Our Trip to England PART ONE (Arriving in London and Teignmouth)

I'd never flown internationally before. We flew to Atlanta and met my mom there, then we all got on a nine-hour flight to London. I was impressed with the amount of food we were served--so many snack/drink services; a dinner of pasta, salad, bread & butter, and brownie; and even breakfast the next morning (but was it really breakfast or a midnight snack?? It was 3 am our time/10 am England time). I watched a movie on the plane, Rabbit Hole, which I cried through from 1 to 3 am when I couldn’t sleep any longer because it was so uncomfortable to still be sitting and Portia was sprawled on top of me while she did sleep.

We rented a Ford wagon (lots of Fords there really) and had quite a fun time watching Eric drive from the right side of the car on the left-side of the road. It was even harder driving a stick-shift with the left hand (I'll try not to mention the stalls). I refused to drive. Too scary. It was about a three-hour drive to the coast, and we stopped along the way to see Stonehenge and for a late lunch at Gisson’s.

We arrived at Yannon Towers in Teignmouth. Portia and Bianca chose a double room on the third floor and Mom chose the room next to theirs, with one of the best views in the house. Eric and I picked an octagonal room on the second floor. We all fell asleep in the family room after we unpacked down in the family room (the time-change and loss of a night was so difficult on us). The woodwork in the castle was beautiful (look below at the ceiling of the family room!). 

Is there such a thing as too imaginative?

Portia thinks she's a dog. A chihuahua normally. But somedays she's a lion or a mouse or a duckling or a turtle. I don't try to stop her "imaginative" play, but this phase sure has been going on a long, long, long time.

Unfortunately, as we've been helping our real chihuahua Tigger learn how to use the backyard as his bathroom, Portia appears to have become confused. The first time I noticed a problem was several weeks ago when Portia and Tigger were playing out in the backyard. I looked out the window and there was Portia, completely naked and squatting, peeing on the grass. Well, maybe she's showing Tigger how. I thought it was a little funny until I witnessed several other times. Then we sat down and had a talk. Friday night, as the babysitter was walking out the front door, she explained she found Portia peeing on the tree in our front yard. I've heard of people having problems with little boys peeing outside, but not normally little girls.

Yesterday, on Mother's Day, was the worst of all. I walked into Portia's room where she'd been playing with the door shut, so quietly and nicely. I thought it was a special "Mother's Day" gift. I walked in to get her ready to leave and she tried to shut the door on me. "Don't come in," she said. Then I walked in and found her naked and a fresh puddle of urine on the clean "pee" pad we still keep in Portia's room, in case Tigger gets out. But Tigger was caged up in his kennel sleeping at this particular moment. And I hung my head in shame. How could it have come this far?

We threatened this time. If that happens again, you'll lose everything chihuahua you own--both Beverly Hills Chihuahua movies (her favorites), all her stuffed chihuahuas, her chihuahua pajamas. Whatever it takes.

This morning, Portia was a cat. I immediately went to the computer and pulled up some youtube videos on cats using toilets, real toilets, and showed them to her. I'd hate to be the one trying to rescue Portia from the litter box downstairs or washing off her litter-caked feet.

Mad Hatter's Tea Party

I love the parties they have at Portia's pre-school, Kinderprep Academy. This time, right before Easter, they had a Mad Hatter's Tea Party. Here are some of the delicious treats. I love that Miss Melissa set up the food as eat-me, drink-me, take-one, just like it is in the book Alice In Wonderland. They had another five-course meal, although as usual Portia loved the chocolate-covered strawberry best. In fact, she returned home with the juice on her dress.

Portia was escorted to her seat by a gentleman again. This time it was Zander, who Portia tells me is her boyfriend. I'm not quite certain he knows about that yet. He is a cutie, though. So is she.

Here is a class portrait. Most of Portia's preschool friends from this year will be in her class again next year.

They sang songs and recited their poetry. And the photographer spent time with each of them.

Here are Portia and Miss Melissa.

What's worth keeping?

"Publisher's Weekly destroyed me," I told my husband Eric when he got into the car with Bianca and me as we were leaving to see the symphony last night. I chose my words carefully, for all the various meanings it could possibly have. Before I left, I read the review over quickly, and I can't ever go back. Never. There was not one constructive thing; not one thing that I could fix to make it better; it pretty much said the entire novel was fit for the garbage--a terrible plot line and unappealing characters. No use editing. It's amazing how a project I worked on for two years can be whittled down to nothing in a matter of seconds. So much so that I don't know if I could ever send it out. Someone said something on one of the ABNA boards about some of the critics being "baby killers"  because our novels are our babies, we've spent so much time making them and loving them and fixing them up. I see exactly what they mean now. This makes me feel like a failure and makes me seriously wonder why I've been wasting my time. Should I even keep this awful manuscript around or do I trash it, just like PW did today. But I stayed strong all day and wouldn't let myself cry. I kept telling myself I would be strong.

I couldn't eat dinner last night. So I sat down to the symphony with an aching tummy, hoping for a relaxing night and a reprieve from the sad feeling that sat like bricks in my stomach. It was a night of popular classic songs that kids from the local Youth Guild were able to vote on. A local celebrity, Big Budah from Fox 13 News, was hosting and introducing the songs that had been chosen. At the beginning of the night, he asked the crowd, "Who here voted?" My little Bianca rose her hand. She was the only person in the entire crowd who had voted for the songs online about a month ago. Big Budah thought this was funny and kept referring to the pieces played, the performance "put together by the conductor and Bianca." At intermission, one of the women in charge came over to Bianca and asked her if she'd want to go up on stage with Big Budah. She excitedly followed the woman backstage. When Eric and I took our seats again, Bianca went on stage with Big Budah and did a whole ad-lib act where they were playing back and forth and joking. They had a really cute rapport, and he brought her out between every song for the rest of the performance to do skits and introduce the songs. Bianca was amazing, calm, and absolutely adorable. I sat there as Pachelbel's Canon in D was playing and a couple tears came. A teeny bit because I was thinking of that horrible review, but mostly because I was watching my daughter--my project of nine years--up on that stage, successful.

After we picked her up at the end of the night, so many people stopped us on our way out of Abravenal Hall to tell Bianca what a good job she did and some looked to me and said, "And you must be amazing parents!" And I couldn't stop smiling because I felt like it was a little gift I'd gotten to help me get through a heart-wrenching day.

On our drive home, Bianca was telling us all the things she'd talked about with Big Budah. One thing he'd said to her is that he wanted to keep her. And I know how he feels. She is an amazing little girl that I'm so proud of. I don't know if I can take all the credit for her, but she makes me happy every day and her successes are my successes. And even if I never make it as a writer (which looks pretty probable from where I'm sitting now), I have a supportive husband and Portia and Bianca (my real babies) and I get to keep them.

Easter and a Birthday

I feel sorry for people who have birthdays on holidays. Actually, I feel worse for their parents. This weekend, Portia’s birthday fell on the Saturday right before Easter.  There was a lot to do! 

I decided with Portia that I’d wait to have a birthday party with friends until she turns five. So, this year, when she turned four, it was just going to be us. We went to a movie—African Cats—and then Portia got to pick where we ate—Fuddrucker’s because they have balloons. But they also have cheeseburgers and French fries and the cheese dipping sauce.

Then we went home for cupcakes and presents. 

 Easter was the next day. The weather wasn't great, which is surprising considering how late Easter was this year. We had to rush home from church to do Easter eggs before it started to rain again. We thought we were on our own this year but at the last minute, Eric's cousin's wife's parents (Dale and Rosalie) invited us to their house for dinner. It's so wonderful that they included us in their gathering. They had a barbecue and, fortunately, on the east side of town, it didn't rain quite so much. As much fun as it was, I was relieved when this weekend ended.

Orchestra and boys?!?

I'm not a good influence on Bianca. I was a little boy-crazy as a kid. There was that time in first grade that I tackled a third-grade boy at recess and kissed him on the cheek. He told his teacher and I got into trouble. No worries--I got to dump that same boy in high school.

So on Tuesday, Bianca was invited to "guest conduct" for one of the other school orchestras in West Jordan. She was thrilled. They wanted her to play viola with their orchestra and then come conduct her song they were playing.  Bianca did great. As we were leaving the concert, one of the girls from the orchestra leaned over and said to Bianca, "A boy in our orchestra likes you."

Bianca nodded bashfully and kept walking. I leaned over and whispered, "Go ask her who it is.  Is he cute?" She refused. Yes, I know, it wasn't one of my finest parenting moments. But I can't help it; that time in my life was a lot of fun and I can only live it through her now. I'd hate for her to miss out on anything. But she's a much different girl than I was. She's shocked when I tell her that I kissed a boy in fourth grade. Bianca seems so far away from that, which is a good thing. Although I happen to know that there is a boy in her class she likes. I'm sworn to secrecy though.

On another "boy" note, last week after her school orchestra concert, two of the boys in Bianca's class told her they didn't believe she wrote that song the orchestra played. "It was too good," one had said. I told Bianca to just take it as a compliment and move on, but instead, she lugged her composition binder (with her 70-plus compositions in it) into her backpack to take to school to show them all the songs she's written. She said that shut them up.

Stars Shining

I used to sing Portia a lullaby every night before bed. It was part of her bed-time routine while she was still in a crib. When she graduated to a big girl bed, she didn't seem to want her lullaby anymore. It wasn't until very recently that she started asking for one again.  Now she's much too big to rock, so I lay next to her on her bed and sing it into her ear. I think it's her way of putting off bedtime for just a little bit longer, but I'm glad she needs me again.  I have a couple of songs I rotate--Lullaby and Goodnight by Brahms and Dream a Little Dream by the Mamas and the Papas, which she calls "Stars Shining".


Portia discovered Jillyboo (our cat) asleep and thought she needed a lullaby. I particularly love the way she does "her opera" while she sings.