Dino-mite

Things are starting to equalize here, and I have committed to showing the kids (and myself) something new every day, if the weather cooperates. So Today we visited the Sedgwick Museum of Earth Science, which, like most things in Cambridge, is a short walk from our house. The museum, which is all about fossils happened to be precisely what we needed after power-watching Bob the Builder's Big Dino Dig during one particularly rainy afternoon. The museum is small, just right for little people, and has a slew of interactive puzzles and things to look at and touch. The above photo shows Charlotte growling at one particularly menacing dinosaur.

We enjoyed a little lunch al fresco (Harry insisted he needed a sandwich in EAT, but really, what he wanted was a cookie -already manipulating me, learned it from his sister), stumbled on a memorial in the center of Christ's

Pieces for Lady Di, and unwittingly participated in a teacher labor protest (the most benign collection of picketers I've ever seen, quiet as mice, just strolling down the street en mass).

The highlight of our walk home was taking in the busker competitors that today lined the city streets. The best was surely "The Binman," who played indi rock tunes from inside a trash bin; nothing but his hand and the guitar fret was visible. We were all captivated. Binman, you are stupendous!

Christmas in June

The express shipment gods have smiled on us, delivering our 1000 pounds of "essential" goods in record time (just a week after we called for delivery, which is three weeks earlier than expected).

While customer service is a rare commodity on this side of the pond, we have found that once you get your scheduled window, they arrive wicked early. And that was again the case today. Our crew had our boxes inside before 10 a.m and we had them unpacked by 11. You too would have enjoyed how much packing material was used to put one 4-foot stuffed alligator (yes, essential) safely into a 5-foot box.

The kids are now enamored with the attic guest room/playroom, which today filled with many of their long-lost games and treasures.

My Favorite Things (And Not So Favorite)

Some of my favorite features in the new house (the dining room fireplace, pretty sconces and chandeliers, and some outdoor spaces with shaped boxwoods).

Some of my least favored (skinny fridge (ha!), beautiful but ridiculously tall sink faucet that splashes everything....and the best...our masterbed closet, all 30 inches of it).

Stick it to Me

Yesterday was hot. Today was HOT. But was it Washington summer uncomfortable? Only INSIDE, where one would expect to find AC. HERE? not so much. So I type this missive lying in bed, dripping with sweat. Air conditioning people! Air conditioning! Lordy.

This was certainly our first unpleasant day here thus far: Heat aside, we suffered a loud

neighbor with a bit of drunken party outside our bedroom window last night (where I discovered that we have an annoying streetlight aglow. So at 2 a.m. I was calculating how much new curtains with blackout lining will cost, sigh).

But really, the biggest, baddest problem was Paul's Virginia driver's license, which DMV cancelled, we discovered, when he changed his home address to our APO. Really? REALLY? It took two weeks of faxing and phone calls (expensive phone calls), to convince them he is indeed a US Citizen and a resident of Virginia (we're paying property taxes!).

Without that license, we learned, his Air Force issued license is void and our cars are uninsurable. And with no insurance, we can't pick up the new cars, which we hope to do today. Just a nightmare. But it's all worked out now (after a lot of bickering between us). I'm glad yesterday is over...and the cool rain has returned. Can't believe I'm saying that.

Some photos from the better part of our day, spent on Jesus Green (and a cool picture Harry took of me)

Big Mac Attack

I lost my will to communicate yesterday, laid flat by an ancient laptop that gave up the ability to connect to wifi. So I marched Paul and family to the PX on RAF Lakenheath, held my breath, and joined the legions of Mac devotees with the purchase of a MacBook Pro 13. It's small by the standards of my terrible vision, but it actually works!

I have instructed everyone under our collective roof: HANDS OFF.

If you're happy and you know it

One of the best parts of moving, near or far, is the retail therapy to salve the wounds of jet lag and geographic discombobulation and the absence of, say, forks and dust pans and the purple tutu you spy at the PX, the most garish thing you've ever seen but even toddlers need retail therapy, you deduce.

Today's purchases: one hairbrush (I have been using Charlotte's dolly comb since we left the flat, you do the math, shiver), one veggie steamer, one dish scrubber and one teeny-tiny garbage can, just big enough to hold one used tissue and the cellophane wrapper surrounding a tampon. Maybe it's the john Lewis aesthetic, but that store makes me misty with joy, it's part Nordstrom, part William Sonoma...and it even has a knitting section. Bliss.

Home Sweet....

Yesterday we got the keys to our new home and arrived just as the loaner furniture was arriving (early). We unpacked (closets, drawers, yea!), received our yummy grocery delivery from Waitrose, greeted the TV delivery man (yippee!), and had time to run some errands at John Lewis before returning HOME! for our first meal. One great, very

surprrise- virgin cable can get us connected to the Internet on Tuesday! We were told it would take several months. So it is super news indeed (especially for one of my clients who has asked me to do some writing. I thought I was dead in the technological water).

It ain't home yet (the loaner things are so ugly they make even Paul wince), but it's a fine start. We figure we'll see our furnishings and toys in 6 to 8 weeks. In the meantime, Charlotte had breakfast in the stroller in lieu of a kitchen table and The Bean returned for a night to keep us cracking. Boxes unpacked, check! Utilities on, check! Premium English brands in the pantry, check!

I leave you with yesterday's ultimate triumph: Charlotte put herself to bed. We're still scratching our heads. I think she took one look at her fluffy pink bedding, which she hasn't seen in weeks, and couldn't wait to snuggle in for a good night's rest.

To Cambridge, With Love

Harry received his first care package today and opened it with relish. A token from his buddy Jack (with a lot of help and creativiety from his mum). What did they send? A piece of homemade art, of course: a hanging mobile of the world, with English tokens (Big Ben, a crown, a doubledecker bus), dangling beneath.

Thank you so much guys. We're honored. And we're going to hang it as soon as we get into our new house....TOMORROW!

Seriously?

Maybe God really does need to save the Queen. That's all we can figure, having listened to bell-ringers at the church across the road from our flat play for a solid hour, scale after scale, arpeggio after arpeggio. A loud, 60-minute reminder that we have not attended church in quite some time.

Blue Skype

Remember the days (if you can) when an international call was so pricey and full of static that they were reserved for only the most important personal conversations? Well, three cheers for Skype, which is keeping us -- and the kids!- connected to our friends and family. It's clear, it's VIDEO! and it's free.

Since we arrived we've had some super fun conversations with the folks at home (arranging a chat with Michelle in California, an 8 hour time difference, took a little work - she wore a red-white-and-blue Uncle Sam hat for the occasion), but it's been super! Yesterday the kids had a virtual play date with their buddy Jack and his mommy Missy in Alexandria. The boys took turns stuffing their toes in their mouths to prove their flexibility (yes, thank HEAVEN these calls are free!), and Harry shared some details of his time riding the Dodge 'ems at the fair. It's just like being there, enough to keep us sane anyway.

If i could, I'd send the inventor of Skype a bouquet. I hope my digital thanks are enough. If you're reading this blog, I've sent you an invitation via Skype to link-up...please do it. We'd love to chat! If you can't find it, drop me a line.

Holy Buggies, Batman

Britain's chavs (click the link if you've never heard the term) have a new status symbol (it used to be just Burberry). Today at the fair we smacked into what appeared to be a convention of young women, dressed to the nines (looked like they were headed to tea at the palace), pushing their infants in these $1400, Silver Cross prams. I was totally confused (is this a mothers' group gone wrong?). Their heels, long frocks, tons of bling and buggies were so out of place in this expanse of grass, cotton candy and country hokum that Paul and I took a while to get our heads straight.

Cambridge Midsummer Fair

The opening today of the Midsummer Fair has been excellent bribery fodder for the last week. Today we went before the official open, taking a royal fleecing on the already expensive ride prices (2 quid per ride instead of 1, starting this evening), but the kids loved it (Harry has gone roller coaster gonzo, eager to ride things that I'm positive would have him seeing his lunch twice, so far we've been able to distract him). But we did enjoy a slew of rides.

This fair has been in existence since the 13th century (did they have white trash then too, I wonder) and this year's celebration marks the fair's 800th (think about that....800) anniversary. So we were happy to go and in truth, will be going back again (we promised), before it heads on.

For sure, the highlight was riding in the "dodge 'ems," which in America we know simply as bumper cars. It was the girls against the boys, and despite the fact Paul scored his driver's license yesterday, I think the girls won. (Before you ask...no I haven't taken my test yet, but I am determined to beat the husband's score).

*I challenge you to count the number of Disney copyright violations seen just in these few photos.

Little Brits

And so it begins. As Harry and I looked at a toy car garage, I pointed out the elevator. "Mommy," he puffed, full of exasperation, "That's a lift."

'Moving Up Day'

Yesterday was 'Moving Up Day,' as they call it here, a chance for children at the Cambridge International School to meet their teachers and explore the classrooms for the Fall term. Harry and Charlotte were invited.

Charlotte will be in class with Mrs. Ransome, very sweet woman (top). Harry will be with Mrs. Butcher (right).

Harry was very clingy when we arrived, clutching my hand and turning his head 180 degrees from Mrs. Butcher when she greeted him. I explained he'd be reserved for a while, but Mrs. Butcher, who has been a teacher for a decade, gave me a wry smile (more like 'sure sure mom, why don't you see how the pros do it') . Minutes later she was on the floor with Harry, playing with Bob the Builder toys. He was warming, explaining to her the very clear differences ('you silly!') between Farmer Pickles and Pilchert the cat. I allowed myself some hope that she'd break the ice. Still, I was pretty floored, a half hour later, when the two of them were in the sandbox together, laughing and talking. When asked his favorite part of school, he told his father it was Mrs. Butcher. Indeed.

Charlotte was her regular self, dressed in a pretty new sundress from John Lewis and full of moxie. She was all about gluing macaroni and playing outside on the trikes. Miss Independent through-and-through. No need for mom's hand what-so-ever.

Before we left we met another very nice mum whose son is in Charlotte's class and has offered to set up some play dates before school begins on Sept. 8. Her other son is in one of the more posh schools (it is indeed very posh, she was not lying) and she was very straight with me that it's a much more rigorous academic environment there...for the, um, kindergarteners. (They must be learning three languages instead of just the Spanish and French we'll be getting at CIS). Be assured, there is no shortage of academic snobbery here, from nursery though University. Much more to come on this topic, for sure.

Personally, I'm just excited about the warmth and friendliness oozing from the teachers and the opportunity for the kids to be exposed to so many new things (academically and otherwise). Oh...and the adorable uniforms (let's not forget about THAT)!

I've included a few photos of the duck pond and 'sand pit' (or as you'd know it...the sandbox) behind the school. It's set on the very lovely Cherry Hinton park. It's a kid's paradise.

Mad Hatter

When in England you can never try on enough hats. Aunty Bean promises me we are going to Royal Ascot next year so that I may live out my enormous-hat fantasy before we depart the UK.

A Clockwork Orange

Someone got close and personal with a certain makeup case, snuck into one of the closets, and used a mascara as eyeliner.

Dad

We celebrated this father's day with a couple pints at Fort St. George, a 16th century pub on the Cam and a pair of Hunter Wellies, for those long walks in the Fens. You can not be a proper Brit without the rubbers, which Harry was more than happy to model.

Trivia: while mother's day is celebrated on a different day in the US than in the UK, father's day falls on the same spot on the calendar.

Mrs. Tweedy

After two visits to the Cambridge Audi dealer, we are today the owners of a fleet of pre-owned cars (can two be a fleet? It's a lot as far as we're concerned). I never dreamed, DREAMED!, that I'd be the owner of a powder blue A4 wagon, but there she blows. (it is called "liquid blue" and in person, I swear it, it's more of a grey-blue, but I've always favored black...this is a distinct departure). And Harry very definitively named her Mrs. Tweedy, who, if you don't know, is the antagonist in 'Chicken Run,' which is set in England. It is absurdly fitting. Paul will soon be diving an A3 three-door. Black. Nickname to be determined. Harry just loved, loved, loved the dealership and the shiny cars and the strategically placed Lego table for just his ilk. "let's pick one!" he gushed at the cars, in just the right little-boy volume.

Once again, we fall over ourselves in praise for Aunty Bean, who provided the not-insignificant car deposits for we lame-o Americans who won't have bank accounts for another week yet. You can not possibly fathom (because we still can't) what an amazing resource and help she has and continues to be (after many long hours at the dealership negotiating and price checking with us, she procured us lunch in the rain, troubleshooted my broken iTunes account, got us renter's insurance price quotes, found us a tv at john Lewis, and is now, literally, setting up our online grocery list at Waitrose). My husband has never been the overly-effusive sort, but there are no compliments too flowery when it comes to the Bean, he says. She is currently ordering him beer. Need I say more? We have invited her and her fabulous boyfriend to live in the cupboard under our stairs.

We pick up the cars next week and sign our lease, which has been approved by all parties (!), on Monday. We're getting our act together, and in record time, Paul's employer reports somewhat incredulous. He recently talked to another American colleague who's been in the UK for three weeks and has yet to find short-term housing. Clearly she does not hang with Aunty Bean.

Aunty Bean

Forget the Queen. God Save Aunty Bean. Our cherished friend, Kristine "Bean" Kirby, who relocated from Alexandria to the UK in 2006, has been with us for two days, effectively teaching us how to be proper Britons: where to shop (John Lewis!), what to eat (PG Tips tea at Waitrose), how to dress (scarves ladies, scarves), what to read "Red!" which comes with a lipstick every month, and how to drive without losing your mind (keep your rump on the center line).

But that hardly describes her contribution to our new life status. This amazing, brilliant, beautiful woman (who is currently being stalked by every headhunter on this side of the pond - I know this to be true, her mobile phone never stops ringing), today basically co-signed for us in order to get phones (it usually takes a lot longer for non-UK residents, but she graciously has taken 'responsibility" for us, to the great concern of the O2 provider), picked our multiple phone plans, programed our electronics, shopped with us at the Audi dealer, using her considerable feminine wiles to help us score a good deal on two cars (we may buy tomorrow, we'll see) and, God help her, watched our unruly children tonight as we met the soon-to-be new landlord and walked through the new house (We're signing the lease tomorrow!). Kristine insists most Britons would consider this home relatively spacious, but personally I think she's been hitting the bottle). She has even read over our lease (who can resist another pair of eyes?).

We've been introducing her as our most precious concierge. We never knew how much we needed her until she arrived and took over our lives. She has, inexplicably, agreed to come back next week to help us move in to the new place. We are so blessed.

I leave you with photos of The Bean...and the wonderful hats we modeled today on the fly at the fabulous John Lewis.

Life on the Cam

The river is alive with the start of the Cam Bumps contest.

School Daze

We had our formal visit today at the Cambridge International School, where C & H will attend classes in the Fall. It far surpassed my expectations, which were admittedly conservative and riddled with anxiety. The administrators and teachers, get my high marks, as does the facility, which oozes charm and more importantly, warmth. I was a bit slack-jawed when they told us Harry will be studying a host of subjects next year (math, science, French, Spanish, geography, history, handwriting and two days of sports a week, when they wear little track suits!....is this college or kindergarten? I'm so nervous, I feel like it's me going back to school.)


Charlotte is technically too young to begin the fall term, but given her second-child maturity (and superior sex), they're happy to take her. We're going to start her with half-days, maybe three a week, and go from there. I think it won't be long before she's going full-time like Harry ( I predict she will HOWL if when I drop him off and she has to stay with me, she is THAT eager to go).

We spent a little time mixing with the other kids before heading to the next-door Cherry Hinton Park, where the kids dove into the newly-opened wading pool fully clothed (as were most of the other kids, so don't think us total hillbillies). Harry accused me of "ruining (his) good time" by dragging him away after nearly two hours and an ice cream cone. Already, mom can't win.

On a closing note, we are grateful this private school does not require applications for its entering nursery class...because during our meeting, Charlotte chucked a toy and then dirtied herself, harry was also not exactly on his best behavior. Mrs. Greer, the admissions mistress, seemed less interested in the kids' behavior and more focused on how we handled the kids. ugh! Talk about under the microscope.