First Day

Kevin's flight finally arrived and we began a fairly lengthy adventure to get to the hotel. I really had no idea how much nonsense was involved in getting ANYWHERE in London. I was about get a crash course.

We took the train into London ( I didn't realize how far away Gatwick airport actually was from the city.) It was a good opportunity to see lots of the English countryside and do some people watching. We arrived at Victoria Station in London and the 'overwhelming' began. I'm not sure there is a better way to describe the feelings I had on a a fairly regular basis during this trip. The station was crawling with people.

We took a taxi from the station to our hotel. Guess who had never been in a taxi before? Yeah. I know. Pathetic. Kevin assures me that London taxi drivers must pass rigorous tests before getting a license. That may be true but it's kinda hard to admire the acumen of your driver while clutching the door handle in a futile attempt not to be flung about the car.

Our room wasn't ready when we arrived so we took a walk in Hyde Park, which was right across the street from our hotel. The park is spectacular and around every corner is a scene more beautiful than the next. The problem is that, at this point, jet lag had attacked me with a vengeance. As we were walking, Kevin was talking but I could not focus on anything he was saying. I was in a mental fog and completey convinced that I might become violently ill at any moment. I have no idea how I kept from barfing in that historic park.

We made the very long walk back to the hotel and finally got settled into our room. Kevin was still officially working and had a meeting to attend that afternoon. All I wanted him to do was leave the room. I figured I could be asleep before he made it to the lobby. He must have been able to read my mind because he gave me the 'jet lag' lecture. Basically, you have to stay awake until it's 'bedtime" where you are, otherwise you'll end up messed up for the entire trip. I knew he was right but I was still plotting ways to send him to the meeting and go to sleep.

Kevin convinced me to take a double decker bus tour while he was working. It basically hits all the landmarks and historic sites. They have about 500 of them careening through the streets of London. You can 'hop on and hop off' at any of the stops if you want to take a closer look.

I hopped on.



I did not hop off.



It was just chilly enough to be uncomfortable so I began the first part of the tour in the enclosed, bottom portion of the bus. I spent the next hour falling asleep. "And to your left, Big Ben and Parliament"...zzzzz. "And if you will look to your right, the famous Harrod's department store"...zzzzz. Finally, I gathered the energy to climb the steps to the upper level of the bus. The cool wind coupled with the fantastic views perked me up enough to really enjoy the rest of the tour..



The bus dropped me off very close to the hotel. I had just enough of a 'second wind' to waste an hour on a futile search for a cup of coffee. We had passed something like 37 Starbuck's on the bus tour. Apparently, that corporation had decided to boycott the neighborhood surrounding our hotel. I gave up and made my way back to the hotel. Kevin was still working but the sun had gone down so I felt no guilt at all about sinking into the most delightful slumber.

Across the pond

I was scared to travel alone. I'm embarrassed that I have grown up to be such a wuss but there you have it. In my defense, I think the idea of traveling to two of the world's busiest airports alone on your second ever trip would be a tad daunting for most people. Basically when I landed at Gatwick, I would be completely cut off from communication with anyone. No cell service for me over there. Kevin was to arrive ahead of me and assured me he would be waiting when I landed. I think we all know how this story is gonna end, right?




The flight to Atlanta was too short to even justify the ten minute safety dance performed by the flight attendant. That airport is stupid big but surprisingly easy to navigate. I was able to grab one last cup of coffee which I guzzled down before boarding the flight to London. If I had know how long I would have to go without a decent cup of coffee that week, I would have savored that one a little more.

I was on the aisle of a two seat row. So far. So good. The guy sitting next to me already had his earbuds in and was well into a movie when I sat down. I had been dreading the possibilty of a talkative seat mate. This guy looked like he was going to be perfect. ( A few hours later, he finally spoke to the flight attendant. Turns out, he couldn't even speak English. Bonus!!!)



There was an older lady seated diagonally across from me who had some real wedgie issues. She must have stood up 50 times during that flight to adjust her panties and the situation was only made worse by the fact that she was wearing a mini dress. Look ladies...I don't care what Oprah has told you. At a certain age, you are too damn old to wear a mini dress. Accept it and move on. Also, if you know you're going to be on an airplane for over 8 hours, don't you think it would be a good idea to go with some comfy panties? I just think this gal had enough life experience to make some better choices.

The flight went well except I could not sleep. I knew the jet lag was gonna kick my tail but I really thought I could escape the worst of it if I could sleep for 4-6 hours on the flight. No such luck. My main problem was the flight attendants seemed to come through every hour offering food, drink or (my favorite) the duty free cart. I'm not sure what kind of person boards a plane and then decides once they reach international waters that, yes, they actually do need a carton of cigarettes, a giant box of Godiva chocolates and a two liter bottle of Jim Beam. Kevin later explained the duty free situation to me. I assured him that I understood the concept, I just felt the whole thing was stupid.



We landed in London. I made it through customs. And I began to wander through the airport. My flight had actually landed early and Kevin's flight from Amsterdam was delayed. Surprise. Surprise.

I wasn't freaking out at this point. I could see the estimated arrival time for his flight on the board so I sat down to wait. I was completely exhausted but exhilarated at the same time. I was in London. I had actually left the United states and flown across a frackin ocean. I was going to see all the stuff I had spent my whole life reading about or seeing on TV. I had arrived at the home of Bridget Jones and the Cadbury Chocolate Company.

A Foggy Day (In London Town)

THE LONDON POSTS ARE COMING!!!

I know you're as excited as I am.

Confession

I am a reader.

It's a big part of how I define myself. I spent so much time at the library when I was a teen that my parents were convinced I had a secret boyfriend there. Which, of course, I didn't...unless you count Mr Darcy. I spent most of my high school years nurturing an obsession with Henry James. My senior term paper was about Thomas Hardy.

That being said...I have only read four books since September. Wanna take a guess as to what I read?




The kids gave me the Twilight books for my birthday. I'm not gonna lie. I asked for them. And, then, as I always do, I became obsessed with reading them. I read a ton of books that no one would consider to be great literature. I'm no book snob. I will read almost anything except trashy romance novels. I can even tolerate mediocre writing if the story and characters are good.

The Twilight books have a great story that feels really original. I know vampires don't seem original but the author turns all the stories upside down and really creates a whole new mythology. It's strange but none of the books are scary or gross. I really would have no problem with my little girls reading them. I assumed that they would be filled with sex and violence since they are so popular with teenagers. Apparently kids today are just more mature than I was.

So go ahead and read these books. It's not as good as Shakespeare, it's not as bad as Danielle Steele. It's like birthday cake...nutritionally deficient but totally delicious.

Step Mom

Kaylee called Lia her step mom.


The girls were all in the living room coloring. I responded as always, "Kaylee, please don't call her that. Just call her Lia, OK?" They went back to their coloring and I assumed the conversation was over. Then Anna said "Yeah, our mom doesn't want us to call you stepmom either."

Oh.

Snap.


I was embarrassed that her innocent statement had hurt my feelings. To begin with, I had never asked them to refer to me as 'stepmom'. It's not as if it is a desirable title. "Stepmom", to me, does not conjure any warm, fuzzy images. I think Cinderella screwed that title up for all of us. But I was upset at the idea that I could be considered in the same group as Lia. I always felt that she belonged in the "miserable, lying, cheating, ho-bag who stole my husband and destroyed my family' category while I fell in to the " wandered into this situation long after the divorce" category.

I did realize that no matter how you feel about someone...love, hate or ambivalence. No mother really wants their child to refer to another woman as any kind of mom. It actually makes sense to me now. Even if Lia and Ryan had ended up married in a way that made me not hate her guts, I still wouldn't want my kids to call her 'stepmom'. She hasn't earned it and neither have I.

Mom is a title you have to work for and it ain't easy. You earn it by praying, worrying and loving a baby for months before it's even born. You earn it by walking the floor all night long when that baby has an ear infection. You earn it by reading that same, dumb book night after night because it's your child's favorite. You earn it in a million different ways that you never get any credit for.

You don't earn it by marrying that child's father.

So I am content to be 'just Rachel' and if my kids need any help coming up with alternative titles for their stepmom, I have a few suggestions :)