Our 4th of July...

... was supposed to be like this:



... but wound up like this.



Sigh. Parenthood. Full of curve balls.

In short, my 4th of July weekend was supposed to go like this:

1. Arrive in Tahoe on Friday afternoon. Reeeelax with my good friend, Kim.
2. Wedding photo shoot on Saturday. Return home. Drink wine with Kim. Watch our kids play.
3. Sunday and Monday. Swim in the lake. Drink wine. Hang out with family and friends. Reelax.

Instead, my Friday was hijacked by my day job. Completely insane amounts of work. My drive up to Tahoe was 3 hours long, stuck in traffic. The wedding went great but on Saturday night Daisy did not sleep barely a wink. I think I got 4 hours of sleep... intermittently. On Sunday morning it was obvious that things were not heading in the right direction: Daisy was lethargic and unhappy. By Sunday afternoon, she wouldn't sleep and had a temperature. Hubby and I conceded: we probably needed to go home. Nothing wonderful could be achieved by staying in Tahoe with a sick toddler who was constantly whining for home.

So we left the house we'd rented with friends in Tahoe, the beautiful 80 degree weather, and drove back down to the hellish heat of Sacramento, exhausted and dejected.

I was not only pissed that we'd wasted money on a vacation rental we had barely had time to enjoy but I had really looked forward to spending some time with my good friend, Kim, and relaxing for a couple of days before heading back home to my insane schedule. It just seemed horribly unfair, given how stressed I had been about getting up there in the first place: the preparation, the packing, the trying-to-close-out-work, all with little pay-off. Sigh.

Instead we abused my willing mother and passed our sick toddler off to her for the majority of July 4th, while Hubby and I sought an afternoon's break from the heat at the movie theater. We then bought $90 of ear-piercingly loud fireworks, which we half-heartedly set-off in front of our house the minute the sun went down.

As it turns out, it was just as well we left Tahoe. A visit to the pediatrician this morning confirmed that Ms. Daisy has a raging ear infection. Poor kid has had a low-grade fever for a few days now, her nose won't stop running, and her eyes are watering like crazy. I feel so bad for her (and us!)

Here are some photos from the two halves of our doomed weekend.



Hudson, who Daisy was having a blast with until... well... you know.



Hudson and Kim, braving the FREEZING lake water.



The calm before the storm





Beautiful Lake Tahoe, where the water was clear, the temps relatively cool, and where snow still capped the mountains.



Back down to triple-digit heat and a more low-key 4th.











For all July 4th photos, click here.

This is the 2nd of 3 Independence Days as parents that have been goddamned awful. I am living in hope that future ones will prove to be more fun.

Maybe it's the ghosts of the Founding Fathers paying some kind of rotten joke on the Brit?

Brit Bits Part Three: The Big Sheep

That's right, I said "Sheep", not "Sleep'.

The thing I can almost GUARANTEE you don't know about England (unless of course, you live there) is that there is SO MUCH TO DO if you have children. And, being it's a fairly small country (750 miles approximately from top to bottom and, on average, about 125 miles wide), wherever you're at there is always something close by.

One of the most ingrained memories from my childhood was summertime Sunday day trips with my parents. We would jump in the car and start driving, usually with no particular destination in mind. We would ALWAYS find something to do - a pretty village to explore, a summer fair, a castle, a stately home, a steam railway, a Roman ruin, an amusement park, a model village (haha, you've never heard of these have you?) a zoo, a safari or wildlife park, a petting farm... I could go on-and-on...

Most of these activities are relatively low cost and cater to a broad variety of age groups, so there is something for Granny, something for you 13 year old, and something for your toddler.

The Great British Day Out is really something I have missed. I was literally ACHING to share it with Daisy and Hubby.

When we arrived at Trimstone Manor, I immediately grabbed a ton of tourist brochures and set about determining where our first port-of-call would be. It was a difficult task, weeding through everything close by that I thought Daisy would enjoy - and of course, if we were willing to drive more than 90 minutes, there was even more I could have come up with. But given we'd already subjected the poor thing to a 24 hour travel day, I was looking closer-to-home.

Hence THE BIG SHEEP.

You can click the link to learn more about everything this theme park offers but basically it is a young child's fun zone, themed loosely around sheep and farms. I expected it to be an hour visit, maybe two, but we spent ALL DAY there. Daisy had a blast.

There were sheep to pet and feed, up close and personal.





There were fun little rides for Missy to mess around with









And most importantly, there were the bouncing cushions.





... which were even more attractive for being surrounded by a sand pit (sorry yanks, we don't have sand "boxes" in the UK.) Daisy LOVES sand. Or, at least, she does now. We could have done with that enthusiasm a year ago when we were in Jamaica.



It wasn't entirely clear if she loved the pillows or the sand best but it was her favorite spot in the park.

The frustrating thing, however, was watching all the other kids of the same or similar age bouncing around merrily on their own, while Daisy WHINED for me (or, when I forcefully abdicated responsibility, my Mum or husband) to go with her, hold her hand, or pick her up. Hence, it turned into my mission to get Daisy to bounce solo by the time we went home to the U.S. because it really sucks to be the only adult not enjoying a nice sit down while your kid runs off and happily joins in with the other kids.



(Clingyness and whinyness, as we well know, are on the top of my list of mummy no-nos. I just don't do them. Period.)

Just when you're ready to write your kid off as scared of her own shadow and completely unadventurous (yes, I jest... slightly) we head into the awesome indoor play area for lunch and some more fun.

Inside there was this really tall slide. You know, the kind with all the bumps and where you need to sit in a little mat to get from top to bottom? I looked at it and thought: NEVER. But I asked Daisy anyway. She said she would go with me. And so we did, me fully anticipating that we would get to the top and she would balk at the ride down, monkeying on me and screaming blue murder.

But she didn't.



And she went with Daddy too!





And, just like that, my faith in her was restored all over again.

She even went in the ball pit. (Albeit, with Daddy in tow - the only adult in the ball pit.)



If your kid is the sort of kid that naturally runs off to run, jump, climb, slide, swing, or explore, this may not seem like a big thing to you. But Daisy is not like that. Her first word is usually "no" (please, no commentary from my friends - I get the irony) and she is a tad cautious, generally speaking. As an only child, I worry she doesn't have a sibling egging her on and so she'll sit back and not try stuff. This is my BIGGEST parental fear, in fact; that she will let opportunities and experiences pass her by. I know, I gotta let it go a little bit because she is who she is but it doesn't mean to say I can't be happy when I see her try new things and jump in feet-first!

And so BIG SHEEP was a success. I always knew one of the main reasons I wanted to have a kid was to share things with him/her, to look at the world afresh through his/her eyes but I never realized just how amazingly fun and heart-fulfilling it would be to actually do it!

We were only on Day 2 and already the trip was turning out to be everything I hoped it would be, and more.

Tomorrow: Watermouth Castle where there was this....



and where we communed with gnomes.

(Hey, I said there was a lot to do, I didn't say some of it wasn't bizarre!)

Random at Starbucks

It was a DREARY day in the hood today and the forecast aint looking much better for the next week. Ugh. It's the kind of weather that, if I was without-child, I would use as an excuse to curl up on the sofa with my box of tissues (because, you know, to make matters better, I have a KILLER head cold) and watch chick-flicks, while drinking hot chocolate. Sigh... I dream.

However, I have a 2 year old who is having none of that and who has been home all day.

And so, we go to Starbucks.

First, to mentally stimulate said 2 year old. Second, to pump some caffeine into her parents so they can make it through the rest of the night. And, lastly, because Mummy can bring her camera and snap some photos that don't involve the dreaded 3200ISO that is required in our living room.

Meanwhile, Hubby is waiting for an important call for one of his deals.



The impatient foot... tap, tap!



Yes, it's THAT wet.



BISCUITS!



Looking for trouble (which she found, near an electrical socket. Super!)



Do we know how to have fun around here!!!

Actually, yes we do.

Because we couldn't enter the house without some puddle-jumping. Daisy said "Puddles Daddy!" Daddy said "No, let's go inside, it's wet!" and Mummy said "Oh what the hell!" (Of course, I was thinking about the photo opportunities.)

What I really want, I may never give myself

What I really want is a day to myself.

A day to meander through. To get up in my own time; read books in coffee shops; to go shopping and re-kit my wardrobe; to eat lunch with a girlfriend at an outdoor cafe; to watch chick flicks with a glass of wine, uninterrupted.

Before I had Daisy, I was the type of person who would have told someone like me to just do it; to hand the kid off to the grandparents and take the time for myself. Because, after all, one shouldn't lose oneself to one's role as a mother and it was healthy to have "me" time to balance out all the time spent performing all the roles -employee, mother, wife, daughter - for others.

Of course, I would have been right. I am right. But it aint that easy.

Sure, literally speaking I am lucky enough to be able to drop my daughter at my parent's house for the day. Theoretically and practically speaking, there is no reason why I could not put this plan into action today.

This would be, if there wasn't the guilt.

The guilt that I already spend 40+ hours away from my daughter working. The guilt that my parents spend that time (and more) with her instead of me and, although they are fantastic with her, I am her parent, not them.

The guilt that my house needs cleaning; my closets need organizing; that I haven't filed a piece of paper in three years; that I have lots of perfectly good clothes in my wardrobe I could wear if only I could find the time to workout like I used to or the willpower to eat as good as I once did; and, of course, if I have time away from my daughter, I should probably be working out.

The guilt of spending money on frivolous things when we desperately need a new shower, better drainage in our yards, and new interior doors, to name just a few things around our house. Then there's the dogs who really need grooming, poor things, or at least a bath, which we never have time or money for these days.

The guilt that, if I'm going to off my daughter to her grandparents yet again, I should probably do it to spend some quality time with my husband because, you know, our marriage is important too.

In a flash of a second, my brain, when contemplating that selfish day, runs through all of this guilt, piled up over the last two years, and dumps it right on top of my giddy feelings of excitement, like a bucket of cold water.

One day, I may take that time, but right now I'm still trying to figure out how to take a shower without feeling like I have to rush in and out.

Photo A Day: Wednesday, July 7 2010

Yesterday, as Brandy and I were chit-chatting in my office, Ms. Daisy managed to pull-over the paper shredder (which was fortunately not on - I'd already made sure of that.) The top was heavy, so it dramatically collapsed on top of her, spewing it's mangled contents onto the floor of my office.

Of course, Daisy, after recovering from the shock-and-awe of it all, found the bits of paper wildly entertaining and proceeded to throw them up in the air and all around. Lovely.

Even after somewhat of a hurried clean-up (I had work to do!) the floor is still littered with tiny little bits of what were once personal documents.

Hence the photo. Thanks Daisy!