London Wins! London Wins!

London will host the 2012 Summer Olympics, the International Olympic Committee announced Wednesday.

MarathonMum says, in an American accent no less, "We rock! Hooray! This is awesome!"

The announcement was just like any great Olympic event because London just edged out heavily-favoured Paris, with a vote of 54-50.

MarathonMum has much to do before the big event, including training Andrew to be in a sport that a 13-year-old boy could be competitive in, finding a bigger house so all of our friends and family who are so inclined can come and stay with us, and finding some marginal event that I can compete in (I'm thinking archery).

This is great. I am so excited.

MarathonMum (me), Michelle and Laura after the British 10K Sunday. 

Meeting my Blog Buddies

"Blog buddies? What in the world are they," you ask.

Blog buddies (I should trademark the term, I see it catching on), are my 21st century pen pals. My Blog Buddies Laura and Michelle also ran the British 10K on Sunday, so we decided to meet up at the race. Laura and I started the race together, and we met up with Michelle once we were all done. (I should note that Laura beat me in the race-- well done Laura-- because I just gave up trying to dodge around all the walkers and runners that were slower than us to keep up with her.)

Like all meetings of pen pals, 21st century or otherwise, you know lots of things about these people, but you haven't spent much time together. So it's a little bit strange, and could even be awkward. Once we did meet in person, we hugged each other like old friends and didn't stop talking for several hours.

We found out during our post-race lunch that we had many things in common: we all did the London Marathon, we're all foreigners in Britian, we're all tenacious, we'd all like to be faster runners, we all have close families and none of us take ourselves too seriously.

The race itself was rubbish (too many people, no water at the finish, poor markings, I could go on) but the rest of the day was fantastic. We are now trying to decide what race we will meet up at next.

This great day just prove the serendipitous nature of friendships: whether its at high school, through work, by the school gates or via the Internet.

The Centre of the Universe

London seems to be the centre of the universe at the moment, with Wimbledon continuing, the (best) Live8 concert tomorrow, the start of the Summer Sales and the Olympics bid decision next week.

We've got a jam-packed weekend planned.

It's an all-American women's final at Wimbledon tomorrow, with Lindsay Davenport playing Venus Williams. I'd like to see Lindsay win-- she might not be the most exciting person, but she is an amazing player and very classy. Go Lindsay!

I will be watching the Live8 concert from the comfort of my sofa (boo!) but with an ice-cold beer in my hand (yeah!). The winners of Live8 tickets learned yesterday that alcohol will be banned at the event, which suddenly made me feel not so sad that I didn't win tickets. Also, as previously predicted in MarathonMum, given the number of artists performing, they'll each be playing no more than four songs.

The start of the Summer Sales is also a big deal in the city. Now, my American friends-- they live in the land of perpetual sales-- are scratching their heads and wondering what the big deal is. But here, we have two sales a year-- one right after Christmas and one in the summer. So this is it for bargains. I've gotten used to it, and in fact, I'm not convinced that Americans get bargains if things are on "sale" all the time. Tim hit the sales on Friday, and I will be attempting to get a few things tomorrow.

Finally, in the lead up to the Olympics decision on Wednesday, there will be a 10K race in the heart of London on Sunday morning. Now, I am slightly worried about what my performance will be, given my Marathon periformis problems, but I did run six miles on Thursday and it went great, so maybe it won't be the disaster I fear. Even better, though, is that I'm meeting up with two of my fellow bloggers whom I "met" while we all trained for the London marathon. Laura and I plan to run together, and Michelle is going to meet up with us after for some celebratory pints.

Have a great weekend, everyone.

London 2012 - Back the Bid

Olympic fever seems to be contagious at the moment, since the International Olympic Committee will announce on Wednesday which city will host the 2012 Summer Olympics.

London is a finalist to host the games with Paris, Madrid, New York and Moscow. As you can see from the photo below, our family (well, Andrew and I, anyway) would really like to see London win. Sure, our taxes would go up, and there would be all sorts of hassle associated with the games, but it would just be SO COOL if the Olympics were in London, as I've always wanted to go.

If London wins, Greenwich itself will be the host venue for the equestrian competitions (at our local Royal Park), gymnastics and basketball (at the old Millennium Dome), meaning I could walk to the horse events (if only I had any interest at all in them), or hop a bus-- or run if I were by myself-- to the other two events at the Dome.

Last Saturday they had a "Back the Bid" event at Greenwich Park, where Andrew got to try out the Olympic sports of rowing, judo, football and bicyling. We had our fitness tested, which gave me yet another opportunity to casually mention that I ran the London Marathon. The tester complimented me on my fitness-- I was excellent or good in all categories-- so I thought it was only right that I tell her why. They also had a parade, which Andrew and I had made flags for (see picture below). We even got our Back the Bid t-shirts, which we both wear with pride. Andrew, in fact, loved his so much that I had to convince him it was time to wash it after he'd worn it for two straight days.

According to the British press, Paris and London are the joint favourites to host the Games. Madrid is considered to be in third place and New York and Moscow aren't in the running, apparently (sorry, American and Russian friends).

Needless to say, I am ardently following developments related to the awarding of the Games. I hope London wins.

London 2012 - Back the Bid! (Register your support at www.london2012.com/en/)

Andrew, clad in his Leap for London T-Shirt, joins in the Back the Bid celebrations at Greenwich Park Saturday. 

Prince William to Work in the City

Prince William, future King of England, will work alongside those who think they are kings when he takes a job in the City.

Prince William graduated with honours from St. Andrew’s University Thursday. The British press quickly dubbed him the brainiest-ever royal, as his neither father or his uncles graduated with honours. (The Queen, alas, did not go to university. She has a degree from the School of Hard Knocks. And a crown.)

Upon graduating, William outlined the three work experiences he has chosen for the next six months. He’ll work on a farm, with a mountain rescue team, and in the City. “The City”, for those MarathonMum fans not from here, is the London equivalent of Wall Street. When you say you “Work in the City” it is understood to be at a financial institution, usually making loads ‘n loads of cash.

“I very much hope that these work placements will give me hands-on experience in three very different but important areas," William said in a statement. “The work experience in the City was something I was particularly keen to do as I feel that this is an area in which I could learn a lot, and it may well help me with charitable fund-raising in the future.” [Read: Meet more rich people who will be able to pony up large amounts of cash when I need it for my yet-to-be-named-or-formed charity.]

No specific financial institution was named due to security concerns, so Bloomberg News needs to get on the case and break the story. Come on, people! This is the sort of news people need, not the latest in the Citigroup-Legg Mason deal or whether oil is still trading above $60 (At the time of writing, it was trading at $59.90).

The Friday newspapers contained some speculation about where William will work. The Sun said it might be Merrill Lynch, where William’s friend Edward van Custem is employed. The Telegraph said it might be Barclays, KPMG or Coutts, the Queen’s bank. (“Would you like me to ask my banker if they have any summer jobs?” she asked her grandson. “Sure, Grandma, that would be brilliant!”)

Personally, I think it’s hilarious that William will work in the City. Here he is, the future King of England, surrounded by men with Ego Complexes larger than England. Wouldn’t it be great if just once he told them, “You think you’re so hot because you got a £5 million bonus last year? One day I will be your ruler!” A girl can dream, can’t she?

“The City” can also roughly include Canary Wharf, just on the other side of the river from Greenwich, since so many financial institutions are there. Maybe one day, I’ll be minding my own business at the local Pret a Manger when he will stroll over to buy a Coronation Chicken sandwich. Again, a girl can dream, can’t she?

Tim Henman Update

Tim Henman put Britain out of his annual misery by losing in the second round of Wimbledon. He did put up a fight, losing in five sets, but still, that's it for him, for this year at least.

We'll always have Henman Hill, though.

Tennis Update

Tim Henman barely made it past his first-round opponent Tuesday, taking more than three hours to finally win in five sets.

Andy Murray, The Next Great Hope, breezed through his first-round game, winning in straight sets.

See what I said about the up-and-comer and the old timer? Remember: You read it here first in MarathonMum.

Wimbledon, a British institution

It’s late June, and that only means one thing to the fine people of Britain: Will this be the year that Tim Henman finally wins Wimbledon?

Henman-fever really is something to see. It’s a combination of national pride and a desire to see the nice guy win. In some ways, it is not very British to be so ambitious and obvious to hope that this will be the year he'll do it. Every year, in the days leading up to Wimbledon, there are the inevitable stories and speculation: Will this be Tim’s year? And for the seven tournaments I’ve witnessed from these shores, the answer has been (sadly) No.

This year, however, there seems to be a lower temperature for Henman Fever. Either the fans have been disappointed enough times, or it’s a nod to the fact that Tim is in the twilight years of his tennis career, but there’s an up-and-coming British player, Andrew Murray, who is getting an equal amount of attention.

Murray won the U.S. Open Junior title last September, and he’s in Wimbledon on a wild card. (His mother, incidentally, taught tennis to my friend Gillian, who grew up in his hometown). It probably won’t be Andrew’s year, but I doubt, as much as I’d like to see it—that it’ll be Tim’s year either.

On a personal note, I find it funny that the torch is being passed from a Tim (my husband’s name) to an Andrew (my older son’s name).

Regardless, when Wimbledon is on it’s a great time of year to be in London. Strawberries are in season. It’s time to make Pimms on a regular basis. The BBC coverage—from dawn until nightfall—is unparalleled. I’d be in front of the telly all day watching tennis, if I could.

When we went to Wimbledon ourselves, in 1999 and again in 2000, we loved it. It was one of those wonderful moments in life when you take a minute, look around and think, “I’m really here! This is so cool!!” We ate strawberries. We studied the brackets. We saw some great tennis. I even caught an errant ball, which, to this day, I’m sorry I threw back to the ball boy.

Wimbledon is a great British institution. Be sure to eat strawberries and drink some Pimms while you watch it-- if you can. But most of all, enjoy it-- even if Tim doesn’t win.

Human Cannonball Can't Fly

A human cannonball was fired from his job because he wouldn't fly.

Todd Christian, who worked for Cottle & Austen Circus, lost his job because his fear of flying prevented him from attending a special training camp in human flying in Brazil, according to a story in today's Independent.

Christian, who previously held posts as a lion trainer and trapeze artist (talk about multi-talented!), took on the explosive task of human cannonballing two months ago. However, the daily act of being shot out of the cannon via compressed air with pressure of 190-pounds-force per square inch led to several injuries and muscle strain.

The circus wanted to send Christian to special training at the Guiana space center in Brazil, but he didn't want to fly there. He told the Independent, "I know it sounds silly because I'm a human cannonball, but I don't like long flights and if I'm on a plane for a long time I start to panic." The circus fired him once he refused to fly.

Christian is now consulting with a lawyer about suing for unfair dismissal.

Christian's replacement, Diego the Human Rocket, has been to the specialist training camp. But he is from Brazil. It is not known if Diego also suffers from a fear of flying, but it seems unlikely.

Now I'm no expert on phobias, but do you think the fear of flying and the whole shot-out-of-a-cannon-at-60-mph thing are related?

Please, justify my existence.

Live 8 Ticket Mania Update

Winners of Live 8 concert tickets will be banned from using Ebay to sell them, the global auction house said late Tuesday.

As first reported in MarathonMum Tuesday afternoon, some Live 8 ticket winners were attempting to use Ebay to sell the highly sought after tickets. However, many of these sellers were being stymied in these efforts as people put in false bids of up to £10 million pounds.

Sir Bob Geldolf, Live 8’s organizer, described the sales as “sick profiteering” and pressed Ebay to ban the sale of the tickets. More than 2 million people sent text messages in the hopes of winning tickets to the Live 8 concert on July 2 in Hyde Park, which will feature U2, REM, Madonna, Coldplay, Sir Paul McCartney and others.

Even though Ebay has banned the sales, it’s not going to stop people from trying to profit from their good fortune. But with Ebay out of the equation, it will make it much more difficult to get a high price for the tickets. Sellers will have to return to the dark and scary place where there is no Internet, and sell them through word of mouth, classifieds or the local newagent's window.Posting a notice in your local newsagent’s window is pretty far afield from being able to sell it on Ebay.

Finally, while I think it’s great that Ebay bowed to public pressure, I’m not convinced it was wholly necessary. When I checked the site late last night, before the tickets had been removed from sale, more than 20 pairs had bids of £10 million. It seemed as though those who objected to the sales were doing a fine job themselves of thwarting the auctions.

Live 8 Ticket Mania

As my mobile phone sits silent, I’m guessing that I didn’t win Live 8 London concert tickets. Bummer. I really wanted to go. Now I’ll have to watch it on BBC with everyone else. Looking on the bright side, at least I won’t have to stand all day, getting high off secondary smoke, only to listen to one band play three songs, followed by one hour of changing equipment for the next act. (At least, that was my experience when my friends and I went and saw the Amnesty International concert in Philadelphia in 1988.)

Just out of curiosity, I decided to check EBay, the capital of secondary markets, to see at what price tickets are being sold. At the moment, there are 422 ticket pairs up for sale. Five pairs of tickets have the highest bid-- a staggering £10 million pounds, with two more pairs at more than £9 million and three pairs at £5 million. No, those aren’t typos. Upon closer inspection, it seems as though people who have a philosophical problem with selling the tickets on EBay are driving up the prices. Some of the names of the bidders include, “don’t-bid-live8-is-for-proverty-not-profit,” and “against profit from suffering” and “charity cheaters get stuffed” and “live8istomakepovertyhistory”.

EBay seems to have its hands full, as when I look into the bid history of some of these tickets, there are dozens of bids cancelled for each of these tickets due to it being an excessive bid. Some of comments of the cancelled bids were, “I suspect the user is abusing the system.” One could argue that the seller is doing the same.

The anarchist in me applauds these people for mucking up the bidding when people are trying to profit off of Live8. If any of the sellers were to say that they would be contributing their sale’s proceeds to charity, then I’d say, let the market decide how much the ticket is worth. But since all of them seem to be trying to profit from what is a worthy cause, then I’d say, they deserve it.

But if any of you out there have won tickets and are looking for a friend to accompany you, I’m available that day.

Fame! (For one evening only)

Now I know what it feels like to be famous. (And frankly, it was great.)

CAMFED (The Campaign for Female Education), the Cambridge-based charity that sends girls to school in Africa, held a fundraising evening on Wednesday at Marlborough House on Pall Mall. Allison Pearson, best selling author, brilliant journalist and CAMFED patron, gave a rousing speech to the assembled throng of super-successful women. The key to success is education, she said, and if you educate one girl, you educate an entire village.

So how did I make the cut for this event? I did say the room was filled with “super-successful women.” I first learned about CAMFED from Allison in early December, about a week after I learned I had a spot in the London Marathon. I wanted to find a charity that didn’t have any official London Marathon charity spots, and one that could benefit from my luck. In December, when Allison said the three magic words: girls, education and Africa, and I realized I had found my charity.

Now after months of badgering my friends, family and strangers about CAMFED, I’m thrilled to announce that I was able to raise more than £4,000 (nearly $8,000) to send African girls to school. Now if someone asks me, “What have you done to make the world a better place?” I have an answer.

Even though I found myself in the rare but glorious position of being perfectly dressed for the occasion—especially with my new red L.K. Bennett shoes—I still found myself wandering around the party in Younger Sister mode, i.e. skulking about around the outer fringes of the party, hoping no one would notice me.

Marlborough House is a next-door neighbour to St. James Palace, and just down the street from Buckingham Palace. It’s a quintessentially British royal residence: with huge murals, marble floors, sweeping staircases and drafty windows. Apparently, the royal pet cemetery is on the grounds of Marlborough House. “Where the ground is stiff with corgis,” said Allison Pearson.

CAMFED is a small, but incredibly effective, organization. Ann Cotton, its founder, began the charity with a bake sale. She had visited Zimbabwe, saw that girls needed money to fund their education, returned home to have the bake sale and sent the money back to Zimbabwe. Through those simple actions, CAMFED was born. Now, more than 10 years later, thousands of African girls have been educated through CAMFED’s efforts.

Once I called CAMFED and told them what I wanted to run the marathon for them, they were very supportive and helpful. Kirstin Gaymer, who ran the marathon last year, also gave me some survival tips. Finally, on Wednesday, I got to meet most of staff. Apparently, the staff, most of whom I didn’t know, also became fans of this online journal. “You’re Maureen Stapleton!” they would say, as if they had met someone important. One woman said, “It’s so great to finally meet you!! I love your blog!” Someone else told me, “You are our celebrity.”

Even Anthony Lane, ANTHONY LANE!, found me wandering around in Younger Sister Mode and said, “You’re the woman who ran the marathon. Well done!” [Anthony Lane, for those among you who are not New Yorker readers, is the movie critic at that magazine. He is a brilliant writer, and if he has a byline in that week’s issue, I tend to read him first.] Sadly, later on in the evening I think I blew my movie-loving credentials with him, when he enthusiastically asked me, “Have you seen ‘The Lady Eve’?” and I had to say no. I wanted to respond, “But I saw the four-hour long ‘La Belle Noiseuse’ and liked it! The last movie we saw was the documentary, ‘My Architect’! The next movie I’m going to watch is the Italian film, ‘Io Non Ho Paura [I’m not scared].’ I’ve spent my life talking about the career of Oscar winner Maureen Stapleton! I have movie-loving credentials! Really, I do!!”

But I digress. The amazing evening ended with me in a cab home (I missed the last train to Greenwich), taking yet another opportunity to talk about the marathon. “I ran this route when I did the marathon in April,” I told the driver. “You did?” he asked, looking back at me to get another look. “Well done!” I couldn’t help but add, “I also raised more than £4,000 to send girls to school in Africa.”

I can’t decide which accomplishment I’m prouder of.

We're Back from our Holiday!

Hello, class. Now that we’re back, we have many topics to cover.

Yes, MarathonMum has been away. I know, I know, I should have put a thoughtful “Blog Break” message on my site, but I did not. (My friend Kathy Quigley did that at her very funny and addictive blog, http://journals.aol.com/ksqwrite/RandomReality/) Instead, if you kept checking the site, you were faced with the oh-so-classy headline, “There’s a Needle in My Butt” for nearly two weeks and I am sorry. The following are short tidbits to preview what I’ll be writing about in the days ahead:

* MarathonMum and family went to Germany for the half-term break. For my American readers, “Half-Term” is what they call weeks off from school. It can be a bit a nightmare here in England because all schools follow almost identical schedules. So if you go on vacation during the week off, chances are good you will be surrounded by other British families. When we were waiting for the Eurotunnel on our drive over last Monday, nearly all the cars and minivans around us contained school-age children with parents looking somewhat overwhelmed and apprehensive. When I told one father, “Happy Half-Term!” he just grunted at me.

Germany was very….interesting. We stayed in an apartment overlooking the Mosel River and the surrounding vineyards, which was beautiful. We did lots of hikes through the woods, toured some castles (one of which I didn’t get to see really because Nicholas wasn’t so interested), drank lots of wine and generally had a great time. Andrew has written a story about it, which I post with pictures.

*My marathon efforts have been included in the CAMFED website! I am very excited about this. To see it, go to http://www.camfed.org/html/story28.html. Faithful MarathonMum fans will have heard it all before, but it’s still incredibly cool to be recognized. Also, when they wrote the bulletin, we were at 140 primary school girls to be educated for one year, but the figure has now increased to more than 150 girls. I am going to do my accounting tonight and will have an exact figure by tomorrow.

*My friend Tom Standage wrote the Most Excellent Book, “A History of the World in Six Glasses.” I had the time while on holiday to read it, and I loved it. It got a great review in the New York Times on Monday, and he’s been on his book tour in the U.S. and Canada this week. Buy this book! My review will be posted shortly.

*Live 8 is going to actually happen in Hyde Park and will feature such legendary artists as U2, REM, Madonna, Sir Paul McCartney, Elton John, Coldplay and…Mariah Carey. More than 1 million people have already sent texts hoping to win tickets to the concert. As the chances aren’t great, I don’t know if I will enter the lottery, but it’s such a good cause, it might be worth giving it a try. All proceeds will benefit Make Poverty History, a cause close to my heart, and one I will write about soon.

*I have less than one month until my next race, the British 10K on July 3. Yes, my hip still hurts, but I’ve realized that it might just have to be some pain that I’ll have to live with in the short term. Nicholas and I had a great run this morning—the weather was gorgeous—so that makes me optimistic that the 10K won’t be the disaster that I fear.

I hope these short previews will hold you over until I can tackle these subjects properly. Welcome back, everyone!

There's a Needle in my Butt!!

Regular readers of this journal will note that there hasn't been much in the way of running news here lately. The reason for its absence, despite this blog's title, is that I haven't been doing any. This is a very sad development for me, but even sadder for Nicholas, who really enjoyed our daily forays into the park and along the River Thames.

To use the technical term, I am having piriformis problems. This is the same hip problem that waylaid me just two weeks before the marathon. I only ran one mile on Marathon Day, and my hip then shouted at me, "What the hell are you doing to me??" Actually, the problem is one that I think most mothers can relate to: my piriformis muscle was doing the work of other muscles, when they were too lazy to do the work themselves. So when my piriformis is aching, that's its way of saying, "Doesn't anyone appreciate me around here? Do I really have to do the jobs of three people?"

I have been faithfully seeing my physiotherapist and doing the exercises required to rehabilitate it, but it still wasn't getting much better. Until Monday. I think the phsyiotherapist was somewhat exasperated that I was still complaining about this, so she suggested we "needle" it. It's sort of like acupuncture, but without the Chi element to it. The idea is that you get blood rushing to the area that hurts, and that helps alleviate the tightness in the muscle. I was willing to try anything, just as long as it didn't hurt anymore. I've got races scheduled for July, and I need to start training again.

So there I was, lying on my side, minding my own business, with a big fat needle sticking out of my butt. Truth be told, I did think, "This is so hip!" (pun intended) "I'm just like Charlotte on Sex and the City!" It felt a little strange when she put the needle in, but it didn't hurt. Bear in mind, though, that my threshold of pain is somewhat different from many people, given that I've experienced childbirth twice and a marathon once.

To make a long story short, I think The Needle In My Butt worked. I'm still a little sore, but I was able to go out for a short run today without my hip hurting. I'm going to go for a slightly longer run tomorrow.

What's the moral of the story? For those, like me, with Pain in the Butt (this does not include offspring), try a Needle in the Butt. It works a treat!

Our Man in Jordan

Back in the old days, meaning those dark times before technology made our world so much smaller, getting posted abroad really meant something. Now, with the advent of the Internet, inexpensive air transportation and satellite technology, it's really no big deal to go anywhere. Foreign journalists are a dime a dozen. To become "Our man in London" or "Our woman in Tokyo" (how news organizations used to refer to their correspondents abroad) doesn't really require anything more than a valid passport and a desire to travel.

However, there are still times when journalists get sent to places so unusual or dangerous that it gives people pause. As regular readers of this journal know, Tim got to see one part of the Axis of Evil when he had to go to Iran in March. His latest destination was less dangerous, but nearly as exotic: Jordan, for the World Economic Forum.

Tim, who is an editor at Bloomberg, went to coordinate their coverage but to also chair a panel on Saturday.

In this picture below, taken while he did some on-air commentary for Bloomberg, you can see the Dead Sea behind him. He went swimming in it and he said it was the most bizarre sensation he's ever had. The Dead Sea is one of the saltiest water bodies in the world, so when you swim in it, it is virtually impossible to not float in it. Tim said it was nearly impossible to put his legs down to feel the bottom of the lake.

So Our Man in Jordan is now on his way back to London. However, the next scheduled business trip is just as interesting. He's meant to go to Nigeria.

Tim on air for Bloomberg News during the World Economic Forum in Jordan. 

Learning Geography the Easy Way

We had to take the Family Atlas (which to us is like a Family Bible) down from the bookshelf, as Tim has been floating around in the Dead Sea in Jordan this week.

Andrew is getting to be quite the expert in geography, given that in the last five months his dad has been to Moscow, Paris (twice), Iran and now Jordan. Next week, the whole family will travel to Germany for our spring break. Andrew apparently has put his geographic expertise to good use, showing his class where America was on the globe, and earning a house point in the process.

(Note for my American readers who haven’t read Harry Potter: In some British schools, classes are divided up into “Houses.” The term originates from boarding school, where Houses correlated to what dorm the students lived in. As there are no dorms in Andrew’s school, Houses are just a way to have the students compete against each other. I will report back when I find out what the Winning House gets at the end of the year.)

I’ve always been pretty good at American geography, but I really nailed down the Fly-Over Territory-- the region of the U.S. between the East Coast and the West Coast-- in 1988. That summer, I accompanied my brother on a road trip from Colorado to Pennsylvania. Sure, it might have been quicker and easier to nail down the difference between Kansas and Missouri by using some memorization techniques, but then I would have never seen the World’s Largest Prairie Dog in Kansas or taken a helicopter ride around the St. Louis Arch in Missouri.

Likewise, now that I’ve lived in London for more than six years, I’m a superstar when it comes to European geography. I can tell you where Andorra is (between France and Spain) and I’ve been to 2/3 of the Benelux region (Belgium and the Netherlands). We will complete the Benelux triumvirate when we drive through Luxembourg on the way to Germany.

With this trip, I will be able to add two more countries to my list of foreign countries visited, bringing my grand total to 14*. Tim’s total will be 18**, Andrew’s total will be 10***, and Nicholas’ total will be eight****. I think that’s a fairly impressive statistic for an American family, given that only 18% of U.S. adults hold a passport.

Yes, Germany is an unusual choice for a family vacation. I met a German man in the park today who even seemed flummoxed by our choice of destination. “Really?” he asked. “You’re going to Germany for holiday?? Not many people do.”

At the time, Nicholas was running away after a football, so I didn’t have time to explain that this was how my family learns geography.

*United States, Canada, Ireland, France, Belgium, Italy, Spain, Morocco, Finland, Czech Republic, the Netherlands, Luxembourg and Germany
**Add to my list: Switzerland, Russia, Iran and Jordan.
***Andrew visited Morocco and Finland before Nicholas was born, so add those to the list below.
****Great Britain, United States, Spain, France, Italy, Belgium, Luxembourg and Germany.

A Number Four, Please

Andrew followed in the steps of his younger brother to get his hair cut this afternoon. For some reason, he loves going to the barber. I don't know if it's the attention, the spritz of water, the ticklish brush or the lollipop at the end, but the trip becomes the highlight of his week.

The two boys and I arrived at the barbershop and Andrew arranged himself in the chair. The barber turned to me and asked, "What number do you want today?" To which I replied eloquently, "Huh??"

I tried to save face by quickly adding, "Just make it shorter all around." But then he tried to get all technical by asking where exactly did I want it to be shorter, how much did I want left at the top and whether or not there should be a lot of hair left around the ears. Are you kidding me? When did a boy's hair get so complicated? We're talking about a head that normally doesn't even see a brush every morning (one of the perks of being a boy).

Now I realize I should have known better, given that I am outnumbered by males in my household and I grew up with two older brothers, but I had no earthly idea what number haircut we needed. At least I knew that number referred to the length, but that was the extent of my knowledge. The very helpful and friendly barber looked around the barbershop, trying to find a picture that would give me an idea. But it was, after all, a barber shop, not a beauty parlor. It's not like there were old Cosmos lying around to give you ill-informed ideas about what you'd like to do with your hair.

In the end, the barber decided to do a number four. "I can make it a number three by cutting it again, but I can't make it a number four by gluing back the hair that I've cut," he said.

So if you ever need to take Andrew to the "haircut store", as he calls it, remember that he needs a number four.

 

One Month Later

One month has passed since I finished the London marathon. Looking back on it now, what did I learn?

-It is not shameless behaviour to tell every person you see that you are running/have run the London marathon. However, no one—except maybe your five-year-old son and your physiotherapist—wants to keep talking about it one month later.

-There is a time and a place when wearing your medal is appropriate. While you may be tempted to wear it to bed, it might post a strangulation risk. But at least the medics there to take your dead body away would say, “Look at that! She ran the marathon!” In addition, it could be considered somewhat audacious to wear your medal every day or even to carry it with you everywhere.

-Your feet will never be the same, and will never forgive you for having run. At last count, I lost four toenails, (Where did they go? Maybe I should check under the bed again), two turned black/purple and four survived. It was only a week ago that I was able to venture into a shoe store to get a lovely new pair of red pumps. Of course, it also gave me another chance to tell a stranger about what I’d done. (“Sorry about the feet, but I ran the marathon last month.”)

-Even if you’ve fully loaded your iPod shuffle, the only songs that will rise above the din of the crowd to make it to the front of your brain will be your three All-Time Favorites: “Born to Run” by Bruce Spingsteen (I’m a Jersey Girl. What can I say?), “Respect” by Aretha Franklin (Sisters of the World, Unite!) and “Clocks” by Coldplay (Nicholas and Andrew’s most favourite song, which they dance to every morning).

-Running 26.2 miles is the easiest way to make a 6.2 mile run seem like a walk in the park.

-It is impossible to wipe the smile off your face or the immense pride you feel when you think about finishing the marathon for the 1,784th time.

-It’s a great thing to talk about at cocktail parties, though, again, showing off your medal is frowned upon.

-The generosity of my friends and family, and even some strangers, astounds me. The combined donations of people on both sides of the Atlantic will be enough to send more than 150 African girls (and counting!) to primary school for one year. It’s still not too late to donate—click on the link to the right. For me, that’s an even bigger accomplishment than having finished the race. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart, to everyone who donated.

Nicholas Turns Two!

Champagne. Chocolate cake. A Royal Park. Friends. Sunshine. Laughter. Onion dip. Submarine sandwiches. The Greenwich Meridian line. Leftover Easter candy.

We found that these were the ten essential things for an unforgettable second birthday party on Saturday.

Friends gathered in the Secret Garden at Greenwich Royal Park, astride the Greenwich Meridian line, 0 degrees longitude. We drank Nicolas (Feuillatte) champagne (Yum!), and then when that ran out, we acknowledged Nicholas’ dual heritage by drinking Pimms. In a culinary nod to his American roots, we ate submarine sandwiches—also known as hoagies or heroes, depending on where you are in the U.S.—and onion dip, which our British friends LOVED and found quite exotic. After a dodgy start to the day, the sun made an appearance at the party and stayed for the duration, until we all had to get home to put the kids to bed. In the goody bags, the children were awarded with Incredibles toys and leftover Easter candy. Yes, you read that correctly. I have no shame. But since everyone there knows me, and since I included a witty note about it, I just didn’t care about how that appeared.

A grand day was had by all.

If only all children’s birthday parties could be so simple. One of the terrible truths that no parent passes on is how a simple celebration to mark another year becomes A Very Big Deal once they hit age four. Maybe it’s a reflection of living in London, where everything is competitive. All I know is that Andrew’s sixth birthday is four months away, and I’m already trying to figure out how we’ll mark the occasion for his friends.

On Saturday, one of the highlights of the afternoon was a Nicholas Trivia Quiz. The winner got to take home a bottle of Nicolas champagne. (Congratulations Tom and Kirstin, who got 9 out of 10 correct, plus the bonus question right). If you’d like to try your luck, here’s the questions, and you can post your answers and I’ll tell you how you did.

1. When is his birthday?
2. How did Maureen get to St. Thomas’ Hospital?
3. What colour are his eyes?
4. What is his favourite fruit snack?
5. What did he do on his father’s last birthday?
6. What did Tim do on Nicholas’ first birthday?
7. What is the name of his swim teacher?
8. What is his favourite film?
9. What was his first proper noun?
10. What is his middle name?
Tie-breaking question:
What colour is his toothbrush?

Nicholas is somewhat befuddled by all the fuss of his second birthday, but he very much enjoyed his Incredible cake! 

What's in a Name?

Personally, I think choosing a name for an offspring is one of the most difficult tasks a parent faces. It’s a moniker that has to carry the child through his or her toddlerhood, primary school, awkward teenage years, and finally, into adulthood. It’s a choice that will stay—or haunt, as the case may be—for a lifetime.

Even though my sons are five and nearly two, I still have moments when I question whether Andrew and Nicholas were good names to pick.

Our name-picking process was a bit tortured, to say the least. With son number one, he was knocking around for a full three days before we decided on a name. We were a bit more prompt with Nicholas (by one day), but only because our friends Anne and Chris babysat Andrew for us for a few hours so we could have a “Name Summit.” (I’m sure if we had a few more days to spare, we would have taken them to deliberate).

In our defense, we didn’t know the gender of either child ahead of time, so that made deciding when pregnant doubly difficult. Also, since we’re writers, I think we approached the task with slightly more obsessiveness than most people. But when people tell me they had a difficult time picking a name, I totally understand.

My friend Jennie gave birth to a beautiful daughter two weeks ago, but for the first few days, her daughter was also nameless. She and her husband had been expecting a boy—they have two older sons—so when a girl came along they were completely unprepared, both with pink clothes and a name. They thought they had decided on Opal for a name, but apparently so many people pulled a face when told the choice, they changed their mind. Their daughter’s name is now Lydia.

So today, when I was doing some research into the 60th anniversary of V-E day, (the original subject of today’s post, and don’t worry, I’ll get to World War II eventually), I came across the U.S. Social Security Site listing the most popular baby names. I started to look into how popular our choices were, and I was disappointed to see that both choices made it into the top 15. It is possible, however, that while Andrew and Nicholas may be popular in the U.S., they aren’t as popular in the U.K.

In any case, in 1999, the year Andrew was born, that name was the seventh most popular in the land. Andrew held that spot until 2003, when it jumped to No. 5, and last year, it settled back down to be the sixth most popular name.

In 2003, when Nicholas was born, it was the 13th most popular name, and it held that spot last year. George, which was a strong contender to be Nicholas’ first name, and is in fact his middle name, was ranked 138th. George is my father-in-law’s name, but when we were deciding on a name, I could hear my mother-in-law in the back of my mind saying, as she once had, “George always hated his name. It’s a terrible name.”

Now that I’ve seen that it wasn’t so popular that year, it made me second-guess our choice a full two years later. While it was always important to me that my children have names everyone can spell, I also don’t want either of my sons to have someone in his class with the same name. On the other hand, if you go too far in the other direction, by giving them a really distinct name, then you find yourself in Jennie’s situation, where people make a face and say, “Really?” when told the name, and I don’t want that either.

(If you’d like some fun, and if you’re not careful, you might waste a lot of time, check out your own name at the Social Security Site at http://www.ssa.gov/OACT/babynames/.)

As I’m still wrestling with our decisions, I don’t envy any new parent’s task of choosing a name for their new beautiful baby. Shakespeare asked, “What’s in a name?” Quite a lot, I’d say.

Happy Mother's Day Eve Eve

Happy Mother's Day Eve Eve, which in the United States, will be celebrated on Sunday. (Here in the United Kingdom, we held our Mother's Day bashes two months ago). But frankly, mothers aren't appreciated enough, in my opinion, so I might start lobbying my family that we celebrate on both the U.S. and U.K. holiday. Also, I would get to eat more cake. (Actually, no, I wouldn't be able to eat more cake because I haven't been able to run-- or even really walk-- since last weekend owing to my hip. So the marathon-inspired all-you-can-eat policy will have to be abandoned at the moment. But I digress.)

Now that I am one myself, I can say with authority: It's a thankless job being a mother. We could have a really great day-- one featuring art projects, games in the park, homemade brownies and a completely nutritional and organic dinner-- but no one would say to me at the day's end: "I had a really fun day today, Mom. Thanks!" It's more likely I would hear, "Why do I have to take a bath?"

When you're a full-time employee of a company, you're entitled to all sorts of benefits and you receive an annual job performance review. When you're a full-time employee of your family, there are no tangible benefits (such as sick days) and no annual review.

But just the other day, Andrew stopped eating his dinner and said to me, unprompted, "Thanks for making me such a nice dinner, Mom!" So maybe it's not such a thankless job after all.

Nicholas’s First Haircut…. And the power of commercials

We had a three-day weekend here in the U.K. (Happy May Day Everyone!) so it gave the Stapleton-Coulter Family an opportunity to get things done that we have been putting off. Mainly, getting Nicholas’s hair cut for the first time.

Yes, yes, I know he’ll be two years old in two weeks, but if you’ve ever seen his beautiful cherubic curls, you would understand my reluctance to get them snipped. I also realize that his hair was getting so long he was getting both dreadlocks and mistaken for a girl (I don’t know what’s worse), but still, I waited to do the deed.

Andrew, it should be noted, had the same type of beautiful curly hair, but because he was my first and I was eager for him to experience his first milestones as quickly as possible, we had his cut at 19 months. I think the difference this time around is that because Nicholas is my baby and we don’t plan to have any more children, I’m happy to extend his babyhood for as long as possible.

On Saturday morning, I screwed up my courage and called Trotters, the ever-so-posh children’s clothing/shoe/toy store in Chelsea that also does children’s haircuts. We don’t venture into SW3 very often, but this store makes a big deal out of a first haircut, and Andrew had his done there too, so we decided to return. SW3, the former home of Sir Isaac Newton, Jonathan Swift and Oscar Wilde, is just too posh, beautiful and lovely for words. Years from now, if anyone asks either of my sons where they had their first haircut, they can say with pride, “In Chelsea!”

I think Nicholas was as reluctant to get his hair cut as I was to see it done. When the hairdresser asked how much she should take off, I said, “Keep the Curls” as if it were a war cry.

Nicholas really doesn’t like people touching his curls—it usually makes him cry. “Don’t touch my Mojo!” is what we think he would like to say, if he could talk. Saturday proved to be no exception. As soon as the hairdresser started to work, Nicholas started to cry and kept covering his hair with his hands. I tried to hand him snacks to keep his hands busy, but he wasn’t going for it. Finally, the deed was done and it looked great. He still had his curls, but no one would mistake him for a girl—at least for now.

Meanwhile, Andrew kept himself amused during the haircut by browsing around the shop. For weeks, he’s been asking if he could get Geox shoes. I had no earthly idea what Geox shoes are, but Geox must advertise on Nick Jr. Andrew tells me, “They’re the shoes that breathe.” [I know all the parenting books say you shouldn’t use TV as a babysitter, but I use the time the boys are entertained by TV to do really exciting things—like make Andrew’s lunch or take a shower]. “Can I look for Geox shoes, Mom?” Andrew asked. “Sure,” I said, never thinking he’d find them.

But sure enough, the store stocked them. Disappointingly for Andrew, though, they didn’t have his size in any of Geox shoes they carried. When some other children overheard Andrew’s request, they said to their parents, “I want Geox shoes too!” (I guess they also watch Nick Jr.) Tim and I picked out some other shoes that we thought were just as cool, but Andrew would sigh and say, “But do they breathe?” When we’d say no, he’d put the pair back on the shelf.

We went to three other shoe stores and we could not find the elusive Geox shoes. The next day we decided to make Andrew’s need for Geox shoes our mission, so we went Geox’s only store in central London. Alas, they didn’t have his size either. At this point, I lost whatever maternal patience sent me on this quest and we went to Selfridges—a department store—to find Andrew a new pair of shoes.

While Selfridges didn’t have Geox shoes either, we found a pair that looked nearly identical. Having learned our lesson the hard way, when Andrew asked, “Do these shoes breathe?” We said, “Of course!” Andrew is now running around in a cool new pair of shoes, though they are not Geox.

Parental duplicity is a beautiful thing.

This is a rushed picture (we had two minutes to get out the door to get there in time) taken by Andrew. You still get a sense of how many curls Nicholas had, though. 

This is after the haircut. It really doesn't look that much shorter, but when the hairdresser asked me how much she should cut, I said, "Keep the Curls!"