A Prayer from Cerys

I just put Cerys down for a nap, and this is what she did while I was making her bed (she's taken to ripping the sheets off her bed every morning so she can make a tent with them. A tent being her wrapping the sheet around her head and body, curling up into a ball and saying, "look, Mom, I'm in a tent!" So I have to re-make her bed every day before naptime and before bedtime. But I digress...)

Cerys to Pooh bear: "Let's pray." Then she kneels down next to her bed with Pooh bear on her lap and says, "Jee-zsus, pray for Mike and Stacy that they not be sad." Then to Pooh bear: "Oh, you don't want to pray? Okay. Ay-men."

She's been pretty concerned about her pals Mike and Stacy since I went away for five whole days. Every day I was gone I would speak to her on the phone and she would say, "You still with Mike and Stacy? They still sad?" Her two-year-old mind can't quite comprehend what they're sad about and that they'll be sad for a long time, so it's a simple prayer "that they not be sad." Its sweetness cuts me to the heart.

Understanding God's goodness

I've really been struggling with the concept of God's goodness this last week. I have always counted my blessings--two healthy, beautiful children, a loving husband, a "normal" life not badly affected by what could be termed a rather dysfunctional childhood, healed relationships with my mom and dad, Tim's growing business, wonderful friendships, unexpected gifts, etc.--and said "God is so good." And of course He is. But the death of Will caused me to do a bit of a double-take because I was so convinced that God, though not performing the great miracle so many of us had asked for, was indeed performing little miracles every day by giving Will breath, better-than-expected growth and development, and an approaching surgery that would bring relief for his overworked heart. Will's death has not made me question whether God is good, rather what my understanding of that goodness is. Because if God being good can be somewhat measured by the many blessings in my life, then does it not stand to reason that the loss of Will was an act of God's cruelty? But I don't believe God can be cruel, so what then? Was Will's death an act of God's goodness? How is that possible? His indifference? Surely not. His big-picture view that allows him to sacrifice one for the sake of many? I have no idea. It's all bigger than I can comprehend.

So here I am trying to be in relationship with this God whom I love but don't really "get". And I start to think, well maybe God's more about character and kingdom building than He is about personal circumstances. But then I think about Him caring for the hungry throngs that followed Him and miraculously providing them with superfluous food and raising Lazarus from the dead and that little girl, too. He definitely cares about circumstances. But maybe He's powerless to fix some things that are the result of Satan being the ruler of this world. Maybe Satan and God had a little discussion about the Stavs the way they had about Job and God said, "Yeah, give them your best shot." Somehow that seems a bit far-fetched to me. But maybe. Or maybe disease and death are just part of creation groaning knowing that right now it is totally at odds with God's perfect kingdom, and God not stepping in is just a way for Him to remind us of what we should be hoping for. The point is, I just don't know. And I probably won't know until I'm rid of this flesh.

The question then becomes, "Am I okay with not knowing?" Am I okay with saying, "God I don't really see where your goodness fits in here, but I believe in it anyway." And it's one thing to say that now, but will I be able to say that if one of my children ever dies? It's a scary thought. For me, these are scary times. But they're also exciting times. Because I feel like I'm having to press into faith harder than I've ever pressed before. I'm having to let go of some ideas that perhaps were inaccurate or even wrong and just ask God to teach me. I'm in a place of longing and wrestling and waiting. And I think that yes, at least right now, I am okay with it. As long as God's okay with me screaming "WHAT?" when the not knowing gets to be a bit much.

Grief

I'm having trouble coping with this grief. I feel like I need a day to just lay in bed and cry. But as so many have noted, the clock keeps ticking, the daily grind continues grinding, and people here in Bedford just have to keep going. And people in the US have to keep going to. There are doctor visits, money to be made, laundry to do, dinners to make, children to play with, floors to scrub, dishes to clean, ad nauseum. And through it all in the back of my throat is a little catch and tears sting the fronts of my eyes as I don't know quite how to return to life as normal. I have never been to anything so sad as Will's funeral. I will never get the sound of Mike's sobs as he looked at his son's casket out of my ears. I will never get over the feeling of sheer helplessness as I watched Stacy silently cry throughout the weekend. So I just keep going back and watching the slide show and reading the eulogy and the homily and trying to process this weight and wondering how I'm going to relate to this God whom I don't understand. But as Peter said "Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life." So though I don't get what He was thinking when he didn't swoop in and rescue Will in the way I would have chosen, He's all I've got. And so I cling to Him. And carry on.

A Prayer for the Stavs

Will is gone. And my friends are mourning in a way I cannot comprehend. Holy Spirit, comfort as only you can. Give hope. Give courage. Give Ella the love she needs. Give us the wisdom and compassion we need to mourn alongside our dear friends. Be our light in this darkness. Intercede with sighs too deep for words. Father God, we cling to you.

The rain fell, the floods came, and the winds blew and beat on that house, but it did not fall, because it had been founded on rock. Mt 7:24

Uncommon Friends

I was beyond pleased the other day when I noticed on my good friend's blog that I have been listed as an Uncommon Friend. Think of the person you most admire in the world and then imagine them listing you as a friend on their blog and you will know how I feel. The Stavs are my heroes. Their generosity, faithfulness, grace and courage inspire me daily. I got to talk to Stacy today, which made my day. I just love her honesty and encouragement. What fantastic friends. And what an honor to know that they count me as a friend, too.

It's weird writing something like that knowing that they're going to read it. Because maybe it might come across as insincere. But in all sincerity, I love the Stavs. And they ought to know it, so there.

10 Reasons Why Getting Burgled Sucks

1. Your child incessantly asking to watch Lion King and you having to reply that she can't because the mean boy came and took her DVD player. (Perhaps this should also go on the list of reasons why you should never introduce children to tv.)

2. The wasted hours on the phone with the insurance company.

3. The horrible feeling of knowing that you may have to look your neighbor in the eye whilst giving the testimony that may land him in prison for a long time.

4. Equally horrible to have to see his mom knowing that you are putting her son behind bars.

5. Giving statements to the police for 4 1/2 hours in an uncomfortable chair and not being offered tea, coffee, or snacks.

6. Having silver finger-printing dust in various places of your house that annoy you, but not enough to make you just clean it off.

7. Feeling a little unsure of whether you are being watched when you enter your house or walk past a window at night.

8. Having to use an old-fashioned phone with a cord, making it impossible to multi-task whilst having a conversation and nearly impossible to get to the phone in time to answer it.

9. Not knowing whether things that you can't find have been stolen or if you just can't remember where you put them.

10. The general feeling of annoyance I've felt since arriving home from a very wonderful vacation.

Our friendly neighborhood burglar

Tim and I sat down to watch a movie, "Walk The Line", on Monday afternoon after settling the kids down for their naps. As Tim tried to put in our security code for the pay-per-view, it was declined. So he tried it again and again it was declined. So he yelled to me "Hey Greta, isn't our security code 1234?" and I replied "I think so, but try 0000. I can't remember but it's definitely one of those." We hadn't bothered to change the generic code it came with. That was declined too, and so Tim realized that Sean had changed our code. I thought "No way, why would he do that?" but he was outside in the street in his usual fashion, so Tim yelled out, "Hey Sean, did you change our security code on our NTL box?" and Sean replied "Oh, yeah, sorry, it's 2580. But I didn't do nuffink wiv it, I just changed it. 2580. Sorry, mate." At least he's a helpful burglar.

Sean Valjean Part 2

While we were enjoying our holiday in California, Sean noticed that we weren't coming out to ask him to turn down our music every day. He asked Kat, our friend who was watching the house for us, where we were, and she vaguely replied that we'd be back in a couple of days. He must have been watching her whereabouts pretty closely because he realized she wasn't actually in the house Wednesday night, so he decided to bring a friend and crowbar our back window open. He stole all of our change (about £20), our VCR/DVD player, our cable box, our phone handset (but not the base), Tim's work keys, and my mobile phone. He broke the lock on the window, one of the slats on the blind, and our wooden structure in the back garden. We assumed when we found out that it was Sean, but we couldn't prove it. The police dusted for prints with no luck. On Thursday Tim pulled off a list of numbers that had been called on my phone since it was stolen and he called some of them asking if they'd seen Sean. Sean had called the police, his doctor, and a friend who confirmed that he knew Sean but hadn't seen him in a while. Tim stopped calling when he got to the sex lines that had run down my minutes. We handed the list over to the police for further investigation.

Later that day Tim went to say hello to Sean, who was standing in his doorway. He treated Tim with total distain, which is unusual. Sean's usually quite friendly with us. When Tim said, "did you hear someone broke into our house?" Sean said, "Yeah, and you automatically assume it was me, right? I didn't do nuffin." Tim said, "I don't know who it was. What makes you think I think it was you? I didn't say anything like that." Sean replied "Well, you're treating me like I did it." Tim said, "I came over to say hello. How have I treated you?" It's amazing what guilt can do to perception.

The police had canvassed the neighborhood asking for witnesses, so everyone knew we'd been burgled, and later that night Sean's mum, Laura, came by to ask what had been stolen. We watched her get increasingly agitated as we described all the missing pieces. We weren't surprised when 20 minutes later she came back to tell us that it was Sean who had robbed our house--she'd seen some of our stuff pass through her house, but he had lied about where it came from. What did surprise us was her total loss of composure as she cried and told us how ashamed she was that her son could do something like this to the people who had been so kind to her. Her whole body shook with sobs as she counted off the ways we had served her and told us that she didn't know how we could even let her into our home. Tim and I didn't know what to do. We were so touched by her obvious care for us, but also so sorry that she felt such guilt and shame over something that was out of her control. We tried to reassure her that we felt no malice toward her (or Sean for that matter) but she was not easy to console. I did get to pray for her before she left, but I didn't see any obvious relief from that.

While she was there, I went to speak to Sean to ask him for Tim's keys. He said "My mom's over there talking shit. I didn't do nuffin." To which I replied, "Sean, don't bother lying to me, I know it was you. Please just give me the keys back, and if you don't want to give them back now because you're too embarrassed to admit you did it, would you please slip them through the letter box by morning? Tim needs them to go to work." He just rolled his eyes and muttered something about "bustin up this street."

Laura left at about 10:00, and Tim and I went to bed only to be disturbed about 15 minutes later by a knock at the door. I went down to find Laura asking me to come to her house so she could show me something. I went over and found her mother sitting there. She told me she had my cable box. Sean had given it to her and told her it was a way to get free tv. He made up some story which she believed, but she was so very apologetic and offered to get it for me. I told her thanks but I had to get to bed and I'd come by in the morning for it. Laura then handed me my handset, and I turned to Sean and said, "Now can I have the keys." He told me he'd thrown them in a bush and would have to get them for me in the morning. I told him I'd be there at 7 am and he better be ready or I'd come get him out of bed. As it was, Tim went to get him and he was ready buy couldn't find the keys.

We've called the police and have decided to press charges since this is now the third time Sean has stolen from us or damaged our property (the car window, my bike and now the burglary) but the officer on our case won't be available until Tuesday. So Sean is taunting us from across the street, blaring his music, smoking his pot, and generally being a pain in my butt. The weird thing is, I really love this kid. I feel sorry for him. I see the pain in his eyes and the total lack of direction in his path. I want to help him, but he has no interest in helping himself. I've had a couple of serious conversations with him about my shock at his total disregard for me and Tim and our children. I've told him I want good things for him, but I can't help him if he continues to make such bad choices. He can't even look me in the eyes.

I could go on in detail about our conversations and my feelings, but this is the real dilemma: What do forgiveness and justice look like in a situation where there is no remorse? How can I be reconciled to Sean, who I can't trust? And what is the best thing for Sean...is it prison or is it chance after chance after chance? I want to do what's right for Sean. I just wish I knew what that is.

I'm back

I had a fabulous holiday in California, and I didn't touch a computer while I was there. Okay, maybe once or twice to get directions to our hotel and rent a car, but no e-mail, no blogging, no on-line bill payments.

The problem with blogging is that everything is now a potential post, but I don't have the time to post even a tenth of what I think and so there's a constant frustration in my world. But it's really nice to have fans who miss me while I'm gone. Really nice.

The week before we left Tim worked a whopping 80 hours, and so I was a single mom for the week working to get a family of four ready for a 3-week trip, sorting out husband's travel papers, doing laundry, choosing toys, packing bags, organizing hotel rooms, etc. while still feeding, bathing, chauffering, and loving my little girls. By the time we got to CA we were in desperate need of some TLC, which Tim got and I sort of got. We had a nice first week relaxing by the pool, but Tim got a lot more sleep and alone-time than me since I was excited to be with my family and running on adrenaline, and I hadn't stayed up until 2-3 in the morning every night for the previous week. But it was payback time when we got home--I've stayed in bed until nearly noon and napped in the afternoon every day since we got back!

Some highlights (and low-lights) of the trip:

LOW: When arriving in Chicago after 10 hours of travel, Tim was held up in Customs for an hour and forty-five minutes. Since we had only 2 hours to get to our next flight, this was more than a little nerve-wracking for us. The mean Customs man cut the corner off Tim's Green Card, rendering it completely invalid, since he is not a physical resident of the US anymore, and he fined us $165 for travelling on an invalid Green Card, even though we had just paid $170 to get a Travel Letter from the US Embassy explaining that we were okay to travel on an expired Green Card. After many tears (on my part) and hoop-jumping (on Tim's) we raced through O'Hare airport to our next flight and made it just in time to stand in an enormous line of people waiting to board our plane, which was undergoing carpet replacement after a passenger on the previous flight had vomited all over the rear cabin. Thank God for air-sickness!

HIGH: Lounging by the pool with my husband and two girls every morning for nearly a week. Cerys loved jumping in, with and without waterwings, and she learned to swim, which was amazing. She's like a little fish!

HIGH: Getting to hang out with my sisters. We have so much fun together, and it was great to get some face time.

HIGH: Eating Gelato Paradiso. www.gelatoparadiso.net Yum. And Cheesecake Factory, and Claim Jumper, and Ruby's, and Baja Fresh, and I think I gained a few pounds when I was there!

HIGH: Seeing my extended family. My little cousins and aunts and uncles are so much fun, and I haven't gotten to spend any real time with them in a couple of years, so it was wonderful to be able to relax with them for a few days. And getting to see my grandma, whom Addien Lila is named after.

HIGH: Anna's wedding. She was a beautiful bride, and she married a wonderful man. The reception was a great party, and her in-laws are better than anyone could hope for. What a wonderful event. Oh, and Cerys was the cutest flower girl I have ever seen.

HIGH: Meeting my nephew, Charles. What a cutie.

HIGH: My kids were amazing on both flights. They are so incredibly well-behaved and so wonderfully sweet, I couldn't be prouder of them.

LOW: Coming home to a gloomy, rainy England sky. And crying on and off all the way home because I miss my family so much.

HIGH: Kids sleeping through the night and until at least 8 every morning since being home. Yes.

LOW: Being burgled while we were away. See next post for more details.

It's nice to be back, although I do really miss my family. But it's nice to see my friends, and sleep in my own bed, and watch my girls explore their home and reaquaint themselves with their toys. And it's nice to be back online.

Conversations with Cerys

I put the girls down for bed tonight at the normal bedtime of 8:00. At 8:30 she called me to say she needed to go to the potty, so after arguing about whether she really needed to poo or if she just didn't want to go to bed, I was convinced that this was the real thing and we headed downstairs. Twenty minutes later we got back upstairs after she did one of her man-sized poos in the toilet. Tim and I are not sure where she manages to keep such large amounts of waste, as she's quite a tiny thing, and we sometimes call eachother in to say, "Look at this!" I attribute it mostly to the fact that she eats about 5 pieces of fruit a day. Here are some snippets of the conversation we had while she was sitting there:

Greta: "Cerys, Mommy is going to be really cross if you don't really have to go poo and we go all the way downstairs."
Cerys: "Oh, I know."

Greta: (After she has pee'ed) "Are you finished?"
Cerys: "No, I almost finished. I need to go poo."

Cerys: (after seeing me rub my eyes) "Are you sad?"
Greta: "No, I'm just tired and ready for bed."
Cerys: "Oh, are you a bit tired? Needs to go to bed?"
Greta: "Yeah. Are you finished?"
Cerys; "No, I almost finished, again."

C: (Pointing through the bathroom door, through the kitchen, to a painting hanging on the far side of the lounge) "Look, Mom, there's a horse."
G: "Where? I don't see a horse."
C: "Over dere"
G: (seeing where she's pointing) "Oh yeah, on the painting?"
C: "Yeah, dere's a horse."
G: "Are you finished now?"
C: "No, I almost finished, again."
G: "Mommy's going to count to 10, and then we're going back upstairs, okay?"
C: "Oh, alright. Sounds good."
G: "1, 2, 3....10 Okay, are you done?"
C: "No, I jus going poo."
(And, to my amazement, she really did still have to go)

C: Oh, are you doing the dishes?
G: Yeah.
C: You doing Cerys' plates?
G: Yeah.
C: Oh, dat's very clever.
G: Thank you.
C: You doing spoons and knifes?
G: Yeah.
C: Oh, you're very clever.

C: I very tired. I have to be quick. I need to have to go back to bed.
G: Yeah.
C: You need to go back to bed? You very tired?
G: Yeah. Are you finished?
C: No, I almost finished, again.

C: Mom, I need some water.
G: You can have some water when you're finished.
C: I all finished.

While washing our hands:
C: You wash your hands too? You go potty and wash your hands?
G: No, I just had to wipe your bottom, so I have to wash my hands, too.
C: Oh.

G: Okay, up to bed.
C: I need some water.
G: What color cup do you want?
C: I need to choose.
G: (Handing her a stack of one blue and one green cup) Okay, choose.
C: (Pointing to a different stack of two orange cups) No, I need to choose the orange ones.
So I hand her the orange ones, she takes one in each hand, holds them out, looks at them, sizes them up, moves them up and down as if weighing them, then chooses the orange one in her right hand while handing me the identical orange one in her left)
C: Dis one.
G: Okay (puts the other back on the shelf)
C: My do it.
G: Okay (holds Cerys up to get her own water in the cup)
C: (after taking two sips) I all done.

I wish I had a tape recorder with me to catch the inflections and accents. She is such a funny mix of English and American. She's so precocious. She's so lovely. She's so aggravating. And she's so MINE.

Tears

I've been doing a lot of crying lately. I don't know if having children has naturally made me a more empathetic person, or if the Holy Spirit is prompting me to pray by having me feel other people's pain, but whatever the cause, I cry on a regular basis these days. It started when my friends the Stavs announced their pregnancy. I burst into tears of joy at the thought of my good friends finally getting pregnant (with twins!) after nearly a decade of trying. I cried harder a few months later when we thought they had miscarried and harder still when we found out that their little boy had severe heart defects along with a cleft palate. I cried every day for the month leading up to their birth, anticipating the death of their little boy and just not knowing how they were going to survive. Little Will didn't die, in fact he's doing quite well after a successful heart surgery, but I still cry for them as they watch him work to breathe and eat, and I cry tears of joy when I see pictures of their healthy little girl and the four of them as a family. I cried when a friend relayed to me some painful childhood memories that she's working through and cry when I think about the damage done to her self-esteem. I cried when another friend told me about some marital difficulties she's going through and again when a different friend relayed some dissapointments she faced and how they made her question her faith. I cried Saturday when my little girl was in pain from the thrush in her mouth. I cry when I'm lonely for my family, when Hubby and I have an argument, when I feel too tired to get through the day. I find it amazing all the different things that will set me off. I never used to be like this. How do tears manage to express so many different emotions so adequately? Pain, frustration, sadness, joy, anger, disappointment. Crying over death and new life, marriage and divorce, in grief and with joy. Thank God for tears, which help me to connect with and care for my friends, to let go of pain I would otherwise hold too close, and to express emotions that I can't convey in any other way.

Comments

I was so surprised this morning to find that I had a whopping FOUR comments in my inbox! And then I realized it was just a slimy salesman playing on my emotions to get free advertising space. Thanks a lot.

From: "Anonymous" Add to Address Book Add Mobile Alert
To: greta_davies@yahoo.com
Subject: [Changing the world one diaper at a time.] 7/01/2006 02:07:25 AM
Date: Fri, 30 Jun 2006 18:07:27 -0700 (PDT)
This site is one of the best I have ever seen, wish I had one like this.
»

--
Posted by Anonymous to Changing the world one diaper at a time. at 7/01/2006 02:07:25 AM

A new job and a new recipe

I decided this week to become a Creative Memories consultant. The prospect of getting my scrapbooking supplies at cost won over fears of being perceived as a slimy sales person with a too-bubbly persona. So I signed my consultant agreement, handed over my 95 pounds sterling, and am waiting for my box of goodies (including the exclusive Daisy album) to arrive in the post. I went to a training meeting on Tuesday night to get an idea of what I was signing up for, and I was more than a little amazed to see British women HUGGING each other, and squealing with delight when greeting each other. I thought those sorority-girl greetings were only for American women, but apparently it is a Creative Memories phenomenon. Though I shuddered at the thought of going to workshops and being around such girliness whilst in the States, having been here for two years living amongst stoic protectors of personal space, I really enjoyed the unchecked expressions of delight these women showed to their friends, even if they were a little cheesy.

In other news, I made rhubarb crumble ice cream last night. I actually started early in the morning and burnt the first batch of crumble. Then I made another batch while the girls were napping. Then I mixed the cream and rhubarb at about 7:00 and did the first churning at 10:00. Had I read the recipe correctly I would have waited to mix it until this morning, but as it was I had to set my alarm for midnight to churn and fold in the crumble. We'll be having it for dessert tonight. Yum.

Totally Organic

I've started ordering these organic vegetable and fruit boxes that are delivered to my door each Thursday. I did this mostly to save wear and tear on my stroller, which was being loaded up well beyond its recommended weight limit each week at the grocery store, but also to challenge myself to eat more "good for you" stuff, and because "organic" is becoming such a catch-word out here that I thought I better join in and keep up my street cred. We've only had two so far, but I don't think I'll ever look back. How did we get to the point as a society that we thought the stuff sold in supermarkets was good? I didn't even realize how awful the stuff I was eating tasted until I dug into this heavenly spread. Carrots that are so sweet and crunchy I will eat them straight from the bag without ranch dressing, apples that aren't shiny and are sweet and juicy, oranges that are succulent, potatoes that have the most amazing flavor. I didn't even know potatoes had flavor before I tried one of these! And I'm also being introduced to new and exciting vegetables that I've never heard of before, such as kohl rabi. Raise your hand if you know what that is! And watercress (I knew what it was, but the challenge is what do I do with a huge bag full?) And gooseberries. It's all very exciting. I've also started getting the organic eggs, which are so full of flavor and have the most beautiful yellow yolks, and organic yogurt, which is creamy and delicious. I'm such a foody, I can't believe I didn't jump on the organic bandwagon before. Flavor, flavor, flavor. I really can taste the difference, and I somehow feel healthier just having the stuff in my house. So now I'm trying to find other things that are organic. I picked up organic baked beans yesterday, and I want to try some organic chickens. We'll see how my wallet copes.

Avoiding

I should be downstairs preparing the biblestudy for tomorrow's women's group that I am leading. But instead I'm up here checking my e-mail, checking Mike's blog to see what's up with my favorite twins, checking Matt and Dawn's blog, and now writing on my own. Doing the biblestudy will be life-giving. We're going through the gospel of Mark and I'm learning a lot. I feel like I'm starving a bit because we were on holiday last week and I didn't open my Bible once. But for me spending time with God is like exercise. When it's done I feel so alive and refreshed, but beforehand I can think of a million other things that would be easier. And when I don't do it for a few days it's a lot harder to get going again. As a follower of Jesus I know that communication with him is key to living the life I want to live. Just like I know that if I eat several bars of chocolate in a day I'm going to gain weight and feel sluggish. But I often avoid the former and do the latter. What a mess I'm in. This flesh is getting me down.

Spontaneity with Children

It was Friday afternoon. The weather had been fabulous for the last couple of weeks, and I was itching to go to the beach. Bedford is as far from the ocean as it is possible to get on the British Isles, a point of great disappointment for this beach lover. Tim came home from work at around 4:30, and I said, "What do you say we pack up the kids and drive to Wales for the weekend." To my surprise and delight he responded with an "okay" and at 8:22 we were in the car on our way. Less than four hours to get a family of four out the door for a 5-day trip--not bad. We had a fantastic day at the beach on Saturday. It's been cold and rainy every since, but it's so nice to know that my ability to be fun and spontaneous didn't go away when my second child arrived.

The Weather in Wales

We've been in Wales since Friday night, and I only packed summer clothes for us, since it's June, and the temperature's been in the 80's for the last two weeks. I forgot that this is the UK, where the weather is never certain from one minute to the next, so when going on a weekend trip it's prudent to bring clothes for all seasons. Saturday we spent a gorgeous day at the beach. Sunday we went back to the beach, and I immediately took off for a run, which was fabulous, but I came back to find my husband and girls shivering with cold and none too happy about it. We drove home and have spent the last couple of days indoors since it's been rainy and in the high 50's/low 60's. Addien has had to wear her pajamas since that's the only long sleeves I brought for her. I didn't bring many toys for Cerys, since I assumed we'd be outside most of the time, so she's been watching too much tv and driving me a little crazy. The in-laws' house where we are staying (mam and dad are away for the week and kindly let us use their house) is not quite child-proof, and our days have been filled with "Cerys, honey, don't touch that. Cerys, put that down. Cerys, that's Nanny's. Cerys, get down from there." Poor girl. Of course, the only thing that has actually broken was broken by me, not Cerys. The clutziness that is Greta continues. Anyway, back to the weather...I don't know if I'll ever get used to there not being real seasons here. Summer is not necessarily warm, and winter is rarely very cold. The "rainy season" lasts from October until June. We are experiencing a "drought" which means it's only raining about twice a week this summer. California is looking better and better.

The World Cup

The World Cup in England is a very different experience to the World Cup in America. In America, soccer is almost an underground sport, and only the elite few are interested. Cool people like Tim Sparks set their alarms for 3:30 in the morning to go to the one pub in the area who is playing the game and charging a cover. Here every single store has England team paraphernalia displayed, and the pubs all show the games live. People roam the streets wearing England shirts and waving England flags, and people honk their horns when England wins. The excitement is kind of infectious. Just don't make the mistake of calling it "soccer". It's football, got it?

So, yesterday I was invited to some friends' pad for a 5:00 kick-off. We were going to eat tacos and watch the match (not a game, a match!) But I have two kids, and they have two kids, and Abi brought Owen, so there were 5 under-4's competing with the football. And dinner still needed to be made. I spent the first half in the kitchen grating cheese, cutting tomatoes, telling Cerys not to throw sand at her friends and trying to figure out why Addien decided it would be a good time to start preferring mommy to anyone else. Half time came and we served up. I spent the first 20 minutes of the second half trying to get Cerys to sit still long enough to eat, trying to figure out what to feed Addien since the tacos were too spicy for her liking, and trying to get a taco for myself. When I finally sat down with about 20 minutes to go, no one had scored, so I didn't feel like I'd missed too much. I watched for a few minutes with Addien in my lap and then realized that she was chewing on something she shouldn't be and looked to get it out. During that 5-seconds, Crouch scored the first goal of the match. Nice. I got to see it on replay. Mike was sure they would score again, so I settled in to watch again. I watched, was impressed with the fancy footwork, and then Leyton, the 3-year-old of the group, came and asked me a question. I don't remember what he asked, but in that 5 seconds that I made eye-contact with him the second goal was scored by England.

Apparently watching football and being a mom are not compatible activities.

I fell down

I got up to run this morning at 6:00. 6:05, actually, since I pressed snooze once. I was out the door at 6:30 and met my friend Sarah in the park for a lap before heading back home. (Cue Chariots of Fire theme music) I had run further and faster than I'd done before, and after the 30-minute mark I was feeling like I could go on for miles. But then (cue vinyl record screeching to a halt sound effect) I hit a grate and my right knee and both forearms hit the pavement and skid. Ouch. My runner's high was thwarted by the clutziness that is Greta, and I hobbled home licking my wounded pride and muttering profanities in my head while waving my hands in the air to try to stop the incessant burning caused by the roadburn.

Relief

I woke up this morning feeling so overwhelmed I really wanted to just stay in bed and hide under the covers for the rest of the day. There were several problems with that idea. First, it's like 80 degrees here and about 85 in the house, so getting under the covers was not an option. Second, I had two very cute little girls wanting to play with their mommy, making it seem quite selfish to just stay in bed all day. Third, I really needed to pee. So I got up and started the day. By 9:30 I was still feeling totally overwhelmed by the laundry, dishes, and tidying that needed to be done (yes, these are the things that overwhelm me), and the thought of going to playgroup was more than I could take. So I called my very good friend Abi who said she'd take Cerys so I could get some time to catch up. When I opened the door I realized the night had brought some cooler weather and so decided to postpone the housework and go for a run. And even though I still haven't done the stuff that overwhelmed me this morning, I feel much better. Thank you God for endorphines. And for Abi Sutcliffe.