International Pet Relocation, Part II

Once upon a time, I shipped my dogs to the United Kingdom. We were embarking on our four year English adventure, and I couldn't imagine doing it without my fur babies, Zeus and Zoey. So in spite of the complications and cost associated with shipping our pets into the UK (and oowee, it is complicated!), we took the plunge, found a pet shipping service, and met our dogs at Gatwick Airport in London the day after Valentine's Day.

Now that we are wrapping up our English Adventure, it was time to start thinking about getting the Z's back to the US. Since the US has more lenient restrictions on bringing in pets ("They got rabies vaccines? Cool."), I expected to be a bit easier.

As it turns out international pet relocation is no fun no matter how you slice the pie.

Okay, let me retract that statement for a minute. It actually could have been a LOT worse. Most of the anxiety and stress had more to do with all the preparations leading up to the shipping and less to do with the actual shipping itself.

Since I decided to fly back with them myself instead of using a pet shipping service (cheaper, and gives me a chance to house hunt on this side), I had to really up my game, do my research, and make sure all my I's were dotted and T's were crossed.

In spite of my preparation, it seemed a lot of little issues cropped up last minute.

• I lost the health certificate my vet issued ten days prior to shipping.
• I forgot to get their vaccine card updated with their most recent rabies shot. (Rabies doesn't exist in the UK, so they hadn't had a rabies booster in years.)
• The low temps in our final destination (Columbia, SC) was just below the airline threshold of 45 degrees, which meant we needed a cold weather acclimation certificate. But our own vet wouldn't issue one, so we had to go to another vet.
• I couldn't find all of the mandatory dog dishes that must be attached to their kennels and had to order some from a UK site and have them overnighted.
• I needed to get enough of Zeus' seizure meds to last until we actually move in January so my in laws wouldn't have to worry about it.

And due to my own wired personality, I began to envision every possible thing that could go wrong. What if they won't accept them on the flight? (American Airline's won't book pets as checked baggage until two hours before the flight.) What if our plane was delayed and we missed our connection? What if the customs personnel didn't like the British vaccine card and demanded a rabies certificate? What if I forgot one tiny piece of information and we're stranded in Dallas-Fort Worth? WHAT IF THEY TELL ME TO TAKE MY DOGS BACK TO THE UK?!

I know, I know. I'm a real worry wort when it comes to these things. I plan and plan and still worry that I didn't plan enough. And I give myself pep talks. I try to remind myself that all I can do is prepare. I can't control all the circumstance, just be prepared. I tell myself it's going to be okay.

Unfortunately, my brain doesn't always buy that. I remind myself, "The eyes go where the car goes." (It's a racing metaphor from a book I recently read, The Art of Racing in the Rain. Really good. Go read it!) No point in envisioning the crash, 'cause the eyes go where the car goes. Envision the finish line!

In spite of all my pep talk, I was still a little nervous Wednesday morning when we arrived at Terminal 3 at London Heathrow Airport.

As it turns out, all my preparation paid off. Everything went great! The American Airlines staff were super helpful. One of the BAA (British Airport Authority) security dudes was SUPER awesome. After I checked in the dogs, he took the crates, but let me keep the dogs for about an hour and half before I needed to go get ready to board the plane. So we walked all over Terminal 3, letting them take care of business (yes, I cleaned up after them!), and just letting them get a bit of exercise before they were penned up.

In Dallas, I went through immigrations and then picked up my luggage and the dogs and headed for customs. Everything was smooth there, except the customs lady "confiscated" the two Ziploc bags of dog food I had taped to the top of their crates. No biggie. I just had about a days worth of food in case we got separated at DFW. Take the food, just don't confiscate my pups! The AA desk let me take the dogs for about a ten minute walk again, which I know their bladders appreciated!

They arrived in Columbia safe and healthy and happy to see their Nana (my mother-in-law) who came to pick us up from the airport. We dropped them off with their doggy cousins and Linda and I went to grab some 1 am breakfast at IHOP. (God bless the overnight shift workers at IHOP and their delicious omelets! That tiny puddle hopper from DFW to CAE was gonna charged me $4 for a pack of pretzels! I slept instead.)

The Z's are currently settling into life with my in laws. It didn't take them long to reacquaint themselves with the old dogs and introduce themselves to the new ones. (Yes, there was some bottom sniffing going on.) They seem no worse for the wear and ready to just move on to barking at the neighbor dogs and sleeping all day long.

Over all, it was much better than I could have even hoped for. They were a hit wherever we went. (Well, who doesn't love a dog in a personalized hoodie?! Crazy people, that's who!) They behaved themselves beautifully, and held up fabulously after a ten and a half hour flight to Dallas. (Remind me not to make that flight again. WAY too long. And no personal TVs on that particular plane. Say WHAT?! At least they played new episodes of 30 Rock on the overhead TV!)

Now I can take a deep breath, revel in the relief of having successfully gotten my dogs back to the US, and focus on looking at some houses and cars while I'm here. Good times!

The Big Tower

For weeks now, Caleb's been saying this exact line, or some version of it: "Guess what, Mommy? I'm going to go to the big tower."

I kept thinking it was something they were doing at school. Maybe a book they were reading? A song they were singing? I couldn't figure out what tower Caleb was talking about. I meant to ask his teacher, but never remembered when I was at his day care.

A few friends have suggesting that maybe he's talking about the air traffic control tower on base. But to be honest, Caleb is almost never on that side of base, so I didn't think that was it.



(P.S. This is totally not my picture. I nicked it from the Mildenhall website, which by the way, was the best in the Air Force last year! Way to go 100 ARW Public Affairs, and let me give credit to Sgt Tracy DeMarco, whose photography skills clearly exceed my own.)

Tonight on the drive home, we passed the Elveden War Memorial on the A11. We pass have passed this giant statue almost every day, often twice a day, for nearly four years now. I always wanted to stop and grab a picture, but for many reasons have never gotten around to it.

However, with a potty training two-year-old, I've found many occasions to stop on the side of the road recently. Not long ago, his need for a roadside restroom found us stopped in the layby next to the memorial, so I took the chance to snap a few pics. Yay! Mission accomplished. :)

Tonight during the usual Friday night stop-and-go on the A11, Caleb pulled out his standard line, "Guess what, mommy? I want to go to the big tower." And I gave my half-listening, "Yeah, baby. That sounds good," response.

He must have picked up my on less-than-enthusiastic response though, because he started freaking out. "I want to go to the big tower! I want to go to the big tower! I want to go to THAT BIG TOWER!" His little finger was clearly pointed at the memorial.

And suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks. So that's what he's been talking about all along! Even before we actually stopped there recently, he's been begging to go to the big tower he's passed nearly every darn day of his little life.

I can't even imagine how huge that monument must seem to him.

I remember as a kid going to New Orleans to visit my grandparents on my dad's side. Outside of the house he grew up in, there was a baseball park with a small stadium. My dad would always say how small it seemed to him in comparison to his memories of the place. It seemed strange to me, because it was huge!

Then a few years went by before we could get back to New Orleans to visit. I came back as a teenager and was shocked to discover it wasn't the huge, Major League Baseball stadium I remembered. It was just a medium-sized neighborhood baseball park. Sure enough, it was nowhere near as big as I remembered.

The Elveden war memorial, on the other hand, is proper huge! And I'm saying this as a girl whose been living in England for a few years and has seen her share of war memorials. It ain't no tiny tater.

But if it's this big to me, how mammoth must it be to my two-year-old? How much of his life is defined by our thirty minute drive into base, and weather or not we've passed the memorial yet? What does that giant "tower" mean to him? What does he think it is?

More importantly, will he have any memory of it in two or three years? Chances are, probably not. Sadly, this marker of his daily life will probably be nothing more than a picture on my computer that he'll see on a screen saver slide show one day and ask, "What is that?"

Ah, just another reminder of things I'll both miss and not miss about England. Passing the war memorial every day? Yeah, I'll kinda miss that. Stand still traffic on the A11 on a Friday night? Well, not so much that.

But at least I know what the big tower is now! As Winnie the Pooh would say, "This mystery is history!"

Brighton, Day 2

On our second day in Brighton, we woke up to rain and clouds. Very disappointing after the fantastic weather we had the first day. However, if there's one thing you learn quickly while living in England, it's that you can't let a little rain stop you. For one thing, if you did, you'd never get out. For another thing, chances are the rain will let up soon anyway!

Fortunately, by the time I had finished my full English breakfast (fried egg, sausage, non-streaky bacon, baked beans, sauteed mushrooms and a tomato), the rain itself had stopped, even though the clouds were still hanging around. So with full bellies, we ventured out to see some more of Brighton.

I was super excited to be checking out the Royal Pavilion. It's unlike any other palace I've visited in England, with its very Indian design. Unfortunately, no pictures were allowed in the house, but it was as beautiful inside as it was out. We had to take a few detours for Caleb for potty breaks, but the staff was very accommodating.

After the Pavilion, we went in search of a Boots (pharmacy) as we had just run out of the potty bag liners for Caleb's Potette. We found a massive, two-story Boots that had the liners we needed (yay!) plus a sale on No. 7 cosmetics! (No worries, Tommy. I only bought one thing!)

On our search for Boots, we began to get a little more familiar with the town, circling around its shopping areas and peering in windows. We also encountered this statue of Queen Victoria. I'm actually reading a biography of Queen Victoria right now, so I was happy to see her. I'm a nerd like that.

I had decided early that morning that I needed to keep with my English food trend for the day and find a Sunday roast carvery for lunch. It took a bit of walking, but I finally found a family-friendly pub that had a roast on. And let me say, it was worth the walk! Roast beef, fried stuffing balls (what?! yeah!), fried potatoes, yorkshire pudding and veggies. So good! Caleb had a child-sized chicken roast dinner and ate all his veggies! Atta boy!

After lunch the sun had come back out, so we headed back to the pier. Turns out all the big rides are at the very end. Caleb was just on the borderline for some of the height restrictions (for smaller rides). Some guys let him on, and other guys turned him down. He was heartbroken not to go back on the bouncy castle he had been on the day before. But we made up for it with some trampoline time and a driving ride!

We also hit one of the two arcades on the pier and spent some change "playing games." This was actually the first game we played, I put in 30 pence and was trying to show Caleb how to play. I wasn't even paying attention to what I was doing and got the jackpot! Out spit 101 tickets, which we combined with more tickets later to get a Lightning McQueen mug.

We hit the beach after the pier, but the sun was hiding again. It was definitely cooler and windier than the day before. Caleb spent some more time relocating rocks while I read.

We finished up our day of traditional English food with some fish and chips from a restaurant across the street from the pier. We sat in the window watching the pier light up as the sun went down, ending our last day in Brighton.

Our trip back was uneventful. I have to say, I was super impressed and humbled by the kindness of strangers while venturing out on this journey sans-husband. Particularly in the tube stations!

If you've never been to London, the tubes are attrociously poor at accessibility, and lugging a stroller, a suitcase and a backpack up and down stairs while trying to keep track of a two year old is a headache, at least. But every single time I encountered stairs and escalators, some stranger would help me with the stroller or suitcase while I tended to Caleb. I never expected the help, but every singe time, it was offer. Thanks, London tubers!

So that's pretty much it! We're both pretty knackered from the weekend and glad to be home. But I'm very happy to have made it to Brighton finally and would definately recommend a weekend trip to anyone around here!

Brighton, Day 1

Happy Labor Day weekend! In the days leading up to our three day weekend, I began to think about getting out of town. I knew it would be tricky with Tommy unable to go with us. But with summer quickly fading and our time in England slipping through my fingers, I decided it was time to check something off of my list of things I still need to see.

The coastal city of Brighton has been on my list for ages. It's often mentioned in Jane Austen pieces, and the train line to Brighton was the scene of a lost baby in one of my all time favorite works, The Importance of Being Ernest by Oscar Wilde. Additionally, I had a pal on Flickr (back when I was active there) from Brighton whose beautiful pictures sealed my desire to come check out the city.

Saturday morning, I juggled the stroller with Caleb in, a small suitcase that turned out to be missing hair gel and a hair brush, a small lunch tote, and a book bag full of the ever important Potette Plus and plenty of changes of clothes for my quasi-potty trained punk.

The trek to Brighton wasn't bad. It took four trains (include a tube train) to get down. We pre-booked online, so we knew where to get off. While navigating the tube, several people were very helpful and offered to help with the stroller or my carry on suitcase on stairs and escalators. Caleb enjoyed the train ride, and the packed lunch came in handy, since we didn't have much time between trains.

It took about 3 1/2 hours to get down to Brighton. We checked into the B&B I found online. They had upgraded us to a nicer room, which was great! The downside is, it was closer to street level. I didn't realize how close we'd be to a few clubs, and it was loud for a while.

Actually, it wasn't even so much the clubs. You kind of get used to the constant hum of MMch! MMch! MMch! But the morons in the streets meeting up with their friends were so loud! I actually got out of bed to check to make sure the windows were closed. I did manage to get some sleep, though.

Anyway, after we checked in, we headed down to the beach. Brighton is a pebble beach, which seems to be the most common beach in England. Don't quote me on that or anything. I'm just going from my own experiences here. Caleb didn't mind, though, as his favorite beach activity is relocating all of the rocks back into the ocean.

Although the temperatures were mild and beautiful, the water was still pretty cold, so neither of us put more than our feet in it. Again, Caleb didn't seem to mind. He was just happy to be there!

After the beach, we went to Brighton's Sea Life Center. We spent way more time there than I had anticipated (about two and a half hours), but that was partially due to a fire alarm that went off in the middle of our tour. I took our forced evacuation as a cue to go eat malt vinegar-soaked french fries from a beach joint. Caleb took it as a cue to have a public accident in an eatery. Most embarrassing accident to date! Oh, well. What can you do?

Back in the aquarium, Caleb really enjoyed the sharks and the giant sea turtle. There was a an underwater tunnel he couldn't get enough of. (Seriously, we had to go through twice.) He loved looking at the sea turtle's belly. There was also a glass bottom boat tour we took, which he thought was super cool.

When we were finally done with the Sea Life Center, we hit the pier for the first time. Having seen pictures and even done a little research before we visited, I was still amazed at how huge the pier is! It's lined with vendors, restaurants, arcades, bars, and rides for 1,722 feet. We didn't even make it down to the end of the pier the first day. (This was primarily due to the fact that Caleb hadn't gotten a nap and was getting a big punchy.)

After some time on the pier, it was evident that we both needed to eat. We walked through town looking for something that wasn't fast and greasy but also wasn't too posh. (Two year olds and posh just don't jive well together!) We found an Italian joint called Pinocchio's, where Caleb got a pizza and I had a delicious plate of gnocchi Gorgonzola.

After dinner, we went back to the B&B where Caleb pretty much immediately crash. I stayed up reading for a bit and listening to the clubs getting warmed up. Eventually, though, I had to just try and sleep in spite of Brighton's nightlife. I had another full day in town, and I needed to rest up!

Bad Dog, The Continuing Saga

I came home one day ast week to the sound of my dogs running down the stairs. Immediately, I knew something was wrong, before I even opened the front door.

I should never hear the rush of Italian Greyhound feet stumbling down the stairs as if every moment is a race for which the winner gets a pile of hotdogs. They should be securely locked in their crate until I come upstairs to let them out.

I opened the door to find this.

Apparently I forgot to lock the crate when I left that morning. Stinkin' dog got into the trash can and redecorated the house for me. Grr. And there he is, with the balls (not literally, 'cause, well...ya know) to sit in the middle of the mess like, "What's the big deal? It's not like I shredded a pile of trash all over your house. Oh wait, yes it is."

Actually, I was really grateful it wasn't worse. And really grateful we're potty training so there weren't any diapers for him to destroy, as that is a disgusting past time of his.

Dumb dog.

For better or worse, though, he's my dog.

Wet But Dry

What a rainy day we had today! The kind of day that generally makes us Amercians groan and say things like, "Ugh! England!"


We do get our fair share of dampness here in the Queen's country. To be honest, though, we don't get a whole lot of proper rainy days. I almost never actually bring out my umbrella (other wise known as a "buhwella" in this house.) I just suffer through the drizzliness until it dries out.


Other than the higher-than-usual raindrop count, it was a standard day. Oh! Except that Caleb had no accidents all day at school for the very first time! Yay! Even during nap time! I'm so proud of him. :)



Way to keep it dry on a very wet day, kiddo! Momma's proud of you!

Fight Inertia!

I think one of the hardest things for me to do is to recapture momentum.


It's such an amazing thing, momentum. Just the act of moving creating more movement. The success of one step inspiring another. There are times it feels almost effortless, whatever it is you're doing, as long as you keep the momentum.


For whatever reason, the momentum I had earlier in the year for a healthy lifestyle waned this summer. And holy smokes, it's so hard to pick it back up.


I've just been in a bit of a fitness funk and a nutrition funk, and all of that tends to add up to a less-than desirable general funk. I stare at the same ingredients in the kitchen that used to come together in yummy recipes and I just can't figure out what to do with them now. The thought of defrosting and dicing up a chicken makes me absolutely exhausted before I even begin! The idea of packing my gym bag seems daunting.

Why is this? It didn't seem like that big of a stretch just a few months ago. Sure, it was a little added work in my day, but the benefits were pretty awesome, and it wasn't like I was spending hours cooking or preparing food. The food was great, so it was worth it! Now, though, most of my meals have gone back to being frozen meals or from a box. And lemme just say: yuck.


Maybe I just need to shake things up. I feel like I'm missing the trees for the forest here. Change seems so daunting and overwhelming and exhausting. Maybe I just need to focus on one meal at a time and quit trying for a complete overhaul in one day.


In college, I read Ethan Frome in one of my many English classes. I remember having a discussion about inertia...about how things are always the same because nothing bothers to change. In the midst of this discussion, I had this epiphany about how my course work had been come just that...work. I was missing all these opportunities to learn, I was allowing all this knowledge to slip through the cracks of my brain in pursuit of a decent grade and a quick degree. Nothing was changing (as in, I wasn't actually learning) because everything was the same (homework was just a task to accomplish, not a chance to gain knowledge.)


I went home that day and wrote on a marker board above my desk, "The goal is knowledge. Fight inertia!' I wanted to remind myself daily that it wasn't about the piece of paper at the end. It was about what my brain retained at the end of the journey.



My dad sent me a picture of the board not long ago, and I couldn't help but shake my head at how often I need that reminder. Not just about knowledge, but about many aspects of life.


It's so easy to slow down and get comfortable and eventually to find yourself in a rut. It's so, SO hard to pick yourself up (or kick yourself out) of that rut. And it's even harder to work up all your dissatisfaction into actual momentum towards whatever it is you're trying to reach.


Do you ever feel like you'll spend your life learning the same lessons over and over? Yeah, that's me right now.


So I find myself in the familiar position of trying to get started all over again. I know what needs to be done. Shoot, I've done it many times before. I just need to break out the jumper cables and restart my motivation and just. get. moving.


Tomorrow is a new day. Let's try this again from the top...

Potty Training Report Card

Last week's unexpected successes with potty training were exciting, but the week that followed presented challenges. I'll spare you the soggy details, but I will say I've done a load of Caleb's laundry every other day this week to ensure he has enough changes of clothes for the next day's attempts at potty training.

So I decided to use this past weekend to refocus our potty training efforts. I figured if one weekend of potty training had brought us that far down the path do Diaper-Free Land, surely another weekend of nothing but potty training would really help to seal the deal!

Turns out, though, that two weekends of potty training make mommy crazy. ("No TV and no beer make Homer something something.")

Although Saturday was bad, Sunday, on the other hand was a great success! In fact, it was the most successful day we've had to date. No accidents! Even after nap time!

We attempted a trip out in public on Sunday for the first time during our two potty training boot camp weekends. We went to base to run a few errands. Before we left the house, I packed a bag with three changes of clothes and Caleb's new travel potty.

What' s that I hear you say? What kind of travel potty are we using? Well, I'm glad you asked. Because I freakin' love this thing.

We are using the Potette Plus by Bibs & Stuff. Here's the Potette lined up next to his frog potty (his personal favorite potty) and a potty seat he's still a little unsure of. The Potette is on the left, sans liner.

Now, to use the Potette, you also have to buy Potette liners, which are essentially small, plastic carrier shopping bags that smell like baby powder and have an absorbent pad in the bottom of the bag. Here' s the Potette with the liner in it. You can actually pull the liner all the way around the lid (and I usually do.) I suppose you could just use regular carrier bags, but that absorbent pad is nice!

Here's a peek down at the absorbent pad at the bottom of the bag. Genius little piece of material!

Once your kid has done the deed, you pull the bag off the seat, tie up the handles, and toss it in the trash! No mess to clean up! Super easy! Then you can fold the legs of the Potette flat for storage. Brilliant, right? It comes with a large plastic bag to store it in to keep it separate from whatever else you are carrying with you.

The legs can also pop out to create a little portable potty seat, too! Caleb's still a bit intimidated by big toilets, but hopefully this will help in public potty situations down the road.

Although he's still intimated by big toilets, Caleb loves having his Potette! He's used in the BX, the Commissary, the Arts & Crafts store, the vet's office, and even on the side of the A-11 during Thursday afternoon rush hour traffic. (That was just tonight!)

We're still having accidents, but he's making progress! The last two days, he's only had one accident each day at school. We've had some rough days (and nights!), but if I were to plot it on a chart, I'd say overall, we are moving in the right direction.

On Sunday, after he successfully stayed dry for our trip to base, I figured we'd venture out to our neighborhood after his nap. I took along the Potette, but he never needed it.

We brought out his scooter. He's finally figured out how to push himself along, but he can't seem to get much momentum going, so he prefers a little push.

We also brought out his tricycle. He still hasn't figured out how to pedal, so I pushed him along for a bit on that, as well. He loved it!

Caleb loves the sticker charts we've been using. He gets a little sticker for #1 and a big sticker for #2. Not too many big stickers yet (and none in this pic.) That's okay! We'll get there. (By the way, we're on chart #3 now!)

Over all, we're making progress. There are dark days where I'm tempted to put him back in a diaper and try again when he's 14, but then there are days when he does great! The laundry is never ending, but what can you do? He's a big boy, and he's demonstrated in so many ways that he's ready. I just have to remind myself to be patient and to ride it out.

Good job, big boy!

Super Caleb!

I can't get a Take That song out of my head.

Speaking of which, while flipping through channels this morning, Caleb wanted me to stop on a Take That video (Greatest Day), and he said, "I like that song." At which point I thought, Ya know, if I had a few more years, I could make this kid good and English. A football loving, beans and jacket potato eating, JLS-listening,"That's rubbish," saying English kid.

I don't have a few more years, though. I have a few more months. So I guess I'll have to settle for an American kid with English beginnings!

Oh, man. It's been a great weekend. For real.

Here's a lesson I learn over and over again. I really am only capable of being awesome at one thing at a time. I can be pretty good at a few things. I can be okay at a lot of things. But it general, I'm usually only awesome at one thing at a time. And that one thing varies.

Some weeks, I'm awesome at being Super Healthy Girl. Packing lunches, making breakfasts, planning dinners, hitting the gym. Some weeks, I'm so good at it, I should get an award. And in those week, man, the scale loves me! Unfortunately, I've never been good at maintaining momentum for those kinds of weeks beyond about 3-4 weeks. Sad, but true.

Some weeks, I'm Super Social Girl. Whether it's catching up on friend's Facebooks, or blogs, calling friends I haven't talked to in ages, having lunch or dinner with the girls, getting caught up with volunteer activities, being at all the meetings and events and parties and shindigs I can get my hands on. My mom's always called me a social butterfly. And there's a part of me that seriously thrives in this environment...for a while. Then I want to tuck my tail and run for a while.

Sometime I'm Super Mom. This is the one I enjoy being Super at the most. When it's right, it's SO right. And it's so much fun. And it's so rewarding. And so life-affirming. And when it's not right, it's so hard, and it's so exhausting and I'm battling all that stupid, useless mom guilt.

This week was not a Super Mom week. But this weekend wasn't too shabby! I won't say I rocked the casbah or anything, 'cause really, it wasn't about me. It was about Caleb. My sweet, cheeky baby became a big boy this weekend. He started using the potty! I mean, actually, really using it.

Not without accidents, of course, but by today (the second day of Potty Boot Camp Weekend), he wasn't needing urging or reminding. He was listening to his body's own cues. By tonight, he was even trying to pull down his own pants!

WHAT A BIG BOY!

I'm not kidding, man. There is something magical about that sweet sentence, "Mommy, I need to go potty!" He knows! He knows ahead of time! It's coming, man, and I need to get down to business! Of course, I kept him pretty pumped full of fluids so he'd have plenty of opportunities to recognize those signs!


The past few month of struggling with him and suddenly, he gets it. Something in his brain clicked and now we're actually working on the same page!

I realize our potty training journey is far from over. Tomorrow will be the first day we try him at daycare without a diaper. No lie, I'm a little nervous -- mostly about the long drive to school. Eep! But I'm excited to see his teacher and tell him what a successful weekend we've had. I'm looking forward to passing the baton to her and hoping they have a successful week with him, too.

PROGRESS! It's an awesome thing.

So yeah, it wasn't a Super Mom week. But it was a Super Caleb weekend, and I'm super excited about that!

By the way, I know I almost never mention my other two punk kids. So let me just show a little love for Zeus and Zoey for a hot minute.

Just look at this trouble-making face. Have you ever seen a face more prone to mischief? The plates in his front left leg will argue no. Tell you what though, you can't get a better cuddler than Zeus, if you can manage to get him to calm down for a moment.

Then there's Zoey girl. The diva. The slight, small, nearly hairless alpha dog who is perpetually cold and would live under a blanket if we let her. Caleb loves to smell her ears and tell me, "They smell funky!" It's true. They do. But I love those ears!

So yes. Successful weekend. We ate like crap. We never left the house. I barely showered. But whatevs, man. My kid peed on the potty! Take that and put it in your piggy bank! I, for one, am going to go have a Brother's strawberry pear cider in celebration. Wahoo!

Summer

This, our fourth and final summer in England, is the first season I would properly call summer.

When we moved here in January 2007, we heard tales of the summer of '06 being the hottest on record and the misery that accompanied that heat. But the summer of 2007 ended up being one of the (if not the) rainiest season on record, so we knew nothing of that heat.

I remember this, because it was also the summer that Rhianna's "Umbrella" was #1 on the charts for something like an unprecedented 11 weeks, and that happened to coincide with some of the rainiest weeks people could remember - floods and all. At that point, I was ready to boycott that song if it meant we'd see a slice of sunshine.

The summers of 2008 and 2009 weren't as soggy as '07, but we just couldn't seem to get proper summer temps for longer than a few days, or a week as most.

In fact, I can clearly remember there being one week of amazing weather every year sometime in April. Having lived in a comatose state of gray, damp, and cold, the weather would yawn, shake itself off, and reveal brilliant blue skies, unadulterated sunshine, and this bizarre sensation called heat.

And every year, it was as if my soul would mirror this physical change of seasons and reawaken with new awareness and appreciation for life. Every year, I'd go out and buy warm weather clothes. And every year, every year, the next week would return to cold, damp and gray, totally extinguishing any hope we had for a true change in weather.

Sure we'd get some more sunny spells, but they'd be short lived. And yeah, we'd seem some warm days, but again, they never stuck around long, and it was rarely warm enough to even justify wearing shorts.

This year, though, something weird is going down. For three weeks now, we've had proper summer weather. It's been hot, real hot. It's been sunny, to the point where my skin is starting to darken!

Hark! What is this? The beginnings of a tan? Can my skin even do that anymore?! Someone grab the SPF!

I've sent my son to school in shorts every day for three weeks! I've work skirts or capri pants myself every day except one where I decided to wear pants because it was overcast in the morning. By lunch, of course, the sun was out and blazing, and I was miserable.

I hesitate to write about this, because I don't want to be the one to jinx it. But it's just so unusual!

Unfortunately, it's also uncomfortable. Because it's so rare to have temps this high for so long, England isn't really equipped to deal with the heat. So we have no A/C at home, in our cars, or at work. We go from hot to hot. No respite for the sweaty, I guess. I spent a large chunk of this afternoon daydreaming about a cold, crisp, air conditioned home. And getting ice in my drink without having to ask for it. Ahh, some day!

But let me not whine about this. I'm happy to have the sun and the heat. I'm uncomfortable and sweaty and gross, but whatever. It's SUMMER! And it actually feels like summer! So much so that at 7 pm tonight, while walking along the River Ouse in Thetford, Caleb and his friend Lil (who was over for the day) and I did a bit of wading around in a shallow part of the river.

I didn't realize this shallow section even existed today until a local mom by clued me in. We don't normally walk this far down the river. But once she mentioned it, we set out searching for our own little piece of local paradise.

And we had a fantastic time. Totally unplanned, totally unprepared, and totally fun. Such a nice, cool respite from the sweltering day.

Seeing my little boy become a big boy this summer has been equal parts thrilling and heartbreaking for me. I'm so excited that he's not scared of things that used to terrify him just a few months ago. I'm so proud of how adventurous and brave he's become. But my mommy heart breaks a little that my baby isn't a baby anymore and won't ever be a baby again.

But he is becoming my big boy. And I'm so excited to watch it happen. And excited that he has such a great pal along for this part of the ride.

Here's hoping for more hot weekends in England! Happy summer, everyone!