Like Mama, like Madam.

My kid is weird.

Kid Mach 1, that is. Kid Mach 2 is too young to show his true colours. He might still be "normal" like Himself... you know, my ninja accountant husband.

Exhibit One. I present for your appraisal the following picture.

That hat? Her choice, both as a purchase last winter (hence the jauntily perched angle on her melon, it's too small now) and as a wardrobe choice today (when it was really too warm to need a hat, but her stubbornness knows no bounds).

Exhibit Two. This morning while I was sorting her breakfast in the kitchen, New Kid started kicking off on the sofa. I asked Madam to go see if she could make him happy as I was up to my elbows in jammy toast. She said "okay" in her piping little voice and hied herself to the front room to cheer him up. How did she do this, you ask? She got about six inches away from his face and shouted "HAPPY!!!"... When that didn't work (insert shocked disbelief here) she came back into the kitchen and said "cry!" with a confused look on her calculatedly innocent visage.

Exhibit Three. This afternoon on our way into town to pick up some lunch, I asked her if she'd like sushi. As a response, she shrieked so loudly as to startle several dogs and their humans and took off at a run towards town.

I rest my case. Freakchild. But then, normal is boring, right? RIGHT? Right.

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Updates all around.

So, we've had our UK baby shower. Saturday just gone we had a houseful of people, same setup as our normal Thanksgiving arrangements, just different food. Rather than mash and mac'n'cheese, I did finger foods and pink desserts. If you need a seriously decadent and delicious lemon bar recipe, let me know, I found one on Pinterest a few weeks ago for Strawberry Lemonade Bars that I used for the party, and they are truly droolworthy. We were gifted a truly random assortment of bits. Some people used the list we registered for, some people went with gifts that meant something to them personally (like a replica of a childhood bunny from one particular friend), and some went with "pamper the mother-to-be" options. Then, of course, there was Darth Bunny. That's right, Darth Bunny. See below. It was a good day. Himself's best mate from childhood came up from Essex with his new wife to stay the weekend, there was at least one representative from every offic...

Thanks.

So, right now I should be baking four pies, a few dozen cookies, a carrot cake, and some dinner rolls. That's before prepping all the meat and veg for tomorrow's yearly Thanksgiving bash at ours. What am I doing instead? I'm watching my daughter throw puzzle pieces around the room and cast her eyes around for the next household item to destroy. And enjoying every second of it. It's not like we had a near-death experience last night, but a trip to A&E was close enough to suit me. She's totally fine, she just slept really fitfully, I realised she was burning up, and then she had a weird little episode where she wouldn't look at Himself or me which prompted me to jump in the shower with her, still in my pj's, trying to get her temp down. When that didn't work, the panicky mother in me had us all in the car on the way to the hospital. They checked her ears and throat (and the tongue depressor made her lose everything she'd eaten in the last ...

Life as we know it.

It's been a crazy couple of months. We found out that New Kid has junk, which Himself is very smug about. I got food poisoning for the second time this pregnancy on Easter Sunday, which lasted for a week instead of the usual few days. That's the fun of my body protecting New Kid instead of focusing on healing itself. By the end (after a night in the ER on IV fluids and anti-nausea meds) I wished he could have gotten a slight case just so he'd feel too bad to keep trying to kick his way out from the inside. Bratface spent that week hanging out with her Nannie (Himself's mum was here for the week, coincidentally) and then spent the next two weeks getting re-accustomed to rules and the world not always revolving around herself. She didn't appreciate the lesson. Himself turned 33 this week. We didn't do presents for him, the man wants for nothing save sleep (and short of resorting to Benadryl, Madam isn't helping with matters), so we made him a cake. I...

Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

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