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!)

Brit Bits Part Two: Trimstone Manor and Ilfracombe

If you missed Brit Bit Part One : The bit about the journey, click here to catch up.

I simply can't skip to Day One without talking about Night One. Especially since I was traveling with a two year old on an 8 hour time difference. It's not something you skim over. If you're a parent, you're probably DYING to find out just how much of a nightmare it was.

Ok, so it wasn't great. But like the flight, it wasn't a nightmare. 

Ms. Daisy went down around 10pm after being read several books, and we followed not far behind. Unfortunately, she woke up not two and half hours later. Ouch. Granted, her tired body and mind were telling her it should be 4:30pm, not gone midnight.

In our own desperation and exhaustion, we did something we have never done before: we put Daisy in our bed with us. She rolled around for a good 45-60 minutes, trying to get comfortable (she's not used to running into to people in her bed either) but then finally passed out around 3-ish, I think. (The times are a bit fuzzy at this point.)  Since she was so sleep deprived, the only thing we had to suffer was her fidgeting and whispering to herself about the "Wheels on the bus."

At around 5am, the sun started to make it's journey above the horizon and the birds began chirping. The cows began mooing, The hens began clucking. The geese began squawking. I dozed in and out, just happy not to be on mommy duty, until around 8:30am. When I returned from making a coffee upstairs, this is what I was greeted with. Of course, I had to run back upstairs to grab my camera.

Shortly after this, I played mean-mummy and woke them both up. The only way through jet-lag is to pretend you don't have it, I find.

Our first excursion was to Ilfracombe, the coastal village not five minutes from where we were staying. I had been there probably once or twice before, when I was a kid, but didn't really remember much about it except that it was quaint and reminiscent of almost every seaside town I went to on holiday as a child. Since this whole jaunt to Devon was about recreating the "Great British Summer Holiday" for Daisy and Hubby, it was a great place to start.


Most of the British coastline is lined with cliffs.






The harbor, which completely disappears during low tide. Hubby was astonished about how far out the tides go. It is pretty typical in the UK to have two tides a day (semi-diurnal) and for the water to travel 40 feet or more each time. (Don't fall asleep in your deck-chair at low tide!)


Daisy paddling on the rocky Ilfracombe beach. We were not expecting the weather to be so accommodating, or we would have made a trip up to Woolacombe where the sand dunes are. (Note: the nuclear-looking building in the back is in fact The Landmark Theatre.)

We meandered around the town, popping in and out of stores, taking pics (me) and eventually stopping to rest in the garden of a local Bed and Breakfast for lunch, where Mum enjoyed her very first (of many) sandwich-with-modest-filling.



Many of the stores and pubs displayed Union Jacks and the St. George Flag in preparation for the upcoming Royal Wedding celebrations.

The Union Jack represents the U.K. (Great Britain - England, Wales, and Scotland - and Northern Ireland) and the St.George Flag represents England. You'll also see the Old Glory in there too for good measure. (Unsure why, exactly. Maybe they knew we were coming?)





I am doomed to go back soon because, in all the time I was there, I actually did NOT get one of these. Amazing really, given how much rib-sticking food I consumed.





In case you were wondering, I would have picked the Large Cornish Traditional.

I did, however, revel in having some of these. Man, how I miss the great British potato!



Honestly, I think it's time for the U.S. to embrace the Jacket Potato with topping, you know?

Ilfracombe is a pretty and bustling little town, very typical of a coastal town in England. It brought me right back home, literally and mentally, and brought back wonderful memories of my childhood spent in many a similar place.







It was especially fun to begin Daisy's initiation into the children's coin rides that are EVERYWHERE in England and, on which I gained my first love of rides of all kinds. It put a lump in my throat to realize that she loves them too.



We found them everywhere after this and we never passed one by.

Then it was off on a pony-and-trap ride through town before Daisy literally crashed in the minivan back to Trimstone Manor.


Daisy, riding through Ilfracombe.

Later that afternoon, we explored the grounds of Trimstone Manor, which sits on more than 40 acres and dates back some 400 years. (Those in the U.S. can now understand why I don't get too excited about monuments from the 1800s.)














(Our little self-catering cottage was located right in the middle corner.)

There was also a trampoline in a middle of the gardens, which we all bounced on. Bad backs be damned!



And a converted coach-house, turned game room, which we never got to take advantage of.





But most of all, what I enjoyed - what I had missed and wanted to share - was the gently rolling, green countryside, the moist, clean air, the refreshing breeze, and the sounds of so many birds chirping away from dawn to dusk. Next to my spot on the beach in Negril, Jamaica, this comes a close second as my "happy place".



And so ended day one. Tomorrow... The BIG SHEEP. (All will be revealed.)