Dear Sunday Times Magazine

Sent to the magazine's "What Are You Wearing?" Column:


The youngest of 4 children, Baby Sister has lots of "vintage" finds to choose from, to include treasures her parents once wore.  She favors an eclectic mix of her big brothers' black Converse hi tops with her big sister's fairy wings and always manages to pull it all together with a grosgrain ribbon bow in her hair and her own special panache.  On this rainy day en route to the school gate to pick up the big kids, Baby Sister paired a cable knit jumper and old flannel pants with tiny black wellington boots - as usual, worn on the wrong feet. (She is the 5th owner of these boots, purchased at Walmart circa 2001). Crowning the look is her sister's pink tutu and a vintage raincoat. With bacon and eggs printed all over.


An American living abroad, she embraces the London style - mixing the High Street and Oxford Street, Portobello Road, charity shops and giveaways.  Just follow a crumbled trail of crackers and Cheerios and you're sure to be walking in the path of style and fun.

Only In My Dreams

Growing up, my mother had a policy of not letting us tell our dreams.  Although I've not attempted to regale her with any in a few decades, we'll see if she reads this post.  I however, love hearing the kids' dreams and am fascinated by my own.  It is like going to your own little show every night.  What fun! Usually.  I used to fly in my dreams lots.  I noticed that often stopped when I was pregnant.  I would fret to the Mister that I was even too big to fly subconsciously.

So this blog post discusses a dream or two.  And not the aspirational kind.  If you are like my mother, feel free to skip this and know I'll be onto another subject in a few days.

Just like in the movies, last night I woke from a nightmare gasping, sitting straight up.  (Only I wasn't in full makeup, cashmere jammies, casually tousled hair and a flattering soft light.  In fact I had a ratty ponytail and a face smeared with a combination of Clearasil and various Olay wrinkle potions.  And no, my blog is not sponsored by either.  Yet.)

In my dream the children and I were on a bus on the way to school.  I looked at Big Brother and realized he was wearing feet pyjamas under his school coat.  I asked him if he'd even showered.  He claimed to have but I knew pjs wouldn't fly with the Head Teacher. And up to this point, this is entirely possible in real life.  Big Brother would gladly go to school this comfy.  It is nearly miraculous that he wears a tie every day. So this part could absolutely happen to me.  It is the next bit that woke me in fear.  In the dream I told the boys we'd have to hop off the bus, go home, and get Big Brother changed.  We quickly got off at the next stop with Baby Sister on my hip.  I turned around to gather the boys and cross the street for the return stop, only to discover Big Sister was still on the bus.  As it drove out of sight into the darkness.

I know why I dreamed it. Yesterday was a strange day of lots of odd comings and goings.  The big kids all went in different directions after school while Baby Sister slept in the stroller.  Biggest Brother came back late from a field trip, Big Brother went to Holy Communion class, and Big Sister went to a friend's to practice for the talent show.  For about 3 hours, there was lots of crossing busy London streets and checking my watch being sure I was in the right place at the right time, dropping off and gathering children.

Later I dreamed my landlord was hosting a party in our flat.  And changing my decor.  That creates in me my own special fright, but not enough to awaken me. It is so pitifully obvious what my subconscious is busy working through:  keeping track of my children on city streets, paying attention to one at the peril of another, and being a good hostess.  In that order.  I am not complicated.  Even in my sleep.

In terms of aspirational dreams though, I've started down that path.  I have begun to put out feelers for creating and installing store window displays.  I cannot imagine living in a better place to learn the trade and am hopeful that my immigration status (dependant visa) prohibiting me from earning money will make my insistence on volunteering a plus.  My ultimate goal would be even holding the staple gun for a designer creating a window at Selfridges.  The commute would be super.

Today is just the kind everyone envisions for London winter.  Grey, dark and wet.  A good day to take Baby Sister back under my covers after lunch and lure her into a long nap in my arms.  Filled with sweet dreams.

Wii Still Dress Up

There was a lot of hand wringing at our house over electronics appearing for the first time on their wish lists for Santa.  This was new ground for us. We feared video games would stifle their creativity.  We were afraid their eyes would become affixed to various screens and their faces begin to take on a pallid glow.

Never fear.  This cast of characters is always a moment away from dressing up.

They get dressed in costume according to what is being played.  The arrival of an NFL (they ARE still American) game meant they raced to get into jerseys and helmets before opening the box.  Boxing is done in a white robe and shorts.

What We Wore to the Pub

We had to run out after dinner which meant my children left looking somewhat like circus clowns. Which is a bit insulting to the style sense of clowns. Honestly, that they are so uninhibited and confident in their appearance is enviable.  It was a lovely evening and they rallied to have clothes on at all, frankly.   Once home after school they mostly prefer to be "in their tummies" but this was a critical mission in public so clothes were required.  With a broken dryer, we've relied on the laundromat up the street to fluff and fold (I'm very sure that's not what the British would say...) mountains (and countless pounds) of clothes until John Lewis mercifully makes a new one appear in our flat.  And a handyman comes to install it.  We're a week in with no end in sight.  Things move slower here.  You adapt.

So, back to esprit de clothing.  Here is what my smalls were wearing in Central London tonight:

Biggest Brother:  waffle tee shirt, guardsman pajama bottoms, roller blades, helmet
Big Brother:  very normal.  Bless him.  Someone had to be.  Fleece, fatigue pants, "trainers"
Big Sister:  frog pajamas, polka dot jacket, blue bow, 2 purses, yellow puddle stomper boots
Baby Sister:  Big Sister's swimsuit coverup, winter coat, purple feather topped play high heels from her secret cousin

Out the front door they bounded, creating an impromptu parade.  Big Brother scootered ahead up the hill, Biggest Brother followed somewhat tentatively on his roller blades, Big Sister swinging her purses next and Baby Sister marching in her heels bringing up the rear.  Like caged animals released to the wild or students in the movies on the last day of school.  They've never been more gleeful than to escape our flat tonight into the springlike darkness.

They didn't see the humor in their wardrobes but they tickled more than a few people.  Including me.  Most folks wanted to comment on Baby Sister and her amazing grace in heels.  She had quite a strut going and I'm fairly sure people heard her coming and mistook it for horses.  (Which is a thrilling everyday occurrence on our street.)

Our laundromat is 2 doors down from our beloved pub.  The kids are very at home in our neighborhood so they stopped to see the pub proprietress while I picked up sacks upon sacks of our clothes.  Suzy is a lovely young Spanish woman who lives above the pub, runs it like her home, and is adored by our smalls.  Us, too.  Walking back, I looked through the window and saw the four of them holding court literally in the middle of the pub chatting with Suzy and room full of patrons.  Helmet, swimsuit coverup, pajamas, feathered heels and all.  

When I told Big Sister (who celebrated turning 5 at the pub) that I'd waved to Suzy through the windows a few times this week she said, "Did you tell her I love her?"  Of course, I reported that to Suzy tonight.

So if you are living in another country, four small circus clowns drop by your home and workplace to visit, and one of them professes her love to you, you will adore everything about those clowns.  Including their costumes.  And I will see them through your smiling eyes.  

What is Really the Best

As you know, I love to get mail.  Packages are even better.  So it was a really big treat to come home to a large box waiting outside our door today.  Would you believe it was filled with a huge bouquet of white tulips?  There are too many to count.  Enclosed was a sweet note from my lovey who is on travel this week stateside where it is warm and sunny.  In addition spending some time at Target completing our wish list, he is apparently finding time to do all sorts of important and good work.  And missing the smalls and me.  And finding time to send me love and cheer.  Did he remember my saying that bunches of tulips would look great in my new bowl?  I know I didn't tell him that I had dozens in my hand the other day at Waitrose and put them all back when I thought through that I couldn't possibly carry them and groceries, too.

As usual, while the Mister is away I have been keeping all sorts of immature hours.  I am just one long business trip away from needing a nutritionist and admission to sleep study clinic.  Did you read that recent Washington Post article about mothers who garden and string Christmas lights in the middle of the night?  I want to befriend them all.  Leaving a meeting late one night a few years ago, a new friend confessed she was headed home to paint her bathroom while her husband was away.  I knew then we'd become dear friends.  My kind of girl.

We miss the Mister terribly and are looking forward to welcoming him home.  So, today's best is dozens of white tulips filling the huge bowl Big Sister and I discovered at a New Year's Eve display sale.  The best part about the lovely bouquet is that they remind me of my best friend.  If you know him I know you're nodding in agreement.  Not at all in this order, he is handsome, silly, smart, loving, faithful to God and kind.  He is a great drummer, a wonderful father, a geographic savant.  He has a keen sense of style and amazing hair.  That is going beautifully salt and pepper.  And he is ours.   HE is the best.

The Best of Our Days

They are best friends.  And always open to new ones wherever we land, too.  And good to their sissies. They invited Big Sister to a slumber party in their room last night.  She took the top bunk while they were in the bottom one.  That must be the best.

Inspired by another's lovely blog, for new year's we started a little daily practice of telling each other the "best of our days."  I have a calendar for just that and bought the kids' their own calendars with the hope of writing it down each day. But that quickly became another "to do" and I wanted everyone to look forward to talking about the best each day.  So some days we talk it over on our walk home, at dinner, or during bedtime prayers.  It is very revealing what can make it to the be considered the best.  A wonderful exercise making yourself think of all the good that has happened in one day (and to set aside the day's frustrations, slights and disappointments) and choose one special enough to be considered The very Best of the Day.

One day last week Big Sister reported that the best of her day was the new boy in class receiving a Head Teacher's Award.  How lovely that her day's best feeling was seeing someone else succeed.  I think she feels a special kinship for him as she is no longer the newest in her class.

Last night Big Brother said the best of his day was receiving a game he ordered with Christmas money. Always judicious with funds, he got it second hand on ebay and was tickled when it arrived days earlier than expected.  Equally sweet as he his frugal, he also mentioned everyone who made his game and helped it along the way in the post in his special prayers.

I think the best of Biggest Brother's day might very well be his success in easing Baby Sister out of her morning grumps with his charming and loving ways. She rewarded him later by asking to hold his hand on the way to school.

Riding the bus this morning with them all high fiving each other for a stress-free and on time departure, I was tempted to announce that the best of my day might already be charted at 8:15!  Arriving at school I watched them all hug and kiss each other farewell - especially the 3 who will be tripping over each other at school all day today.  Then my newly European boys kissed me goodbye. On both of my cheeks.  (How funny is that?! Who kisses them that way that they've already picked that up?)  And later as my arms were loaded from errands and Baby Sister wanted to join the packages in my arms to be carried home, she assured me I could hold it all and gleefully announced, "Momma!  You are Superman!" Could that be better than her telling me the other day that I was "yummy?"

Would Baby Sister consider it the best that Big Sister lent her a ballerina costume for their daily dressing up yesterday?  How about getting to wear it to bed, too?  Sometimes it is a hoot to see what Baby Sister wears to breakfast. One day last week it was just slippers.

It is good this cataloging of good things.  It is the best.

New LEGO "Friends." No Friends of Mine.

There is so much more to say about LEGO's new series for girls.  Among countless other issues, there are no minifigures, but rather small dolls.  With breasts.  How is it possible that LEGO's thinking was more modern in 1981 when they promoted "What it is is beautiful" with a sneaker and jeans wearing little girl proudly holding a jumbled creation of bricks? Hard to imagine.

Wouldn't You Like To Be Her Neighbor?

I was worried that Baby Sister would be sad that the kids were going back to school today.  I tried to start the day with cheer by parking the pig on the dining room table.  He was wearing a party hat in school colors. What isn't funny about a giant pretend pig in a hat? How many kids found that at their breakfast table? I got a few smiles demonstrating how hard it must have been for him to hoist himself up with his chubby little legs while we slept.

I knew Baby Sister would miss the constant hum of exciting games, dress up, pretend, and ever present pals.  Even before she was dressed, she snuggled up next to Biggest Brother on the couch, maybe hoping he was in his school uniform for fun.  But ever steady, she marched out the door with them and insisted on carrying her own (empty) lunchbox.  She was cheerful.  Even when Big Sister was so happy to see her teacher again that she forgot to kiss Baby Sister goodbye.

The rest of our morning included meeting a friend for coffee and running the errands we didn't want to do as a pack of 6.  So off we went to the post office, library, dry cleaners, news stand, and our whole itinerary of Sesame Street-like stops.  We were moving at a leisurely pace. It was sweet it was to hold her chubby little hand and really hear her chatter.  We gathered sticks and stomped in a few puddles. Getting closer to home, I reflected on how so many of our local storekeepers have become our friends and neighbors.  I probably didn't imagine that when moving to a big city. We ducked our heads into more than a few shops and waved through windows at even more to wish our friends a happy new year.

I didn't need to worry about Baby Sister.  Our neighbors took great care of her this morning.  Not knowing she was missing her best buddies, they all brought her (and me, too) such cheer.  The Metropolitan Policemen guarding a certain former Prime Minister's home near us fussed over her more than usual.  At our news stand, the kind husband and wife surprised her with a little pencil case filled with school supplies.  A few doors away, a dress shop owner waved as we went by, then opened the door to chat.  Then she gave Baby Sister a pretty leaf she was using to decorate her store window and a tiny jewelry bag, too!  (What will Big Sister say about all this bounty?)

We walked along to the cleaners and to visit our building's porters.  Neighbors all.  Waiting on the building porch was our neighbor from across the hall. He announced that Americans are all friendly.  I'm so tickled he thinks so.  I'm grateful for the friendliness of our new neighbors who made Baby Sister feel so busy and special on her first day home alone.