Mother of two

It's been a while. Sorry. 

But I think we're over the hump now. The Good Man vanished on a business trip to Athens two weeks after Thumper's arrival, which coincided perfectly with my baby blues meltdown. Fortunately, the fine ladies of Virginia nursed me back to fine spirits and I have been truly enjoying my littlest bundle. As fortune would have it, so is her big sister. I was worried that Bambi might get jealous of the redirection of attention and plot cunning methods to take it out on her sister. But no. Her frustrations have been more accurately directed at me. And I agree with her. Nursing a newborn takes too damn long. 

Another big event while the Good Man was away was Halloween. Whoever thought of combining the joint pleasures of dressing up and getting loads of candy was clearly a marketing genius. It's all great fun but wow! can it all add up. Gravestones in the flower beds, ghosts hanging from the trees, outfits from Disney store and, of course, large volumes of candy ('cos who wants to be the sap who runs out...?) and the monthly budget is flattened. Given my postpartum state I got away with minimal decor - one plastic Jack-o-lantern and a pumpkin decorated with stickers and mauled by the neighbourhood squirrels. Sad, but true...

And I couldn't quite face trick or treating with Bambi which turned into a complete bonus for her as she scored two invites out with other families - one early and one late - and, therefore, scored twice the candy. We've been trickle feeding her the spoils and still have a few mini packs of M&Ms to go. She dressed as Princess Aurora (Sleeping Beauty to those who have not been immersed in Disney Princess) and looked gorgeous as can be seen from the picture above.

And then came her birthday. Yes, I can hardly believe it myself, but Bambi is four! So we rolled out the princess outfit again (with the cost of the thing I had considered sending her to school in it too - but the weather had turned...) and invited 20 under fives around for two hours. To ease the pressure on ourselves we hired an entertainer - known as The Great Zucchini officially, and the Magnificent Marrow in our house - to officiate. Best exorbitant sum ever spent in my book. He had them roaring with laughter and completely happy for over an hour, after which we fed 'em, sugared 'em and shipped 'em home for their parents to deal with. He he he! 

Thumper slept through the whole thing, which means she could probably sleep through a Stones concert or a major tornado. Or both. Simultaneously.  Good to know! 

Up to date

Frankly, I've had enough of all this retrospective. I think I had in mind that I could update friends and family through my blog. But blogging (at least for me) isn't about travel tales and catching up - it's about pithy observation and social commentary. So my plan now is to provide a very potted version of our introduction to the US of A:

We now live in Virginia, but close enough to downtown DC that the Good Man cycles to work. The neighbourhood is leafy and the the neighbours have been extremely welcoming and helpful. I suspect we may be wallowing in suburban bliss...

Light switches work differently here. Up means on and down means off. Why? No idea.

Bambi has had her first encounter with a toilet flushing sensor (flushes when you move in front of the sensor, ie. stand up). It gave her one hell of a fright and now I can't persuade her to go to the toilet in public places - but she's become very disciplined about going before we leave the house.

Washington is far more beautiful than I ever imagined. Weekend activities so far have included Wolf Trap, boat trips on the Potomac, the Kennedy Centre open day (with Dan Zanes - oh so cool) and the Good Man regularly takes Bambi canoeing at Fletcher's Cove. I had never thought that the nation's capital would be so outdoor orientated.

Breakfast cereal without sugar is ridiculously hard to find in the supermarket. I eventually tracked down Weetabix - only available in the health food aisle.

This is an election year (fast approaching election month) and American politics and electioneering are absolutely unbelievable. But I'm sure I will be writing more about this later. At this stage I'm actually quite glad I do not have any right to vote here.

Our freight has yet to arrive. Bambi, however, has decorated our lounge with empty boxes which she has decorated with dayglo paint... and glitter. It's a look unlikely to catch on in Home & Garden and one of which we will undoubtedly be reminded for the remainder of our time here as we continue to brush sparkles from between the floorboards. But it is cheerful.

I am due to deliver Thumper via c-section on 14th October. This is not because, with 3 and a half weeks to go she is already estimated to weigh nearly 8 pounds (help!), but medically advised after an emergency c-section after a complicated (and long) labour with Bambi.  Wish me luck. If I go into labour before then, we're in trouble - no support network means relying heavily on planning. Labour is not part of the plan...

In all, this has been one of our easier moves. I suspect we'll be happy here. And I'll keep you posted.

In transit

And because we never do things the simple way, the good family made a stop off. For a week. In Vienna.

Vienna is gorgeous and, at most times in my life, the perfect place to spend a week.  Music! Art! I even speak the language. So, the food's a bit heavy but even Bambi was able to navigate the menus and by the end of our stay had perfected her pronunciation of 'wurst mit pommes, bitte'.

Austria is now known as the Land of Sausage.

But... We did not have a car and, even with a really brilliant metro system, the amount of walking to get around was not great for my six month pregnant frame... or Bambi's three year old legs.

As recent postings have largely read like travel rags, we'll skip over the lowdown on the Prater, the House of Music, Stefansdom, horse drawn carriages and Danube cruises and go straight to Bambi's undisputed highlight... Schonbrunn Palace.

The Palace itself is big and imposing and can be toured. But what three year old wants to spend two hours looking at furniture. That said, the grounds are spectacular with loads of room to run. Here's Bambi running around the Gloriette...

And before you think I denied my princess any access to the palace, we did go to the children's museum. What a find! She got to play with period toys, braid period wigs and see how Imperial children lived. And, the biggie - she got to dress up. How cute is this....

And on the 5th of July (yes, we missed the 4th) we officially moved to the States.

Before we move on...

some photos...

First Zanzibar, which Bambi clearly enjoyed:

but then it is a beautiful spot...

with cool things to do like feeding little tortoises....

and some bigger ones...

You can also listen to conch shells in stereo...

climb huge trees (with your Dad)...

and swim in mangrove swamps off the side of a boat!

And then there was Easter. Which included a good haul. Observe the Masai in the top right corner who sportingly kept the monkeys from stealing the eggs before the hunt. (This was in Amboseli by the way).

It's important to carefully survey the terrain when game watching.

Oh look! Kilimanjaro!

More from the travelogue next time.

Under Attack

Well, I know that I've been a touch elusive but 42 comments looked too good to be true. And I was right. Them spammers have attacked. So I'll be adding one of those nasty little steps to the comment process where you enter a code word that makes no sense. A real test of commitment.
So where have we been? Well, the freight arrived. Finally. So I have been trying to get the house really set up. Our telephone line went dead the day we arrived. It took a week for me to persuade Telkom that the line really was dead and then, in desperation I found a technician up a ladder near my house and persuaded him to take a look. What do you know, the line was corroded and the whole thing took about fifteen minutes (and a few sparks) to sort out.

Now I am entering the quagmire that is ADSL. Why oh why does this have to take upwards of a week?? Not sure - something to do with paperwork which is still sitting with the clearing agents even though everything has been cleared and delivered. But even then they will need to do an assessment of the signal at our property, invoice us and receive payment before they will install. Oh joy!

So just to remind us why we came here, we took off for a weekend to Lake Nakuru. Bliss. Millions of flamingoes, hundreds of buffalo, gazelles, impala and seven lions outisde the park and worryingly close to our (tented) camp. Bambi was impressed.

In fact, Bambi is having a blast. She is turning nut brown and blonder by the day. She has her own vegetable garden - things grow so fast here that the process can even hold the attention of a three year old and her Swahili is getting quite impressive - I have been overtaken. And she gets to do cool stuff like feed giraffes. Observe:


She also seems to like our new house but then her garden has gone from a Scottish postage stamp to this:


I'll write again soon - in about a week.... when the ADSL gets installed.... hopefully...

Safe as houses

We're here! And its been quite a ride. In the past month I have walked the ancient ruins of Scara Brae in Orkney, shopped in the souks of Abu Dhabi and Dubai and hand fed a Rothschilds Giraffe. As has Bambi. If she ever tells me her life is dull, I'll just remind her of August 2007.

Now begins the next stage - finding a home and getting settled. Fortunately, we've landed on our feet and found a lovely two bedroomed cottage on a lake as an interim let. It means that we're not in a big hurry to find something right away and can wait to find something right for us. So far, most houses I've looked at have been monumental - full of glass, marble and fake gold or really quite frightening with bathrooms that would leave me uncertain as to my ability to actually get clean in them.

In general, my first impressions of Nairobi are really good - it is beautiful, lush and the locals seem very friendly and helpful. Driving is, um, creative - especially on the routes through the city so we are scouring maps to find backroad routes. But Nairobi seems to have an oversupply of rivers and an undersupply of bridges - nowhere is to be reached as the crow flies.

Shopping here is a doddle compared to Lusaka - everything is available and very reasonable too. I'm hoping to slip in a trip to the Indian market later this week - I hear the fruit and veg are amazing.

We've found a lovely Montessori school for Bambi, which we're trying for a week to see how she goes. Judging by this morning, she'll have no trouble - anything to get out of traipsing around more houses with me!

And I've found an internet cafe - which should allow for the odd, irregular posting until our freight arrives...

Fun, no matter how you look at it

I am the first one to acknowledge that, when sitting inside looking in the rain, it is never a good idea to ponder what the family in Cape Town are up too. But this weekend it was irresistable. After all, they were off the coast of Gansbaai in a cage looking at 4m Great White sharks.

So, had I been in Cape Town this weekend, I can say with some confidence that I would have seen this.

I would have swum in that cage on the right.

That could even have been my arm.

But I wasn't in Cape Town. I was in Scotland.

So instead I went to the Linlithgow jousting tournament (as you do), and saw a knight in shining armour...

men wielding swords...

and men on horses wielding long pokey objects.

All great fun. And I didn't even get seasick!

As an aside, the duel re-enactment involved much hurling of period abuse. Bambi was clearly paying attention.

Mummy, what's a fornicator?

Help!

Scottish children

in their natural habitat...

The one on the left actually has a South African mother and an Irish father. But, you know what they say... If it walks, like a duck and talks like a duck....

The secret life of Bambi

'Mummy... ,' said Bambi as I was putting her to bed, 'I'm not going to cry and I'm not going to call you back.'

Well, that's a relief, I thought. I'm not very good at guilt before bedtime.

'Lovely, honey, now go to sleep.'

'And I'm not going to hide behind my curtains. And I'm not going to look in my cupboard. And I'm not going to play I spy with Teddy.'

Hey ho! What! Get out of bed? After I've turned the light out? Clearly there has been a little nocturnal action I didn't know about.

We used to listen to Bambi as she fell asleep through the baby monitor. She would begin with conversation and word experimentation. Teddy would be instructed in the ways of the toddler - she'd cover eating with a spoon, drinking through a straw and list her favourite menus - with a strong, but not entirely accurate, focus on chocolate. And then she would sing, which would send her to sleep.

Being a bit concerned about the bedtime conversation I turned on the monitor again for the first time in a long while. There was a bit of muffled conversation and a clear rendition of Twinkle Twinkle before the silence of sleep.

But it was telling that her soft animals were lined up in a row on the floor this morning, carefully covered by a blanket.

'Do you think they slept well Bambi?'

'Yes Mummy. I sang them a lubyebye...'

Cheap wine and a three day growth

It all started when Bambi had just turned one. Our wee gazelle was an early talker and had several multi-syllabic words under her belt by her first birthday. She could also sing sentences. Yes, sing. She couldn't talk in sentences but could sing full song verses. Strange, but true.

So there we were driving somewhere (I know not where) when our little cherub piped up with,

Cheap wine and a three day growth, oh yeah!

A long look was shared between good man and good woman and Cold Chisel was summarily ejected from the CD player.

All of a sudden we were faced with the not insignificant challenge of finding music for the car that would not result in a visit from Child Services. And that we could bear to listen to as well. Bambi favoured her Rhythm Time CDs. These were sweet to start but got increasingly annoying with each turn of the wheels on the car.

I discovered Dan Zanes (very bearable) and Laurie Berkner (sometimes catchy, sometimes not so much). All seemed on track until my daughter got a lift in a friend's car and came home demanding the 'Doo doop' song. At first I thought she'd been listening to the Andrews Sisters, which seemed odd but innocent enough. It then transpired that my dear friend Janet had been playing the Fratellis for my daughter's listening pleasure. And the 'doo -doop' in question was the opening refrain to Chelsea Dagger.

To be fair I rather enjoy the Fratellis. They're a Glasgow outfit with an upbeat indie sound that now forms the soundtrack to my time in Scotland. That said, their lyrics can get a wee bit hinky. For example I may get concerned if Bambi starts a rousing chorus of She gets naked for a living, she aint afraid of giving, ah huh... in the aisles of Tesco. Or lets rip with He's been out for days, in a deep malaise in her nursery school.

But, for now, enough of me is relieved for the respite from Baa Baa Black Sheep. She can have her doo doop CD. I'll just hum along loudly.

Daisy chains 101

Granny has now gone back to Cape Town. But I've decided not to blog about that - it was the first of many goodbyes to come over the coming months. I will not dwell. I will not!

Instead I thought you may enjoy a short lesson on daisy chain making:

Step One: You'll need some daisies. Scotland is a good place to find them right now. This one's from Skye...

Step Two: Make small incisions in the stems and thread them together. This is tricky, especially if you're two and may require that you stick your tongue out...

Step Three: TADA! Oh dear, it fell off before Mom could take the photo. Quality control is only covered in the next module, Superior Daisy Chain Making!

Globe toddler

Bambi was born in Cape Town. At six weeks we took her to Zambia and at ten months we moved her to Scotland. For the first year and a bit of her life, those first six weeks represented the longest period of time during which she hadn't flown somewhere. She flew to the bush. She visited South Africa a few times. She's also been to Victoria Falls. The more I think about it, the more I realise that I have tended to treat my daughter a bit like a laptop.

Perhaps it's because of this early start, but she travels really well. Of particular entertainment value is her early interest in languages. You see, Bambi may have only walked at 15 months, but she's been talking since 11 months. She's just never been worried about giving words a go. So when the hotel concierge in Paris said, 'Bonjour!' to my wee 14 month old princess as she crawled behind the reception desk, she shot back a 'Bonjour!' all of her own. And we got the best service imaginable for the rest of our stay.

In South Africa she leaves most homes with a breezy 'Totsiens!' and greets anyone with a tan with 'Molo!'. As there are actually 11 official languages in South Africa she's not always on the money, but her efforts raise a smile anyway.

I do sometimes question our decision to live a nomadic life and, in the rundown to a move, I do worry about the effect this could have on Bambi. It was, after all, our choice, not hers. She has friends here - in fact she definitely has a best friend here. One whose absence will be noticed and whose presence will be missed. I keep in touch with my friends and I hope to teach her to do the same but it is a difficult one to explain to one so young.

I just hope that her budding interest in different cultures and languages makes it as worthwhile for her as it is for her parents. I hope that she doesn't hate us one day for not having given her a geographic base from an early age. On the whole she seems pretty happy with her lot in life. But teenagers can be decidedly odd - you just don't know what to expect. I fear the hormones, and the ammunition I may have given them!

For those who read between lines, yes, our big news is that we will be moving in the next few months. The details of the destination have yet to be ironed out. But here's a clue. We're probably going somewhere we've never lived before, but I anticipate living there as much as if I were going home...

Scary things

The night before Easter, my normally confident little Bambi announced that she was 'a bit scared' of the Easter Bunny. It transpired that she had seen two people in bunny outfits handing out eggs and (do give a child credit here) thought something was amiss. As tempted as I was by the thought of a sugar-free Easter, I felt that some Easter eggs should make it into the fray (not the least for me!) and began negotiations.

She was not buying the story about the human sized bunnies being fake - this was clearly what differentiated the Easter Bunny from normal bunnies. Extra height and reticulated thumbs are quite obviously what gives him his supercharged chocolate producing powers. Eventually we promised to not let him into our house. But, if it rained, he was allowed to leave any offerings inside the storm door. One should always take care not to let one's chocolate offerings get soggy, you understand.

Then, several weeks later, she announced that she was scared of Barney. This made more sense. A large, purple dinosaur would freak me out too if I hadn't made the whole person inside connection. Don't let those catchy tunes fool ya!

But then, when I asked her what she thought Barney was going to do to her if she met him, she told me that he would tickle her. Exuberant tickling by a large purple dinosaur....hmmmm. Okay, fair enough. Again we decided that, should Barney ever visit our street we would simply not let him into our house and take cover in the pantry.

Today I took Bambi and Granny to see The Wiggles - Live in Concert at the Royal Concert Hall. Her first foray into live theatre was in the form of four loudly dressed Australian men. I'm still not too sure how I feel about this. I had imagined something more highbrow. Carmen for Kids, or The Nutcracker perhaps. At least Dan Zanes. But then he didn't make it to Glasgow.

Anyway, before spending a fair whack on tickets I asked her if she was scared of The Wiggles.

'No Mummy. They're men. Like Daddy.'

Just wait till the Good Man hears that he's a hip-wiggling, primary colour-wearing, Aussie accented singer of itty ditties. At least in the eyes of his daughter.

She's here

The Good Granny has arrived. It turns out she was on an aeroplane, which is good as I'm not sure where I would have gone to fetch her had she arrived by balloon.

Bambi leapt straight into her arms, the five months since they last saw each other floating away into the distance as they quickly reaffirmed their bond. Gifts were given, biltong shared, stories told and announcements made (Granny, when I grow up I want to be a tooth fairy).

And now they're curled up together on the couch doing whatever it is that grandmothers and granddaughters do after too-long separations. I have not been invited.

And all is as it should be.

Antici.........pation

Bambi's life has turned into a rotational chart filling extravaganza. It all started with the No-accidents-for-ten-days-and-you-get-a-doll Chart (my erstwhile sensibilities about bribery now being but a vague memory). It took the form of ten little raindrops (at least that's what we told visitors they were), one to be coloured in each dry day. Dry trousers that is, not dry weather, or Bambi would still be doll free.

Then the Good Man started travelling and, as proof that it is possible to buy forgiveness, we invented the Six-sleeps-till-daddy-comes-home-with-a-dress Chart (a little clothes rack), and the Eight-sleeps-till-daddy-gets-home-with-biltong Chart (wee cows), and the Three-sleeps-till-daddy-gets-home-with-fancy-chocolates Chart (teddy bears - not sure why).

But now we are on the final hurdle of an extra special chart. It is one more sleep until Granny arrives. It shows nine balloons - I didn't think Bambi could handle a longer countdown although I've been secretly counting down for much longer. The significance of the balloons is merely avoidance - I hate flying and can't face thinking of people I care about on aeroplanes either. I can just about deal with an image of my mother clutching a bunch of balloons as she traverses the African continent.

And she's bringing biltong.

oh goody!

Bambi's new glasses

Mommy, I think my glasses make me very big.

And beautiful.

And clever.

And, in fact, I think they make me very adorable.

Yes dear, but they're doing nothing for your modesty.

What shall we do when the novelty wears off!

Dance of the dust bunnies

Before the Good Man left for South Africa he broke the vacuum cleaner. Let's not digress into the division of labour in our Good Home. Suffice to say, he won't touch a toilet brush. The vacuum is the price he pays.

He yanked it to the far side of the lounge straining the plug to breaking point, and, what do you know? It broke. He found a screwdriver, poked about a bit, it still didn't work. So he left the continent.

That was a Thursday. By Sunday, the party started. The strands of hair began a tete-e-tete with the radiator dust. They flirted a bit, got past first base and by Tuesday they were the proud parents of a burgeoning brood of dust bunnies. I looked at the vacuum cleaner. I stared at the screwdriver. I saw a future where I would vacuum and clean the loo. I scooped up Bambi and took her to visit friends.

By Thursday Bambi thought they were looking hungry and fed them some of her vegetables - escape-peas we like to call them. On Friday morning we gave them names. And on Friday afternoon the Good Man returned.

'So you didn't fix the vacuum cleaner then?' he said on meeting Flopsy and Flo at the door.

On Saturday morning I woke to a newly repaired vacuum cleaner whining its way through the downstairs of our house. Bambi was helping her Dad. I could hear her vacuum cleaner too. It's pink, has Barney on it and sings.

Clean up, clean up
Everybody, everywhere
Clean up, clean up
Everybody do your share!

SA DNA

The Good Man returned from a week in South Africa last night. He came bearing gifts - clothes, treats and biltong. This last item is not necessarily your traditional duty-free purchase. It's air dried meat seasoned with salt, coriander and peppercorns. In South Africa it is the snack food of choice. Keep the crisps, but never forget the biltong.

It's best application is as a teething aid for babies. Yes, we give our children large chunks of dry, uncooked meat to chew on when their gums are sore. Unconventional, perhaps, but highly effective.

Anyway, my husband knows his girls well - he brought us 1kg of the stuff. We piled in last night, Bambi and I. She has grown very protective of her bag of meat - I heard her growl when her father got too close.

This morning, when the Good Man went to wake her he promised her a special treat if she ate her breakfast like a good girl. He had a bowl of warmed strawberries in mind.

'Yes,' she said. 'Biltong'. Good girl! its' the South African genes talking!

This also reminds me of a work colleague the Good Man once had - an American of Chinese descent. He came to South Africa on a business trip and could not understand why people kept chuckling when he introduced himself. It had started at passport control and continued on from there.

But then his name was Bill Tong.

Bambi meets Elvis

My beautiful daughter has just completed a growth spurt. Actually, she may still be mid-spurt but this does not bear thinking about. I cannot afford to go another round at Next until October. I am tall, her father is tall. She's well on her way.

Unfortunately for her about 80% of this growth has taken place in her legs. She's having a bit of trouble figuring out what to do with an extra inch on each appendage. From where I'm standing, though, the results are just too adorable to express.

'She looks a bit like Bambi on the ice,' observed my friend Janet the other day. Which, of course, means she will grow into an elegant gazelle. One day. But please not too soon thanks. I know that looking like roadrunner when you pick up speed might cause a few issues in high school, but at the moment she seems quite pleased to be keeping me in exuberant laughter. We laugh together.

Her blog name, however, has to change. Henceforth the wee 'un will be known as Bambi.

Anyway, with the rain back again I took my own advice and visited some of Glasgow's great indoor sights this weekend. The highlight was watching Bambi serenading Elvis at Kelvingrove. He seemed to quite enjoy her rendition of twinkle, twinkle.