Fall

Kensington Gardens in early October 2009

I'm taking a break from Junior League work (shhh, don't tell!) to do a quick post on fall.

Walking to school this morning with Wiley, we had a productive and positive conversation. While we had a few tears at the start due to the stroller getting parked back inside, we rallied for some fun, fall talk. (Pushing a stroller in the morning to school before caffeine doesn't usually lend itself in my case to lovely conversation with anyone. I'm working on it. And being honest.)

The leaves here are starting to change color. We talked about how tomorrow is October 1st. His aunt's birthday. And as I declared, the official start to we-bake-with-overpriced-imported-canned-pumpkin day! We also got excited about carving a pumpkin, jumping in leaves, dressing up for Halloween, and in my head I envisioned my door having a yellow mum as well.

Of course, Halloween leads Wiley to thoughts of Christmas. And, as he reminded me this morning, our new baby coming around Christmas. But before we get ahead to Christmas, I can't wait to enjoy this fall.

I want to bake my pumpkin bread and muffins from Birmingham's Junior League cookbook, Magic. Then I'm going to try this Pumpkin Roll via Fly Through Our Window. And after carving, I'll toast our seeds as that was a new-found treat last year.

What will you do to celebrate fall?

Let's Break it Down

For anyone who needs a laugh today...Picture this:

Wiley is standing on sofa.

Wiley: (singing some tune) Come on, let's break it down.

Me: Wiley, what are you saying again?

W: Come on, let's break it down.

Me: And what exactly do you mean by 'let's break it down.'

W: I mean come on and sing.

Me: Oh, so when you say 'let's break it down' you mean it's time to sing?

W: Yes, and it means you can dance.

Me: And where did you learn that?

(I was betting on Aunt B)

W: Well, when I was in your tummy, before I was born, God was making me. He told me that when I get my mommy and come out of her tummy that when it is time to dance with her, I'll say 'let's break it down.'

Me: So, God told you to say 'let's break it down?'

W: Yes.

(pause)

W: So, come on Mommy, let's break it down.

I just revisited this to confirm, and I quote:

Me: Tell me again who told you to say 'let's break it down.'

W:God of course. When I was in your tummy. Before I was born. Why do you keep forgetting this?

You're back in London when...

1. you have to rotate shoes multiple times per day because they (even the ones you wore all the time in the States) are all rubbing blisters due to a sudden increase in walking.

2. you have sudden car envy. (see #1)

3. you have mild cramps in the pregnant belly region due to sudden increase in walking. (see #2)

4. your calves and legs already feel slimmer due to sudden increase in walking. (ex out #2)

5. you start out walking, then end up running to catch a bus so you don't have to wait 10 minutes for the next one...resulting in #3. except you don't catch it. the man reading a paper near the stop intervenes and silently laughs as you huff and puff, clutching the belly region.

6. your english neighbor directs your son to keep the communal garden grass free of rocks. he's four. you are tired. she is drinking tea. alone. on her patio. that opens up to beautiful garden.

7. your previously mentioned english garden-sharer tells you about how she thinks the trees need to be trimmed in the garden, particularly the maples. they are blocking out the sun. you think, "what sun?" and say that you think the trees are beautiful the way they are. english garden-sharer-peaceful-tea-drinker-stereotypical-pruned-english-garden lady labels you a tree hugger. she used the words "some people think the trees are crying when they are cut."

8. your fruit and veg box friends send you the loveliest pamphlet on autumn foods chock full of the weirdest english sayings ever compiled in one place. you need a dictionary but still feel a most bizarre affection for your fruit and veg box friends.

9. your child is exhausted in the afternoon because school is back in swing.

10. you re-heat your morning coffee because jet lag's a beast.

Gaucho Pants

First of all, weather was fab down here for Labor Day weekend. Especially if you were lucky enough to be lakeside. Sunshine and a nice breeze. Heavenly.

Second of all, last night I was desperate for some comfy clothes (the night before I was desperate for a Sprite). Like ones that won't make me feel even tighter than I already feel. And not tight as in--wow, you've been working out--but tight as in, my skin feels way too stretched in the mid-section. This makes no sense to my friends my age who have stellar bods but to the mamas who have, or well, are moms and have thus been stretched and such, you know that feeling. Uncomfortable tightness that results in you telling your handsome husband that you just wish he could carry this mass around for 24 hours to give you a break. And I'm only 23 weeks. Let's talk about how much worse this is going to get.

Or let's not.

But the point is, I pulled out these uglies from my "maternity clothes" rubbermaid storage box.

Yes, Gauchos.

You might love them. But I vowed after having Wiley never, ever to wear them again. And frankly, I'm surprised I didn't actually burn my 2 pairs.

Thankfully, or maybe not, I didn't. So, I put on my gaucho pants the other night and a large WFU t-shirt in bright gold (Screamin' Demon t-shirt to be exact), and looked like an enormous, rotund vision in black and gold.

Here's what I learned:

1. Gauchos are not flattering when your back end multiplies in size exponentially. They just aren't. Nor do they do much for short, rather stub-like legs.

2. Gauchos make me think of cowboys, but they aren't cowboy-like at all. Why do they make me think of cowboys? Or Mexico? Maybe Cowboys in the war with Mexico a long time ago? Texas history help anyone?

3. Gauchos are comfy and as long as you don't look in the mirror or wear them out of the house, they might be okay on preggo days when you just don't really care anymore. Again, a low point must be reached that calls for desperate measures.

4. If you like gauchos, I'm sorry to offend. But if you wore gauchos almost everyday for 9 months you would hate them too.

5. Hate is a strong word. Pants is also a (strong?) word that causes me to hesitate because in London/the UK, pants=underwear. So part of me thinks I'm saying gaucho underwear, and thus wants to say gaucho trousers instead. Yes, trousers.

6. I'm thinking British and now wearing gauchos. Stick a fork in me. I'm done.

Adios, Y'all, Cheers!