All The World's A Stage

Truer words were never spoken at our house. Or on the street in front of our house. There is often some sort of musical number going on here. And around the world. The smalls put on an impromtu show in Piazza del Campo in Siena last month. Meanwhile, the Mister and I finished off their pizza and our wine.

That they're musical is all thanks to the Mister. Who always danced and drummed with them as babies in his arms. Left to me, we'd listen to lots of news radio and each other without a soundtrack in the background.  I'm the one who is perpetually yanking an iPod out of the speaker after people have walked away from it. Mostly because I can never figure out how to turn it off. Or down. Or change songs.

I love that music fills our house, but rarely think to turn it on. On the other hand, the Mister has a playlist for parties and Biggest Brother downloaded an afternoon's worth of Mary Poppins tunes for last week's fete. We make a good team around here because they don't really sweat the favors.

When 5 or 6 of us are scurrying to get ready on a school morning I confess that I don't find Biggest Brother trailing me with his acoustic guitar all that charming. Sometimes I mention that to him. When I think about it though, it actually must be funny to see me frantically multitasking (load of laundry, breakfast for Baby Sister, Big Sister's hair, dishes, picking up errant towels, backpacks, "WHO PACKED THEIR READING BOOK?" pajama-clad me announcing to everyone and no one every few minutes that "I'm GOING to get in the shower!") with a Catholic school uniformed minstrel hot on my heels.

Big Brother is beautiful singer and now a piano player and the girls dig their vocals and interpretive dancing. No wallflowers here. I came across this video they made one school morning when I was apparently - finally - in the shower. The time stamp shows we should be getting on the bus in about 5 minutes so you can be sure about the time the song ended I came racing through the kitchen in search of 4 little school children. Funny that I didn't even know what they'd been up to. With all the jockeying for camera time, it's no wonder Baby Sister didn't get in the video at all. Keepers, the whole lot of them!

And today Biggest Brother busked in the cold. A chilly Saturday while the rest of us stayed inside and continued our "Waltons" film festival!  (The Waltons is absolutely worthy of another post. I hope I dream myself onto Waltons Mountain tonight.)  Biggest Brother wasn't out long and we had such fun waving from the windows and cheering when we saw passersby stopping, taking pictures, and even better - tossing money in his guitar case!  His earnings are nothing to sneeze at either: Would you believe almost £20 in two short stints? I'm telling you, the prospect of paying them an allowance for chores is getting tricky. But even though he's spent the money a hundred times over in his head with Big Brother's assistance, playing and singing for an audience was his favorite part of the day. It was priceless. Music to his ears. The limelight is sweet.

Woah. It's always a good time.

Getting Carried Away

A jolly holiday for Big Sister! It's almost time for our flat to host a gaggle of tiny girls to celebrate our nearly 6 year old Mary Poppins. Big Brother is dressed as Mr. Banks. Little suit, poppy, bowler hat and all. Pizza is ordered, a project is on the table awaiting crafters and the living room set up as a theater. We're ready for a party! More pictures and details coming later.

And how super is the Mister for not only agreeing to suspend an umbrella from the ceiling but making it happen?!

Poppies Across the Atlantic

We'll see how late I can make it, but I'm enjoying watching the BBC election coverage. 

A roundtable discussion in Washington is great. Hello, Katty Kay! History in the making, media and politics in one night? No wonder I'm not sleeping. This is well worth the vat of lattes I'll have to endure to get through an earlier than usual morning and a few meetings at Our Sweet School. 

So. It's can't look away now viewing tonight when I probably should be attending to something Mary Poppins party-related or perhaps dozing. But that's nearly impossible when the BBC has teams of folks Stateside to give Mark Mardell a bit of company. Surely my guy Nick Robinson must have a few days off with all this Yankee Doodling. 

The Americans being interviewed by British reporters must wonder what's with all the poppied lapels. Too bad they'll miss my church lesson on Remembrance Sunday. Big Sister calls those "Poohah-pees" not as I say: "PAAH peace." My girl likes me, but she's no fan of my American accent. She hears it, and now fully immersed in proper British English, assumes I'm mispronouncing. A lot.  

My French girlfriends say they completely relate and that their children are always correcting them, too. Sure. But English is my first language. There's that.  

When Big Sister, sweet as she is, imitates my pronunciations, she does it with a look of distain. Or like she smells something a bit off. She is now completely annoyed that I keep telling and retelling this story, but she doesn't read my blog and this is exactly what I'm getting at: We know someone named Miss O'Connell. When I spoke her name recently, Big Sister scrunched her nose. "Momma!" she said, "It's not Uh CAAAHnail, it is OH Cuhnul!" 

In addition to the entertainment factor of hearing more American accents in one evening than I think I've heard all year, watching the polls close from afar has been fascinating. In a bizarre alternate universe sort of way. Seeing pundits I adore and abhor pontificate with an ocean between us is strange to be sure. I feel simultaneously remote and part of it all. Also hopeful that Cook County will actually count my vote and grateful for our many friends here who are watching the election so closely. Some over big bowls of homemade chili! How happy am I that my British friends love a theme? And like America?!

Surely we'll all be drinking lots of coffee (and tea!) tomorrow. Some might even have a bit of champagne or at least English sparkling wines. I'm feeling inspired to make an apple pie. It will go great with a latte or 6 in the morning.

Arrivederci Toscana! And Grazie!

More soon, friends but meanwhile, we're just home from a wonderful week in Tuscany. Our plane landed about midnight and we're in recovery mode for the rest of the weekend. When we've come to grips with having left our villa I'll report back with more pictures and a bit of a travelogue from Barga, Siena, Florence and Pisa. From a wonderful tour (and spectacularly daring driving by the Mister!) of a beautiful country.

Our fantastico knitting librarian should know (and will no doubt recognize her artistry in follow up photos) that her hats were like half-term break uniforms for the smalls.

High adventure, higher vistas, beauty and hospitality beyond compare. Late mornings and later nights. We couldn't ask for more from a school break!  And I can't wait to tell you all about it. But first I'm off to see the skyline over London with Biggest Brother on a date on Bonfire Night and then I'm telling you, I really must tackle the laundry. I might get terribly distracted, though gazing at Baby Sister's picture and remembering the warm breeze that tossed her goldilocks off her tiny face. At the tip top of a quaint Italian village we called home for a few days.

Falling Leaves and Giant Penguins

Day two of our first "half-term" break of the school year!  Hooray, a holiday. No better time to get ready for dark afternoons (our clocks went back today) and watch the Christmas preparations begin in earnest. Without Thanksgiving, the twinkling of lights and Christmas greens are a welcome sight in November.

But for a few more days it is truly fall and such a beautiful one. The leaves on the trees in Hyde Park are just a few days beyond their peak and the ground is inches deep in huge fallen leaves in spots.

Even though the idea of kids in class until the end of July is admittedly strange, I really, really like our school schedule here and think that it will be hard to readjust to the American one. The Mister, a former lifeguard who is devoted to summer evenings and weekends at a neighborhood pool, completely disagrees!  In general terms, the smalls go to school for 3 terms from September to July. Each half term is about 6-8 weeks and is separated by a nice, long (week or two depending upon the season) break. When we go back to classes again the kids will be in until Christmas break. There are rarely long weekends or days off. When you're in school you are on a schedule and focused. After 6,7 or 8 weeks of that, you're ready and so deserving of time off. Your mother is thrilled for a break from the to and fro, spelling lists, and piles of "rucksacks" and uniforms. The kids will start a new round of topics when we go back in November and their homework for the break gets them to start thinking about it in fun and creative ways.

There are lots of exciting Christmas events already on their calendar and this is the best part of being somewhere the second year. A treasured the chance to repeat activities. They'll sing carols and busk for charity at St Christopher's Place, sing in advance of the Marylebone Lights On (think Grand Illumination on our favorite High Street), and Baby Sister will be in her first ever assembly at Our Sweet School. Our little angel might very well be dressed as one!

Still ahead, though is Thanksgiving with 2 West Springfield Spartans and their families. I am noodling through how to add the boys' desk to our big table to ensure there's no kids table. Mass seating with a kraft paper "table cloth" with lots of crayons is the plan. This year we're sorted on the turkey planning. As the last Thanksgiving with the 14 of us living in London, it promises to be another special part of our "Senior Year" to be sure!  And I'm hosting an even bigger Thanksgiving coffee this year. I am beyond thankful for my girlfriends in London. I am grateful, indebted and insistent that they visit us when we're Stateside.

The party planning goes on because maybe even more exciting is that we're planning Big Sister's birthday party. That merits a whole 'nother post. How is Big Sister about to be 6? She's going to host a Mary Poppins party for a gaggle of tiny girls. Oh my gracious!  How much do I love Big Sister? And this theme? And my fantastic Richmond girlfriend who researched ooodles of grand ideas because she quite possibly loves birthdays and themes even more than I do? This "Mary Popp" party might be both the simplest and cutest party we've ever had. I think if you looked around your house you might be able to pull off a Mary Poppins party this afternoon. Think about it: you could dress like Mary in about 2 minutes: white blouse, black skirt, red bow @ the collar. Tack a few flowers onto a black bowler, grab a brolly and you're soooo set!  Maybe I just gave you a Halloween costume, too. Who knows what you'll find in my ramblings.

You're assured to find poor quality snapshots, a random comments drenched in sentimentality, words strung together and puncutated as jumbly as my thoughts -- today's post is SO representative! I'll quit here, but before I go I have to show you my favorite find for the party. With a vacation and lots of entertaining ahead I did pledge to keep Big Sister's party simple (and am proud that most of the supplies came from Poundland) but I couldn't resist this larger than life penguin. He's going to sit in the middle the table at the party!  Can you stand it?!  The Mister thinks my decor is increasingly "Silver Spoons" and there's some truth to that.

So spit spot and off you go!  And off we go to a Practically Perfect in Everyway holiday!

Rave Reviews

I'll keep this one short (imagine!) but a quick note to say that my favorite dj had a ball on Friday night and won high praise for his new gig at Our Sweet School. How he managed to keep a 2.5 hour play list and his good humor rolling with Baby Sister on his lap, the boys and their friends shouting out requests, and surely not enough fuel is beyond me.

And in the benign neglect files, Baby Sister wore two right foot Mary Janes to Nursery today.  I am so proud and grateful that she dresses herself in the mornings (sometimes with the help of Big Brothers who also blessedly shower her, too!) and that I only really "do" her hair (and last week I even managed to delegate that to our guest!) and breakfast. Bless her heart. When we were all settled on the bus, I looked down and spied two same sized/same foot black patent shoes. She was befuddled about why we thought she was curious, funny, and pitiful. So we assured her she looked great and ready to hit the ground running on a Monday!

It is surely a bit of an axiom that if we leave our flat in an orderly manner on time that something unforeseen is amiss. Today it was those tiny shoes. Baby Sister didn't mind and her teacher promises me she doesn't consider her the least bit neglected. Still, I cannot help but to remind myself that people with much larger families than ours manage, and even more, that Biggest Brother never left the house in mismatched shoes.

But on those days, I am also reminded that Biggest Brother didn't have the benefit of a big, loving, built in cadre of best buddies. This is what I found the other morning as I was hightailing my way to a shower. And here I have to note that ever my mother's daughter, I try to leave the house with our beds made, rooms picked up, and a load going in both the dishwasher and washing machine. So racing toward a shower and finding this was blissful.

My smalls gathered on my bed in their tiny school uniforms. Biggest Brother was braiding Baby Sister's hair and they were reading and playing together. They had the entire flat to themselves and they chose to be in the same few inches of each other. Makes my heart sing.

And while we're all very much enjoying our last year in London (which one of my dear girlfriends who lives in London so aptly refers to as "our Senior Year!"), talk about where we're headed and that we'll move next summer is happening. Big Sister said last night, "I don't want to move. It will be so sad." We all agree. We know, too that being together and going en masse will be a big help wherever we land.

We know we'll have each other, great music, a handsome dj, and lots of little shoes. Most of which make perfect little pairs.

I'm With the DJ

Gracious, this blog needs levity -- and quick!

Missing children, drug deals, woe is me. And I promise you that's not even close to how it feels here these days. Fun is in the air! This week we've been enjoying visits from Virginia friends, a late night w/some of my favorite West Springfield Spartans, beautiful fall weather, horse riding in Hyde Park, Big Sister being the Queen in her class assembly, the approaching end of half term, and today, a big infusion of American candy graces our kitchen!

After all the fanfare, this weekend calls for great music and lots of R&R.  I've got both coming in short order but will have to wait until later in the weekend to fill in all the details.  You see, the Mister (fresh off a week in Tulsa! and an overnight flight!) is on tap to be the dj at tonight's school disco.

Oh, the school disco. You'd love it. It promises to be a packed house of little people and parents grooving in the school hall. And there will be tables of Pimms, wine, and loads of food. It is all different here.

So, more soon, friends!  I'm off to (or really, back again) Our Sweet School.  I'll be shamelessly flirting with the dj all night.

Wild Life. And a Few Animals, Too

The leaves are turning and I still haven't told you about one of the last things we drew from our summer jar in August. Even if pumpkins and skeletons are on the sideboards now, you can be sure that at our house, nothing says back to school like a pig on the breakfast table. My pig is surely my favorite animal.

Before that first day of school, and in those last days of summer, my little urbanites and I ventured to a city farm to see real live animals. We wore our wellies and explored.

Pigs, ponies, ducks, sheep, roosters. All in the shadow of the Gherkin and the Shard. 

We're all so suburban and city, too. You should have seen us hooting and hollering over the farm animals. Anything without headlights and wheels seems foreign to us lately. We stood for a very long time admiring the donkeys and ponies. 

The hairiest part, though wasn't the animals, but the walk back to the tube station. It wasn't a good scene. With good intentions of communing with farm life, we'd found ourselves in a rough neighborhood. Much worse, we'd just interrupted - or more accurately - relocated - a drug deal. Eeegads, friends. This wasn't exactly the lesson I was aiming for in setting out on our adventure. Nor was speed walking what we'd pulled from our jar that day, but we managed. 

I'd like to think we're smart city dwellers and have become fairly accustomed to our surroundings, which often change block by block. But sometimes in the city, the people are what is really wild.

While we were at the farm, we decided to "adopt" a pony with a contribution. We received a darling photo of him in the mail the other day. I couldn't help in adding a voice over of "Thank you for adopting this sweet pony. Perhaps parting with that money kept you from being mugged on the way out!  Cheers and hurry back!"