To sleep, perchance to dream...

Few parents of young kids are likely to disagree with the following statement: It's all about the sleep. As much as the other elements of early parenthood can "bust your hustle" -- the dirty nappies (translation: diapers), the spit up, the food throwing, the arm-flailing tantrums -- nothing quite compares with sleep deprivation in its ability to mess with your quality of life.  I am really aware of this at this moment: a Sunday afternoon, Karen & I sitting in our office/bedroom reading, both children napping peacefully, and all 4 of us having both slept a full night, through to 7am this morning. Ah, the sleep groove. When a family manages to find its sleep groove, the haze momentarily lifts, the white noise in the background dims, the Hubble telescope of life gets a few adjustments and we can see again.

We have not had many Sunday afternoons like this -- or any moments at all -- in quite a while. Partially because of the upheaval with the move and all the associated change of routine. But partially because we have struggled to our sleep groove, really since Parker was born. I hate to blame anything on the affable little guy... but I do blame him for this: Parker seems to need about as much sleep as Margaret Thatcher (who, it is said, was good to go on 4 hours a night) and for much of his life has been difficult to get to fall asleep and equally difficult to prevent from waking up early. And as someone who works stockbroker's hours, I don't use the word "early" lightly; I am talking about a waking time starting with a "5" or, during one unfortunate period in the summer that happened to coincide with my birthday week, a "4". He is also a very light sleeper, such that if someone on the third floor of the house across the street flushes their toilet at the wrong moment, he's up, wide awake and poised for action. 

Sadie has been a better sleeper for a while now, thank heavens, for a year now going down easily at 7:30pm and sleeping solidly to 7:30 the next morning (only occasionally interrupted when she can't find her bunny and starts hollering). However unlike Parker, she turns into a monstrous character if denied her 14 hours of Zs per day. 

The result is a logistical dilemma. Our original plan to have the two share a room in London failed disastrously on Day 1 following our move here, with Parker waking Sadie up two hours before she was ready to do so, and naps during the day constantly disrupted, tempers flaring throughout. We quickly realized that would not work, so we moved Sadie out of that room to various temporary accomodations, first in a pack n play in the living room, and then into a Phil & Ted's tent in our bedroom (pushing us into the office/guest bedroom).  As spacious as this appartment is, there is no obvious place to put poor Sadie on a permanent basis. She has not complained much about her frequent moves, but any time we mention anything about "your room" to her, she responds with a request for clarification ("you mean my room that is Parker's room? or my room that is in the living room?"). Poor little nomad.

So this is all to say that we are excited about any intimation that we have found our sleep groove. Having recovered from the shots/bug that send us back to the A&E earlier this week, Parker has recovered his appetite, dropped his morning nap and seems to have figured out how to fall asleep more easily as well as sleep a bit later. Perhaps it is not be so unrealistic to get them back in the same room before long. Of course, we know by now that life is constantly in flux, so perhaps it's better not to count our chickens before they start sleeping poorly again.

Otherwise... both Karen & I are feeling a bit better, thanks largely to this unexpected sleep windfall and the healthier state of the kids. And we have had a fun weekend, with some sunny weather (but cold!) and some interesting excursions around town. Events of days past include Sadie's first ballet class; a visit to the Camden Market which is quite a lively place and within walking distance of our house; and a walk up to Hampstead Heath and its magnificent playground in the clear chilly air this morning.

More downs than ups....

It's been a difficult few weeks....and that's really putting it mildly. On any given day I feel like we're all just squeaking by, with complete disaster lurking around the next corner. From youngest to oldest: Little Parker started walking (YAY!) but with that has come even more bumps and bruises to his already over-sized noggin (BOO!). In addition to the growing pains associated with that, he has a billion teeth coming in at once and is constantly damp from all the drool-soaked clothes. So, that seems like a good time to go get some immunizations, right? For his third run-in with the NHS, I took him over to get his MMR shot and Hep A. According to the American immunization schedule he should have been immunized for these things and chicken pox at 12 months, but we missed that date by a long shot as a result of the glacial speed at which it took us to get registered at the local surgery. Side effects of these shots are: irritability (check), fever (check), sleeplessness (check), loss of appetite (check). But WAIT, why does Sadie have all the same symptoms? Sympathy for her brother, perhaps? If only. No, Sadie started sporting a fever last week and didn't really verbalize anything other than a headache until Thursday night when she finally admitted her ear hurt. So for Sadie's first run-in with the NHS she saw an actual doctor (although, I'm not entirely convinced he deserved that title - shouldn't all doctors be older than me?)

As a result of their various maladies we've decided to continue having them sleep in separate rooms. Which means that we now have a dedicated "Parker wing" and a "Sadie wing" of our flat, with Sadie occupying OUR bedroom, Andrew and I in the office/guest room and Parker way down at the other end of the house.

In general though, the kids have been great - especially on a one-on-one basis. Sadie continues to amaze us with her observations and her budding wit, and Parker is starting to develop a very easy-going personality, seemingly not minding very much when Sadie steals his toys, sits on him, or pushes him over. When he's not feeling lousy, he really has fun! Here he is in "Toddler's World" in our local gym:

Together the kids conspire to make life very difficult when there's only one caretaker (usually me). Hopefully this conspiracy will come to an end when Sadie starts nursery school at the Belsize Square Synagogue - the only nursery within a walkable radius that's able to take her before January. I had heard good things about the place and obviously they don't require the child to be of Jewish heritage to attend. In fact when we visited the school - two other families were visitingas well - transplants from Australia and Korea - both of them non-Jewish. Sadie and I attended the school yesterday morning for a visit. She seemed to enjoy it, however she's cognitively more advanced than the other two and a half year olds in what will be her class starting November 2. All the other kids seemed to be potty trained though, so we're starting operation use-the-potty-full-time as of Friday. Sadie also has started taking ballet - more on that later when I can get some good pictures of her in her "yet to be purchased" uniform.

As for me, I've been intermittently very depressed. More so than I can remember in about 10 years. The isolation from family and friends is sometimes more than I can bear in the face of all these challenges. Couple that with my feelings of inadequacy as a mother and the constant pain I have in both feet and I feel quite debilitated. My efforts to carve out my own life are often thwarted by one sickness, tantrum or another. I count my blessings that Andrew is so supportive, willing to leave work, stay up all hours with Parker and back me up when needed.

As I write this, Andrew and Parker are back at the A and E (emergency room) for the third time in two months. Parker's fever just won't quit and the poor thing can't seem to fall and/or stay asleep (which incidentally means, neither can we). The fever has persisted for about three days and now we're really starting to worry. Andrew's just texted me to say that "old faithful has erupted," a reference to the fact that the A and E requires you to "catch" some urine from your baby so that they can run some tests. We experienced this absurdity on our first trip to the A and E with Parker. The nurse very matter-of-factly said, "we'll need a urine sample" and handed us a grapefruit-sized aluminum bowl, which Parker understandably thought to be a hat or chew toy or anything other than a receptacle for his pee-pee. Surprisingly we were able to catch it, but I can't begin to imagine how Andrew has accomplished this ridiculous task on his own. I'm sure one or both of them are now damp with something other than just drool.

So, now I wait for news of little P....

The ups and the downs

So it has now been two months since we set our feet on English soil, and we're all in one piece, living in a nice place, in a nice neighborhood, slowly getting to know the lay of the land. I have a job I like. Nothing has gone wrong. And yet... it's been a tough time these last few days. Karen & I have both been feeling pretty down, exhausted, disoriented. Part of this has been the kids, who in addition to being their usual 1-2 year old handfuls have also been under the weather (Sadie=ear infection, Parker=teething+shots).

Part of our funk has to do with the "two month trough"... I can recall something like this in previous relocations I've done. Basically after two months, the novelty has worn off, adrenaline is gone, the romance of discovering a new culture has started to fade (such that you stop noticing charming little differences between here and home like "wow, aren't oat cakes cool, why don't they eat these back home" ). The basic "survival" mentality of getting everyone fed and clothed has passed. But we haven't yet had time to replace that agenda with anything new and more lasting: we are lacking a daily rhythm of life, weekend routines, a sense of community, connections to others, and -- for Karen more than for me -- a sense of purpose beyond simply raising our wonderful little munchkins. We also are feeling the distance from friends and family more acutely.

We know that, with time, things will get easier, but getting there is a very slow process. Kids+work+shopping+laundry+fixing things when they break simply does not leave room for much else at this point. And things seem to be breaking quite a lot (most recently our washing machine). Most of all looking forward to that time when the kids start sleeping more reliably (and a bit later; Parker if you're reading this I'm referring to you).

Having said all that, some good things to report this week. Our little boy started walking. The long-anticipated first unassisted step finally came a few days ago (Andrea the nanny got the first good look) and the little guy has been on a tear ever since. He can go about one step farther each day... meaning he's currently at about 7 or 8.

Meanwhile Sadie, despite her ear infection, has been generally doing great and attended her first day of "school" today (which will begin in earnest next month). And Karen and I managed to have a fun night out on Sunday, hearing bluesman Joe Louis Walker at the jazz club Ronny Scott's. That was hot!

That London weather

So time for a little weather talk. We've been here nearly two months and are starting to feel a little less like visitors and a little more like locals; and one thing the locals like to do around here is talk (mostly complain) about the weather.

When we first started thinking about moving to the UK, one of the obvious "cons" that came to mind was those rainy, grey, blustery days; the lack of summer heat or autumn color; much of the year spent in dull twilight, deprived of sun and blue sky.

Now a couple of months into it -- early days for sure -- here are a few quick observations:

1) Ok the weather sucks -- but it has not been quite as awful as I had remembered or Karen had been expecting. Much of the time it is indeed cloudy, cool and wet, as described above. Mid-August feels how you'd expect mid-October to feel in New Jersey, and September was really rainy. But there have been some really good days here and there -- such as today (see photo), brilliant sunshine, no wind, t-shirt weather. And it is true that you enjoy those days a lot more when they're sandwiched on either side by many days of bluster.

2) Although Mark Twain was talking about New England when he wrote that if you don't like the weather just wait a few minutes, his observation is all the more applicable to "old" England. You simply can't say "yesterday was ___", because the odds were that it was indeed "___" for part of the day but something very different from "___" for other parts of the day. Clouds come rolling in and roll out again. Fog descends and then burns off (as it did today). Impenetrable rain clouds suddenly disperse, dissected by brilliant rays of light. Empty blue sky fills in a moment with small speckled white clouds, and then turns to dull shimmering grey in a few moments more.

3) Partially because of point #2, weather forecasts are useless here -- absolutely useless. The BBC description of "current conditions" often makes for a good laugh with basic facts like sun/rain completely off, and current temperature differing by as much as 20 degrees from our own thermometer. When it comes to tomorrow's forecast, forget it, this bears even less relation to reality. (In fact it's probably not a good thing that they are calling for 5 uninterrupted days of sun, as they certainly won't be right.)

So this all goes to say that although London is no San Diego or Barcelona, the weather hasn't proven to be quite as much of a negative as expected. The rules are simple. Always bring rain gear. Always be ready to shed or add layers. Keep expectations low. Fortunately the kids don't seem to have developed an appreciation for sunshine yet.

I write all this knowing full well that we are still headed into the eye of the storm: many months ahead of gray, chill and darkness. Which is why we're already starting to think about winter weekend escapes to warmer, sunnier shores.

Mountains to climb.

You didn't know there were mountains in London, did you? This particular one is in the local library. Sadie and Parker delight in going up, up, up, up and down, down, down, down for long periods of time. In fact anyone within a few miles of the library can probably hear Sadie shrieking these words at the top of her lungs. Generally such behavior is not looked upon too favorably in a library. Usually spotted at the bottom of this mountain is some worn-out looking mother trying to gather a few precious moments with a book or magazine while her toddlers occupy themselves above her head. I'm afraid I've become one of those mothers.

I feel as though there are endless mountains to climb on this road to resettlement. And I don't have my climbing gear. Well, ok - not really mountains, but sizable hills. It took me three days to mail a letter. I still can't figure out what we're supposed to do with the piles of recyclables at our front stoop. I've only just begun to feel confident in Mount Underground. And grocery shopping - *sigh* - were it not for the nanny, the kids would eat peanut butter and jelly everyday for lunch. The pile of dirty laundry has become a mountain of its own, despite my effort to do a load daily; there are boxes that have yet to be unpacked. But to be fair, there are boxes in our red, reggie home (as Sadie calls the Maplewood abode) that still haven't been unpacked from when we moved from Jersey City.

My most insurmountable task at the moment however is deciding what to do with myself for the next two years. Do I work towards a career change? Follow a long-dormant desire to study alternative medicine? Learn an instrument? Spend every kid-free moment in one of London's many free museums? Become a certified yoga instructor? Work on satisfying that New Year's resolution of 2004 to learn French? Perhaps the answer to all of those questions is Oui.

Getting to know the A&Es of London

About three hours ago, kids were in bed, dishes were done, and I was just sidling up to our iMac for a quick recap of our relatively uneventful weekend on this blog... when a piercing shriek erupted from Parker's room. Although we've gotten quite good at ignoring the sound of crying moaning/complaining/children at night, this one sounded a little different. Parker rarely gets too fussed about anything, and in his hollering we started to think something might really be wrong. As he writhed and convulsed in Karen's arms, we agreed that it was unusual/scary enough to merit a visit to our local emergency room. Which required finding finding out where our local ER ('A&E' in the local lingo) actually is located (Hampstead, not far), calling a taxi, strapping the howling baby Howell into the Ergo (forward facing) and hopping in. It all happened quite quickly...

...and what do you know, in highly predictable manner, Parker screamed his head off for about 30 seconds in the cab, then got quiet for a minute or so, then started looking around with a fascinated look of 'hold on, this is kind of cool, I'm out on the town with Dad' expression, and showed no signs of any discomfort or distress. From then on, and throughout our 45 minute wait at the A&E, he was back to his normal smiley self, cooing, looking around, reaching for buttons to push (which is not really a good idea in a hospital). When the nurse told me there was a 3 hour wait to be seen by a pediatrician and that my son did indeed seem to be pretty ok, I shrugged my shoulders, hopped back into another minicab, came home and put Parker to bed. Go figure. Since I can't ask him what that was all about -- and indeed the guy is showing no signs of a desire to speak anytime soon outside of grunts and a few spare words ('mama', 'dada', 'dadie' (Sadie), 'baba' (bottle), 'brush') -- it will remain a mystery. In any case given that this was his second visit, he seems eager to get to know the A&Es of London.

And while we're on the topic... I must say I have been impressed by Britain's National Health Service in these two experiences, where in both cases the hospitals seemed to be reasonably well run and the doctors professional. The main thing that strikes an American is the lack of any attempt to charge you for visiting (no billing info taken, they do not even ask for ID, just a name and address). There is something that seems 'right' about such a system, although I know NHS has plenty of its own financial problems. In any case... here's hoping they guy sleeps till morning. 

So any other news will be omitted, except to say that we're feeling rather exhausted with it all, but little by little are making some inroads into feeling at home here. The local Swiss Cottage leisure centre, which we joined this week, has a great gym (with drop off daycare!) that we plan on making a regular part of our weekend routine. And we still love our place: here's a little video tour of our digs.