Ourselves as Elves! :)

Do these ever get old??... Maybe so, but not today!! :)

Let it snow!

Waking up to white (November 30th) and making sure all her stuffed animals were aware of the overnight change!







Where's Waldo?... :)


Come again soon, snow!

Suddenly Super

Ok, I'll admit-- Living in this splendid city of scholars, inventors and ...well, yes... Nobel Peace Prize winners is thrilling in ways I can't describe. It's hilarious how it actually becomes mundane and routine to pass inscriptions on old stone walls marking such places as the spot where "Boyle's Law" was discovered, or to meet new friends who are several years younger than I am but have already managed to live in an assortment of countries while speaking a handful of languages (fluently!) and just sold their "first start-up company" for a bazillion dollars. (They say these things to you as if they're talking about where they went to high school or what they ate for dinner last night-- just like "Oh, yeah... hasn't everyone done that?" but laced with humility and absent of any judgment. A lovable breed of awe-inspiring, SuperHero-ish, brilliant people. I'm not certain they're actually human, but we'll assume so for now.)

So, it's wonderful. Truly, it is.

Still, sooner or later this machine gun assault-of-the-senses (how everyone and everything around me is fascinating) starts to make one like myself feel a little less-than-extraordinary.

• Do I speak another language? Texas redneck? Downtown-Dallas Ebonics? Cuz, that there's about all I got, yo.
  
• Have I invented anything? I *do* have a detailed sketch of a cutting-edge trash bag design that has potential. I'm looking into trashy patents.
• Have I started-up any companies? No, but I did have a rockin' business plan for giving away litters upon litters of my cat's kittens on the doorsteps of popular grocery stores when I was a kid. We even gave away a free can of cat food just to seal the deal. Now that's business mindedness!
• Any contribution to the arts? Hmm... that sketch pad that I mentioned buying a few posts ago, with hopes of gleefully sipping tea while sketching from the back garden?... It was recently discovered and attacked by two pair of pudgy hands with some nearly-dry markers, Disney Princess stickers and a hybrid of other objects held on by tacky glue-sticks. So, no.

Therefore, content to just be among the amazing even if my own life stories don't inspire awe from my peers, I carried on until the events of last night caused me to recognize something about myself. It was 3:23am and I was in a very deep sleep. From out of nowhere, down the hall, behind two semi-closed doors and from beneath a down comforter, I heard my youngest in her quietest voice utter the words, "I need to go potty." **BOY** you should have SEEN ME MOVE!! In less than 2.73 seconds, I had jolted out of my bed, run down the hall, scooped her up, maneuvered 2 awkward steps on our narrow Euro-staircase (with her on my hip, bleary-eyed from her sudden extraction from the warmth of her bed) ran to the toilet, lowered the training seat and had that babygirl sitting on the potty before you could say "BLAMMO!!" Whew! (Poor Julia was probably still in a REM cycle.)

Now... if you've ever changed wet sheets in the middle of the night, or had to search for the clean ones to replace them, or had to line-dry a whole bed set the next day... you might understand my motivation to get her where she needed to be to do what she needed to do! When you're "Mom-of-two-year-old," it's an all-out war against bed-wetting and this Mama doesn't back off the line... Especially not at 3:23am when the other team comes with all its might!

Score one for Mom. I was proud. And I had actually discovered something brilliant about myself in the process: I have acute-middle-of-the-night-hearing and cat-like reflexes-- even from a comatose sleep! (Hey-- when you're living as a commoner in a world of "Supers," you have to claim the victories as they come, no matter how small they may seem.) So, I put my freshly emptied 2-year-old back in her cozy bed, walked back to my room and laid my head down with a smile on my face.

Who knew? I am an Oxford Super, after all.

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas!

Actually, living in the UK means that it has looked a lot like Christmas since November 1st and I'm just now getting my blog up to speed!

Ahhhh, Christmas. I must admit, it's never lost its magic for me. I love the most wonderful time of the year and all the festive traditions that accompany it. I love them so much, in fact, that I took my unassuming family on a wild Santa chase in mid-November. Now, I had no idea what this experience would actually be like since I had only read about it in a magazine advert. (That's what they call "ads" over here and I've adopted the word on an occasional basis.) The article showed a beautifully dressed Santa sitting near a quaint fire beneath a fantastic Christmas tree adorned with all the finest golden treasures. His bifocals sat just perfectly on his nose and his over-sized red arm chair looked just comfy enough to sit all winter. I fell victim to the visual appeal, and I was ready to read on about when and where I could go and meet Santa. The ad spoke of "Santa's Grotto" and meeting his reindeer, and went on to say that children would get to sit and listen to a Christmas story read by Father Christmas -himself- while sitting by the fire. It made mention that parents would enjoy hot apple cider and mince pies, and that each child would take home a sapling Christmas tree and a special gift from Santa. The day would also include free balloon animals, face painting and special characters on stilts! To top it all off, the real and original Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car was to be Santa's coach and would remain on display for the rest of the day. **DONE** It was settled: We were going.

As real life has a way of doing, the day played out a little differently than the beautiful images the words of the ad had painted in my mind: Collin had a morning meeting with his team and rushed to be home by noon so that we could load up in the stroller and walk 25 minutes to the city center to catch the correct bus departing at 12:45 that would take us to Frilford, England. One-fourth of the way to the bus stop, I realized our tickets were still laying on the bed. (Way to go, Steph.) The girls and I continue on to try and catch the bus while Collin runs back home to grab the tickets. About 10 more paces down the road and I realized that I had ALSO forgotten our camera! Collin was already out of sight on his way home so I search my purse for my cell phone. Nope- it's home as well. "Maybe he'll see them there and grab them?" NOPE. Men on a mission have tunnel vision. But, he DID get the tickets and we DID make it to the bus stop in time. So off we go... on the bus... heading in the direction of Millets Farm in Frilford.

An hour later, the bus dropped us off and drove away. We surveyed our surroundings: Farmland... farmland... a Shell petrol station... more farmland. Good thing we asked the driver how we get to Millets Farm from where he was dropping us! He directed us on a 20 minute walk, and we followed his instructions. We had a sidewalk for most of the way, but there was the occasional spot when I had to hold branches back for Collin to get by with the stroller. ONLY GOD KNOWS where in the world we were, but we did finally find sweet Millets Farm and the Frosts Garden Centre store that promised to introduce us to Santa. We had arrived, and we undoubtedly should have won the prize for "best effort" as we saw NO other pedestrian patrons! (...and now we know why...)

Hours of travel and a bit of a lackluster Santa experience compared to what I thought we would get based upon the words in the ad, but in general it was a fun family afternoon. Next time maybe we'll rent a car... Or maybe we'll just make a family pact not to chase after Santa in mid-November. There's plenty of time to hunt him down and stand in long lines in December.

On the bus and excited to go on our Santa adventure! Collin liked this particular brand of yield sign, too, so he took a picture.



We probably should have turned back when we saw the tractor signs. Just call us determined.


We made it! Posing with the "real and original" Chitty Chitty Bang Bang car from the 1968 movie. It was BIG.


Ohh, these sweet elderly people must have made it across the road thanks to the signs. (Either that, or they traveled to this remote destination and never found their way back to the mainland!)

Meeting reindeer an other magical, mechanical animals.




The girls talking with "Silly Billy" the Elf. (I don't know, either.)


Finally getting to go inside to see Santa. (That's how I felt about it all, too, Jules... Santa's beard may have been short, but his story was looooong.)




Happy with our "Charlie Brown" tree and our gifts from Santa!



Getting ready to taste the cafe's specialty cake: Lavender Orange. Now this was one thing that DID live up to expectations... It. Was. Amazing.



The walk back to the bus stop. A beautiful ending to the day.

Americans UNITE! :)

What a FANTASTIC time we had at the Potluck Thanksgiving dinner that was volunteer-organized by American friends of ours, Vanessa and Rob Garey. When you think "potluck," you don't usually imagine something like this. It was fantastic. We truly felt like we had experienced Thanksgiving. REAL Thanksgiving. Beautiful, classy, yummy, cozy Thanksgiving. And to share the experience with so many other new friends -Americans and other nationalities- made it all the more blessed.


(Below: Julia fell asleep on the ride over, but Avery was ready to mingle!)



(Seriously... What IS it about watching guys carve a turkey that just warms your heart? This feels like home.)




The evening wrapped up with beanbag chairs and blankets on the ground while they played Home Alone on the big screen and passed out hot chocolate and coffee. Perfect. If the girls hadn't been scared by the movie, we would have stayed until the last credits rolled. I *heart* Home Alone, but I do understand the scary aspects of how it must look to a 4-year-old, too. I found myself trailing off when I tried to comfort Avery by explaining: "Oh, honey, it's not scary! He's just home by himself because his parents flew off without him... And now there are some guys who... want to get inside his house... Hmmm... Wanna play with Mommy's earrings?" Throw in a taranchula spider and a talking basement furnace and you've got a kid's Christmas horror show. She'll grow an appreciation for it someday-- it's a modern classic!


(Below: Our amazing Hosts, The Gareys. Don't mind the mustache, it's "Movember.")