Good morning, sun.

Well, shoot.

Apparently I accidentally changed the time on my alarm clock last night when I was trying to set it. Because instead of getting up at 5:45 this morning, I got up at 4:45. Only I didn't realize this until I had already showered, gotten dressed, done my hair and make up, woke up Caleb and gotten him dressed to.

Shoot.

Anyway, I've been wanting to updated my blog for a bit, but frankly haven't had the time. I guess this is what it'll take to get it updated these days, accidentally waking up early.

Which brings me to an important question. Which is worse: accidentally waking up early, or accidentally sleeping in? If you wake up early and don't realize it until too late, you can't go back to bed and have to find something else to fill your time. On the other hand, you can try and get stuff done and actually have breakfast for once.

If you sleep in, you generally wake up in a panic, try to get all your normal stuff done in a tiny amount of time, and probably get in trouble for showing up to work late (depending on how late you sleep.) But on the other hand, you also managed to sneak in a little extra sleep. Although I suppose you lose the gratification for extra sleep in the panic of trying to get ready. So I guess waking up early is better.

Okay, back to updates. Work is going well. I feel very comfortable back in my old job and my new coworkers have been great. I like being the part-time teller because I get some half days here and there, which allows me to run errands and try to do homework.

Caleb is adjusting well to day care. He had a rough first week, but I suppose that is normal. Yesterday the teacher said he had a really good day. He only cried when we dropped him off and not at all the rest of the day. In fact yesterday was the first day he didn't cry when I picked him up. He was at the window playing with a toy, and when he heard my voice, he turn around with a huge smile and ran up to me with open arms! Ahhhh! I LOVED it! The teachers all say what a good eater he is (really, the boy can pack it away!) although he still getting used to his new napping schedule. (He goes down about 3 hours earlier than he's used to.) I do find that he goes to bed MUCH easier than he used to. No fussing or crying. I put him in bed and give him a kiss, and he says, "Ni ni!" and rolls over and goes to sleep! Awesome!

School is...going. It's harder than I anticipated staying on top of my school work now that I'm back to work. I didn't calculate the fact that I'd have to go to bed a lot earlier than I'm used to, which cuts into my homework time. So I'm trying to make the best of my half days and catch up. Although I think it'll be another week or two before I'm really back on top of my game. In the mean time, all I can do is try my best to accomplish a little every night. I keep reminding myself I only have one more class and then my comps (comprehensive exams) in June and I'll be done. Not much longer now.

So that's about it! Well, now it's time for me to brush my teeth and get on my way. Hope you have a great day!

Two Years

This will be a quick one, because I'm technically doing homework. No, really! I am! Promise. But every student needs a break now and again, right?

So, yesterday was our 2 year anniversary in England. I know this because I wrote it on my calendar. I'm a nerd about remembering things like that. I always privately observe work anniversaries, even small ones. I wish my dogs a happy birthday every year. (Incidentally, I'm late this year. Zeus and Zoey turned 6 on January 12th. Happy Birthday, poochies!) And yesterday, I did take a moment to remember our arrival in England two years ago.

I can still vividly remember getting off the plane into Gatwick airport and thinking, "Oh. This is it?" (Gatwick, and Heathrow for that matter, are rather ugly airports. Give me Atlanta or Detroit any day. Gatwick and Heathrow can go join Chicago O'Hare in the ugliest airport category.) I remember the two hour bus ride from the airport to the base and being so excited that I was finally in England. The country side looked so English! The sky was so gray! The air was so damp! And at that time, I thought that was quaint and exciting! In fact, it all was. Driving on the other side of the road, paying in pounds, learning to dial international numbers. It was all so exciting.

Of course, two years later, the excitement is gone. But in its place is a comfortable feeling that this is my home for now. It won't always be, but it is for now. And so I get frustrated that the intersection near my house isn't a roundabout. (Honestly, there's so much traffic for the high school I can't get out some mornings. Dear council, put in a roundabout!) And I know where the speed cameras are and to pay and display at most car parks. I know which radio stations are worth listening to and where to get fish and chips within walking distance. I have my own preferences when it comes to off-base shopping (hello, Tesco and Matalan!) And I'm resigned to not having a dishwasher for now and having to drag my dryer into the middle of the kitchen to vent it out the window on laundry day.

This is my home. And I'm happy. I miss the States, sure. I miss Famous Dave's and Target. I miss American Chinese food (oooh, crab rangoon, how I miss you!) I miss straight roads and adequate parking on residential roads. And mostly I miss family and friends.

But I felt really luck to be embarking on this adventure two years ago. And I still feel lucky to be hanging out in the Queen's country for a while longer. So here's to two more years of watching the original Deal or No Deal and watching American commercials dubbed over in an English accent! Cheers! (So much for a short entry, right? Okay, back to homework!)

It's All Coming Back, All Coming Back To Me Now..

I feel surprisingly calm tonight. What could have been a very chaotic and stressful day was pretty smooth and uneventful. And I'm so thankful for that.

Today was my first day back to work in 16 months. I had forgotten the thing I dislike the most about working isn't work itself, it's getting up early every morning and attempting to get out of the house on time. The latter part of that equation is, of course, complicated by trying to get Caleb up and ready and out of the house with me.

Caleb went to bed an hour early last night, but that didn't stop him from giving me the "What the heck are we doing up so early?" glare when I got him up at 6:20 this morning. After I got him dressed and ready, I put on Bear in the Big Blue House on TV so I could get my last minute preparations together. Thing were going well, I was on time. And then I went to put on Caleb's coat and discovered that he had engaged in a total bowel blowout that went straight through his diaper and messed up not just his shirt, but also his jeans. Typical of a first morning, right?

Well, luckily that was the biggest hiccup of the day (if you don't count the fact that I sat on the teller line for at least an hour with an open zipper. But hey, at least the customers couldn't see that!) We managed to get out on time, but not before I snapped a few pictures of my big boy on his first day of "school."

His drop off went well. He got there just in time for breakfast, I handed over his supplies and changes of clothes to the care taker, gave him a kiss and a hug, and went on my way. And I felt fine. Of course there was a twinge of sadness because I've spent the last 15 months with Caleb almost every hour of the day, and I knew I would miss him. But I didn't have the emotional meltdown I anticipated. There were a few slower times at work that I could really feel the pull of missing my baby boy, but I still managed to hold it together. (If you know how easy it is to topple my tower, emotionally speaking, you'll be impressed!)

Work itself was great! Totally like getting back on a bike. In the words of Celine Dion, "It was so long ago, but it's all coming back to me now!" I forgot a few things, but a lot of it was pretty natural. It was a steady enough day without being really busy, which was perfect for my first day back. Just enough work to give me a taste of things I had forgotten, but not so much that I got overwhelmed. And my drawer balanced! (At one point, there was real concern that it wouldn't, and I kept saying, "I won't be that teller! I won't be the teller who doesn't balance on her first day!" Luckily, we found the error, and I wasn't that teller. Stupid rolled quarters!)

Tommy picked up Caleb and we had dinner together at the bowling alley on base while we watch our new President get sworn in. I love big historic moments like inaugurations. (Incidentally, I keep accidentally calling it his "coronation," a true sign I'm living in England!) Tommy said the care giver told him Caleb had a few crying bouts throughout the day, but was generally easily distracted by a toy or activity. I'm sure it'll take some adjustment for him, but I know he'll be fine in the end.

Class was great! The teacher is genuinely funny and disarming. I really enjoyed it. There's a lot of classmates I know from previous classes, which is always fun. I'm looking forward to the rest of the week. We talked about some interesting aspects of genetics and personality and coping mechanisms tonight that really got my mind working. I'd love to blog about it, but this was supposed to be a MINI-update. Ha. Right. I'm so bad at small blogs.

Anyway, I just feel so peaceful and calm right now. I'm excited about the opportunities I've taken and am looking forward to see where they take me in the next weeks and months.

Hi Ho, Hi Ho, It's Back to Work I Go

Oh, boy. I'm nervous.

I'm returning to work on Tuesday for the first time since Caleb was born. And I do mean returning, as I'm going back to the credit union I worked for while I was pregnant. I'll be starting off as a part-time teller and going from there.

Caleb has a spot at the Child Development Center on base and starts the same day I go back to work. We met the assistant director and his room leader yesterday. The room he's in is so very cute and fun, and we like the two care givers we met. Caleb had a ton of fun in the 20 minutes we were there. Our orientation with the director was very reassuring. We learned a lot about the policies and procedures in place that made us feel comfortable.

I've been looking for a job for a couple of months, and now that it's happening, it feels so fast! I feel ready on one hand, and on the other hand I wonder if I'll ever be truly ready. I feel so blessed that I've been able to spend the first 15 months of Caleb's life hanging out with him every day. I know it's going to be a challenging transition to leave him at day care, probably more so for me than for him. I'm fortunate that he doesn't really seem to have any separation anxiety, so this is probably a good time for this transition. But even if this is the perfect time for this change, I know I'll probably be a blubbering mess on Tuesday morning. (And yet, I think, even if I waited until he want to Kindergarten to send him off on his own, I'd still be a blubbering mess, right?)



Anyway, I'm nervous and excited about returning to work, but most of it has to do with Caleb going into day care. It's kind of nice to be returning to a company I've already worked for, although it will certainly present its own challenges this time around. I'll be working at a different branch on a different base with different management and different coworkers. But it's nice to know I'll have a much quicker learning curve that I would have at a brand new job. I won't be completely clueless on my first day.

Knowing I'll be more comfortable on my first day of work is also reassuring because I'll be starting one of my six day on-site classes the same night. So on Caleb's' first day in day care, and my first day back at work, I'll have to clock out and go straight to class for the first four nights, and then a full day on Saturday and Sunday. Uggh. I'm not looking forward to this AT ALL. I know I'll probably go nuts, but that's just the way it's worked out, unfortunately. I just keep reminding myself that it's only 6 days long, and then I can work on getting settled in and being less crazy.

Until then, I'm trying to enjoy my last days at home with Caleb and get all my homework done for class! Wish me luck!

Cooking with Kelly

One of my New Year's resolution is to try a new recipe each week. It really shouldn't be too hard, because I love reading blogs by people who love to cook. So far I'm on track. I've cooked Mexican Lasagna the first week and made Vodka Penna with Blackened Chicken tonight. Both recipes were really tasty and worth the effort. Here's the Mexican Lasagna.

At this point, though, I feel I should tell you that I'm not an instinctive, natural cook. I like to cook, and I love new recipes, and I think I do a pretty decent job. But I'm not someone who understands the laws of cookery and as such, I kind of screw things up sometimes. (But, hey! It's the thought that counts, right?)

Tonight I didn't really screw up the recipe so much as almost catch the kitchen on fire.

I started off innocuously enough, boiling water for the pasta. Then I preheated the oven for the blackened chicken. (By the way, next time I'll do the chicken first, since it seemed to take the longest. I seasoned the chicken, seared it for a few minutes in a couple of tablespoons of vegetable oil, and then baked it for about 20-25 minutes. In the process, I set off the fire alarm for the second and third time this evening since I can never cook with oil and not set off the alarm. Same goes for bacon. Cooking bacon = fire alarm.)

When I began the sauce, I heated a couple of tablespoons of butter and olive oil in a pan and added a few minced cloves of garlic. (I'm all about my garlic press this week since I hacked up my index finger last week chopping garlic.) At this point, you're supposed to add a cup of vodka. I had a pre-measured cup of Finlandia waiting to be added. Well, I think I got a little to excited about cooking with alcohol, because I dumped that vodka in a little too fast. The vodka must have splashed up over the side of the pan, because the next thing I know, there were flames about a foot high coming off of my buttery garlic.

At first I thought, "Oh no! Alcohol induced flames! Well, it will die down in a moment, right?"

Not so much. The flames got higher.

At this point I panicked. I picked up the pan and started hollering for my husband. "TOMMY! FIRE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO! FIRE!" I thought about putting water on it, but then starting wondering if water would make the fire worse, as in a grease fire. So I stood stupidly in the middle of the kitchen waiting for my Knight in Pajama Pants to save the day.

(Let me take a moment to assure that Caleb was safely locked away behind the baby gate in the living room watching Imagination Movers on Playhouse Disney.)

My husband responded with the speed and clarity of a man who's worked in the military for 11 years. Immediately to my right was a sink full of cold water that I had been defrosting the chicken in just prior to my adventure in pyrotechnics. My sweet, thoughtful, and still coherent husband said, "Put it in the water!"

Put it in the water. Of course. This isn't a grease fire. It's a vodka fire. Put it in the water.

And I did. I dumped the whole darn pan of burnt buttery garlic in the sink full of water and watched the flames disappear.

And that, my friends, is why I married this man. He is rational when I am nuts (which is a large portion of the time.) He is intelligent when I've lost my mind. He is able to see the big picture when all I see are flames. (And he looks good in a uniform. That might have been another reason I married him. I can neither confirm nor deny those allegations.)

The good news is, I had more butter, more garlic and more vodka, so I was able to get back on the horse and give the recipe a try once my heart stopped pounding through my chest. And dinner turned out quite tasty (even if the blackened chicken was a bit too spicy for my tastes.) More importantly, though, I learned two valuable lessons.

1.) Vodka fires can be put out with water.

2.) When cooking with alcohol, add it slowly to avoid a fiery panic.

And now, for no other reason than because I think it's cute, here's an unrelated picture of Caleb playing pillow peek-a-boo on the futon in my office.

Cheeky Monkey

Caleb's had this little patch of troublesome skin on his right cheek pretty much since he was born. It flares up every now and again, sometimes appearing as a dry patch, other times looking almost rash-like, and after a couple of weeks of home treatment with lots of Aveeno lotion and nail trimmings, the patch eventually goes away.

So when his little patch flared up around Thanksgiving time, I didn't think much of it. You can see it in this picture when he was feeding himself chili for the first time. Pardon the mess.

However, here we are nearly five weeks later, and the patch is still giving us problems. I recently took him to the doctor because I'm concerned that it's not healing and that it could potentially cause an infection (or worse, scarring! My baby's sweet little scoop-of-vanilla-ice-cream cheeks should not be marred by early scars!)

The doctor seems to think it's just a patch of eczema that Caleb won't allow to heal because he keeps picking at it. And it's true, he does a fair amount of picking. I trim his fingernails at least once a week, continue to moisturize it, and since our appointment, I've been slathering on Bactroban (a prescription strength Neosporin-type goo) anywhere from 3-6 times a day.

Lately we've taken to putting a band aid on it. As soon as it looks like it's starting to heal, Caleb will pick the crap out of it. I've turned around more than once to find his cheek covered in blood. He's ruined all of his crib sheets with little spots of blood from his picking. So we cover it with a band aid and the Bactroban as much as possible, but he picks that off, too. We keep trying, though, hoping to get this thing to take a vacation for a while.

In the mean time, we took him to the Fun2Play by our house this week. It's an indoor play zone for kids. They have an infant zone, toddler zone, and big kid zone. Caleb had a blast. He came home and napped like a zombie. Here's some pics from the day. This is Caleb taking a rid in a Royal Mail truck.

Here he is trying to pull a ball out from the ball pit. He got pretty frustrated that he couldn't fit it through the net. He was far more interested in the balls and the doors to the big play house than just about anything else. I keep telling my husband we should have just bought him balls and doors for Christmas. He would have loved it.

Caleb also loved driving the Step 2 giant camper. Although the playhouse you can see behind the camper was probably a bigger hit with Caleb, I loved the camper because we got some really cute shots in it. Also, it's hilarious to see a tiny person in a tiny camper.

He's such a good driver already! Looking behind him before he backs up. Any good driving skills he inherited are probably from his dad's side. Or at least that's what my husband will tell you.

But this is my favorite shot from the day. He looks so happy, so content. It's as if he's actually cruising the open roads. Can't you see it in his face? Gazing across the highways of America, going where the road takes him, stopping occasionally to get pictures with quaint local landmarks.

And then there's that stupid band aid. Nuts. Oh well, I still love this shot. And I love that boy.

Happy Holidays

Well, Happy Boxing Day! We did not celebrate Boxing Day by hitting up the sales in the High Street shops. Instead we had friends of ours over for a lunch of hoers devours. (Ohh, don't forget to spell check, Kelly.) We had mini barbecue chicken sandwiches on Hawaiian sweet rolls, veggies and dip, chips and salsa, and crackers with cheese from the Bury market. I love snacky meals!

Caleb had a ton of fun with Kristy's kids. I wish I snapped some pictures! He's totally conked out right now. They played with Caleb's toys, watched bits and pieces of the Chipmunks movie, and we all bundled up to go down to the park by our house. He loved it.

I didn't get any pics of Caleb with the kiddos, but here's the aftermath.

This picture kills me. Just kills me.

Christmas Eve was quiet. We went to the Christmas Eve service at the base chapel, but Caleb's not really at a good age for that kind of thing. For normal church services, Caleb goes to nursery (and loves it!) But for this family service, Caleb was much more interested in walking up the isle to check out the pastor. We finally had to leave because he was getting more and more irritated that we wouldn't let him walk up the isle. At least he looked good! ;)

We had a nice Christmas. I woke up and baked Pioneer Woman's Delicious Orange Muffins. They were SO good. There are still good today, but something about eating them fresh out of the oven when the brown sugar glaze has just sunk into the muffins is just short of heavenly. Mmm!

Caleb really didn't get into opening present this year. He just didn't understand the concept.

But he was very excited about his gifts! I now have the Chipmunks "Christmas Song" playing over and over again in my head, thanks to my brother and his wife Kim who sent the Chipmunks movie. Caleb loved it.

He was also really keen on the DOG book my Aunt Pat sent him. Upon opening it, he announced "oof!" to us to let us know it was a dog book. ("Woof" or "Ruff" apparently is too hard at 14 months old.)

My Aunts are really great. They always send really cool gifts, whether it's gift cards or plush animal stackable rings (from FAO Schwartz, no less)...

...or this adorable little cow. If you squeeze his tail, he opens his mouth to reveal a flash light! Also, he moos at the same time. Seriously cute.

He also got some really cute clothes, which is always a ton of fun for me! And I'm ordering him some super cute shoes from Old Navy and his first ever puzzle from Toys R Us using the gift cards he received.

I received a few things, including a DayRunner day planner that's really cute. Maybe I'll be more organized this year! The problem is, I'm trying to cram all the stuff from my wallet into the day planner so it doesn't take up any more room in my diaper bag than necessary. Unfortunately, it appears I carry a ton of crap in my wallet. I don't have room in my planner for my library cards (yes, cards), my stamps, or my ration card (which you have to use on base from time to time for specific purchases) among other items. This will take some creative thinking to cram it all in.

Christmas night we had dinner with our friends, which was, of course, delicious. Nick made brussel sprouts, which I was less than excited about. But they were actually good! I don't know what magic he worked to make that happen, but I actually enjoyed brussel sprouts. Weird.

It's been a very nice few days. I've missed our families a ton, but it's been nice to be surrounded by friends who help fill the void.

Oh, Corner Tree

We have a small English living room, or lounge as they call it here. It doesn't have enough room for our furniture, let alone a Christmas tree. So when we celebrated our first Christmas in England last year, I finally conceded to my husband's pressure of getting a fake Christmas tree. It was my first fake Christmas in my then-28-year-old-life.

Although the act of conceding was previously unthinkable, it became an option when I encountered the Tesco corner tree. The corner tree was invented for tiny English lounges like ours. It's not a full tree. It's slightly more than 25% of a regular tree. A little wedge of a tree, a pie slice if you will, that is meant to look much fuller then it is. I saw the practicality of such an object in our lives and allowed this tree that had never seen soil or light to enter our home last year.

Let me say this of my tiny corner tree: it fulfills its duties of taking up as little space as possible. It requires me to only store one piece of furniture in the garage, and for that I thank Tesco.

Another great thing about having a tiny tree in a tiny space is that it takes a very small amount of gifts to make it look full. In these times of economic hardship, perhaps all families should invest in a corner tree!

On the other hand, it is still a corner tree. A sad imitation of the real thing. Not sad because it's a fake tree. Certainly there are very nice fake trees that fool many visitors into thinking their needles are real. I've seen such trees. A corner tree does not belong in the same category with such trees.

The thing is, a corner tree has no illusions of grandeur. It knows it has no chance of fooling anyone into thinking it once knew the smell of fresh air and the taste of rain. It doesn't expect visitors to gasp and awe at its green glory. It won't hope to hear children singing, "Oh Christmas Tree" as it is adorned with ornaments and garland and lights.

I think, though, that the corner tree is okay with its fate. Despite the fact that it will never star in a Christmas commercial or movie, I think the corner tree is grateful for a home for the holidays. Even though it may not share the glory of a tree in the front window, it still serves proudly under the weight of sentimental ornaments. It stands tall (or tries to) over the coveted gifts wrapped beautifully beneath it. And it folds its arms thankfully after New Years Day as it's returned to it's narrow box for safe keeping until the next year.

And you know what? I'm okay with that, too. No, I may not have the most glorious tree on my block this year. It may pale in comparison to our previous real Christmas trees. But by golly, I love my small English corner tree, and I look forward to spending this and two more Christmases with it.

As Promised...

Pics of my husband meeting President Bush earlier this week.







In other news, I can't seem to stop baking. It's like a crazy addiction. Right now I'm attempting sugar cut out cookies for the first time in my life. I remember my friend Lindy's mom made these freakin' awesome sugar cut out cookies one Christmas when I lived in Italy. I think of them (and Lindy's mom) fondly. (Seriously, Lindy's mom was cool. I'm sure she still is!)

Anyway, I'm trying this recipe from Pioneer Woman. Pioneer Woman is my Jackpot Find of the Week. I'm kind of addicted to blogs, and hers is probably one of the coolest blogs I've ever read. I love it. I found her through a Flickr contact of mine. I'm hoping her cookie dough will live up to my memories of Lindy's mom's dough.


Another blog I love is Culinary in the Desert. I nick a handful of their recipes from time to time, including a delicious Buffalo Chicken Soup, Peanut Butter Chocolate Pudding, and a Mexi-Cali Hamburger Casserole that's become a regular in our house. You'll probably go into a diabetic coma just by looking at all the delicious Christmas goodies Joe's been preparing over the last week or so. Seriously, you'll need to brush your teeth afterwards.


There are quite a few other blogs I frequent, but since this is primarily about Presidential visits and food preparation, I'll stick to pimping out those two for now. Besides, I think my dough is done chilling, so it's time to roll it out and break out the cookie cutters!

Rockin' My Domestic Diva

I'm not a very good housewife. I'd like to think I'm a pretty good stay-at-home mom, but I make a rather mediocre housewife.

I do try and have dinner cooking and near ready when my husband gets home most nights. But there are plenty of fend-for-your-self nights when we just have pizza rolls or cereal. And I do try and pick up my messes, but I'm not really big on cleaning. I hate it, actually. I do it because I hate to live in filth and squalor, but there are seasons where I'm on top of cleaning and seasons where it falls to the back burner. I get it done eventually, but only after it gets to a point where I can't take it any more.

So when the mood strikes, I have to run with it. Today it's struck. My house is nearly clean. (Can't vacuum till Caleb wakes up from his nap. Even then, it's tricky, since he's terrified of the vacuum still.) I'm working on the third and fourth load of laundry. And darnit if I don't want to do some more baking, but I'm out of flour. Perhaps a quick trip to Tesco is in order when Caleb wakes up. I found a recipe for sugar cookies that I really want to try.

I baked some cookies for my brother-in-law Eddie who is deployed down range this year. He's Army, so he's doing one of those hardcore 12-15 month deployments, which I'm sure feels like there's no end in sight. I have a box of cookies I'm going to mail out tomorrow, but I feel like there's a couple batches of baking still left in me, so he may get two boxes.

I'm not normally this Betty Crocker-ish. It's bizarre. I think it's my way of celebrating being between classes. I've ordered the text books for my next class, but since they aren't here yet I can't get ahead on my reading. I should work on these FEMA course I need to do that will count towards my internship, but I can't seem to find the "umph" in me to get started on that. Maybe tomorrow.

In other news, I got my car MOT'd. An MOT is a vehicle inspection you have to do here in England every year to make sure your car is road worthy. The inspection itself isn't all that expensive, but the repairs you might have to do to ensure that your car passes inspection can add up, especially when you have a 9 year old car.

We spent and arm and leg this year making sure my car passed. That didn't even fix my drivers side window that makes horrible, gut-wrentching sounds every time I try to roll it down. (Why would you roll your car window down in the winter? you ask. Because every time I go on base, I have to hand the guard my ID card. Right now I only roll it down a few inches because I'm terrified it won't come back up one of these days.) Tommy's car is at the shop now getting MOT'd, because both of ours come up right around the same time. Joy.

Ugh. I hate cars. Why don't my feet have built-in-wheels and motors to get me around?

Okay, I better get back to finishing up the house before Caleb wakes up.