out right in life by making him wear these as much as possible this summer. There's no shame in it. He's lived in England 100% of his life, so he's earned them. My mom got him some navy blue crocks, so he's pretty much ready to go.

He also had his first dressing room experience as I tried size after size on him. If Mason were a French boy, these would fit him when he was three. But he's full of giant American genes, so he'll go ahead and fit in them at 11 months.

Now all we need is some sun.... and maybe a gold chain.

nyc love

2010-03-19T09:47:00.001Z

this was the view from my window
in my new york apartment
where i lived
when i met simon

Cheerio.

2010-03-14T21:02:00.007Z

Notice anything different about me?
look closer...

Mason's been working very hard. I never thought I'd care so much about stuff like this.

bambina bella

2010-03-14T20:47:00.005Z

The other day I bjorned M and we walked to the cafe around the corner for lunch. In transit, a herd of Italian teenage women gathered round him and began fluttering him with their accented "beautiful girl" and "look at the baby girl." Of course mason loves all this fanfare; he's much used to it from strangers. And I stand there feeling like I'm holding a puppy for everyone to oogle over, (myself being completely ignored by all in these instances.) His fur hat isn't helping. It's basically a honing devise that attracts even the faintest of child sympathizers to his attention. And then he smiles at them, inviting them deeper into his world, and then it's all over and we're stalled until the oooh's are spent.

This poses 2 problems.

Mason may grow up thinking that it's normal to stop with every other woman on the street to say hello and smile close to each others faces.

AND

For the last time he is not a girl! Look at his clothes- he's usually covered in blue or dinosaurs. I thought that maybe it was a British perception, but he was getting the girl compliments in California as well. When he was first born he was clearly a boy- because he was nude, and also because he generally looked like an old man. I'm hoping this phase doesn't last long, because I don't think it would be healthy for a 15 year old to be called "miss" or "love" as the women are called here.

Maybe his curly locks are throwing off his one ounce of manliness.

Last thing about this. He smells sweet. His natural scent is just sweet. I've been asked a few times what I use to bathe him and the answer is always disappointing: water. This is something I would wish him to keep.

One of the mums in his baby play group says her daughter has a crush on him. This would be the first official crush. Unfortunately for him, he's pretty unaware of her baby signals/existence. He gets that from Simon. Simon doesn't "catch my drift" or understand what I'm implying. No, he only understands the literal words I say. Mason doesn't even flinch when he's heading for the top of the stairs and I'm calling after him to come back. I think the only type of signal he's going to receive will be a physical object thrown to bounce off of him. I can work with that.

I need a leash.

outings with m

2010-03-14T20:22:00.003Z

I've realized (been teased a lot) recently that I should probably stop taking mason everywhere in his pajamas.

We took M to the playground today, semi-pretending that spring had bloomed. M had sniffles but loved it anyway.

He really is this pale. Some people call it porcelain to make it sound better. But I still think he looks like the ghost version of himself. Let's just say we're excited for summer sun.

pug on a rug

2010-03-14T20:02:00.002Z

Here's a shot from a shoot the other week. This baby was 5 pounds. I think it's hysterical that they look like they're having such a great time together.

tree surgery

2010-03-14T15:16:00.004Z

Sometimes England's wording is like listening to a 2 year old trying to talk. You know they got some of their words wrong, but it sure was cute watching them try.

This sign was posted in front of our place. Please note the reason for the parking suspension.

At Mason's play date, "Please wipe up any spillages."

At the playground.

Dwellings. Yes, dwellings.

we are in serious trouble.

2010-03-14T15:04:00.001Z

Mason sat happily on the floor mashing the keys of Simon's blackberry.
"How did he get that? It was on the table."

He reached up and grabbed it because he can do that now.

Turning around- I realized he wasn't in the room..... and saw the open door with warm crawl tracks leading out of it.

The boy can open doors! Another one of the things he can do now.

the other boy in my life

2010-01-21T20:44:00.004Z

I am in LOVE with this photo and posted it on our fridge .5 seconds after discovering it. Look familiar?

cousins

2010-01-17T23:41:00.004Z

It kind of looks like he's trying to explain things to his shrink here.
"It all began 9 months ago...." or "I keep having this recurring dream that I have no teeth...."

He's so curious about everything already; how things work, how they sound like when you hit them, what things taste like. It's funny to think that even as adults we're still trying to learn who we are and solve life's mysteries. I don't think you could ever be bored as long as you're curious.

Over Christmas Mason got to meet his cousin Kennedy.
She's as sweet as she looks.
Don't worry- we took some pictures of her too:

{ first family photos }

2010-01-09T22:29:00.005Z

My cute aunt Sara Westbrook took these for us in California last week. This was Mason's first time seeing the ocean, and touching sand. He loved it. He only tried to eat the sand once; quick learner. I miss the sun.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

2010-01-06T22:47:00.003Z

yee haw!

He actually did hold on by himself. Such a brave little warrior.

E is for elephant.

2009-12-09T22:01:00.005Z

keeping sanity

2009-11-18T12:17:00.006Z

Yesterday M pooped himself and it was all up his back under his clothes and got all over the floor. If that wasn't pretty enough, he kept rolling around when I tried to change him, smearing the mess even farther. It was the biggest poop stank mess and I was so frustrated. I wanted Simon to come home so I could have a break. Ever since he turned 7 months he thinks he has an opinion about whether he wants to eat or be changed. Really, Mason, what is this attitude? And after yesterday I was so tired of dealing with him; I was completely spent. Sometimes days end like this and I need a serious unwind. After he was in bed, I started writing, like I do every night, and I felt better. I even thought the poop wrestle had been kind of humorous.

I do a lot of writing. I don't get to interact with adults much these days; most of my time is spent at home with Mason. And now that it's freezing outside, I'm less willing to spend days out and about in London. Simon works hard at his full time job AND as a student at London Business School. So, when M is finally down for the night, and Simon won't be home for a while, I pick up my book and write a few pages. About whatever I want to write about, not intended for anyone else to read. This helps me feel like what I do every day is important. My identity hasn't been taking over by mom chores. I feel like Mason's life so far has been preserved, and I can relax, knowing that it won't be forgotten. I have a chance to tell my story honestly, because no one else will read it. My brain gets some exercise, and I go to sleep easier with a clear head. My handwriting is getting better, too. I almost lost my book at LAX airport and flipped out. Once I got it back I realized how important it had become to me, which is a beautiful thing.

This book teaches you how to keep your own book, and I'm so glad I'm doing it. It's not like a journal, which is hard to stick to, and can get mundane. I wish I could send a copy to you all right now, to either use, or send to your mom to try.

Other than writing, some stand-up comedy episodes, country music, a bath, and working out are also good for an end-of-the-day unwind.

How do you unwind?

i couldn't resist

2009-11-16T13:06:00.003Z

Halloween came and went and M didn't get to dress up.
This just couldn't be. Not for his first Halloween.
He didn't know what was going on or why I was laughing so hard.
At least my Halloween dreams were fulfilled.

fallen ill

2009-11-03T10:07:00.001Z

we've been sick.
m had croup.
simon had a cold.
i've had the sniffles.

as you can see, we're getting back on our feet.

happy 1/2 birthday

2009-10-15T18:34:00.002+01:00

I can't believe we made it.

Eating his giraffe's face.

babooshka

2009-10-09T20:55:00.005+01:00

we went for a walk on sunday.

it was colder than anticipated.

but still pleasant.

so we wrapped him up.

he loved the attention.

he sees his dad.

donated sweatshirt.

life lessons from the cornfields

2009-10-09T20:09:00.004+01:00

Simon has had many phases to his life.

He can draw upon them for examples relevant to any scenario, and he does.

The story starts with: "here's the thing...."
And then ends with a phrase like: "bottom line is...."

I refer to these discourses as Simon's "Life Lessons from the Cornfields" because that's where it all began for him. A boy working in endless cornfields in an endless summer...turns man working on Wall Street, then London. A world away. He figures he's got one life to live one time, so he's going to make it good. We visited those same corn fields this summer, in Americas heartland.

And they were beautiful.

Reminded me of a slower, simpler life that we could choose to live if we wanted.

Maybe one day, but not yet.

YUMMY MUMMY

2009-10-01T22:14:00.004+01:00

It’s pretty much always awkward to be whistled at. It’s even more awkward when you’re pushing a pram. What kind of man whistles at a mother? Weird.

I was whistled at the other day. He was probably whistling at some hot thang just past me, but I didn’t see her. Or maybe he was calling his lost dog from his car. Either way, I heard a whistle for the first time in a very long time. Men in London don’t really cat call like they do in AZ or NY. But it caught me off guard because I haven’t felt cute or feminine in the sessy kind of way for a very long time. Note: nothing has made me feel more womanly that giving birth to a baby, but that’s a different kind of feminine. Simon says the whistle came because of my new lighter hair color. Enough about that.

I hadn’t heard the term Yummy Mummy until people started tossing it around at the studio after I announced my pregnancy. Here’s a good description:

London is full of yummy mummies. These are ladies who lunch. They have absolutely no interest in being perceived as homemaking icons. Though they may be devoted to their little darlings, they consider them a part-time hobby more than a full-time job. Equal energy goes toward maintaining their cute figures, staying a step ahead of the latest styles, and enjoying the nightlife-in and outside the bedroom-with their handsome, successful husbands.

Defining characteristics of the Yummy Mummy: Satisfaction with life choices; pride in high-achieving husband and children; determination not to be discarded in favor of a new model.

Yummy Mummy Role Models: Victoria Beckham, Yasmin Le Bon, Catherine Zeta-Jones, Karen Walker.

I’m not afraid that Simon will try to replace me with a new model, but it is nice to feel like the upgraded version of myself. Especially after being a pregnant blimp for so long. Yeah, those 45 extra pounds didn’t just melt off overnight. Nine months up—nine months down, that’s what I was told in the beginning. Now I believe it.

Enough of teaching safe sex to junior high school students. The message obviously isn't getting through. How about instead we show 15 year old girls what having a baby can do to your body and then we'll see how careful they are. Stretch marks! Wider hips! Bigger feet! Wobbly bits! Take that!

I’ve joined a Buggy Fit work-out group in Hyde Park. I run around with other new mums trying to get in shape. Our babies stare at us, fully entertained with watching us sweat as we jump rope. Here are some shots from that:

P.S. I just found this:

new at this.

2009-09-25T10:17:00.002+01:00

I apologize in advance to child #3. Everyone says I will be way less concerned about you.

not so world famous

2009-09-22T11:47:00.006+01:00

Do you know who "Take That" is?
Or how about "Girls Allowed?"

My British and Australian co-workers didn't believe me when I said that I had never heard of them, and proceeded to laugh in my face. I was retouching a poster of Take That as they stood around me. The uber-cheesy man-band was looking pretty haggard these days and my job was to make them look 20 years younger. I say man-band, because these are no boys and they've apparently been making hits out here for ages. Then my coworkers began reciting their favorite songs and best concert memories. Who knew?

Can you name at least 1 Kylie Minogue song? I can't. There was one techno-ish song that hit the states a few years back, but it didn't stand out much. When I first arrived here I went to a museum that had a Kylie Minogue retrospective exhibit. I felt like I had been let out of the barn for the first time in my life. Room after room was filled with costumes, albums, and photographs of the megastar. Apparently she's won tons of awards and performed hit after hit. Again, who knew?

These, and other European artists are wildly popular here. And because they're popular here, many people seem to assume that the whole world knows about them. Not so. Making it big in your own country is one thing, but making the jump to America's music charts is really tough, and so many people try. This is why foreign artists who make it in America are such a big deal. When you're a famous musician in America, then you're world famous.

Oh, and they've never heard of Ryan Seacrest or Martha Stewart,
so we're even.

Obligatory Mason picture:

How to Speak New Zealand

2009-09-14T21:15:00.004+01:00

It's really easy.

The e in bed turns into an ee like bee.
The i in time turns into o like Tom.

Time for bed.
Tom for beed.

Back = beck
text= teext
Last= lest

Simon end I have some good freends frum New Ziland. We used to play with them loads before they moved back they-uh. We always hed fun with them because they were fun people END because we loved their fabulous acceents. So we started mimicking some of their wurds for fun and had a leff. But the mimicking begen to steek end now they ah certain wurds that always come at New Ziland-ized.

Yeees
Teext
Cheest

Give it a go. See, it's fun.

flight attendants won’t let you jump out the window, trust me

2009-09-11T21:45:00.009+01:00

There are some places where having a baby in your arms comes with perks. Like when you’re in a line and everyone insists on letting you cut to the front. Or walking around Manhattan, where you’ll be showered with compliments, smiles, and friendly conversation. (I’m assuming there comes an age where the cuteness wears off and civilians stop oogling, so I’m milking it now. No pun intended. Maybe it’s when the kid starts throwing tantrums and juice boxes).

There are also some places that you really don’t want to be with a baby. Like in an airplane lavatory. Next time you’re feeling claustrophobic in there, ask yourself how you would maneuver that one with an infant. I was asking myself the very same question a few days ago. But life finds a way.

Everyone kept asking how it was flying with a baby so here it is.

Now I’m that person that everyone dreads to see coming onto the plane. Me and the 400 pound man. I see dread fill their faces as they start obviously praying that I won’t sit anywhere near them, casually placing their own items on the seats next to them and avoiding eye contact. Then I get the pleasure of choosing the sucker who will get to know us very well.

The flight from LA to London is 11 hours. I spent 7 hours or so walking and rocking around the plane, letting Mason look at all the interesting sleeping people. Then I noticed that I was being trailed. An 11 year old girl cradling a doll was following me around the plane, copying how I held Mason. I stopped walking and she came 8 inches away from me, staring at us as if that was a normal thing to do. I began holding Mason in strange ways just to see if she really was mimicking us. She was. I was tired and cranky and found this terribly annoying. So I sat in my seat and pretended to be asleep. She stood there next to us, still staring. Finally I decided that she was too old to play with dolls and thought maybe she was slow. I felt sympathy and tried to be nice to her. This exposed a huge character flaw I never knew that I had. I resolved then, to be nice to people even if I don’t assume them to be mentally retarded.

So I did the nice thing to do. “How old is your baby?” I asked.

“Six months.” Then I saw the pencil width gaps between each of her teeth and knew that she’s probably not going to get those fixed, and felt even more sympathetic.

“What’s her name?”

“Jasmine.”

Then the conversation proceeded with me convincing her not to touch Mason’s hands or face. Which is a good thing because she started scratching herself in her pants right in front of me as she continued talking. My doubts about her mental capacity returned. You just can’t have a normal conversation with a stranger when they have their hand down their pants.

Anyway, having a baby on a plane is hard. So many mothers told me “he’ll just sleep the whole time; that’s what my babies did” so I had hope. But M doesn’t like flying or driving. He likes rolling and playing. I had already spent 15 hours flying with him and he was sick of it. He was good at times, and a Chucky doll at other times. When he gets strapped in or cooped up, he goes renegade and tries to muscle his way out. Those times were the worst. All peace offerings were rejected. He would try to wiggle out of my arms to get to the floor; thinking about it now is painful. It got scary. So scary in fact that it inspired me to write a screenplay called Snacks on a Plane, based on what it's like to feed a baby applesauce in your lap on a bumpy plane, because it's the only thing that can distract him long enough from screaming so much the captain is forced to do a nose dive. The best part is when he feels the applesauce in his mouth with his fingers and then tries to grab your hair with a fistful of baby food/drool mix.

And yes, lady I see you staring at us the entire flight. This is not the time to tell me about your grandkids or compliment me on how cute my daughter is. And please don't touch him.

My advice is: bring a helper. Toys and snacks are good. But if you have an active baby, it’s too much to do flying solo. When they told me my stroller would be at the baggage claim and that I'd have to carry Mason and all our carry ons through customs I cried. I was so tired.

Now that we’ve arrived in London and gotten some sleep, he’s suddenly Mr. Cheerful back to his merry ways. I'm recovering too, but man that was hard.

Going private. I never thought I'd say this.

2009-09-07T01:19:00.005+01:00

I put a hit tracker on this blog. Turns out there are people in Russia and Latvia and other places where I don't know anybody who are reading this.* And that's sorta fine. But now I have photos of my baby online, and I feel like a bad mother bear knowing that any weirdo can see him.

BUT I spend much of my time alone in this foreign country, and it's been nice for me to have this one sided conversation with friends and family afar. So please, let's stay connected. Send your email address if you'd like a blog invitation for an all access, unlimited pass. I'll bill you later.

juliesgoingprivate@yahoo.com

Cheers,
Julie

*Not including Simon's new Russian friend.

reaching our roots

2009-09-01T03:44:00.003+01:00

80,000,000

acres of corn

26
hours on a plane with a baby

15
"oh, he's a boy actually" corrections

3
clothes lines

2
great grandparents

1
little boy

London Supercars

2009-08-12T16:25:00.009+01:00

I'm learning that normalcy is much dependent on when and where you live.

I grew up in Arizona, where driving a pick up truck is pretty standard—a white pick up if you do landscaping, dropped to a low-rider if you're a gangster, and lifted if you're a teenager. In Arizona, a BMW or Mercedes is a symbol of success and there weren't too many around. In high school, I drove a truck one year and a Mercedes the next and it/I got way too much attention for it.

The other day, Simon pointed out that in London, the Mercedes becomes the equivalent of the Ford Taurus. We see cars like Aston Martin's, Maserati's, Ferrari's, Bentley's, Rolls Royce's, so often that we don't notice them anymore. The Lamborghini dealership around the corner is filled with a neon selection; I pass it a few times a week. Simon and I used to be shocked by these cars—staring wide eyed as they rolled by. The newness wears off after a year or so of this.

I've never seen a truck or a suburban out here.

But then summer comes and the car show around London escalates. A distinct crowd filters in of wealthy Middle Easterners. Note: This did not happen in Mesa, Arizona. They fly their "cars" here and vacay during their hottest season. I say "cars" because you have never seen cars like these, and the word seems too dirty to describe them. They are completely custom made; the only one like it on earth. They are often found illegally double parked around Harrod's because what do they care if they get a ticket? I'm always telling Simon to drive slower as I imagine trying to make an insurance claim if we crashed into one of them.

Have you ever seen a license plate in squiggly? Simon and I saw this coming home from a walk the other night.

I don't understand the signs new parents put in their windows—Baby on Board. As if you're going to try harder not to crash into that particular car. But in London if you see a Princess on Board sign, it's most likely true.

Since we're on the subject, I should also say that there are also some very small cars here.

The first time I saw a smart car I laughed hysterically and took a picture by one, fulfilling my touristic obligations.

This one put puts around our neighborhood sometimes. It's basically a chair with wheels. He can't possibly feel like a man driving that thing. Sometimes he drives on the sidewalk. I don't understand it.

forever a baby

2009-08-11T13:02:00.001+01:00

Context clues would suggest that one day Mason will be a grown adult. But I still don't believe it.

It's too late now, isn't it?

2009-08-05T13:28:00.006+01:00

I never sent this out. And I'm pretty sure we've sufficiently let the world know he arrived. So it will be posted here instead so I don't feel like I wasted time making it.

how can i possibly describe what being a mum feels like?

2009-08-04T23:51:00.007+01:00

m had his shots today. pretty sure they hurt me more than him.
i would take them so he wouldn't have to. a thousand times.

returning to report

2009-08-02T22:58:00.004+01:00

M is sleeping through the night.

BOO YA.

Baby boot camp lasted about 1 day and was totally effective. He sleeps 11 hours at night and I give him a dream feed once before I go to bed. I feel like a new woman. Actually, I feel like the woman I used to be before sleep deprivation started wiping out my brain cells. And I'm suddenly thinking, "having a baby isn't that bad. Maybe I'll actually do this again." Which is a CRAZY thought to be having right now. Approximately 4 months ago, I was screaming to Simon in a hospital at 4 in the morning that we were never ever having another baby. And I so meant it. May have also said some things I didn't mean. Can't remember....

Now I feel so great—healed and normal. I want to run around and play with my newly mobile body. Tennis anyone? I can't stop thinking about tennis.

P.S. He weighed in at 17.4 pounds today. Good man.

paris photographs

2009-07-29T15:41:00.015+01:00

At 3 and a half months old, it was about time Mason visit Paris.

M seems to be over the buggy business. Now he prefers to be carried around so he can see everything. He doesn't want to miss out on any action. Simon carried him like this much of the time. I've done my share of carrying, I think.

Paris is slightly less romantic with a baby in tow. We didn't go to fancy restaurants or go dancing. We basically looked at shops and ate chocolates for 4 days. But we did manage to go to bed around 9 each night, sometimes earlier. We slept a lot.

Our favorite place for breakfast.

Simon got to spend lots of time with his son, which they both appreciated.
London is full of distractions.

We happened to be there for the end of the Tour de France, which was fun to see.
But clearly we were too distracted by our baby to notice much else.

30 second stare

2009-07-21T12:11:00.002+01:00

I just had an awkward moment. Our kitchen window is the exact height of a red double-decker tour bus. So for 30 seconds, I met eyes with a frumpy, gap shirt-wearing, woman-tourist with cameras and binoculars around her neck. She stared. I was standing there, hair wet, eating broccoli in my old maternity night gown. (...Which I hadn't worn since black tuesday but just grabbed out of the shower). Clearly not planning on being seen by any other life form, let alone a bus full of gazers.

I feel like a zoo animal.

baby boot camp

2009-07-06T10:34:00.010+01:00

You know that feeling you get when you finally finish packing your suitcase at 2 am, knowing that you have to get up at 5 am to leave for the airport? You wonder if it's worth it to sleep at all. You puzzle over how you let this happen to you. You would do anything to crawl into a big clean bed to zonk out for a full night's rest. The feeling is desperate.

This is how I feel every night around 10 pm. I hate to complain but I think I've earned the right. I haven't slept longer than 4 hours in a row in over 3 months, and those stretches were rare. "Falling asleep" sounds so peaceful and easy. But I find myself tensing up as I lay down, knowing that I have to be up again very soon. Sleep deprivation is a torture tactic, and now I know why.

At my birthday party yesterday, a friend gave me a bath potion for overtired people, perfect for me. I'm so tired. Tired of daydreaming about sleep. Tired of not thinking clearly. Tired of not being myself. Tired of being tired.

Enough of this.

Mason made the mistake of sleeping for 5 hours in a row a few days ago. Too bad I wasn't also asleep when this happened. Perhaps it was a fluke, but now I know that it is possible, and his body is capable. No more night rockings for this little man. The gig has gotten old and it's time for baby boot camp. This is week 1. Keep posted for the results.

my favorite holiday

2009-07-05T23:47:00.015+01:00

Celebrating the 4th of July isn't really the same in England.
I saw one flag, in a cupcake shop window, but that was it.

Thankfully, we were invited to a lovely BBQ with friends, some of whom were English. But there were no hard feelings.

At this BBQ, I asked my British friend how the subject was approached in schools here. He said that it was told accurately, but generally brushed over. That the King was crazy and deserved a wooping. And they didn't see it as America vs. England, like I always did. The colonists were freshly Irish, or British themselves.

My 5th grade history book told a convincing story of the good guys who started America and the bad guys who tried to stop it. I remember my teacher scoffing at how the British uniforms looked like red targets, mocking their stupidity. He took pride as if he had actually been there fighting for freedom. See, the Brits have a lot more history to cover than we did. There was no time for such elaborate stories.

THINGS WE MISS ABOUT AMERICA:

soft water
customer service
baseball & basketball
being understood over the phone
public forthrightness
space
Thanksgiving
real yards, front and back
quality tv and funny commercials
taco bell
monterey jack cheese
syrup
halloween & haunted houses
affording the movie theater
hearty breakfasts
normal sized refrigerators, washers, and dryers
straight roads with car sized lanes
African American soul
taco stands
closets
censored television
bbq's on warm summer nights before jumping in the pool, aaaaaah
In n Out
general optimism and self belief
cheesy snacks
normal sized houses with garages
turkey
white, nice teeth
dinner options & portion sizes
parking lots
target
family

Since moving abroad, I have seen how intensely America is watched and talked about. I was surprised at how often I heard about America, knowing that I rarely spoke about other countries before I moved to one.

I've also learned that the American Dream is a very real thing. You can ask any American what America stands for and they know the answer. They'll tell you something like freedom, equality, or becoming anything you want to become. We have been taught these things since we were kids, and we believe in them. A few months ago, I asked people from a few different countries what their countries stood for. They didn't really know what I was talking about, which is fine. I'm glad to be part of mine.

We love our country. God bless it.

Let's just say he's filling out nicely.

2009-06-23T19:41:00.011+01:00

Yes this post is about breastfeeding. Because that's all my life consists of at the moment. I woke up this morning feeling slightly withered and saw Mason laying there looking plumper and juicier than ever. Like a little beached Beluga. Aaah, so that's where my love handles have gone; they are now baby thighs. This kid must have some serious growing to do because he has been feeding with barracuda ferocity, lately. I'm nervous there won't be anything left of his poor mother by the time he's done with me. And as Simon considers how much food he ate growing up, he shudders at the thought of how expensive it will be to feed this man. Help!

*Love handles, are a layer of fat that is deposited around a person's midsection, especially visible on the sides over the abdominal external oblique muscle. They are called "love handles" because they provide a soft place to rest one's hand while one's arm is around a person.

the popular one in the family

2009-06-19T17:06:00.005+01:00

Sometimes when I look at Mason I see a bit of Simon looking back at me.
Happy First Fathers Day.

tapestry and haberdashery

2009-06-09T09:17:00.024+01:00

You might think that the 240 lb. 6 foot 5 man would be in charge around here. But he's not even close to running the show.
And it's not the postpartum stress induced housewife either. The US Embassy, however got it right when they addressed a parcel to our flat....

.....containing a passport for a certain young man, (with a dashing photo inside). Ironically, the kingpin is 14 pounds and 2 feet tall, the exact size of an actual bowling pin.

He has so many princely qualities that we weren't expecting. He demands his same favorite meal 8 times a day. If he's not personally fed soon after he signals his hunger, he lets you know he's disappointed with your mediocre servitude by simply squealing in your face. He only recently started looking me in the eye after 2 months of dedicated around the clock assistance. He's so posh that he doesn't even bother to wipe himself because there are lesser humans who rush to do it with delight. Not that his arms could reach anyway.

So. When we rolled up to Hampton Court, Mason accepted our offering and felt right at home as we strolled the palace. His motto: If it's good enough for Henry VIII, then it's good enough for Mason I.

He silenced the peasants so he could dine in peace, allowing Simon to speak when spoken to. Simon's still waiting for that first word. Most days I just stand in the corner, waiting for Mason's cues and signals. My duties include sponge bathing, feeding, burping, dressing, cuddling, and scrubbing tiny poop stains.

You get a sense of the silence here.

We had to break for a royal nap.

We love our little prince.

playtime

2009-05-31T23:51:00.003+01:00

more clips here:
http://www.vimeo.com/4977868

meet mason. he's new here.

2009-05-12T15:36:00.024+01:00

The love of my life.

He's a month old today and it's about time we told you about him. And I can finally sit without cringing, so let's begin.

This was the first time my baby slept on me like this. Now he does it every night, usually between 3 — 5 am.

The labor and delivery lasted 25 hours and was really hard. I'll spare you the details. Suffice it to say that I thought I was dying. He was 8 pounds 13 ounces, and I couldn't believe he was somehow fitting inside of me. He also ranks in the 98 percentile for growth potential.

This is what Mason looked like when he first came out. He was already dressed, and you can see how neatly styled his hair was, with all those birthing juices. We were both a little swollen that day.

I'm now responsible for a helpless person. A baby no less. Which is fine except that this has been the least capable I have ever been to do anything for anyone, myself included. There's no time to rest or recover- the two things I've desperately needed. Nope, sorry. I'd file a complaint about this but I wouldn't know who to send it to. And I doubt I would be the first. Now, if mother nature is really a mother she must know about this dilemma already. Maybe this the first big lesson in really forgetting about yourself for once. I must have needed an extra dose of that because I was feeling beat down.

Thankfully I'm doing much better now. It all really was worth it, and I'd do it all over again tomorrow now that I know how great it is to have my little boy.

So far this experience has brought me to my lowest and my highest. I never knew how much physical pain I was capable of feeling, or how tired I could be. But I also never knew how much I could love another person. I love Simon, but it's a different kind of thing. Simon and I are individuals bound together. But I don't feel that much separates my baby from me. He was connected to me for quite a while after all. I can not relax if I'm not certain that he's alright. It breaks my heart to hear him cry, and I have to fix it.

Having a mother is such a great idea. I've been assigned to this little person. My job is to do everything for him, and generally make his stay more comfortable. The best part is, that I actually want to.
How great is that?

So happy these feet are outside of me now. He's got some strong kicks.

Here's my mother. She did/does everything for me. She was here to greet Mason, and helped me so much. While she was at it, she made us curtains, painted the walls, taught Simon how to tailor his clothes, brought us gifts, made meals, cleaned the house, insulated the windows, fixed our doors, made the crib bedding, AND painted my toe nails. She's been a mother for 25 years, and has had lots of practice. Mason won her over without even trying. A smart move on his part; she's a good one to have devoted to you. He's her first grandbaby and she is going to spoil him rotten.

I love it when he yawns. Very lion cub.

Can't get juicier than this.

Mason at 1 day old. The first of many many photo shoots.

9 days old. His chin(s) is a lot bigger now.

He loves his dad. So do I.

one year down, one billion to go

2009-03-24T11:11:00.015Z

Sunday was our first ANNIVERSARY. So we spent the day together and got massages. Luckily no baby was born. We did a lot this year—moving to another country, traveling, having a baby and all. But it still felt like it went by so fast. I still feel like I'm on that wedding day high. I still want to be with Simon wherever he is, even if he's not doing anything exciting. For some reason I thought that feeling would wear off.

For example. Simon used to watch the Hills. I hated the Hills, but I wanted to be next to him on the couch, so I was torn. I could suffer through the show, but get to hold his hand— or I could find something else to do in another room. I tried to distract myself, but it's so difficult knowing that Simon's just a few metres away, and I could easily walk in there and sit by him. Needless to say, the couch won out and I eventually even became a fan of the show—once I got to know Spencer.*

I digress. Before I was married I had been told this strange idea that the first year of marriage was "so hard" or whatever. I had been around many conversations about how scary marriage is and how you can never really know someone, these days. I knew so many people afraid of commitment, and heard so many horror stories about failed marriages. This is what happens when you go to BYU and live with girls who obsessively talk about how they'll never get married because there are no more good men out there. Really? No good men?
I found one.

This year has been the best year of my life. All the worries of dating are gone, replaced with the constant security of knowing. I know that Simon will be there every day. I know that he loves me and wants to be with me. I know what direction I'm heading.

At the studio, people were always shocked at how young I was to be married (25). I'd tell them how great it was, and ask the point of waiting around once you've found the right person. Then they were shocked again to hear a positive voice on the subject. We need more of them. It makes a lot of sense to many people to just live with a partner forever, without fully committing. I think it makes them feel safe. But it's a great thing to give yourself to another person. Then they feel safe giving back, and you have to trust each other. There is nothing really worth holding onto at that point, and you can stop worrying about yourself.

If I had known it could be this sweet, I would have been pouncing at the prospect, instead of shying away. But then I may have appeared desperate and become a cougar in my spinster years. So maybe it's better this way. Simon and I had lessons to learn and people to meet before we were ready to encounter eachother. Everyone knows you have to get your wiggles out before you can settle down.

The "plunge" it turns out, is not really a plunge at all. I never sank. Simon would never let me. I've been going up, up, up.

What Simon has learned about me this year:
I do better when I get plenty of sleep.

What I've learned about Simon this year:
He is the least judgmental person I've ever met.
He is very particular about plastic wrap.

*Not a marriage to replicate.

becoming parents

2009-03-03T13:12:00.005Z

Things I say about our baby to be:

—Are you hungry? What should we eat?
—Even his kicks are perfect.
—I'm going to hang out with my little buddy all the time.
—I don't want him to move out of the house. How can I convince him that it's cool to live with your parents forever?
—He says he doesn't like the curry.

Things Simon says about our unborn child:

—Give the man some meat! He wants meat!
—I feel so bad for him in there. He must be so uncomfortable. The man needs space.
—Are his heavy muscles weighing you down? He needs to flex.
—He's such a champion.
—I can't wait to meet this dude and see what he's all about.
—I just think this is the kind of seat a man his age should be sitting in. (regarding a leather baby chair)

Simon: He's turning into a man.
Julie: He's turning into a baby.
Simon: Yeah, but this is the beginning of his manhood.
Julie: Boyhood.
Simon: Mmm.
Julie: Mmm.

anxiously awaiting

2009-02-22T18:15:00.010Z

You'd be keen to suspect that my world already revolves around the gravitational pull of my belly. And I think it's affecting me mentally. I really try to focus when I'm listening to someone or reading something. But after 20 seconds of that, I begin fantasizing about my baby. My nods and smiles make it look like I'm understanding the words you say, but I'm not. I don't care. I'm just thinking about my baby, which is more interesting. Wondering what he will look like, and how big he will be. Thinking about how I need to organize the closets. This must be very frustrating for everyone who has to deal with me. I assume that this is just Mother Nature messing with me. But are all mothers like this in the beginning? Does this magic/madness fade away? Will I ever be able to pay attention like a normal person again? The good thing about this numbing of the senses is that my main priorities have been reduced to sleeping, eating, and convincing Simon to cuddle with me. I think the baby and I will have common interests. What- you feel like eating? So do I! You want to be held? So do I! You can't sleep at night either? Besties.

I used to wonder why pregnant women always had a hand on their bellies, and now I do it too. I love to feel him squirming and hiccuping. It's fascinating to me, and keeps me fully entertained for hours. If I already love spending time with him now, I can't wait to play with him outside my belly.

I'm 34 weeks, which is somewhere in my 8th month. Baby is head down and I suspect that he may have dropped because I have to wee every 20 minutes and I feel like I can breathe again. Simon and I have started our birth classes, which are a lot of fun. He tries to make me laugh during the quiet parts of class, and I turn red trying not to. I'm going to try to have a water birth, and no that doesn't make me a hippie. It does mean that I won't be having drugs so we'll see how it goes. I'm obviously worried about that part. Simon's main concern right now is that my water will break in the middle of the night and ruin our tempurpedic mattress.

I miss
not waddling
wearing jeans
sleeping on my back
working out
energy
having just one chin
balance
serpentining through crowds
hot tubs
sleeping through the night
hugging Simon without bending forward
seeing my toes.

It's been a long time.

So a pregnant lady walks into a gym...

2009-01-21T16:42:00.008Z

You may not have heard this joke before but I promise it is one.

Simon and Dylan were going to the gym and I thought I'd go along and work out like I used to. Oh those days have gone.

I started on the elliptical machine, level 1, also known as no resistance. After a while, I felt like I had worked out to maximum capacity and was pretty much exhausted. I got off and the work out summary said:
1 minute 48 seconds. What?

So I switched to speed walking on the treadmill, and felt I was going a little too fast to breathe, and decided to turn the speed down one point. Then the treadmill stopped. I was already on the lowest setting. The barely moving setting.

I used to think that things like arm lifts and walking were what lazy people called exercise, and that they couldn't really be effective if you're under 60 years old. But now even those are too strenuous for me. The midwives say I should "listen to my body" and do what it wants to do. But whenever I "listen" it just tells me to lay down and then it starts whispering things about those Belgian waffles.

I gave up and went downstairs to watch Simon lift.
That was work out enough.

ROME FOR THE HOLIDAYS

2009-01-05T19:42:00.012Z

This year has been amazing for us, and we feel so lucky to have experienced so much. I couldn't think of a better place to celebrate this year and the next than in Rome. We spent New Years Eve and New Years day there. Luckily we only live a short flight away, so it's not that crazy of a plan.

Simon in the Pantheon. The sunlight was scalding our pasty London skin; it was such a beautiful day.

The Trevi Fountain.

Legend holds that if visitors throw a coin into the fountain, they are ensured a return to Rome. Due to inflation, it is now lucky to throw three coins in.

About 3,000 Euros are thrown into the fountain each day and are collected at night.
Apparently there are regular attempts to steal them. I can't imagine how embarrassed I would be if I were caught doing that.

Ruins.

We wandered into Vatican City the morning of January 1st, with no real plan in mind. Suddenly, the Pope popped out of a window and blessed us. That fountain really is lucky. The rain even stopped.

The 3 of us.

European teenagers love wearing black. We do what we can to fit in. They also love to play scratchy techno on their cell phone speakers in enclosed spaces like the tube.

We went to the party in front of the Colosseum for the countdown. There was a show and a huge crowd. The city didn't seem to sponsor any sort of fireworks display, but there were many charitable Roman citizens in the crowd lighting them off. At the sky, at the trees, at each other. It didn't matter. The Polizia didn't seem too concerned about it either.

Belgian Christmas

2008-12-28T17:58:00.005Z

We just got back from Belgium, and I'm pretty sure we've developed diabetes. The food was that good. By food I mean the waffles and chocolate and crepes. I won't be surprised if my unborn child comes out demanding waffle smoothies and chocolate milk. We had the best waffles we've ever had and Hershey's chocolate will never be good enough again. You would be shocked at how many chocolate shops were there. ...And how many tempted us in...

Belgian history lesson. Legend has it that Brussels was ablaze and this little fella* peed the fire out, saving the town. He became a hero and today foreign diplomats bring traditional clothing for him. They change his outfit every day, and he has more than 600 costumes. He has also been stolen a few times. This image of the weeing boy is seen everywhere, reminding Brusselians of their noble roots. Simon witnessed a man defecating on the sidewalk on his early morning run, so apparently this type of behavior is still considered acceptable.

Here's one costume.

The view from the top of the ferris wheel. We stayed in the middle of the Christmas market. People take it pretty seriously there.

Simon at the door.

We made one last stop at this place before we got on the train to come home.

Final Report: Brussels and Antwerp were fun, but Brugge was our favorite.

*I don't usually use this word, but I just saw Australia and think it's been burned into me. I wonder if we were the only ones who saw the really long version.

thanksgiving.

2008-12-17T17:43:00.005Z

We were going to be sad kids if we didn't have Thanksgiving this year. I was having depressing visions of me and Simon sitting alone in the dark eating from a KFC bucket and calling that our first Thanksgiving together. I told him that I didn't want to cook a turkey or a feast. Solution: he cooked the turkey and we had a pot luck feast with friends. And it was great.

Simon was/still is so proud of his first turkey. He soaked it in a brine and babysat it in the oven himself. Such a big boy. Before we ate, he watched a video online about how to carve a turkey and did a great job. There was not a scrap left on that bird. He was working so hard that I had to pat his brow for fear of the sweat dripping into the turkey and making it too salty.

Stacey & Darrin's first home made apple pie.

Simon found the gizzard and his farm boy instincts told him not to fear those kinds of things.
I have no such instincts.
The boys also ate the heart, carrying on the Indian tradition of using all parts of the animal. They were so caveman-ly curious about it. All the girls protested. What is it with men and their desire for meat? Do they really like it as much as they pretend to?

Some friends.
We had representatives from Australia, New Zealand, New York, Germany, semi-Scotland, and other parts of America. For most, this was their first Thanksgiving. So we taught them all about it the way we were taught in first grade: that the pilgrims and Indians were best friends. We also went around the table and said what we were thankful for.

Sorry ladies, he's taken. The one on the right isn't though...

I've never known anyone more exact and precise than our new German friends. They called to tell me that they had 500g of mashed potatoes per person and our dishes have never been shinier.

jaunt in the countryside

2008-12-08T23:04:00.007Z

This week we went to our friends' beautiful wedding out in a country manor. While the bride and groom were off romancing, we of course decided to take pictures of ourselves.

This is how they kiss in England.

My date and our French monsieur.
They clean up nicely..... because they both love to hunt for suits, and are easily seduced by chic designers such as Yves Saint Laurent. Much like girls and shoes.

bump

2008-11-21T10:18:00.005Z

5 months. kicking. pizza. clementines at midnight. sleepy.

bits and bobs

2008-11-19T11:06:00.015Z

In England there are silly terms that people often use to avoid saying something uncomfortable. For example, nobody here burps or has gas. They have wind. I've never heard anyone talk about pee or urination, but I have heard much about wee and waterworks. And yesterday we were lucky enough to get a glimpse of our baby and noticed the presence of dangly bits. There's no question about it. The ultrasound technician said they were instructed to tell us they were 85% sure of the gender, but this case was very obvious. I never pictured myself with a baby boy son, just older sons. So I'm getting used to this idea. I went looking at baby boy clothes today and it felt so unnatural. I never realized that I had always been looking at the little girl things in baby shops, ignoring the boys side completely. I did like the fur hats though. But I'm happy that we're having a boy; I think it will be fun. Simon is so excited to meet this "dude" as he called him last night. He can't wait to hang out with him all the time and see what he's about. We talk about how strange it will be to see a little person that we created—walking around doing stuff, saying things. I'm so relieved to know what it is so that we can move on with our lives and pick a name and start nesting.

I was trying to explain my need to nest to Simon and he didn't really understand. Whenever I'm talking about things he can't relate to, or can't apply logic to, he will say, "I support you and validate your feelings." Which usually makes me laugh and decide it's not worth trying to explain, but I feel better about it anyway.

I was also telling him about how animals will go into this weird unstoppable nesting phase right before they give birth, cleaning and preparing a place for the baby. Like cats- who will shred papers and make a little bed. I told him that humans do this too, and they'll have the urge to scrub the floors and organize things. He looked around our flat and said, "So... I guess the baby's not coming anytime soon." It is a disaster, I admit.

The best part is—we're half way through! People have been offering me their seats on the tube, so I probably look pregnant by now. Either that or they think I'm hot. I'll post some pictures of me and my bump soon.

paris part deux

2008-11-16T18:37:00.007Z

In Paris it's socially acceptable for men to be into art, fashion, and women—all at the same time. Simon sometimes says he wonders why he wasn't born French. France has all the things that he loves, techno music, pastries, and shopping, being a few of them.
I would be Italian myself, and then we never would have found each other, so it's better this way.

Simon's usual chocolatier was closed, so we had to settle for this place.
A few bites made you forget all your problems, though.

I'm sure all their photos turned out great on their blogs too.

Versailles

It's hard to notice any other art in a room- when this is in there too.

These pills turn you into a lion. I'm not sure if this ad campaign is happening in America, but it's totally happening here. Personified animals are probably just as effective as sex appeal.

More PDA.

This trip would not have been possible if it weren't for our dear friend JB, who lives in Paris and let us stay with him.

A few things about JB:
He speaks beautiful French, and translated everything for us.
He is an excellent cook and gave me a great French cooking lesson.
He has amazing taste, bringing us to the best restaurants and venues, known to mingle with celebrities.
He was happy to help me go shoe shopping, and helped Simon find the perfect coat.
He is well connected in major European cities, and knows all the best places to go.
He's happy, healthy, and handsome. A rare find.

i musn't be left to myself

2008-11-06T15:21:00.011Z

What I do in my spare time is probably obvious to you all* by now. And it should also be pretty clear that I have lots of it. Lately I've been averaging about 8 hours a day. Every day I wake up and somehow end up making a huge mess; and usually I clean it up by the time Simon comes home. There are days though, when he walks through the door and finds me sleeping under a pile of laundry on the bed. There are also days that I work like a normal person, in case you were wondering. But when the studio doesn't have any shoots going on, and the laundry is done, I will immediately start plotting my next creation. I didn't make this cheesecake. I'm not fond of cheesecake, but I did pick it out after deliberating at many bakeries.

Luckily I have a husband who loves cheesecake and already called dibs on it as soon as he heard I had one.

Two days ago I put some toast in the toaster and then forgot about it. It's featured here, in the bottom image. Now I don't feel like I disrespected kids in Africa by wasting it.

*all 6 of you who read this

macarons

2008-11-05T16:34:00.008Z

A few nights ago I had a dream that I photographed some French macarons on a French newspaper. As soon as I woke up, I emailed our dear friend Jean-Baptiste who was coming from Paris to stay the weekend with us. Understanding the seriousness of the situation, he brought me some French newspapers and magazines. So today I bought these macarons from Ladurée, and fulfilled this dream.
It had to be done.

A macaron is a traditional French pastry from northeastern France. I never knew of their existence until I had one in Paris last April. They're heavenly, and come in all colors and flavors, but I like the chocolate ones the best. We're going to Paris again in 3 days and I can't wait to explore more of the wonderful delights the Parisians try to seduce eachother with.

Top 10 signs I’m beginning to adjust to life in Britain.

2008-10-28T19:53:00.008Z

10. I’m starting to greatly understate how I feel about things. Where I used to say, “I am so annoyed I think I might explode” I might now say, “I’m not impressed.” Or instead of saying, “I can’t handle this right now; I’m leaving” I might calmly say, “I can’t be bothered with this.”

9. It’s no longer shocking to see 15 year olds smoking. Even though cigarette packages out here are entirely covered with phrases like "SMOKERS DIE YOUNGER." These labels are not effective, and will honestly soon be replaced with photos of things like throat cancer, rotting teeth, and a corpse in a morgue. Simon thought I was kidding about this- but it's actually true.

8. I always order tap water at dinner. And no longer feel ripped off by tiny portions allotted at restaurants.

7. I’ve learned to take short shallow mouth breaths in the tube during rush hour, and now pretend that the smell doesn’t make me want to vomit. I used to just stand there blatantly plugging my nose between my pinched fingers in front of someone exhibiting terrible body odor. One time a British man asked me if I had a bloody nose. I laughed and nasally said, “No- it’s stinks in here.” He replied by telling me that it was not coming from the British because, “…we buy expensive deodorant.” Right.

6. People ask me for directions now, so I must look like I know where I’m going.

5. I lean in for the salutary cheek kisses without realizing it.

4. Now I “sort” things out. I only used to figure things out. But I’ve still never wanted to “sort anybody out.” I also top things up.

3. I don’t turn on the tele to find good entertainment anymore. I’ve learned that just doesn’t happen. I’ve switched to literature out of necessity.

2. Socialized medicine is no longer a bad word.

1. I used to secretly bond with the American tourists I ran into. It took me a long time to realize that I wasn’t on vacation, and I wasn’t going home, because I was home. But now I feel like I have less in common with them, because they’re just silly tourists taking pictures of Big Ben.

i play with my food

2008-10-23T09:48:00.006+01:00

I took some pictures of some blueberries yesterday.

And then we had blueberry pancakes for dinner.

i must say

2008-10-17T19:02:00.010+01:00

The other day, I was laying in bed very still with my hand over the bump—just resting. And then tap tap tap... I felt the first kicks! I had to call Simon in to make sure I wasn't going crazy. He felt it too! It was so cool. Baby's little hands and feet are the size of the end of your finger so the punches were very small. I have been fascinated with it ever since and I love to feel it. I'm 4 months now and finally starting to understand that this is real. I promise I'm not usually this slow to grasp concepts. But feeling the kicks made it seem connected to me, not just an idea, or an image on a screen. So I'm pretty happy about it and could not stop asking Simon, "Wasn't that cool when we felt our baby?" He's allowed to talk about business school as much as he wants as long as I can bring up the baby as often as it pops into my mind. We don't talk about anything else anymore. You would hate to be our dinner guest.

This is how big our baby is now.
Those fingernails and eyelashes were hard work to grow—for both of us.

Just a note to any ladies who may be planning their first pregnancy: This definitely will affect more of your life and body than you think it will. I thought I would be exactly the same, just wearing a bigger shirt. This is not the case at all. Everything from my nose, skin, energy, strength, balance, and hair have changed. I can drink like a camel and I feel slow and heavy. And tired. Still waiting for that energy to come back. It has been really hard on me. I try not to think about all the sickness, back pain, absentmindedness, or 8 trips to the loo each night. But the simple feeling of some little taps from my baby, has made it all worth it. And now that my baby can hear me, I'm going to make an effort to start a habit of good communication. No lectures just yet. Mostly Baby hears, "Simon! I felt it again! Do you wanna feel?"

Who lives in a pineapple under the sea?

2008-10-16T18:17:00.013+01:00

If you know the answer to that question, you get a gold star. Simon had no idea.

Today we were photographing child models at the studio, who were naturally pretty cute. Between shots a little 7 year old British girl came up to me and asked, "Are you American?" I responded with an excited "Yes! How did you know?" She acted like the answer was obvious, "Because I watch Spongebob Square Pants on Nickelodeon." Then she was called back to the set to continue posing. And I was left to ponder the meaning of that message. Do I look like I wear whitie tighties? Are all us Americans that obnoxious? Later I taught her how to blow over the top of a glass coke bottle to make a tune, so maybe. Does she know that all* the music she likes and the good movies are American too?

I'm the only American who works at a pretty large fashion house and so I've come across a few crazy perceptions that people have of us. For example, at lunch, I was asked why the fruit in America is so big and perfect and shiny. But before I could respond, someone else answered that we were only allowed to serve genetically mutated foods in grocery stores and restaurants. And then the rest of the table all shuddered at how despicable that was. What?! Wait a minute. I had to set the record straight that Americans care to search out the best option in all things, fruit included, and that we were pretty competitive about our products. By then, no one was paying attention as they raved about the gooseberry tart. Made of tiny, non-shiny gooseberries.

Yesterday I was at lunch with some lovely British girls and I told them how polite and civil I felt the British people had been towards me. They acted surprised. Maybe coming from New York exaggerated the contrast of cultures, but the townspeople in public have been very courteous and seem to know their place. But these friends of mine told me that may be true on the outside, but that the English also don't say what they really think out loud. ... And at that moment I suddenly became very self conscious. Were we having the sincere, light-hearted conversation I thought we were having? Or is there another conversation going on in your head too? Maybe I should stick to talking about how awesome Kylie Minogue is, or how dreadful the weather in London is. Or how much I would love some tea right now. Those are safe.

This reminds me of the time Simon let our landlord into the flat to repair something. And for some reason he brought up the fact that he is "afraid of American women," seeming to forget that Simon was married to one. "They're so aggressive."

Here's a photo of Simon and the landlord hanging a mirror. Landlord left, Simon middle, anonymous henchmen, right.

*Okay, 99%. The Beatles and James Morrison are pretty dang good.

BOROUGH MARKET

2008-10-13T20:06:00.016+01:00

On the south side of London Bridge there is an enormous market held every weekend full of produce, meats, wines, pastries and pastas from all over Europe. It's a great place to go to try new things and also pick pocket, if that's what you're into. It is on my "Must Sees of Lonon" list that I keep updated in my head. Saturday was beautiful, so we spent our morning there. Feast your eyes.

I caught Simon checking these little beauties out. I'm going to make him wear horse blinders in public to help train those wandering eyes.

Who knew brussel sprouts grew like this? I thought they only came frozen in bags.

We are having a love affair with this pesto. It is so amazing and I wish I could mail you all a jar of it right now. It comes from Genova, Italy, which is famous for it's pesto. It makes anything taste better.
Like magic.

Simon always walks slower around the pastry displays.

Don't look at this if you think dead ducks are gross.

You say potato, I say potato. But it looks the same when you write it.

Not sure if I had ever seen a turnip before. Would you have known what those were?

I told you people here were serious about their cheese.

I'm not even grossed out right now that she's touching it with her bare hands.

Here we see Simon eating a Venison burger in one hand whilst purchasing one of his favorite London treats—apple strudel—with his other hand.

Mmmm.... that is special.

This one time some foolish young cherries got together with some raspberries and had a pretty wild night. And now we have Razcherries. What delicious little forbidden fruits they are. When you're in the mood for a good story, I'll tell you where Razapples come from.

When a chicken egg is just too much.
Can you imaging flipping a tiny fried quail egg on the grill? I do. All the time.

Sometimes Simon wishes he lived in a time where brute strength determined the leader. Or when arguments were settled by stone throws. Seeing him palm some of the giant fruits we saw reminded me about this little dream of his.

Simon + Julie =

2008-10-06T20:02:00.005+01:00

Today I combined our faces on makemebabies.com to see what our child will look like. The results are startling. Simon said they were the ugliest faces he had ever seen; especially the last one. I would have no problems not spoiling these children. And I didn't realize there was a chance we could have a child of another ethnicity. At least this gives us time to emotionally prepare before the little person arrives.

Maybe we should have adopted.

Confessions of a Pregnant Woman

2008-10-04T23:12:00.002+01:00

1. I have been eating subway sandwiches for breakfast. And not the breakfast sandwiches. I can’t handle these European tea and pastry breakfasts anymore. How is that supposed to get you through till lunch? No wonder there are so many champions in America.

2. I used to think there were so many important things I wanted to do with my married freedom before I had a child. I was very convinced that there were vacations I needed to take and jobs I needed to have. But now that I’m creating another human life, it’s hard to remember what those things were. It is so obvious to me now that nothing is more important or fulfilling than this. Plus let’s face it; my life has been a free-for-all up to this point. I’ve definitely spent my time playing around.

3. Sometimes I am just not myself, and Pregnant Julie comes out to play. (This is not a common occurrence, I swear). Today Simon found me half falling off the couch with remote in hand, tv on, staring at the ceiling, in blank expression. He was obviously concerned, and asked me how he could help. “I don’t know! I don’t know what’s wrong!” was my response and I rolled over. This is how the conversation proceeded from there.

Simon – What do you want to do?
Julie – I don’t know! What do you want to do?! (squirm)
Julie – I need a make over.
Simon – Should we go get you one?
Julie – No. It’s too expensive.
Julie – I need a manicure. Will you give me one?
Simon – Yes.
Julie – No. You don’t know how.
Julie – Let’s choose a baby name.

At the computer I sat on Simon’s lap with my head on his shoulder like a child and fell asleep. Then took a 3 hour nap in the middle of a Saturday as Simon fetched dinner for both of us. Here’s the confession. Nothing could have helped my stupor of morning sickness and hormone overload. I was acting like a 13 year old in the middle of an identity crisis. But at the time Simon acted like everything was normal and was completely patient with me. And even though I didn’t want him to paint my nails, it made me feel a little better that he was willing to. That’s the kind of irrationality I can understand.

AND BABY MAKES THREE

2008-09-23T11:07:00.018+01:00

There really is a baby in there! And just one. Unless they show the same video to every woman who thinks she's pregnant, I'm starting to believe this might actually be happening.

We had our first ultrasound today and it was so exciting! Simon was able to get off work to come too. So far this is what we know about our baby: it has 2 arms, 2 legs, a beating heart, 2 brain hemispheres, and is 2 inches from crown to rump.

It was really cute and fun to watch. Baby was going crazy in there- kicking and doing karate arm punches. We saw the little arms stretch over the head. It wouldn't stop rolling around and wiggling- and it was fast! So this is where all my energy has gone.... seems someone is hogging it. I know that we're sharing this body of mine, but maybe Baby could leave some energy for me? It's a good thing I can't feel all that squirliness just yet. The doctor kept saying, "Looks like someone's hawving a serious pawty in there!"

It was hard not to laugh at what Baby was doing because it was so funny. And when I would giggle, my stomach muscles would push the wand away and the doctor had to stop and wait for me to control myself. I had to look away because I couldn't be relaxed while seeing my first child for the first time. It was very cool and I can't wait for the next peek in 8 weeks.

..............................

Okay, I need to address something. I have received numerous requests for pictures of the bump. Now, it is true that there is a teeny tiny bump, but it is greatly overshadowed by my rippling* thighs and plumpening buttocks. And my digestion has slowed way down so I look full and bloated all the time, because I am. My face and ankles have also started to prepare by packing in fat stores for the winter. So you see lots of round bumps when you look at me, but not where the baby actually is. I can't zip up my pants anymore, and I honestly just look like a thicker version of myself.

So here's the thing. I'm wondering why no one requested pictures of me before.... Not even after my post about the tiny white bikini! But I'm sure there are many who would love to see my belly in it now. So I'm willing to make a deal with you. There has been a sudden intrest in my fattest parts, so I'll gladly post pictures of mine, if you post pictures of yours. I think it's only fair.

Or I'll post some once I actually look pregnant.
I'm glad we had this talk.

*this does not refer to muscles

winning ticket

2008-09-19T12:09:00.005+01:00

People here are seriously into their cheeses. They have all kinds that I have been sheltered from my entire life. And I’ve been misled to believe that things like Cheeze Whiz, Kraft, and Velveeta are cheese. Anyway. This post isn’t about cheese. But if you’re not into cheesy things, I suggest you don’t read it, but go here instead.

For those who are left, let’s continue. The other night as we were falling asleep, Simon said, “I feel like I’ve won the lottery.” Of course I had to ask why; he may have been subtly trying to tell me that we’ve become millionaires. But he said that he was so happy with his life and with our happy little family and all the things we have been so lucky to do and see. And he was excited to see what will happen this year for us. We have due dates for both business school and a baby soon approaching and he is optimistic for both.

I have been thinking about this comment and it’s probably one of the best things I could hear my husband say. This is why it’s such a big deal. I’ve been sick for a month and a half with debilitating morning sickness, often telling him things like, “My stomach is going to frown all over the sidewalk!” Even though there’s nothing he can do to relieve my illness, I somehow feel the need to explain every little uncomfortable detail. (Not the ideal wife behavior). I’ve been working about 1 day a week and lying in bed the other days. I do nothing, because I feel like I can’t do anything. Our weekends are spent more like house arrest. Dinner production has slowed to maybe once or twice a week. And the flat looks like tornado aftermath.

He, on the other hand, works hard every day and comes home and does the dishes that I’ve dirtied and annoyingly piled high in the sink. He has always either truly felt sympathy for me, or pretended like it, this ENTIRE time, which is all I could ask for. And after all this, he is a happy man. I’m clearly getting the better deal here.

Way better than winning the lottery.

snapshots

2008-09-11T15:33:00.022+01:00

Here are a few things that we've been up to lately and some typical scenes around londontown.

A haunted palace once used for the Royal Naval Academy, a morgue during the blitz, and headquarters for the underground painting thiefs.

Ice Cream Truck

Windsor Castle: where the Queen lives when she's not at Buckingham Palace.

Businessman in a bowlers hat.

Our favorite French patisserie, which is where we get slices of Simon's favorite cake.

This was also his birthday cake. What a lucky boy.

London Eye. Originally it had a 5 year contract, but is now here to stay.
Over 3 million people ride it each year.

Totally necessary.

The newscasters out here are ridiculous.
This man always wears clown ties while he talks about murders and such.

Swans in the pond down the street from our flat.
We used to feed them on Sundays, but they were so ungrateful that we stopped. You could throw the bread at their faces and they wouldn't even move.

Kensington Gardens for tea.

There is art everywhere. This man's proud stance makes me laugh.
Clearly French.

This man's job is to stand here all day and pretend that he can't see or hear you. He has to know that he is just a tourist attraction. People are constantly taking pictures with him like he's a Disneyland character. I would not be surprised if one day he snapped and actually used that sword.

I should probably tell you the phone booth story. They are cute from a distance, until you get close enough to see that they are filled with pornographic cards for prostitution rings. There are a few like this on my street. I used to go out a few times a day and throw the cards away because there are also many schools on our street and I felt the kids didn't need to see those things every day. It was getting out of hand, so I mailed a giant stack of them to BT, who owns the phone booths, asking them to take control of their property. They forwarded my concern to the police, who contacted me and now I'm on the neighborhood panel and attend meetings. All in all, the police here could use a few lessons from the New York City cops. They stop patrolling at 10 PM! And they can't seem to figure out a solution to the card problem either.

A typical curvy London street. No grid system here.
And good luck finding the street signs.

Pubs like these are everywhere and are slammed with pubbers on the weekends.

The 24 hour clock at Greenwich, England. Time and navigation were perfected here for the famous British Armada. Also home to the prime meridian.

Our Flat.

I love this guy. He can't talk. He can't even see! What kind of guard is that? Maybe he's asleep. Maybe he's a wax sculpture. What do you think his job interview was like? Does he have a personal life? I bet he can give the cold shoulder better than anyone else. When he's on a date does he pretend to be passionate about his job? Or does he go more brain dead each day? The weight of that hat can't be healthy. Or maybe it's full of water like a camel hump. Do you think he heard that girls "love a man in a uniform" and took it to the extreme? I've only heard old grandmas say things like that anyway. Can you imagine his wife asking him, "How was work today, honey?" How could he possibly respond to that? "Um, it was overcast." And that would be it for human interaction because you can't have a meaningful conversation with someone who does nothing every day.

Love this country. Still bleed American, but enjoying England.

It's Showtime!

2008-08-26T12:06:00.002+01:00

I'm starting to show already. Theres nothing quite like the neat, lovely lady lumps of pregnancy. The only problem is that so far I'm only showing in my thighs, rump, and chin... which is slightly less awe-inspiring. And I don't think it's fair, because I don't know what they have to do with it. Why can't they just mind their own business?

Oh, and Baby is pretty powerful for being the size of a bean. My life already revolves around him/her/it/them.