Memo from Mama

The first in a multi-part series wherein I dispense the knowledge, advice and (more often than not), complete nonsense handed down to me from my mother and other assorted old ladies I have known.


Never wash clothes on New Years Day or you'll wash somebody out of your family.

Nana tells me this every year. Apparently throwing a load of dirty towels into the Maytag on January 1st is tantamount to murdering a loved one. Who knew?

Is this just another superstitious old wive's tale? Of course it is. But it will get you out of doing laundry at least one day a year so I say embrace it as gospel.

Auld Lang Syne

New Year's Eve 1996

"Promise me you will always take me out on New Year's Eve."

Ryan and I were drunk...very drunk. We had just celebrated New Year's with Ryan's cousin, Shane, and Shane's new girlfriend, Stephanie. (Years later they would marry and Stephanie would end up as one of my closest friends...but that's a different story.) We were talking about all the things that young, stupid, drunk people talk about when Ryan started talking marriage...again. I was crazy in love with him but marriage wasn't on my radar at that point. So I began to demand all kinds of promises and he agreed to every one of them. The only one I can still remember is...

"Promise me you will always take me out on New Year's Eve."

I have not left the house on New Year's Eve since then.

Frankly, I blame myself.

I must admit that I really don't mind staying in. I'm not a party girl. There. I said it.

I have had some fantastic celebrations at home. And except for a few post divorce years, I usually enjoy myself very much. In 2005, Savannah and Ava went to sleep very early. Kaylee was 6 at the time and forced me to stay awake until midnight. We both fell asleep about ten seconds after the ball dropped. 2006 was my first New Years Eve with Kevin. We had all our kids plus a few. I finally had someone to kiss at midnight.

And, honestly, as long as I have Kevin to kiss at midnight, I don't care if I stay home every New Year's Eve.

Thanksgiving

I actually cooked my first Thanksgiving dinner this year. It was a pretty low key deal and I really enjoyed myself. I always wanted to be able to host a holiday meal for my family but my house in Hendersonville was just too small.

Here is what I learned from my first Thanksgiving.

- Never clean your oven PRIOR to Thanksgiving.

- Corn casserole expands in the pan. A lot. And it will flat ruin your clean oven.

- Nobody likes corn casserole anyway.

- I am thankful for wine. There. I said it.


- I can kick ass at Trivial Pursuit when I am intoxicated.

- Nothing will sober you up like hearing the phrase "Katie barfed all over the new carpet!" at 2:30 AM.

- Kids want their mom when they are sick. Period. And they don't care if you have to call and wake her up at the butt crack of dawn.


Kevin has some pics here. I was too busy cooking to take any :)

Tower of London

This was the big one for me. This place was all I had hoped for and then some. It's just such a surreal experience to be in a place with such a history. It's one thing to read about Elizabeth I collapsing at the traitor's gate and refusing to walk up the steps to the tower.

It's another thing entirely to look down at those actual steps. At that moment, she must have fully believed that she would die in that tower just as her mother, Anne Boleyn, had died. >
















It just proves one of my most hard learned theories about life...

You just never know.

You could get your head chopped off or you could end up as Queen of England.

Kinda puts your nonsense in perspective, doesn't it?

Make a Smilebox slideshow

Dylan Cat!

English Breakfast

Kevin was determined that I should experience a ‘proper’ English breakfast. I had been doing quite well skipping breakfast each day but he enticed me with tales of French yogurt. We sat down at the hotel restaurant. They brought coffee. So far. So good. How bad could a breakfast be if there is coffee and French yogurt? I was about to find out…ugh.

First, take a moment to gaze on that tomato...you don't see it? It's the round, shriveled, orange looking thing near the top of the plate. I don't even want to know what in hell one has to do to get a tomato to look like that. Moving on...the baked beans, WTF?!? I really try to be respectful of cultural differences but those beans slopped all over my plate made me pretty much never want to eat breakfast again. I ordered scrambled eggs because I didn’t notice they had eggs benedict until it was too late and, also, I figured it would be pretty hard to screw up scrambled eggs. I figured wrong. They made a sound when I cut into them. Scrambled eggs should not make noise. Silence should be the hallmark of scrambled eggs. The sausage and bacon were weird but edible. The hashbrown was an enigma. I didn’t even recognize it as a hashbrown. I thought it might be burned toast. Burned toast would have tasted better.




I think this dining experience cost about 80 dollars. Seriously. 20 pounds per person. Ya'll know even I can't drink 80 bucks worth of coffee.The yogurt was delicious. The croissant was cold and weird but the butter and apricot jam salvaged it quite nicely. I didn’t travel to Britain with any expectation of gourmet food and this breakfast totally matched my expectations.

Saturday in Windsor

On Saturday, we took the train to Windsor. We planned to spend the day with Kevin’s friend/coworker Heather and her friend, Mark. Since Kevin had been away from home for several days longer than me, he was quickly running out of clean clothes. On Friday afternoon , we had dropped his clothes at a laundry service. In an effort to save precious minutes Saturday morning, we agreed that Kevin would run to pick up his clean clothes and double back to the hotel before meeting me at the train station. I was to walk to the train station alone, purchase our tickets and wait for Kevin to make it back. Unless you have been there, I don’t think I can adequately describe how friggin busy Paddington station actually is. It’s nuts.



I made it to the station and made my way to the ticket counter. After waiting in line for quite a while, it was my turn. I calmly repeated the instructions Kevin had given me. "I need two tickets to Maidenhead with a connection to Windsor and return to Paddington.” I was feeling pretty proud of myself for remembering when the pasty, overweight bag of sweat behind the counter barked something unintelligible at me through the glass window. Uh oh. "Excuse me?” I said, trying desperately not to sound like an American. Bag of sweat barks again from window. “Uh, ok I guess.” I stammer. He rolls his eyes, takes my credit card and hands me back tickets to somewhere…


I was guessing that I still had a few minutes before Kevin made it to the station so I went in search of coffee. I say I was guessing because I realized on this trip that I rely too heavily on my cellphone as a watch. Since I had no cell service, I had no method of telling time…ever. It was kinda wonderful and kinda infuriating all at the same time. I wandered around until I found a familiar sight. London has recently been invaded by a little company that you may have heard of…

Apparently Krispy Kreme is not satisfied with merely fattening up the entire United States so they have crossed the pond.
Thank God.
I rushed into that place as if it were a sanctuary. The lady at the counter asked me if I wanted to try their new flavoring syrup. I ususally don't go for that stuff but as I was shaking my head she said "The syrup tastes just like the glaze we put on the doughnuts." I responded with a hearty "Hell Yeah!" A few seconds later I finally got my first cup of familiar coffee. It was sublime and I think it cost roughly the equivalent of 6 American dollars. At that point, I probably would have paid ten. I’m not proud of that.




Kevin arrived at the station and we boarded the train. After a 30 minute ride, we made a connection at the town of Slough. That’s when I realized what the ticket attendant had been yelling through the window. “Connect at Slough!” Ooops. After the connection, it was a very short trip to Windsor. We met Heather and Mark and headed to Windsor Castle. It was so beautiful that I really feel like words can’t encompass it. And the whole experience was so surreal. I stood inches from original drawings done by Leonardo DaVinci and paintings by Vermeer and Van Dyck. We toured room after room and each one was more ornate and opulent than the last. Honestly, my eyes were tired.

We left Windsor castle and walked down to have lunch at a restaurant by the water’s edge. One of the interesting difference between Britain and the US is that waiters/waitresses could care less about customer service. They are paid a living wage by their employers so tips are just extra. Therefore they don’t seem to have any real incentive to give you good service. (Of course, my protest that their incentive should be the fact that it is their job kinda fell on deaf ears.) Anyway, we ate on the deck overlooking the water. The view, the company, the conversation and the alcohol converged to create an almost perfect afternoon. Lunch took the better part of three hours but it was wonderful. In addition to the lovely alcoholic apple cider, Mark introduced us to this great drink consisting of half lemonade and half beer. Sweet biscuits, it was delicious.




We somehow stumbled back to the train station for the trip back to London. The only real benefit to the public transportation system in London is that you never have to worry about a designated driver. We were going to make a quick trip back to the hotel to change clothes before meeting back up with Heather and Mark to see Mamma Mia.



The theatre was located in Piccadilly Circus. This place was crazy. I have never seen so many people. Everywhere you looked were buses, taxis, cars and a neverending stream of pedestrians. I really loved the movie version of Mamma Mia so I had high hopes for the musical. I was not disappointed. Broadway style musicals are one of my great joys. The energy of a live audience is a big part of the experience and this particular audience was on fire. They danced. They sang. They laughed. It was definitely one of the highlights of the trip.

We interrupt

the London posts for a very important message.

My cell phone died last month. I have a working phone now but all my stored phone numbers are gone. So if you are a friend of mine and I haven't called you since September I apologize. I would love to call you now but I don't remember your number. Did I also mention that my work email got fried and all of my stored addresses went bye-bye? So call or email me and I promise to write your information down somewhere this time. Really. I mean it. I'm serious.

Lazy Friday

We slept very late the next morning. We only had a few days in one of the world's greatest cities and we slept late. Here's the thing...I never get to sleep in...NEVER. Did I mention we were on our honeymoon? We emerged from our hotel room thoroughly unmotivated to do anything but return to our hotel room. We headed out nonetheless and tried our best to be tourists. We made our first stop at the Tower of London. It was so late that they would only be open for another hour so we decided to come back later in the trip and had ice cream instead. That's how we roll.

We ended up at St Paul's Cathedral. How can I begin to describe this place? It was like nothing I had ever experienced before. I found myself literally crying over how beautiful it was. I have a confession though. We arrived just in time to attend the Evensong service held at the cathedral. It was this very solemn, holy service. I was reverent but inside me my eight year old self was jumping up and down screaming "I just walked down the same aisle Princess Di walked down when she married Prince Charles!" "I am standing at the very spot that Princess Di stood when she said her vows!" Look...I'm not one of these Royal groupie types. I don't have any Prince William commemorative plates or anything like that. I do have a weird fascination with Henry VIII but really, doesn't everybody? I just have such vivd memories of watching that wedding on television when I was a little girl. I never in my wildest dreams thought that I would stand in that church.

We ended the day with fish and chips at a pub very close to our hotel. The food was actually fantastic (which I had not expected) and Kevin introduced ne to Bulmer's apple cider. If ever I become an alcoholic, this stuff will be to blame.

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 :)