This week, I got to utter two phrases that I never imagined I would ever get to say in this lifetime.
No. 1: "I can't pick them up, because I'll be at a reception at Buckingham Palace."
That was SUCH a fun thing to say! After all, Buckingham Palace is such an inconic place, particularly for an American girl who got up at 5 a.m. to watch Prince Charles marry Lady Diana Spencer (that fairy tale didn't end so well, but it was a beautiful wedding).
I was due to go to "Buck Palace," as some locals like to say, for a tour and a wine reception with the American Correspondents in London. However, it wasn't meant to be, which leads me to...
No. 2: "I sprained my wrist while running."
As a very helpful friend pointed out to me after I said to the above, "You're not meant to run on your hands, love, you should use your feet!" But as anyone who knows me well will attest, I am the clumsiest person on earth. When I was a girl, my parents sent me to ballet lessons in the hope I would become graceful. It didn't work.
So on a beautiful Tuesday morning, I set out for a run-- the first one in school hours in which my personal trainer was not along for the ride. As I was running through the Royal Naval College and thinking about how nice it was to not be pushing a buggy, I suddenly found myself flying through the air, bouncing once (I'm guessing) and landing with a thump with my arms and legs akimbo. Nice one. After I checked that no bones were protruding through my skin or I wasn't bleeding profusely and I assured the worried onlookers that I was OK, just deeply embarrassed, I continued on my way and ran about 3 miles.
However, by the time I arrived home, my left wrist was already swelling up, not to mention the layers of skin I lost off my right elbow and the huge purple bruise I earned on my left knee. As the afternoon wore on, the thought of spending a few hours admiring Buckingham Palace clutching a glass of wine while dressed nicely was more than I could bear, so I cancelled.
After a restless night when it was very difficult to sleep, I got myself to the hospital to hear the verdict: it's not a fracture, but a bad sprain. So now I have an oh-so-attractive wrist splint, along with a royal blue sling. I'm considering writing on the sling, "Running Injury!" just for laughs.
I have to say, though, saying those two things was LOTS of fun, though doing them was another matter entirely.
Friday, September 22, 2006
Sunday, September 17, 2006
How Do You Solve A Problem Like Spongebob?*
*Sung to the tune of "How Do You Solve A Problem Like Maria?" from the Sound of Music.
After yesterday's marathon of events (a "Charlie & the Chocolate Factory" birthday party for Thing One, a screening of "Curious George" for Thing Two, a reading awards ceremony for Thing One and a Zoomaround birthday party for the both of them, all in different locations), I was hoping for a relatively restful morning before heading out to Greenwich's annual Car Free Day. It was not to be.
Let me explain. At the screening of "Curious George" Thing Two received a gift bag to celebrate the Picturehouse's first birthday. The bag included a Spongebob Squarepants T-shirt, which unfortunately for Thing Two was two sizes too big for him, but the perfect size for Thing One. [All the parents reading this know what happened next.] Thing One wanted to wear the shirt. Thing Two said no. Thing One put on the shirt, to show him how perfect it was. Thing Two said no. Thing One asked, enquired, pleaded and begged Thing Two to wear the shirt. No. No. No. No. This went on for-- I'm not kidding-- an hour. At one point, Thing One went down to his new typewriter and typed out the message, "Please Nichlas, let me wear the shirt." No again.
Much like the U.N. in civil wars, I found that I needed to get involved.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I give you a chocolate? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I give you a Simpsons ice lolly? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I get you a magazine? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I get you a cupcake? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I get you a very special treat, which you can pick out? Oh, [big sigh] OK.
With peace brokered, we set out for Greenwich Car Free Day. In its fifth year, this is an annual event where two major streets are closed down for entertainment, games, food and fun. It's always heaving with people, and we always run into lots of friends there. It's great.
As expected, with the hordes of people at events like this come the helium balloon vendors. After we had finished our bike race challenge (with Thing One pedalling, and Thing Two sitting atop the stationery bike while I pushed the pedals for him [I won]), we found a vendor with a cast of characters: Tigger, Piglet, Dora the Explorer, Bob the Builder and (hooray!) Spongebob Squarepants.
How Do You Solve A Problem Like Spongebob? You pay £4 to get a helium balloon. Peace at last.
After yesterday's marathon of events (a "Charlie & the Chocolate Factory" birthday party for Thing One, a screening of "Curious George" for Thing Two, a reading awards ceremony for Thing One and a Zoomaround birthday party for the both of them, all in different locations), I was hoping for a relatively restful morning before heading out to Greenwich's annual Car Free Day. It was not to be.
Let me explain. At the screening of "Curious George" Thing Two received a gift bag to celebrate the Picturehouse's first birthday. The bag included a Spongebob Squarepants T-shirt, which unfortunately for Thing Two was two sizes too big for him, but the perfect size for Thing One. [All the parents reading this know what happened next.] Thing One wanted to wear the shirt. Thing Two said no. Thing One put on the shirt, to show him how perfect it was. Thing Two said no. Thing One asked, enquired, pleaded and begged Thing Two to wear the shirt. No. No. No. No. This went on for-- I'm not kidding-- an hour. At one point, Thing One went down to his new typewriter and typed out the message, "Please Nichlas, let me wear the shirt." No again.
Much like the U.N. in civil wars, I found that I needed to get involved.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I give you a chocolate? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I give you a Simpsons ice lolly? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I get you a magazine? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I get you a cupcake? No.
Will you let him wear the shirt if I get you a very special treat, which you can pick out? Oh, [big sigh] OK.
With peace brokered, we set out for Greenwich Car Free Day. In its fifth year, this is an annual event where two major streets are closed down for entertainment, games, food and fun. It's always heaving with people, and we always run into lots of friends there. It's great.
As expected, with the hordes of people at events like this come the helium balloon vendors. After we had finished our bike race challenge (with Thing One pedalling, and Thing Two sitting atop the stationery bike while I pushed the pedals for him [I won]), we found a vendor with a cast of characters: Tigger, Piglet, Dora the Explorer, Bob the Builder and (hooray!) Spongebob Squarepants.
How Do You Solve A Problem Like Spongebob? You pay £4 to get a helium balloon. Peace at last.
Wednesday, September 13, 2006
Happy Roald Dahl Day!!!!
Roald Dahl should need no introduction, but in case you don't know what all the hullabaloo is about-- and hallabaloo is JUST the kind of word he would love-- he is quite simply the most brilliant children's author ever.
Dahl, who would have been 90 years old today, might be best known for writing the classic tale, "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory," but that is just one of many fantastic books he penned from the shed in the back of his garden. He is also responsible for the James' fantastic flight in "James and the Giant Peach," the clever mind of "Fantastic Mr. Fox" and the pharmaceutical experiment gone wrong in "George's Marvellous Medicine." He was, in short, a genius.
Here at MarathonMum HQ, we are on High Alert for the celebration. In fact, the very first thing that Thing Two said this morning was, "It's Roald Dahl Day today! Hooray!!" As we walked to school in our yellow t-shirts (see below) Thing One worried aloud, "Why isn't anyone else wearing yellow shirts?" I replied, "Maybe they didn't realize Roald Dahl is today." During story time at our local bookstore, Nicholas interrupted "The Gruffalo's Child" to tell the woman, "Today is Roald Dahl Day!" This, in fact, was news to her because the store's celebration is scheduled for next Saturday. Sometimes, three-year-olds DO have something to teach you!
But you don't have to sit on the sidelines watching others celebrating Roald Dahl Day, instead you can take up the Roald Dahl Day Challenge (for more information about the big day, go to this site). For fans under the age of 10, complete the number of challenges equal to your age. If you're older than 10, you should strive to complete all on the list.
Help probably would it but fun the in join to gobblefunk in fluent be to need not do you. [This is not a typo. Please see number 5 and 3 below.]
Here's what to do:
1. Wear something yellow – it was Roald's favourite colour!
2. Wear one or more items of clothing backwards.
3. Drop "gobblefunk"* into your conversations
(the unique language created by Roald and most commonly used by
the BFG).
4. Swap a Roald Dahl book with a friend.
5. Talk backwards.
6. Tell a silly joke – Roald loved swapping these with his kids.
7. Play an "unexpected" prank.
8. Give someone a treat – Roald was a great believer in treats, whether it was a bar of chocolate or a lovely surprise.
9. Write your own revolting rhyme.
10. Make up an Oompa Loompa dance and get all your friends to join in!
(In case you're wondering, MarathonMum has completed six of the 10 challenges by 2:34 GMT).
*Many thanks to Tom Standage who performed the electronic magic necessary so I could include the most-excellent graphic above. Tom can now cross No. 8 off his list, as this would count as a treat to me!
Sunday, September 10, 2006
A Partial List of Summer Fun
Summer is over. Bummer. But the memories will live on…
We travelled many miles—though not as many as last year—and had lots and lots of fun. For those of you interested in what constitutes “fun” this family (and yes, that includes a ride in a tow truck) here’s a partial list:
• Rode in the Chunnel on our way to France. (This entry is for you, Jenn Traficanti)
• Rather than looking for state license plates (an American pastime), we looked for EU country stickers while on the road in France.
• Played baseball in an organic vegetable patch.
• Collected eggs from chickens.
• Swam in the English channel off of Omaha Beach: A good place to surprise and defeat the Nazis in June 1942, and 64 years and (nearly) 64 days later, a good place to make sandcastles.
• Toured Mont St. Michele, 11 years after I first wanted to go there.
• Collected stickers for our “Cars” (the movie) sticker books.
• Swam in a pond, while fish skirted around our ankles.
• Found not one but two great bakeries in the small town we called “Maisy’s town,” but was actually Grandcamp-Maisy.
• Ate at a French McDonalds, where you can’t get milk with your Happy Meal, but you do have a choice of two different bottled waters. (this entry is for the boys, obviously)
• Ate yummy French food, especially the BBC: butter, bread and cheese.
• Visited the best aquarium we’ve EVER seen (and that includes Baltimore): Grand Aquarium Saint-Malo.
• Walked on the ramparts of Saint-Malo.
• Tried to correctly pronounce the town named “Rennes” when we visited.
• Walked on more ramparts in Dinan and tripped through its cobbled steep streets.
• Sat on our chairs and watched an actual “Cow Parade”—not a faux one created by a tourist board-- pass by our farmhouse.
• Milked some cows (That’s what Thing One says, but actually, we just got to watch. Whew! It SMELLS!!)
• Battled an invasion of flies in our farmhouse in Brittany. The flies won. We fled the scene.
• Saw “Cars” in an un-air conditioned cinema on one of the hottest days of the year. Thing Two fell asleep on my lap, making the un-air conditioned atmosphere even MORE uncomfortable.
• Weeded our back garden in the pouring rain.
• Made masks at our local library.
• Went on a Teddy Bear Picnic.
• Had tennis lessons.
• Rolled down the hill at Greenwich Park, much like they used to do in the halcyon Victorian days.
• Helped finish the school’s mosaic.
• Splashed in Emma and Wendy’s new splash pool.
• Ate Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes. Yum!
• Learned to live without electricity, “Like in the olden days,” Thing One said, when we lost our power seven times (for a total of more than 20 hours) over a three-day period.
• Enjoyed the fine products of Meantime Brewery at our favourite local pub, The Union. (that was the adults, NOT Thing One and Two)
• Saw “Cars” for a second time! This time, air conditioning wasn’t necessary, as it was a cold and rainy day.
• Got our faces painted at the library (Thing One: Spiderman. Thing Two: Tigger)
• Went to the Tate Modern. Got yelled at lots by the guards for nothing at all. (I think they had their fill of families at that point)
• Thing One opened a “Coffee Shop” with the drinks made with water and old chalk. Yum!
• Searched the house for nearly an hour, looking for a lost piece of wire Thing One’s friend had lost. When I say “wire” I mean “wire.” After Thing One found it, I spent another hour contemplating my career options.
• Went to the National Maritime Museum, where no guards yelled at us.
• Learned to love the art of Rope Swinging.
• Wore our polar bear (Thing One) and reindeer (Thing Two) ear muffs in August, just because we could.
• Witnessed the Science Experiment of the Year: Mentos-induced exploding Diet Coke.
• Made our own exploding volcanoes out of sand, vinegar and bicarbonate of soda.
• Created turtle pictures out of sand, seeds and bird feed.
• Rode donkeys at the top of Greenwich Park.
• Played hours and hours of Cadoo.
• Found an incredibly cool indoor play centre called Gambado, where Thing One met a girl who followed him around for the entire afternoon. Ah, young love.
• Rode in a tow truck! Whee!! (Thanks, AA)
• Made T-shirts at the Victoria & Albert Museum.
• Saw “The Bubble Show” for the (estimated) 55th time at the Science Museum.
• Rode bikes in the new garden of our friends Shakira and Tayo.
• Saw “Deep Sea 3-D” at the local Imax, where Thing Two spent almost all of the movie saying, “I want to go home now, Mom!” But when asked later how he liked it, he said, “I loved it!”
• Ate at Wagamama, our favourite family restaurant, several times.
• Celebrated our 11th Wedding Anniversary!
• Picked apples, corn and raspberries in Kent.
• Learned to pack 12 weeks of fun (an American-sized summer) into six (a British-sized summer).
We travelled many miles—though not as many as last year—and had lots and lots of fun. For those of you interested in what constitutes “fun” this family (and yes, that includes a ride in a tow truck) here’s a partial list:
• Rode in the Chunnel on our way to France. (This entry is for you, Jenn Traficanti)
• Rather than looking for state license plates (an American pastime), we looked for EU country stickers while on the road in France.
• Played baseball in an organic vegetable patch.
• Collected eggs from chickens.
• Swam in the English channel off of Omaha Beach: A good place to surprise and defeat the Nazis in June 1942, and 64 years and (nearly) 64 days later, a good place to make sandcastles.
• Toured Mont St. Michele, 11 years after I first wanted to go there.
• Collected stickers for our “Cars” (the movie) sticker books.
• Swam in a pond, while fish skirted around our ankles.
• Found not one but two great bakeries in the small town we called “Maisy’s town,” but was actually Grandcamp-Maisy.
• Ate at a French McDonalds, where you can’t get milk with your Happy Meal, but you do have a choice of two different bottled waters. (this entry is for the boys, obviously)
• Ate yummy French food, especially the BBC: butter, bread and cheese.
• Visited the best aquarium we’ve EVER seen (and that includes Baltimore): Grand Aquarium Saint-Malo.
• Walked on the ramparts of Saint-Malo.
• Tried to correctly pronounce the town named “Rennes” when we visited.
• Walked on more ramparts in Dinan and tripped through its cobbled steep streets.
• Sat on our chairs and watched an actual “Cow Parade”—not a faux one created by a tourist board-- pass by our farmhouse.
• Milked some cows (That’s what Thing One says, but actually, we just got to watch. Whew! It SMELLS!!)
• Battled an invasion of flies in our farmhouse in Brittany. The flies won. We fled the scene.
• Saw “Cars” in an un-air conditioned cinema on one of the hottest days of the year. Thing Two fell asleep on my lap, making the un-air conditioned atmosphere even MORE uncomfortable.
• Weeded our back garden in the pouring rain.
• Made masks at our local library.
• Went on a Teddy Bear Picnic.
• Had tennis lessons.
• Rolled down the hill at Greenwich Park, much like they used to do in the halcyon Victorian days.
• Helped finish the school’s mosaic.
• Splashed in Emma and Wendy’s new splash pool.
• Ate Ice Cream Cone Cupcakes. Yum!
• Learned to live without electricity, “Like in the olden days,” Thing One said, when we lost our power seven times (for a total of more than 20 hours) over a three-day period.
• Enjoyed the fine products of Meantime Brewery at our favourite local pub, The Union. (that was the adults, NOT Thing One and Two)
• Saw “Cars” for a second time! This time, air conditioning wasn’t necessary, as it was a cold and rainy day.
• Got our faces painted at the library (Thing One: Spiderman. Thing Two: Tigger)
• Went to the Tate Modern. Got yelled at lots by the guards for nothing at all. (I think they had their fill of families at that point)
• Thing One opened a “Coffee Shop” with the drinks made with water and old chalk. Yum!
• Searched the house for nearly an hour, looking for a lost piece of wire Thing One’s friend had lost. When I say “wire” I mean “wire.” After Thing One found it, I spent another hour contemplating my career options.
• Went to the National Maritime Museum, where no guards yelled at us.
• Learned to love the art of Rope Swinging.
• Wore our polar bear (Thing One) and reindeer (Thing Two) ear muffs in August, just because we could.
• Witnessed the Science Experiment of the Year: Mentos-induced exploding Diet Coke.
• Made our own exploding volcanoes out of sand, vinegar and bicarbonate of soda.
• Created turtle pictures out of sand, seeds and bird feed.
• Rode donkeys at the top of Greenwich Park.
• Played hours and hours of Cadoo.
• Found an incredibly cool indoor play centre called Gambado, where Thing One met a girl who followed him around for the entire afternoon. Ah, young love.
• Rode in a tow truck! Whee!! (Thanks, AA)
• Made T-shirts at the Victoria & Albert Museum.
• Saw “The Bubble Show” for the (estimated) 55th time at the Science Museum.
• Rode bikes in the new garden of our friends Shakira and Tayo.
• Saw “Deep Sea 3-D” at the local Imax, where Thing Two spent almost all of the movie saying, “I want to go home now, Mom!” But when asked later how he liked it, he said, “I loved it!”
• Ate at Wagamama, our favourite family restaurant, several times.
• Celebrated our 11th Wedding Anniversary!
• Picked apples, corn and raspberries in Kent.
• Learned to pack 12 weeks of fun (an American-sized summer) into six (a British-sized summer).
Wednesday, September 06, 2006
Back to School!
Thing One joyfully returned to school this morning, laden with his oh-so-hip "Cars" backpack and lunch box. This means, sports fans, that summer is officially over, even if the calendar disagrees. Of course, because school was open, that meant we had the nicest day we've had in weeks today.
Our accountants are now checking the accuracy of our summer fun list and it will be released tomorrow.
Monday, September 04, 2006
Apples of My Eyes
Thing One, Thing Two and I ventured into the darkest depths of Kent Sunday with the always-delightful Ella, Miles and chaperones (read: parents) for our annual end-of-summer tradition of fruit and corn picking. I say "tradition" but that's actually a misnomer: we did it last year, and we returned again this year and plan to go next year but I'm not really convinced we can describe it as a tradition until we've been there three times. You know the saying: one is a point, two is a line, three is a trend. Also, last year, there was no corn as the badgers got there first. But I digress.
Ella and Thing One eagerly explored the "Maize Maze" of a giant squirrel and made it to the centre on their own wits alone. To see them victorious at the finish, scroll down to the bottom of Ella's current website. To see how much they've grown since last year, scroll down to the bottom of last year's page. Thing Two and I missed the Maize Maze because he was feeling his age and didn't want to go. Oh well.
However, Thing Two did recover in time to pick some apples-- his most favorite fruit in the whole world. After that, we made our way over to the sweetcorn, where Kirstin won the Farmer O' the Day accolade because she knew that the corn we wanted to pick had silk that was black at the end. Way to go, city slicker! Finally, to finish it all off, we wrestled with the brambles and the thorns to pick a few raspberries. I can appreciate now why raspberries are so expensive, given how difficult they are to pick.
A beautiful day, with wonderful friends and fantastic food. What more could you ask for? (Maybe, just maybe, a husband that ISN'T on a plane to Dubai.)
Friday, September 01, 2006
The All-Star Crew at the V&A
(From left to right: Geogia, Ella, Miles, Nicholas (Thing Two) and Andrew (Thing One)Summer Fun Activity No. 61 (a full accounting will be available at the conclusion of the season) took place Thursday with a trip to the Victoria & Albert Museum in South Kensington.
The All-Star Crew, so named because all of the bipedalistic children wore Converse All-Star sneakers, took to the train, the tube and the (pedestrian) tunnel to get there. By the time we arrived at the family workshop area, the queue of eager families stretched out the door. The children were to create a pyschedelic T-shirt based on the museum's current 60's exhibition. All for free! In London! Miracles do happen.
Thing One diligently started to work, Thing Two diligently started to watch me work and their friends Ella and Georgia got down to business. Miles, who has not yet acquired bipedalistic skills, slept through the job.
The picture above shows the products of their (and our) labours. Thing Two seems particularly proud of the work he merely oversaw, but did not actually do. He's destined for management.
Thursday, August 31, 2006
Anything Can Be Fun
On Wednesday, Thing One, Thing Two and I, were ready to set out for Summer Adventure No. 57: fruit picking.
Under sunny blue skies, we packed our picnic, chose a rendevouz point with our friends, mapped our route, filled our station wagon with petrol and away we went. It was a scene that could have been ripped from a 1950s Good Housekeeping issue, except (a) I wasn't wearing a skirt, (b) the boys had chocolate on their faces, and (c) our station wagon [or estate, depending on what language you speak] does not have wooden cladding, nor is it American made.
All was going swimmingly as we sped down the highway until I heard clunk-clunk-clunk. "Oh," I thought. "That must be the car next to me," as I turned up the soundtrack to "Cars." As my friend in front sped up, I had the distinct feeling that our car, who we affectionately call Gazerbeam for its GB country sticker on the back, wasn't keeping up. Finally, disaster: we lost power, I couldn't downshift and lights starting blinking ominously on the dashboard. Luckily, I was able to get us over to the shoulder.
"Well boys, I've got some bad news and some good news," I told them after I had called my friend to say we wouldn't be joining her after all, and then the Automobile Association to come tow us away. "The bad news is we won't be fruit picking today. The good news is we can have a car picnic! Hooray!!"
"Gazerbeam is sad," observed Thing Two. "Poor Gazerbeam is tired," added Thing One.
So while we waited an hour for the AA to come rescue us, we ate our lunch, consoled ourselves with chocolate chip cookies (which always make me feel better), planned Thing One's 7th birthday party and listened to the "Cars" soundtrack some more.
After our tow truck driver left us in the warm embrace of our usual mechanic, he handed me the receipt for the tow. "Ah, yes," I said. "Good times!"
And while I have to say it wasn't the absolute best time we had all summer, it wasn't the worst time either, thus proving the maxim: Anything Can Be Fun.
Under sunny blue skies, we packed our picnic, chose a rendevouz point with our friends, mapped our route, filled our station wagon with petrol and away we went. It was a scene that could have been ripped from a 1950s Good Housekeeping issue, except (a) I wasn't wearing a skirt, (b) the boys had chocolate on their faces, and (c) our station wagon [or estate, depending on what language you speak] does not have wooden cladding, nor is it American made.
All was going swimmingly as we sped down the highway until I heard clunk-clunk-clunk. "Oh," I thought. "That must be the car next to me," as I turned up the soundtrack to "Cars." As my friend in front sped up, I had the distinct feeling that our car, who we affectionately call Gazerbeam for its GB country sticker on the back, wasn't keeping up. Finally, disaster: we lost power, I couldn't downshift and lights starting blinking ominously on the dashboard. Luckily, I was able to get us over to the shoulder.
"Well boys, I've got some bad news and some good news," I told them after I had called my friend to say we wouldn't be joining her after all, and then the Automobile Association to come tow us away. "The bad news is we won't be fruit picking today. The good news is we can have a car picnic! Hooray!!"
"Gazerbeam is sad," observed Thing Two. "Poor Gazerbeam is tired," added Thing One.
So while we waited an hour for the AA to come rescue us, we ate our lunch, consoled ourselves with chocolate chip cookies (which always make me feel better), planned Thing One's 7th birthday party and listened to the "Cars" soundtrack some more.
After our tow truck driver left us in the warm embrace of our usual mechanic, he handed me the receipt for the tow. "Ah, yes," I said. "Good times!"
And while I have to say it wasn't the absolute best time we had all summer, it wasn't the worst time either, thus proving the maxim: Anything Can Be Fun.
Sunday, August 06, 2006
MarathonMum Update
Hello MarathonMum fans. Yes, I know I've been on hiatus, with nary a word about where, when or how. Lots of things have happened since the previous post. To recap:
-England lost to Portugal. But it was a great party! (And many times, that's all that matters)
-Italy won the World Cup, but not before Zidane, arguably one the best players to play the game, showed the world how manly he was. ("Wow!" Thing One said when he viewed the head-butt-in-the-chest-incident. "That must have hurt.")
-Mr.MarathonMum went to Singapore for the second time in two months. How was it? "I have no idea," he said. "I was in meetings all day."
-MarathonMum had a sad, unexpected and brief SOLO trip to the U.S. Three weeks later, Thing Two still runs up to me, gives me a hug and says, "Mom! You're back from America!"
-Thing One finished his school year July 21. I still laugh when people say, "Have a great summer!" When the so-called summer is only six weeks long. If you want a summer, go to school in the U.S., where it's twice as long.
-Thing Two received his official letter about starting nursery school. I spend my time vacillating between joy (mornings to myself!), wonderment, (time for school already?) and a teeny, tiny bit of sadness (where did the past three years go?)
-Finally, the whole family went on a much needed and much appreciated two-week break to France.
We are back. I am back, refreshed and rested.
Normal MarathonMum postings will now resume.
-England lost to Portugal. But it was a great party! (And many times, that's all that matters)
-Italy won the World Cup, but not before Zidane, arguably one the best players to play the game, showed the world how manly he was. ("Wow!" Thing One said when he viewed the head-butt-in-the-chest-incident. "That must have hurt.")
-Mr.MarathonMum went to Singapore for the second time in two months. How was it? "I have no idea," he said. "I was in meetings all day."
-MarathonMum had a sad, unexpected and brief SOLO trip to the U.S. Three weeks later, Thing Two still runs up to me, gives me a hug and says, "Mom! You're back from America!"
-Thing One finished his school year July 21. I still laugh when people say, "Have a great summer!" When the so-called summer is only six weeks long. If you want a summer, go to school in the U.S., where it's twice as long.
-Thing Two received his official letter about starting nursery school. I spend my time vacillating between joy (mornings to myself!), wonderment, (time for school already?) and a teeny, tiny bit of sadness (where did the past three years go?)
-Finally, the whole family went on a much needed and much appreciated two-week break to France.
We are back. I am back, refreshed and rested.
Normal MarathonMum postings will now resume.
Saturday, July 01, 2006
Challenging Cuisine
Later today, England plays Portugal in the World Cup. Come on, England!
Excitement is at fever pitch. Stores have put up signs saying, "We will close at 3:30 so our employees can watch the World Cup." I got a parcel delivered at 7 a.m. today because Parcel Force is going to end the day early so they can see the game. By 4 p.m., I am certain there will be no traffic or pedestrians. Nearly everyone in this country will be glued to a television set.
We will be having a small party here at MarathonMum HQ. Thing One and Thing Two have their England shirts ready to go, and we've got England napkins, plates and flags.
Before the World Cup had even started, and we thought we'd be gathering today for another reason (for the Spaghetti Challenge Redux), my friend Sam had the brilliant idea that whoever was playing today, we should make the cuisine of that country. No problem, I thought, as the food of France, Italy and even Germany danced in my head.
But now we've got England (no problem) against Portugal (huh?). On Monday morning, I started to do some research into Portuguese food. I browsed the bookshelves with my 104 cookbooks (not a typo). I found a "Great Recipes of the World" and thought I'd hit paydirt. I paged past nice dishes like French Onion Soup and Chinese Cashew Noodles. Finally, I found one: Portuguese Grilled Sardines. Um, thanks, but no.
Larousse Gastronomique, the encyclopedia of food, was more forthcoming. The Portuguese like fish, especially cod. It suggested some dishes, but no recipes.
After trolling the Internet and checking some more cookbooks, I decided to make paella. I know that strictly speaking, it's a Spanish dish, but I have decided in my own mind that we will pretend that we're in a town in Portugal on the border with Spain. In actuality, it's a recipe from British-born Gordon Ramsay, but it's got lots of fish in it.
My friend Diana also did some dining detective work and found some Portuguese salad recipes on the Internet, which she will bring.
Meanwhile, Sam, who came up with the idea in the first place, rushed up to me yesterday and asked in a panic, "I don't know what I'm going to make! What should I do?" I said we still didn't have any desserts, so she is bringing (wait for it) strawberries and cream.
Excitement is at fever pitch. Stores have put up signs saying, "We will close at 3:30 so our employees can watch the World Cup." I got a parcel delivered at 7 a.m. today because Parcel Force is going to end the day early so they can see the game. By 4 p.m., I am certain there will be no traffic or pedestrians. Nearly everyone in this country will be glued to a television set.
We will be having a small party here at MarathonMum HQ. Thing One and Thing Two have their England shirts ready to go, and we've got England napkins, plates and flags.
Before the World Cup had even started, and we thought we'd be gathering today for another reason (for the Spaghetti Challenge Redux), my friend Sam had the brilliant idea that whoever was playing today, we should make the cuisine of that country. No problem, I thought, as the food of France, Italy and even Germany danced in my head.
But now we've got England (no problem) against Portugal (huh?). On Monday morning, I started to do some research into Portuguese food. I browsed the bookshelves with my 104 cookbooks (not a typo). I found a "Great Recipes of the World" and thought I'd hit paydirt. I paged past nice dishes like French Onion Soup and Chinese Cashew Noodles. Finally, I found one: Portuguese Grilled Sardines. Um, thanks, but no.
Larousse Gastronomique, the encyclopedia of food, was more forthcoming. The Portuguese like fish, especially cod. It suggested some dishes, but no recipes.
After trolling the Internet and checking some more cookbooks, I decided to make paella. I know that strictly speaking, it's a Spanish dish, but I have decided in my own mind that we will pretend that we're in a town in Portugal on the border with Spain. In actuality, it's a recipe from British-born Gordon Ramsay, but it's got lots of fish in it.
My friend Diana also did some dining detective work and found some Portuguese salad recipes on the Internet, which she will bring.
Meanwhile, Sam, who came up with the idea in the first place, rushed up to me yesterday and asked in a panic, "I don't know what I'm going to make! What should I do?" I said we still didn't have any desserts, so she is bringing (wait for it) strawberries and cream.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
How This Mom Watches World Cup, Part Two
Step One: Put the children to bed. This is critical. They may suddenly profess enthusiasm for the game, but don't be fooled. The only reason they're showing interest is because the 8 p.m. kickoff means their bedtime will get pushed back. Don't fall for it.
Step Two: Once the children have been bathed, read to and tucked in, realize you've missed the 8 p.m. kick off of England versus Sweden. Do not worry.
Step Three: Get a COLD beer out of the frig. For those MarathonMum fans who were slightly distressed that I had to drink a warm beer last week, do not despair. The warm beer reflected only my lack of forward planning.
Step Four: Prepare Indian ready-made-meal, as Mr. MarathonMum is at a work event. Listen out for cheering on the street.
Step Five: When cheering on the street is heard, rush upstairs to see first goal of the game.
Go England!
Step Six: After watching the goal replay, switch to the BBC's show on the Summer Exhibition (talk about counter-programming). Smile to yourself knowing that its host, Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, probably is not watching World Cup either, because you saw him picking up his dry cleaning during England's first game against Paraguay.
Step Seven: Answer phone and chat with friend, who is watching the game and gives you the necessary goal news as it happens. Chat for 40 minutes about jobs, life, memories and Angelina Jolie.
Step Eight: Go back upstairs and watch final 10 minutes so you can say you saw the game.
Step Nine: When offspring wake up in the morning, tell them that England tied Sweden, 2-2.
Step Ten: Get out globe to show them where Ecuador is.
Step Two: Once the children have been bathed, read to and tucked in, realize you've missed the 8 p.m. kick off of England versus Sweden. Do not worry.
Step Three: Get a COLD beer out of the frig. For those MarathonMum fans who were slightly distressed that I had to drink a warm beer last week, do not despair. The warm beer reflected only my lack of forward planning.
Step Four: Prepare Indian ready-made-meal, as Mr. MarathonMum is at a work event. Listen out for cheering on the street.
Step Five: When cheering on the street is heard, rush upstairs to see first goal of the game.
Go England!
Step Six: After watching the goal replay, switch to the BBC's show on the Summer Exhibition (talk about counter-programming). Smile to yourself knowing that its host, Laurence Llewelyn-Bowen, probably is not watching World Cup either, because you saw him picking up his dry cleaning during England's first game against Paraguay.
Step Seven: Answer phone and chat with friend, who is watching the game and gives you the necessary goal news as it happens. Chat for 40 minutes about jobs, life, memories and Angelina Jolie.
Step Eight: Go back upstairs and watch final 10 minutes so you can say you saw the game.
Step Nine: When offspring wake up in the morning, tell them that England tied Sweden, 2-2.
Step Ten: Get out globe to show them where Ecuador is.
Sunday, June 18, 2006
How This Mom Watches World Cup (In 7 Easy Steps)
1. Most importantly, you have to convince your two offspring that this is a good idea. Do not be lulled into a false sense of security that this will be easy if your two offspring are male. Particularly if they are under the age of 7. Indeed, evidence from a friend with two sons shows she had the same problem.
2. Persevere with No. 1. They may moan, ask to watch anything else or even, in a fit of desperation, suggest they will play outside. "Why do we want to watch television on a beautiful day like this?" they may ask. The correct response is to laugh, and heartily at that, because if they had control of the remote they would very much like to watch telly on a beautiful day like this. But they don't have the remote.
3. Don't say it to them during the game, but it's important that they watch England play World Cup, because, frankly, you don't want them to turn into the type of kids who get beat up in the playground.
4. Once you have asserted your authority over the remote, sit down and enjoy the game. But never forget you are a mother and your middle name is "Multitasking," so surround yourself with piles of laundry that need to be folded. Fold, watch, take sips of beer-- be sure said children do not trip over the beer-- and cheer, as necessary.
5. If the children decide that they are more interested in reading a book than watching the exploits of Beckham and the Bunch, do not despair. At least they're not still asking for the remote back.
6. Try not to recall the beer-fueled days of yore when watching Villanova victorious or Chicago celebrating. Those days are gone. This is the best it's going to be for World Cup. That's right: piles of laundry and a lukewarm beer. Life is good!
7. Take the opportunity to teach your children the fine art of celebration when England scores, and scores again. Jump, scream, clap and raise your hands in the air like you just don't care. (But you do, of course. Especially the beating-up-in-the-playground part.)
2. Persevere with No. 1. They may moan, ask to watch anything else or even, in a fit of desperation, suggest they will play outside. "Why do we want to watch television on a beautiful day like this?" they may ask. The correct response is to laugh, and heartily at that, because if they had control of the remote they would very much like to watch telly on a beautiful day like this. But they don't have the remote.
3. Don't say it to them during the game, but it's important that they watch England play World Cup, because, frankly, you don't want them to turn into the type of kids who get beat up in the playground.
4. Once you have asserted your authority over the remote, sit down and enjoy the game. But never forget you are a mother and your middle name is "Multitasking," so surround yourself with piles of laundry that need to be folded. Fold, watch, take sips of beer-- be sure said children do not trip over the beer-- and cheer, as necessary.
5. If the children decide that they are more interested in reading a book than watching the exploits of Beckham and the Bunch, do not despair. At least they're not still asking for the remote back.
6. Try not to recall the beer-fueled days of yore when watching Villanova victorious or Chicago celebrating. Those days are gone. This is the best it's going to be for World Cup. That's right: piles of laundry and a lukewarm beer. Life is good!
7. Take the opportunity to teach your children the fine art of celebration when England scores, and scores again. Jump, scream, clap and raise your hands in the air like you just don't care. (But you do, of course. Especially the beating-up-in-the-playground part.)
Saturday, June 10, 2006
England Wins!
England won its first match in the World Cup today by beating Paraguay, 1-0.
Hardly a blowout, particulary when you consider that the one point was an own-goal by a Paraguay player, but a win is a win.
MarathonMum fans not familiar with the glory of the World Cup-- yes, I'm talking to you Americans-- it is an athletic spectacular surpassing the World Series, the NBA Finals and the Super Bowl all rolled into one. When those U.S. events roll around commentators always talk about the millions and billions of people around the world watching, but that's just hyperbole. When they say that about the World Cup, they mean it.
[By the way U.S. fans, I'm talking about the game you call soccer, but that everyone else in the world calls football.]
As you can see from above, Thing One supported England's team in his own special way. But he'll be rooting for the U.S. on Monday.
Go England! Go U.S.A.!
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
Team Jolie-Pitt Triumphs Again
Now we know the price for worldwide celebrity obsession: It's more than $4.1 million.
The figure is reportedly the amount that People magazine in the United States paid for the exclusive North American rights to pictures of Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt, daughter of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. But the pictures apparently also have been sold to Hello! magazine in the United Kingdom and other media outlets worldwide, pushing the estimated total amount paid up to $7 million.
In a masterstroke of both charitable giving and public relations, Jolie and Pitt plan to donate all the proceeds from the pictures to charity. This donation follows their first gifts of $300,000 for maternity equipment for two Namibian hospitals and a $15,000 for a community education initiative.
Suddenly, all celebrities who have pocketed the money for pictures of their babies, weddings or homes seem shallow, miserly and stupid. Much like they are, probably.
The May 27 birth of this little girl has been a case study in how to outfox the media and the public. Pitt and Jolie travelled with their other two children to the southern African country Namibia to have the baby. I'm quite certain that most entertainment reporters could not find that country on a globe prior to this trip. By going there, they ensured that there would be few reporters and photographers in the country to follow their every move. To ensure their privacy, the government would not issue any journalistic visas to anyone without the express written consent of Jolie and Pitt.
Personally, all of these actions caused me to switch my allegiance from Team Aniston (wronged first wife) to Team Jolie (international humanitarian who really cares about African children). Jolie seems to be a woman who takes her responsibilities as a U.N. Goodwill Ambassador seriously. Unlike, say, Geri Haliwell, also a U.N. ambassador who recently sold pictures of her newborn daughter to Hello! but did not donate any of her proceeds to charity.
The couple, who are the subject of worldwide interest, first got to know one another while starring in the movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Pitt happened to be married to Aniston at the time.
But how the couple, dubbed Bradgelina, have handled the interest in this child makes me respect them like I never did before.
The couple said in a statement, "While we celebrate the joy of the birth of our daughter, we recognize that 2 million babies born every year in the developing world die on the first day of their lives. These children can be saved, but only if governments around the world make it a priority."
If only all celebrities could use the superficial interest in them for the benefit of others. Other celebrities really could learn something from Team Jolie-Pitt.
The figure is reportedly the amount that People magazine in the United States paid for the exclusive North American rights to pictures of Shiloh Nouvel Jolie-Pitt, daughter of Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt. But the pictures apparently also have been sold to Hello! magazine in the United Kingdom and other media outlets worldwide, pushing the estimated total amount paid up to $7 million.
In a masterstroke of both charitable giving and public relations, Jolie and Pitt plan to donate all the proceeds from the pictures to charity. This donation follows their first gifts of $300,000 for maternity equipment for two Namibian hospitals and a $15,000 for a community education initiative.
Suddenly, all celebrities who have pocketed the money for pictures of their babies, weddings or homes seem shallow, miserly and stupid. Much like they are, probably.
The May 27 birth of this little girl has been a case study in how to outfox the media and the public. Pitt and Jolie travelled with their other two children to the southern African country Namibia to have the baby. I'm quite certain that most entertainment reporters could not find that country on a globe prior to this trip. By going there, they ensured that there would be few reporters and photographers in the country to follow their every move. To ensure their privacy, the government would not issue any journalistic visas to anyone without the express written consent of Jolie and Pitt.
Personally, all of these actions caused me to switch my allegiance from Team Aniston (wronged first wife) to Team Jolie (international humanitarian who really cares about African children). Jolie seems to be a woman who takes her responsibilities as a U.N. Goodwill Ambassador seriously. Unlike, say, Geri Haliwell, also a U.N. ambassador who recently sold pictures of her newborn daughter to Hello! but did not donate any of her proceeds to charity.
The couple, who are the subject of worldwide interest, first got to know one another while starring in the movie Mr. & Mrs. Smith. Pitt happened to be married to Aniston at the time.
But how the couple, dubbed Bradgelina, have handled the interest in this child makes me respect them like I never did before.
The couple said in a statement, "While we celebrate the joy of the birth of our daughter, we recognize that 2 million babies born every year in the developing world die on the first day of their lives. These children can be saved, but only if governments around the world make it a priority."
If only all celebrities could use the superficial interest in them for the benefit of others. Other celebrities really could learn something from Team Jolie-Pitt.
Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Legoland: City of Dreams (for kids, anyway)
Our trip kicked off at 4:21 a.m., when Thing One walked into my bedroom while pulling his wheelie suitcase behind him, and asked, "Is it time to leave for Legoland yet?"
A few hours, a breakfast, a shower and a lost tooth later, we were on the road heading to the Promised Land. I planned the half-term adventure because Mr. MarathonMum had a business trip to China, and I thought a mini-break would be fun for the rest of us. Thing One and Thing Two thought that Dad had the short end of the stick, since he only got to go to China, while we got to enjoy two days at LEGOLAND! and stay at a HOTEL! with a POOL!
Before we left, I did my due diligence by checking the Internet and asking Legoland veterans for tips and advice. If you ever go, an impressive 11-year-old created a site full of advice here. I tried my best to devise a strategy, but in the end I decided to just go with the flow and enjoy it without military-like precision.
As a 10-year-old, when I first read about Legoland in Denmark in National Geographic for Kids (then called "World") it seemed so amazing and foreign and exotic and far away. I also thought at the time, I'd never be able to experience the wonder of seeing an entire city built out of Lego, because Denmark was so far away from New Jersey. How wrong I was. Now in addition to the original Legoland, there are parks in Windsor, where we went, California and Germany. The miniature cities and towns made entirely out of Lego, especially London, were amazing. The boys loved them. But I couldn't help but wonder: How do you get a job building cities out of Lego? What sort of degree do you need?
Aside from the Lego cities and sculptures everywhere, Legoland basically is an amusement park for children. The top attraction for both Thing One and Thing Two was Driving School, where they got to drive a Lego car around-- without the benefit of a steering track underneath. If they successfully finished the course-- all the kids did, even the ones who were hopeless at it (read: Thing Two)-- they got a driver's license.
On Friday morning, I had the good luck to read that my friend Laura also would be there. My mother-in-law is convinced I could find a friend anywhere, so I suppose the fact that I found a friend at Legoland (not to mention seeing two more on Saturday), confirms her theory.
Laura and I used mobile telephony techonology [we sent texts to each other] to rendevouz at the park. It was great to see her. Our friendship is one of the more unusual ones that I have. It started as we both trained for the London marathon, we first met each other in person at about mile 17 in the race, and we have remained friends since via e-mails and our blogs. But we are very similar in our outlook and approach to life and we keep finding unusual things that we have in common (shoe size, the fact that we both rowed starboard). The kids had a fantastic time together, and I was happy to have a friend to talk to in the midst of all the child-centric fun.
By the end of the second day, Thing One and Thing Two had become a bit jaded about the wonder of Legoland. "Look!" I'd say, "A giraffe/tiger/zebra/dinosar."
"Oh," they'd say, disappointed. "It's just made out of Lego."
Friday, June 02, 2006
Wobbly Tooth Wobbles Out!
*ALERT*ALERT*ALERT*ALERT*ALERT*
DefTooth 1 has been lifted. The subject tooth has fallen out. The family now will revert to DefTooth 5 (normal peacetime readiness).
At 8:08 a.m. GMT, the tooth's owner ran down to the kitchen and exclaimed, "Mom! Mom! My wobbly tooth fell out!"
Joy, jumping, laughter and jubliation ensued.
Subject now is preparing a letter to the Tooth Fairy, and the tooth has been placed in an evidence bag.
Meanwhile, subject's brother is convinced that he had a wobbly tooth and it, too, has fallen out. As brother is only three and only just filled his mouth with new teeth, he has a way to go.
In a prepared statement, subject's mother said, "It's been a terribly exciting day for us all."
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Wobbly Tooth Watch: Day 7
We remain at DefTooth 1.
However, chewing has become painful and the tooth is very, very loose (I can see it for myself).
The "pull the tooth out with a string and a doorknob" method has been suggested by two friends: one via online comments and one via a conversation on the sidewalk, but Thing One has resisted the idea.
As always, pool coverage and photos as events warrant.
However, chewing has become painful and the tooth is very, very loose (I can see it for myself).
The "pull the tooth out with a string and a doorknob" method has been suggested by two friends: one via online comments and one via a conversation on the sidewalk, but Thing One has resisted the idea.
As always, pool coverage and photos as events warrant.
Pixar Exhibit: It's Incredible!
With just over a week before it closes, the boys and I headed out to the Pixar animation exhibit at the Science Museum. "It's Incredible!," Thing One said, with the pun probably unintended, but well done just the same.
Pixar, for those of you catching up with the rest of the class, is the animation studio responsible for "Toy Story", "A Bugs Life", "Monsters Inc.", "The Incredibles" and the soon-to-be-released "Cars." Our family's love for Pixar cannot be adequately described. To illustrate: when we recently painted the toy room in our house, we painted it not red, but "Incredibles red."
The exhibit had hundreds of pictures and models that Pixar animators made for the movies. I wasn't really sure that Thing One and Thing Two would like or appreciate it, but they did. They loved seeing the models and some of the pictures. We also loved the spot where we could watch all of the Pixar short movies (or "shorts," as they say in the business) and the final video montage where the pictures came to life, via computer animation.
The highlight, hands down, was the Toy Story zeotrope (pictured above). We loved it so much we went back to watch it four different times. This was worth the price of admission alone. Characters from Toy Story, including Buzz, Jessie, Wheezy the Penguin, the aliens and the toy soldiers, performed various stunts on the round sculpture as it spun around under strobe lighting. Buzz bounced on a Pixar ball. Jessie did rope tricks. The toy soldiers parachuted into the action. When the zeotrope stopped, you could see that each of the characters was in a slightly different position so that the 3-D animation could occur. Even the adults around me were enraptured, with several people laughing and gasping at how wonderful it was.
(The picture above is courtesy of the New York Times and is the zeotrope from the New York exhibit. Ours was slightly different, as we had Jessie, but no Woody. The picture also doesn't really do it justice. To really appreciate it, you have to see it in action.)
The Museum of Modern Art in New York hosted the exhibit first, at the beginning of the year, then it travelled transatlantically to London. You could tell that the exhibit started life in an art museum, because it certainly had an artistic-- rather than scientific-- feel to it. But the exhibit definitively proved that what Pixar does is art.
It truly was incredible.
Wednesday, May 31, 2006
Wobbly Tooth Watch: Day 6
"It's very nearly going to fall out!"
We are at DefTooth 1.
The Tooth Fairy has him on the top of his watch list.
Pool coverage and photos will be provided as events warrant.
We are at DefTooth 1.
The Tooth Fairy has him on the top of his watch list.
Pool coverage and photos will be provided as events warrant.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Spaghetti Challenge
Thing One, Thing Two and I took part in our school's "Spaghetti Challenge" last week. It was thrilling, challenging, suspensful and fun (sort of). We learned a lot about the pathos of winning and losing, but especially losing. But it also taught me an important lesson: Not all answers are available on the Internet.
The Spaghetti Challenge is a science exercise designed to show students about building, architecture, forces and problem solving. Each team was given a packet of spaghetti, a bag of marshmallows and a chocolate egg. The team that built the tallest tower in 20 minutes that could support the chocolate egg won the contest.
Now I love a good challenge. I'm also a big believer in arming myself with research and possible solutions before embarking on tasks such as this. So prior to the challenge, I did various things to get ready: I consulted with my dad (an electrical engineer), my best friend (a chemical engineer), I thought about how we could do it, and, crucially, I googled the problem.
After searching a couple of different terms, I couldn't find what I needed: a picture of a prize-winning spaghetti challenge entry. Obviously, the science teachers of the world (these contests have been held worldwide) are conspiring against future contestants in this challenge by never posting a picture of the winner. What's the point of the internet if it's not going to give up something like that?
I consoled myself by deciding I had done enough ruminating and consulting to solve the problem. We set out with a spring in our step. When we reached school, I realized I forgot my camera. "How will the world see our prize-winning entry?" I thought to myself. "I want to do my part to help future contestants!"
Thing One, Thing Two and I sat around our black bin bag, with Thing One clutching the spaghetti and Thing Two clutching the marshmallows. The whistle blew and we set to work. Our team was somewhat hampered by Thing Two's insistence that he eat a marshmallow. "But we'll need it," I said, thinking of my aspirational five-foot-tall structure. Finally, I acquiesed, knowing that if I didn't, he'd disrupt our work [read: cry until I let him have one].
To make a long story shorter, my ambitious plans were just too ambitious. We spent too much time on the first structure, whose foundation didn't really work. We pushed it aside with five minutes left to try a different one, but we ran out of time. As Thing One put it, "We didn't win because our tower did not stay up."
I should note that the winning team had THREE adults on it, a distinct advantage, and I also have insider information that as the structure got taller, the children were not allowed to build it, or for that matter, even touch it.
But we had fun. Thing One and I have decided that since Mr. MarathonMum missed the challenge (a big story broke just an hour before the challenge), we're going to try again in our kitchen.
Will I post a picture of a successful structure or will I contribute to the international conspiracy of silence? Only time will tell.
The Spaghetti Challenge is a science exercise designed to show students about building, architecture, forces and problem solving. Each team was given a packet of spaghetti, a bag of marshmallows and a chocolate egg. The team that built the tallest tower in 20 minutes that could support the chocolate egg won the contest.
Now I love a good challenge. I'm also a big believer in arming myself with research and possible solutions before embarking on tasks such as this. So prior to the challenge, I did various things to get ready: I consulted with my dad (an electrical engineer), my best friend (a chemical engineer), I thought about how we could do it, and, crucially, I googled the problem.
After searching a couple of different terms, I couldn't find what I needed: a picture of a prize-winning spaghetti challenge entry. Obviously, the science teachers of the world (these contests have been held worldwide) are conspiring against future contestants in this challenge by never posting a picture of the winner. What's the point of the internet if it's not going to give up something like that?
I consoled myself by deciding I had done enough ruminating and consulting to solve the problem. We set out with a spring in our step. When we reached school, I realized I forgot my camera. "How will the world see our prize-winning entry?" I thought to myself. "I want to do my part to help future contestants!"
Thing One, Thing Two and I sat around our black bin bag, with Thing One clutching the spaghetti and Thing Two clutching the marshmallows. The whistle blew and we set to work. Our team was somewhat hampered by Thing Two's insistence that he eat a marshmallow. "But we'll need it," I said, thinking of my aspirational five-foot-tall structure. Finally, I acquiesed, knowing that if I didn't, he'd disrupt our work [read: cry until I let him have one].
To make a long story shorter, my ambitious plans were just too ambitious. We spent too much time on the first structure, whose foundation didn't really work. We pushed it aside with five minutes left to try a different one, but we ran out of time. As Thing One put it, "We didn't win because our tower did not stay up."
I should note that the winning team had THREE adults on it, a distinct advantage, and I also have insider information that as the structure got taller, the children were not allowed to build it, or for that matter, even touch it.
But we had fun. Thing One and I have decided that since Mr. MarathonMum missed the challenge (a big story broke just an hour before the challenge), we're going to try again in our kitchen.
Will I post a picture of a successful structure or will I contribute to the international conspiracy of silence? Only time will tell.
Wobbly Tooth Watch: Day 4
Thing One has a Wobbly Tooth! He woke up on Friday morning with it. This is terribly exciting for all of us, as this is his first wobbly tooth [in America, you would say loose tooth]. We are sure he is now on the Tooth Fairy Watch List.
Day: 4
Status: "Still wobbly!"
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
Crime & Punishment Success
With nine hours to go until my book club meeting, I finished "Crime and Punishment" today.
Yes, it was difficult. Yes, it felt like homework. But like many things that require hard work, it was worth the effort. I've always wanted to read it, and now I have.
To summarize: Penniless university drop-out decides to murder pawnbroker to prove a theory. In the 1860s, many people in St. Petersburg are poor and sad. The murderer is poor, but not sad. The murderer finally admits his guilt to the police, but still feels no remorse. He gets sent to a hard labour camp in Siberia for eight years. Even Siberia doesn't make him feel sad. Finally, it is the love of a good woman which makes him feel sad. And happy. The end.
Yes, it was difficult. Yes, it felt like homework. But like many things that require hard work, it was worth the effort. I've always wanted to read it, and now I have.
To summarize: Penniless university drop-out decides to murder pawnbroker to prove a theory. In the 1860s, many people in St. Petersburg are poor and sad. The murderer is poor, but not sad. The murderer finally admits his guilt to the police, but still feels no remorse. He gets sent to a hard labour camp in Siberia for eight years. Even Siberia doesn't make him feel sad. Finally, it is the love of a good woman which makes him feel sad. And happy. The end.
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Crime & Punishment Challenge
There's not much time for blogging today, MarathonMum fans, because I have reading to do!
Pages read: 459 (out of 647)
Pages remaining: 188
Hours until meeting: 32
Average number of pages I'll need to read per hour to finish in time: 6 (but then I'll have to give up sleep).
Yes, it does feel like homework, but it really is a fantastic book.
Pages read: 459 (out of 647)
Pages remaining: 188
Hours until meeting: 32
Average number of pages I'll need to read per hour to finish in time: 6 (but then I'll have to give up sleep).
Yes, it does feel like homework, but it really is a fantastic book.
Friday, May 19, 2006
My Left Foot
I haven't been out on a run in two months. This is not by choice, mind you, but because of my dodgy left foot [insert joke about Academy Award winning movie here].
I've taken Nurofen. I've put ice on it. I've applied anti-inflammatory cream. I've tried to rest, but as any mother will tell you, that's impossible to do.
After two trips to the doctor and one X-ray, I finally hobbled to the orthopedist today. His diagnosis was that it was either a stress fracture or an inflamed joint on my toe. But first we must take an MRI.
"Ooh! An MRI!!" I thought. "They get those on ER all the time. I know I must bring my iPod because I have to sit still for a long time. I've always wanted one of those. This is exciting!"
The doctor went on to say that if it was an inflamed joint, I'll need to get a shot of cortizone. Then I said, "Just like a real athlete!"
Now I have to wait until the MRI in two weeks' time, to find out what exactly the problem is. I will keep MarathonMum fans posted.
In the interim, there will be no running (Obviously, since I can hardly walk, but still...Boo! I'm really, really starting to miss it), rest, and more Nurofen. Crucially, I need to stay off my feet as much as possible. We'll see if that can be done as a mother of two.
I've taken Nurofen. I've put ice on it. I've applied anti-inflammatory cream. I've tried to rest, but as any mother will tell you, that's impossible to do.
After two trips to the doctor and one X-ray, I finally hobbled to the orthopedist today. His diagnosis was that it was either a stress fracture or an inflamed joint on my toe. But first we must take an MRI.
"Ooh! An MRI!!" I thought. "They get those on ER all the time. I know I must bring my iPod because I have to sit still for a long time. I've always wanted one of those. This is exciting!"
The doctor went on to say that if it was an inflamed joint, I'll need to get a shot of cortizone. Then I said, "Just like a real athlete!"
Now I have to wait until the MRI in two weeks' time, to find out what exactly the problem is. I will keep MarathonMum fans posted.
In the interim, there will be no running (Obviously, since I can hardly walk, but still...Boo! I'm really, really starting to miss it), rest, and more Nurofen. Crucially, I need to stay off my feet as much as possible. We'll see if that can be done as a mother of two.
Tasteless Joke of the Day
A South African gold miner loses his leg in an
mining accident.
Choking back the tears later, he cried,
"It's over! who's gonna want a one legged gold
digger?"
Then his phone rang. "It's Paul McCartney."
mining accident.
Choking back the tears later, he cried,
"It's over! who's gonna want a one legged gold
digger?"
Then his phone rang. "It's Paul McCartney."
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Crime & Punishment Challenge
We're making progress, MarathonMum fans.
Pages read: 201 (out of 647)
Pages remaining: 446
Days until meeting: 6 1/2
Average number of pages I'll need to read per day to finish in time: 67
It's still a challenge, but the plot is picking up, so it's getting easier to read.
Pages read: 201 (out of 647)
Pages remaining: 446
Days until meeting: 6 1/2
Average number of pages I'll need to read per day to finish in time: 67
It's still a challenge, but the plot is picking up, so it's getting easier to read.
The McCartneys Split
Sir Paul McCartney and Heather Mills McCartney announced Wednesday they will divorce.
Shock! Horror! Sadness!
Not, mind you, because their marriage is over. But because I didn't include them in my Couples Who Will Never Last List. To review, in September I compiled a list of couples who were bound to split:
Ashton Kutcher-Demi Moore,
Britney Spears-Kevin Federline,
Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie,
Paris (Hilton)-Paris (shipping magnate), *split*
Hilary Swank-Chad Lowe, *split*
Marc Anthony-Jennifer Lopez,
Beyonce-Jay Z,
Jessica Simpson-Nick Lachley. *split*
I didn't do too badly, since three of the eight couples (37.5%) are no longer together. I guess I didn't include the McCartneys because I thought Sir Paul really did find True Love (even if Stella and Heather didn't get along), but I was wrong.
It's now an appropriate time to update the list!
Katie Holmes-Tom Cruise (the brainwashing will stop eventually)
Jennifer Aniston-Vince Vaughn (the cynic in me says she just wants to keep up with Brad)
Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie, (though I'm beginning to think this one might stick)
Britney Spears-Kevin Federline,
Marc Anthony-Jennifer Lopez,
Beyonce-Jay Z,
Ashton Kutcher-Demi Moore,
*I'm sure I've forgotten a few, so I'll add more later. The last time, I forgot TomKat, which was a MASSIVE oversight. If you have any suggestions, feel free to add them.
Shock! Horror! Sadness!
Not, mind you, because their marriage is over. But because I didn't include them in my Couples Who Will Never Last List. To review, in September I compiled a list of couples who were bound to split:
Ashton Kutcher-Demi Moore,
Britney Spears-Kevin Federline,
Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie,
Paris (Hilton)-Paris (shipping magnate), *split*
Hilary Swank-Chad Lowe, *split*
Marc Anthony-Jennifer Lopez,
Beyonce-Jay Z,
Jessica Simpson-Nick Lachley. *split*
I didn't do too badly, since three of the eight couples (37.5%) are no longer together. I guess I didn't include the McCartneys because I thought Sir Paul really did find True Love (even if Stella and Heather didn't get along), but I was wrong.
It's now an appropriate time to update the list!
Katie Holmes-Tom Cruise (the brainwashing will stop eventually)
Jennifer Aniston-Vince Vaughn (the cynic in me says she just wants to keep up with Brad)
Brad Pitt-Angelina Jolie, (though I'm beginning to think this one might stick)
Britney Spears-Kevin Federline,
Marc Anthony-Jennifer Lopez,
Beyonce-Jay Z,
Ashton Kutcher-Demi Moore,
*I'm sure I've forgotten a few, so I'll add more later. The last time, I forgot TomKat, which was a MASSIVE oversight. If you have any suggestions, feel free to add them.
Monday, May 15, 2006
Crime & Punishment Challenge
My book club (or clique, as one friend called it) is reading "Crime and Punishment" by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I am becoming somewhat worried about this, since the meeting is next Wednesday at our house and I haven't read much of the very, very long book.
I've decided to make it a challenge and give my MarathonMum fans a daily update about my progress. As I can't run at the moment-- it's my dodgy foot and I see the orthopedist on Friday-- this is a way to test myself. Encouragement is encouraged for this monumental task.
Today's update:
Pages read: 42 (out of 647)
Hours until meeting: 222
Wish me luck.
I've decided to make it a challenge and give my MarathonMum fans a daily update about my progress. As I can't run at the moment-- it's my dodgy foot and I see the orthopedist on Friday-- this is a way to test myself. Encouragement is encouraged for this monumental task.
Today's update:
Pages read: 42 (out of 647)
Hours until meeting: 222
Wish me luck.
Thing Two Turns Three
Thing Two became a three-year-old today!
I love age three. I know some mothers think three is worse than two, but I totally disagree. First, we can go out and about and actually have FUN rather than be worried about having enough nappies, getting back in time for nap time and having enough snacks on hand (read: most of the drudgery is behind us). Second, he can make clear what it is that he needs or wants, even if he doesn't always get it. Third, he's not yet in nursery, so we can do interesting things during the day, like go to museums. And finally, he's becoming his own little person.
Now, if you'll indulge me, I want to list the Top Seven things that he does at the moment that I love:
1. If I forget to say, "Bless you" when he sneezes, he says, "Bless you me, Mom!"
2. If I give him one snack or treat, he'll automatically say, "And one for Andrew?"
3. When he runs into my room in the morning, he pulls on my hand-- much like Lassie-- and says, "Breakfast Time!"
4. If he's doing something he shouldn't, and I ask him what he is doing, he'll say, "Just boring things."
5. He's made up his own little special tune he sings when he's happy.
6. His smile and laugh.
7. When I say, "I love you, " he responds, "I wuv you too."
Happy Birthday, one-time marathon personal trainer. You're the best!
I love age three. I know some mothers think three is worse than two, but I totally disagree. First, we can go out and about and actually have FUN rather than be worried about having enough nappies, getting back in time for nap time and having enough snacks on hand (read: most of the drudgery is behind us). Second, he can make clear what it is that he needs or wants, even if he doesn't always get it. Third, he's not yet in nursery, so we can do interesting things during the day, like go to museums. And finally, he's becoming his own little person.
Now, if you'll indulge me, I want to list the Top Seven things that he does at the moment that I love:
1. If I forget to say, "Bless you" when he sneezes, he says, "Bless you me, Mom!"
2. If I give him one snack or treat, he'll automatically say, "And one for Andrew?"
3. When he runs into my room in the morning, he pulls on my hand-- much like Lassie-- and says, "Breakfast Time!"
4. If he's doing something he shouldn't, and I ask him what he is doing, he'll say, "Just boring things."
5. He's made up his own little special tune he sings when he's happy.
6. His smile and laugh.
7. When I say, "I love you, " he responds, "I wuv you too."
Happy Birthday, one-time marathon personal trainer. You're the best!
Thursday, May 11, 2006
The British Apprentice
"The Apprentice" was chosen last night, and the winner was Michelle!
Now, for my American friends, you would be mistaken if you thought I was talking about the Donald Trump show. In fact, I am talking about the BBC version of the Donald Trump show, which stars British multimillionaire Alan Sugar.
As it is a BBC show, you would be correct in thinking that it is classier, less manufactured and more interesting than the Donald Trump show of the same name.
I was completely and utterly riveted by "The Apprentice." I loved watching them do the tasks. I couldn't believe how stupid some of them were. And I was quite impressed by the sales acumen of some of them, especially Ruth (though she lost out in the final to Michelle).
I'm quite tempted to apply myself but I don't think I'm such an attractive candidate. First, I am currently unemployed, so the BBC wouldn't have a job description to put under my name. Instead, it would say, "Maureen, Unemployed." Not so impressive. Also I have no business experience whatsoever, unless having a paper route at age 12 counts. Sir Alan would say something like, "So you've never worked in business. What makes you think I should employ you, given you have NO IDEA how business works." Sir Alan may also not like Americans, and there's nothing I can do about that. Finally, I may be too old. I think Sir Alan likes his Apprentices young, and at 37, I might be considered to be over the hill.
Still. Still. Still. Watching the candidates do some of the tasks, I thought, "I could do that" (even selling used cars). I think that really to succeed, you just need some common sense and confidence, of which I have both. Some of the candidates made such STUPID mistakes (ordering 100 chickens for 100 pizzas, for example) I thought again, "I could do that."
But the moment that really made me think I ought to apply was when it was evident that not one of the four finalists had bothered to do their due diligence about Sir Alan's portfolio of companies.
Even an unemployed 37-year-old American woman would know that you arm yourself with information, and then you start.
p.s. While I was happy to see that a woman will be the apprentice, I began to think she ought to have lost out on dress sense alone when I saw what she chose to wear to the post-win interview. Harsh, but true.
Now, for my American friends, you would be mistaken if you thought I was talking about the Donald Trump show. In fact, I am talking about the BBC version of the Donald Trump show, which stars British multimillionaire Alan Sugar.
As it is a BBC show, you would be correct in thinking that it is classier, less manufactured and more interesting than the Donald Trump show of the same name.
I was completely and utterly riveted by "The Apprentice." I loved watching them do the tasks. I couldn't believe how stupid some of them were. And I was quite impressed by the sales acumen of some of them, especially Ruth (though she lost out in the final to Michelle).
I'm quite tempted to apply myself but I don't think I'm such an attractive candidate. First, I am currently unemployed, so the BBC wouldn't have a job description to put under my name. Instead, it would say, "Maureen, Unemployed." Not so impressive. Also I have no business experience whatsoever, unless having a paper route at age 12 counts. Sir Alan would say something like, "So you've never worked in business. What makes you think I should employ you, given you have NO IDEA how business works." Sir Alan may also not like Americans, and there's nothing I can do about that. Finally, I may be too old. I think Sir Alan likes his Apprentices young, and at 37, I might be considered to be over the hill.
Still. Still. Still. Watching the candidates do some of the tasks, I thought, "I could do that" (even selling used cars). I think that really to succeed, you just need some common sense and confidence, of which I have both. Some of the candidates made such STUPID mistakes (ordering 100 chickens for 100 pizzas, for example) I thought again, "I could do that."
But the moment that really made me think I ought to apply was when it was evident that not one of the four finalists had bothered to do their due diligence about Sir Alan's portfolio of companies.
Even an unemployed 37-year-old American woman would know that you arm yourself with information, and then you start.
p.s. While I was happy to see that a woman will be the apprentice, I began to think she ought to have lost out on dress sense alone when I saw what she chose to wear to the post-win interview. Harsh, but true.
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