Peppa Mania, Being Mummy Pig and Bratty Next Door Diners

To say my kids love Peppa Pig is an understatement.  Peppa Pig is a British cartoon about a family of pigs.  The main character is a pig named Peppa (duh).  The episodes are short and show some sort of life lessons. I don’t hate it. 
 

Doodlebug and Peanut say Peppa Pig is “their favorite”.  It is all they ever want to watch, and amazingly, they both agree on this.  Unity in TV viewing never existed in our house before Peppa rolled in.  Based on that alone, I am okay with the Peppa love we have going on over here.  The kids are cray cray crazy for Peppa.  They talk about going to Peppa’s house and her being their friend. 

I started looking at Peppa stuff online.  Doodlebug has a birthday soon and I thought I’d look for some “non girly” Peppaphanalia.  What did I find?  Peppa Pig World!  Yes, really. 

An easy three hour drive south of us Peppa Pig World (PPW from here on out, people) is inside Paulson’s Family Fun Park (near Salisbury).  We decided on short notice to go, although looking back, we should used it more as a dangling carrot.  Oh, the mileage I could have gotten from “stop that now or no Peppa’s house”. 

We booked a hotel in the burbs of Salisbury, threw a few things in a bag and loaded up.  We have done a few road trips with the boys and our rule is to sleep over if the drive is more than 2 hours each way.    

Picking up and going for a weekend with the boys has been surprisingly easy.  Simple rules: snacks + electronic entertainment = occupied kids = happy hubs in the driver’s seat.  Not fool-proof but close. 

We got to PPW at 1:30 PM.  The rides close at 5:30, so we thought that was plenty of time.  Although they usually snooze in the car, they didn’t on this trip.  They were grouchy later but it was worth it.  For the 4 of us, it cost about $70, which I thought was a lot (boys were free).  When we went in the park, we learned that Peppa and George (Peppa’s little bro) would be making a personal appearance at Madame Gazelle’s Schoolhouse in an hour’s time.  We decided to check out the 4D show while we waited.  We queued up with about a gazillion Brownies (the little girl kind).  I guess it was Brownie day - they were EVERYWHERE.  No matter what we did, the hoard of little girls surrounded us.  One little snot elbowed me and hit Peanut in the head with her backpack in the race to get a seat.  I’m sure it wasn’t on purpose, so I refrained from tripping her.

The 4D show was great – a newer cinema with lots of special effects.  Doodlebug loved it and laughed his head off.  Peanut, not so much.  He hopped on my lap after the first 30 seconds.  No requests to leave, but he held on pretty tight. 

We got to Madame Gazelle’s Schoolhouse early and got prime real estate.  Peppa and George (think big fuzzy Disney characters) came out and did the things big fuzzy cartoon characters do.  Doodlebug went nuts and wanted as close to the action as possible.  Peanut wanted the hell out of there.  Once he hung back and watched the other kids hug and high five the giant fuzzy pigs, he got brave enough to give George a hug, pat his nose and say “George, my best friend”.  It was really cute. 

Doodlebug Zack and I with Peppa (Michelle, this is for you!) 

Peanut being brave enough to touch George Pig's nose - this was a pretty big deal for him.  He is very timid with this sort of stuff and after hanging back for a bit, he decided he wanted to approach the big fuzzy animals. 

Family of Pigs

 

 

We spent the rest of the afternoon riding kiddie rides.  My favorite was this really weird dinosaur ride:

This isn’t us; I found this pic online.  This was a photo ride, but the collection point was so hosed up  & we didn’t see our picture.  It was great fun, but this would never fly in the USA.  No belts or straps to hold the riders on this slippery plastic dino.  Not that it’s high up or very fast, but still…I couldn’t help but wonder how many kids slide off daily.  You can't tell from the picture, but the ride rocks back & forth.  I didn’t get the connection between the garden plots and volcanos that made up the background scenery.  “Big Bang Theory” meets “Green Acres”.  Weird, but in a good way. 

I could have gone crazy shopping in the Peppa store and probably would have if Hubs hadn’t been there.  He doesn’t give me a hard time about retail love but I buy less stuff if my purchases are immediately visible – yes, I bring my bags in when he’s occupied and yes, I say: “oh this?  Bought it ages ago, hon.” Like no one else does that. 

I got the boys little beanie baby George Pig toys (Peppa looked too much like a doll and Hubs would have freaked), a puzzle, bath toys, a book, and “George Pig” undies (way cute).  They have a whole line of boy’s clothes that was seriously delicious and I had trouble restraining myself.  I did not, however, have difficulty passing up the hot pink tee sporting the phrase “Mummy Pig.”  Doodlebug called me that one time and I did not react well. There was a “Yummy Mummy” nightie but it had a giant silk screen pig face…well, I just couldn’t.   I might be a yummy mummy, but the pig face?  Uh, no. 

The boys were predictably devastated when we had to leave.  They cried all the way to the car.  Peppa Pig World – success. 

 

Here is the website:
http://peppapigworld.co.uk/
For those living in my neck of the woods, I am not sure I’d make the drive for this alone if your kids aren’t Peppa fans.  There are other amusement parks closer but there is a wealth of things to do in the Salisbury area and it is one of the prettier areas of England I’ve been in. 

We drove to our planned stop for the night in the burbs of Salisbury.  We stayed at a Premier Inn, which is probably slightly less fancy than Holiday Inn Express.  It was a typical middle class hotel – clean and reasonably comfortable.  We dropped our bags off and went to the pub next door to grab dinner. 

In England, most pubs (short for public house) serve food, just in case you have a mental picture of Hubs and I hanging out at the bar with the littles.  Most have dining areas separate from the bar and many have “family hours” or “family sections”.  Most pubs have typical English fare (fish and chips, steak and ale pie, sausage and mash).

We were seated next to THE WORST KIDS EVER.  Our table for 4 was in an alcove with a windowed partition between our table and the next.  There was a group of  8 people seated next to us which included 2 kids – I’d guess them to be about 5.  The kids took turns running in to our area, banging on the window and yelling.  The first time, I thought “no big deal…kids do that sort of stuff”.  I full expected the adults on the other side of the window to give those kids the what for. 

Nope.  I could plainly see the adults noticed…but they didn’t react.  This was a nice place.  On terms that most of the people who read my blog can relate to, it was Olive Garden nice.  

My kids are well behaved in a restaurant.  Yes, we normally feed them a snack before we go out, and yes, we let them play with their tablets while we wait.  We don’t go out to eat a ton, but  often enough so they understand the difference between a sit down restaurant and McD’s.  My little overstimulated and undernapped angels were watching these beasts running around our table with interest.  They were sitting quietly with their tablets and juice boxes, but I could see the wheels turning in their heads. 

I did what most of you would do:  I gave our neighbors the head nod toward their little darlings…“hello…do you see where your kids are”  A polite, nonverbal “your kid is in my space”.  Crickets.  Me being me, I addressed the child.  “Little boy, go back to your table”.  I guess I was speaking Martian because he carried on beating the now slimy fingerprinted glass between our tables.  The parents could not have been less interested. 

Rather than get in to an “excuse me, control your kid” pissing match with a group that looked like they belonged on Jersey Shore UK style, we asked our server to move us and she did.  I don’t recall ever requesting to move tables because of another diner causing a disturbance – and certainly not while dining with young kids myself.  I am generally very tolerant of children.  I have active boys and while they are well behaved (most of the time) in public, they are not perfect.  They are frequently loud.  Sometimes they whine and spill stuff. Shocking. 

These kids were beasts.  Snookie and The Situation should have stuck with the UK equivalent of Chuck E. Cheese (whatever that might be).  We passed their table on the way to the potty (they had left) and it looked like a war zone.    

Delish dinner – I had salmon risotto, Hubs had chicken mushroom pie and the boys had spaghetti.  We are all starving and enjoyed the meal.  We ordered strawberry sundaes for desert.  We got vanilla ice cream with 3 ramekins of toppings ranging from sprinkles to bits of really yummy dark chocolate (but not a strawberry in sight). 

We tucked in to our hotel room.  Peanut crashed right away while Doodles laughed his head off at a British comedian on TV.  This guy was seriously not funny but every time he heard the canned laughter, Doodles would go NUTS. 

After breakfast the next day (super delish with veggie sausage, even!) we visited Salisbury Cathedral, which I enjoyed.  I would not recommend it with two little dudes who want to run and climb all over everything.  Just sayin’. Hubs was off taking pictures and I stopped to admire some stained glass…I looked up and the boys were trying to climb on some long-dead bishop’s tomb.  We saw a copy of the Magna Carta, zealously guarded by an old guy wearing a green “I’m a volunteer” sash.  He was clearly there to enforce the “no photography” rule.  I was so tempted to whip out the camera – I could have taken him. Fo Sho. 

 

The boys slept most of the way home.  We stopped for Papa John’s pizza, which I haven’t had in over 3 years.  It was expensive, but pretty darn tasty. Mmmm. 

Our trip to the Salisbury area was short, but there is a lot to do in that general area.  A longer, more extensively planned trip would be a lot of fun.  Our time in the UK is getting short, but I’d definitely jump on the chance to go back to this neck of the woods again.  Oh, and I didn’t see Salisbury steak on the dinner menu.  It was Salisbury and they did have steak, but not the hamburger with onions and gravy stuff.  Maybe next time.

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Easter Pregaming & a Visit to Oxburgh Hall

Today, we visited Oxburgh Hall, which is a National Trust property in Norfolk.  You can read about the history of Oxburgh Hall below if you are interested: 
 

http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/oxburgh-hall/visitor-information/
 

This is only about 20 minutes from where we live and we are National Trust members, so we get in free.  We went for the annual “Easter Egg Trail”.  As far as I can tell, the Brits don’t really do egg hunts.  We paid 2 quid per kid (hey, that rhymes!) for a worksheet that had pictures of 8 different varieties of sheep.  Somewhere on the property, there was a corresponding picture card with each sheep.  Once the card was located, we had to write the name of the sheep down.  There was also a letter on the card that went with an anagram that was part of a puzzle to solve.  Hefty stuff for a three year old and a four year old, right? 

We enjoyed a nice walk around the property.  It was an absolutely dazzling day, rare for this part of the planet.  This was Hubs and I’s 3^rd visit to Oxburgh and Doodlebug’s 2^nd (although I’m sure he doesn’t remember the 1^st).  This was Lil Bit’s first time and we all had a great time. 

The boys had a blast looking for the picture cards, chitter-chattering with their shadows, and going “trip trap trip trap” over the wood bridge Billy Goats Gruff style.  Luckily, we didn’t run in to any trolls.  But, we were ready for them. 

We found all of the picture cards.  The boys started to run out of steam at the end.  We skipped naps today.  The prize for the completed sheep worksheet was a giant Cadbury chocolate egg.  We’d been tempting the boys for several days with the prospect of a “really big chocolate egg”, so they were all hyped up about that.  As we were on our way out of the park, Doodlebug and Lil Bit spotted some folks with ice cream bars and immediately started yammering on about having “ice cream on cone”. 

We got our big chocolate eggs, which Lil Bit proceeded to try and unwrap on the spot…who could blame him, as we’d been going on about these damn eggs for days.  We ended up getting ice cream from the concessions…life was good.  We ate our ice cream on the tailgate of Hubby’s Santa Fe…the three stooges sat three abreast, leaving no room for mom to sit down.  Hubs asked the boys where mommy was going to sit and Lil Bit shrugged and said “no more room.”  Love how his English is coming along.  Yes, Hubs made them move. 

My highlight of the day was when we went to visit the old church on the property.  We sat down in one of the pews for a minute to rest our feet and look at some of the amazing stained glass.  Doodlebug looked at me and said “sing songs?”…because that is what you do in church.  I smiled and said “of course, honey”, expecting Jesus Loves Me.  Not.  My little heathen broke out in to a loud rendition of “heyyyyy, sexy lady” complete with “ooh…ooh…ooh”.  I shushed him and said “we don’t sing that song in church”.  He looked at me – totally perplexed – and said “oh?  Why?”  Lil Bit noted that there was “no TV” at this church – our church has a big screen monitor.  Guess they weren’t impressed. 

It was a great day.  Here is picture proof!

 

My guys learning about different kinds of British sheep

 Yay!  We now have giant chocolate eggs!  What do you mean we can't have them right this second? 

In the files for my "forever house"...a carved wooden pear on a sign post.  There was a lovely ladybug on the pear, too!  Wink! 

Exterior shot of Oxburgh Hall.  I have decided that my forever house should also have a moat, too.  I mean...there aren't enough moats anymore.  Shouldn't we bring them back? 

 
Say cheese?  What do you mean, woman?  I am totally chowing down on my chocolate egg here. 

 Yes, mommy!  I have a chocolate egg!  Whoo hoo!

  The boys got paper "explorer" helmets at the start of the "eggstravaganza"...they are now in the trash.  By the way, other than my 3 guys, I have no freaking idea who the rest of these people are.  They were not budging, even though my repeated (and loud) attempt to pose my guys (which means getting them to actually look at the camera) couldn't have been missed. 

In a nutshell, Oxburgh Hall is worth a visit.  This was my third visit and the first time we'd had really fair weather.  If you are in my neck of the woods, you should totally consider adding a trip here to your bucket list. 

Off to bed, people.  Tomorrow is Easter, which in our house means candy frenzy, getting ready for church and an awesome brunch that I don't have to cook.  I am pretty sure that "Gangam Style" isn't going to be on the list of stuff we sing in church tomorrow...but one can only hope!

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Have preschoolers; will travel

Reflecting on a 4 day, multi-destination road trip/mini vacation with two four(ish) year olds, here are my take-a-ways:

§  Just because you might need help pulling up your britches doesn’t mean you don’t need privacy in the potty. 

§  Allowing children to have toy swords in the car (even if said swords are made of foam) is a very bad idea.

§  Google Maps sucks – no way to sugar coat that one.    

We rolled outta town on a sunny Friday afternoon and got home at dinner time on Monday.  All in one piece, everybody still speaking to everybody else - mostly.  We had great fun, made some great memories and got some great pictures. 

We bravely put our (relatively newly) potty trained kids in their car seats in underpants – yes, people…NO pull ups!  Brave or stupid – you make the call.  We rolled out at three in the PM.  Actually, the kids decided to get in the car on their own while Lee and I were loading up.  As we got underway, I handed the boys their packet of freeze dried fruit bites I’d bought at the commissary the day before.  These were NOT road tested snacks and I mistakenly assumed that the Mickey and Donald characters on the packet would entice my little darlings to eat these crunchy bits of fruit with the water sucked out.  Not so much.  Before we got on the motorway, the boys had both let me know what they thought of my choice of my choice of car snacks.  They were actually pretty gross. 

 

If I were to put our drive to Daventry in to hashtag speak, it would go like this:

#bitemegooglemaps

#intime4dinner

#nobodypeedtheirpants

We got to the Daventry Court Hotel slightly later than planned, but that’s OK.  A bit of background on why we went here:  earlier in the year, we joined an organization called CACH – Children Adopted From China.  If you are living in the UK and have kids from China, consider checking them out. Google it, people. 

Anyhoo…we went to Daventry for the weekend for the CACH annual “reunion”.  I think the count was 179 families with children adopted from China staying in this hotel.  To say chaos doesn’t describe the atmosphere – but it was well organized, fun chaos.  The reunion had the feel of a retreat.  There were activities for the kids based on their ages and some speakers/seminars for the parents.  There was also a raffle, a silent auction and some other fun vendors that were raising monies for various charities connected with China, adoption or orphan care – one of my favorites, Love Without Boundaries was the beneficiary of one of the vendor stalls.

Most of these families have adopted girls from the NSN (non-special needs program).  I am not sure of all the details, but I know that Waiting Child/Special Needs adoptions from China are relatively new in the UK.  Many of these families have been coming to this event for years – I talked to one mom who said it was her eleventh year.  There are quite a few older teens and it was very enlightening to hear some of their thoughts on growing up adopted. 

My boys were a novelty.  There were not a lot of boys, which you can see from the group photo.  Two (ever so stylishly dressed) little guys who totally got taken for twins all weekend produced a round of “ooohs and awwwws” wherever we went.  Novelty or not, they had a great time. 

 

After check in and a buffet dinner, we headed to the disco with our kids.  Yes, with some reservations…I mean…hello?  Responsible parenting equals taking your toddlers to disco at half past eight on a Friday night?  Well, that is what we did and we had a blast.  Our little dudes LOVED dancing.  They loved the bubble machine, the foam machine and the lollipops the deejay kept throwing out, but mostly, they loved the dancing.  They both have some moves…but Kyle does some sort of break dance thing that I am sorry to say I didn’t capture on video.  It’s sort of a hybrid summersault slash dance move.  No idea where he picked that one up.

Our room was pretty nice but crowded.  When you squeeze in not one but two rollaway beds in to a standard room, it does tend to cramp things up a bit.  And, ironically, even though our little bed hopper (Zack) was sleeping in a bed essentially with his brother not three feet from where I slept, he was between Lee and I by dawn each morning.  Go figure. 

After breakfast Saturday AM, the reunion officially opened with a Chinese Lion Dance.  Very cool to see, although Kyle was so not impressed.  In fact, he was straight up terrified and I had to not only hold him, but back far, far away from the “lion”. 

The schedule was chock full of activities and seminars so we could pick what appealed to us – or do our own thing.  Our first event for the day was the “craft deemed suitable for the under 7 crew”.  I think I am to the point where I can write about this without shuddering or needing alcohol.  Since this is the Year of the Horse, someone had the bright idea to have the kids make hobby horses and parade them through the hotel.  “What fun”, we thought and trooped in to the craft room with big happy smiles on our faces.  I’ll confess that we were among the first eager beaver crafters to sit down. 

We were greeted by a sweet and perky lady who cheerfully explained how simple it was to whip together these hobby horses.  She added that since she’d already threaded the needles and made the braids for the bridles, we’d hardly have to do anything beyond helping our little angles stuff some fluff in to recycled socks.  Fun!

 

The stuffing part was fun for the kids.  Then the reality set in that the horsey’s nose, eyes, mane and ears needed to be sewn on.  Our perky craft lady did inform us that there was a pot of paste available for “those people” who wished to take the easy way out and glue the bits on our sock horse but that “sewing was ever so much better”. 

Lee and I looked at each other.  Heck no, we didn’t want to be “those people” who pasted on their horse parts.  So, we set to sewing.  One of us has sewing skills.  It is not me.  I looked up at some point and noticed that people who’d come in after us were sailing out the door with their little darlings toting completed hobby horses.  Although Lee’s mad sewing skills are to be admired, he was definitely going for quality stitching.  Half an hour in and he’d sewn on one nostril.  I was starting to wish for wine and was letting a few curse words slip out. 

Zack and Kyle, having nothing to do that was geared toward them started grabbing scissors, spinning the chairs around and crawling under the tables.  The annoyingly perky craft lady kept reminding us that we needed to hurry up and that it would soon be time for kite making class.  I’d initially thought it would be sort of fun to make a kite, too.  My kite dream was rapidly flying away – pun intended.  Eventually, craft lady took pity on me (really, I think she just wanted to clear the room) and said “give that here, my darling, and let me help”.  She took my horse and sewed on an ear, the mane and assembled the stick thingymadoo in the space of about thirty seconds.  I wanted to stab her.  Then she gave me a hug and I felt just the tiniest bit guilty for mentally comparing her to the devil. 

The kids have hobby horses.  They were able to participate in the parade, which was really cute and good fun for them.  It doesn’t matter now that I have extra gray hair and might still need some talk therapy to address my anger toward perky craft lady (who actually was a lovely woman).  My two little darlings have hobby horses toy mops/pool cues/guns/swords that they will enjoy for years to come for the next week if they’re lucky – the damn things are already falling apart. 

 The rest of Saturday was spent in a fairly relaxed way – as much as one can relax with two little boys in a hotel full of exuberant kids.  We had a picnic outside, spent some time on the bouncy castle and went to a magic show.  The boys went back to the room for a rest and I went to a talk given by a couple and their thirteen year old daughter who had located and formed a relationship with her birth family. 

Millie was adopted from Anhui Province in 2003 and has not only located her biological parents but also the family who cared for her upon her finding.  In China, birth families who cannot care for their children or otherwise choose not to parent them typically leave them in locations where they will be found.  Millie was found by a family who had not been successful in their efforts to get pregnant and who were delighted to find this lovely baby girl on their doorstep.  Unfortunately, her finders were not able to obtain the proper paperwork to keep her and she was taken to the orphanage.  Millie was with this family for a very short time, but she was loved and remembered and finding them was an important piece of her puzzle which ultimately led to the birth parents stepping forward.

This was a “semi happy ending” story – Millie has pieces of her puzzle filled in.  She knows when her exact birthday is (most China adoptees do not…they are given a date range based on estimated age at abandonment).  She also knows why her birth family made the choice they did and got to hear her birth father plead with her to forgive him. 

My kids have stories. I just don't know them. Maybe I never will & maybe they never will, but in some way, I am hopeful that we can find a way to fill in the blanks.  Part of me thinks it is my duty to find out what I can while the “trail is fresh” and part of me thinks the boys should be the one to initiate the search.  What am I going to do if they disagree with the way to approach birth parent searches or if one finds something and the other does not? 

The angst that this young lady is experiencing at facing the birth parents who wrapped her in a blanket and left her on the ground to be found was hard to watch.  The fact that she has answers and finds some comfort in knowing her life puzzle more clearly is encouraging.  Enough with the heavy. 

Saturday’s “gala dinner” left a little bit to be desired.  The room was hot and our kids were cranky and tired.  Kyle fell asleep at the table during the appetizers and I had to get up and get plates for myself, Lee and Zack.  The buffet line was going two different ways and people were colliding and battling for utensils in the middle.  I was underwhelmed by the food – note to chefs across the globe, adding a bunch of ginger to a dish does not make it Chinese.  There were semi decent brownies, though, so that made it all better. 

Kyle woke up and cried for ten minutes but then suddenly decided he was in the mood to disco some more.  Zack was content to dance with the crowd…Kyle was not and kept going up on the stage.  It looked like he was about to crowd surf a couple of times.  The highlight of dinner was when one of my kids peed their pants on the dance floor and had to do the walk of shame to the room to change.  Out of respect for my kids’ dignity should they one day read my blog, I will leave it to you to guess which kid it was.  My lips are sealed.

After dinner was the parade of hobby horses and the closing of the raffle/silent auction.  I have never seen a raffle done quite this way – instead of calling out the prizes, the winning numbers were stuck on the prizes and people were on their honor to take the prize they’d won.  I didn’t win anything here but I did catch myself starting to elbow a few nine year old girls in my effort to make it to the frenzy to get to the table.  Yikes.

I did have some success with the silent auction, though.  I got a very nice Pampered Chef serving set for about a fourth of the price I’d have paid in a catalog.  The money toward the auction benefits a charity called “CACH Back” which awards grants to older teens/young adult to embark upon education or a service project that reflects their Chinese heritage.  Pretty cool. 

We said our goodbyes on Sunday morning and drove on to Kenilworth Castle.  Kenilworth Castle is an English Heritage property – castle ruins and Elizabethan gardens.  There’s a sign out front that said “Queen Elizabeth slept here”.  Not really, but she did spend some time at Kenilworth on one of her summer progresses “back in the day”.  We have a membership to all of the English Heritage sites in the UK, and they usually make nice days out if you like history and stuff like that. 

The day was gorgeous, so spending time outside was pleasant.  We broke out the bubbles, climbed up some steep steps, looked at some rooms that were staged with furniture from Elizabethan times (did pretty good with not touching), played some hide and seek around the garden area and just generally enjoyed the sunshine.  Lots of people having picnics, walking their dogs and just hanging out.  We spent several hours here and ended the day with a purchase of foam swords…so not my idea. 

 

We went on to spend the night at the Old Mill Inn.  The room was so-so but the scenery was completely beautiful.  We sat on the patio and relaxed for a bit before enjoying a really nice dinner.  We did let the boys take their tablets to dinner and we had a relatively “adult” meal in peace.  The boys had homemade ravioli with mushrooms and ice cream for dessert.  There was a couple sitting next to us that was clearly on a romantic night out and they didn’t give us a single glance.  I am pretty sure they weren’t ignoring us…I think that my kids were just that well-behaved.  Yes, I am bragging.  Boom to all of you parents who can’t control your kids in McDonalds.  I am going to claim parenting superiority on this one.  I had a desert and an after dinner sip while my little darlings happily played Angry Birds with the sound turned down. 

Our night was relatively peaceful…the beds were not cushy and the shower wasn’t great, but it was a quiet night and that was good.  The hotel served continental breakfast.  The boys were clearly spoiled by the extensive buffet at the Daventry Court and wanted eggs.  They seemed a little put out to have to settle for cold cereal, yogurt and muffins, but they didn’t starve.  We took a detour on the way home to Wimpole Estate and Home Farm, a National Trust property.  National Trust is similar to English Heritage, but National Trust properties tend to be houses and estates versus castles and ruins. 

We went through the house, which was really cool. The boys do fairly well at things like this, although we have to watch them pretty closely.  There is loads of stuff to look at, but most of it is strictly off limits to touching.  Kyle had to stop and examine the badge of every English Heritage worker.  He was quick to point out that their picture wasn’t on their nametag.  Sometimes he’d ask if they were a doctor and sometimes he’d just declare “you doctor.”  Poor baby…he equates the nametag with medical personnel. 

 

We took a walk through the gardens where Zack tried to feed a very curious cow some turkey jerky.  After that we boarded a tractor (way cool) for the short drive to the farm.  We saw cows, pigs, chicks, sheep, goats, horses, donkeys, ducks and geese and a turkey.  We got a good look at most of the animals, but this wasn’t a petting zoo and it’s not set up to allow kids to pat the animals.  This was all well and fine with Kyle who is apparently afraid of any animal, fenced, caged or otherwise.

We got to witness feeding time in the piggery which was super noisy.  Who knew pigs could make such a racket?  Zack got to throw a couple of eggs in to the pigs and thought that was big fun.  He’d have probably crawled in the pen if he’d been allowed.  Kyle, on the other hand was content to observe the animals from a far, far distance.  He did not like being in the piggery one bit and was pretty excited to get back on the tractor and go back to the car park. 

This was the first road trip that we took with the two little guys in tow.  We haven’t exactly been homebodies since we came home from China at the end of August, but this was the first time we’d ever taken the boys on an overnighter.  They seemed to do really well with hotel living although Zack asked once if we could go home.  They seemed to have a good time, there was minimal whining in the car and they both seemed to settle back in to normal routine once we rolled back home. 

We were pretty “get up and go” people before these two little guys completely rocked our world and turned it upside down – in a good way.  Traveling with little kids can definitely be done.  Maybe at a different pace and doing different things but I foresee some more road tripping as we gear up for our last summer in England.  Wish us luck!

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Bip My Hooter (and other fun stuff)

In late 2010, Lee and I were preparing to move to England.  I have traveled to lots of different countries and England is the fourth country (besides the United States) that I have lived in.  “At least we will understand the language”. 

Not exactly that simple.  While navigating British English can’t be compared to trying to stumble through “cocktail party” chit chat in another language, there are distinct differences in word usage that can bring some funny looks or giggles. 

I’ve picked a few of my favorite “not what you think it means” words but my all-time favorite “British-ism” is and will probably remain “bip my hooter.”  Not long after we’d moved here one of my British friends and I were making plans to go somewhere.  I can’t remember where we were going or exactly how the conversation went, but I do remember being well and truly confused when my friend told me she’d “bip her hooter” when she was ready to leave. 

Uh…say what?  What your what?  In spite of any sort of worldly and sophisticated façade I might fake you out with, I’m really just a nice conservative girl from Texas.  I’m not sure if I’m the hooter bipping type.  Seeing the look of utter confusion on my face, my friend took a minute to explain that “bip the hooter” meant to honk the horn on her car.  Beep beep, bip bip.  Horn, hooter.  Gotcha. 

Enjoy the lesson.  This is just a drop in the bucket and I’ve decided not to even tackle the subjects of regional accents and rhyming slang.  Maybe next time. 

Pants:

In the USA, this means the our jeans, our slacks, our trousers...the bottom garment that has two legs and a waistband...sometimes pockets.  In England, your pants are your underwear.  Also referred to as knickers.  Most of the Brits in this area are used to Americans and if they hear us talking about our pants, they are pretty forgiving.    

Bonnet:

Although this is an antiquated term, most of us know a bonnet is a type of hat.  As in "she has a bee in her bonnet".  Something is buzzing around inside her headgear and getting her all agitated and stuff. In England, a bonnet is the hood of your car.  So...if someone says they need to look under your bonnet, it doesn't mean you should take off your hat.  It may mean that something is out of whack with your car engine. 

Boot: Footwear, right?  Shoes that come up and cover your calf.  We have rain boots, cowboy boots, stiletto heeled boots that hit you at mid-thigh that I like to call stripper boots...and so on. Not quite the same thing in England.  So, if someone comes up and hands you a bag...say, a grocery-sized bag...and tells you that it will fit in your boot, don't look at them like they've sprouted a second head.  Because here, a boot is the trunk of your car.  Car boot sales are synonymous with tag sales, garage sales or rummage sale.  So, if someone asks you if you want to go to a car boot sale, don't assume you are going to go shopping for footwear to wear whilst driving.   

Biscuits:  We think of fluffy baked goods made with shortening and baking powder.  We have them for breakfast topped with sausage gravy or for dinner with butter and honey.  In England, a biscuit is a cookie.  A scone looks like a biscuit, but it doesn't taste quite the same.  I'm pretty sure no one here has ever considered whipping up some white flour gravy and slapping it on top of a scone.  Even I think that sounds kind of gross.  

Dummy:  I think of the crash-test dummies, a dressmaker's form or someone who isn't smart.  In England, a dummy is a pacifier...some call it a binky. I guess it makes sense - a fake nipple.  

Jumper:  Most Americans would think of a dress worn over a blouse...some might call it a pinafore.  In England, a jumper is a sweater and a sweater with buttons up the front is a cardigan.  Although not officially on my list, they call what I've always referred to as a "vest or puffer vest" (an outer garment with no sleeves) as a body warmer.  Interesting, huh? 

Flats: When we talk about flats, we might think of women's shoes that have no heel.  In England, a flat is an apartment home.  Apparently, being on one level is not a prerequisite for calling it a flat.  

Rubbers:  When I hear this, I think of condoms or footwear we wear when it's raining.  In England, a rubber is an eraser.  So...if you hear second graders talking about needing rubbers for school or having a stash of rubbers in their backpack, don't panic.

Nappy:  When I hear someone talk about "nappy", I think of kinky, fuzzy, unruly hair.  In England, nappy means diaper, although I am pretty sure most people know what you're talking about if you say diaper.  

Wardrobe:  The sentence "I need a new wardrobe" makes most of us think that you're intending on going shopping for a lot of new clothes.  In England, a wardrobe refers not to your clothing but to the free-standing piece of furniture that you hang your clothes in.  Most British homes do not have built-in closets and people must buy wardrobes.  We might call them armoires. 

Lift:  When we say "lift" we generally mean that we're picking something up, like a box or a sack of groceries.  "I'm going to lift" might meant you're going to the gym to pump some iron.  "Can I give you a lift" might mean someone is offering to take you somewhere in their car.  In England, a lift is an elevator. 

Trainers:  This is the common English term for tennis shoes or sneakers, not the mean lady (or dude) you pay to stand over you at the gym and tell you that you're a out of shape blob that eats too many Little Debbies.

Chips: Usually, this word brings about visions of deliciously fatty, crunchy pieces of potato product fried in oily substances guaranteed to give you a heart attack. They come in bags stamped with lovely words like "Lays", "Ruffles" or "Pringles" and are seasoned with wonderful things like sour cream and powdered cheddar or "cool ranch". Isn't most everything more yummy with a shot of cool ranch?  I think so.  In England, chips are French fries.  Everyone has heard of "fish and chips"...well, that sure doesn't mean fish and a side of Lays barbeque.  In England, chips are called crisps and they come in really interesting flavors like roast chicken, steak and onion and prawn. Don't knock it until you try it.  I'd choose roast chicken crisps over my favorite sour cream and cheddar Ruffles any day.

Pie:  Needs no explanation.  Cherry pie, chocolate pie, pecan pie...I could go on.  In England, a pie usually means a savory meat dish topped with some sort of pastry crust.  Steak and ale pie...chicken and mushroom pie...I could go on.  Very tasty and not low cal.  Our kind of pie is usually referred to as a pastry or a tart.  And, I think a tart as a euphemism for a loose woman is probably universal.  

Cheers:  This is something that we commonly say to each other when we clink glasses.  Alcoholic beverage is optional.  "To your health, bottoms up, down the hatch." Sometimes I say "Prost" because that's what they said in Germany...I have no idea what that really means.  In England, "cheers" is used as an informal "goodbye". 

Mobile:  Most of us think a mobile is a colorful gizmo (sometimes with music) that we hang above a baby's crib.  In England, a mobile is a cell phone.  Mobile phone.  Makes perfect sense.  When we were stationed in Germany, they called cell phones "handys".  

Tea:  In the U.S.A., tea is a beverage.  In the South "would you like tea" is assumed to mean a glass of iced, deliciously sweet tea.  In England, tea is always served hot, commonly with milk and sugar, but "come over for tea" doesn't always mean "join me for a beverage".  Many Brits refer to "tea" as their late afternoon/early evening meal.  Our kids have "tea" at around 4:30 at childcare.  It is usually something savory, like beans on toast or a pasta dish.

"Give me a ring":  In the U.S.A., this might mean "We've been dating for two years.  Get serious and put some bling on my finger or else." In England, it is much simpler.  It means "call me". 

"Knock me up":  Most of us know "knocked up" as a euphemism for pregnant.  The first time I heard a female coworker say "I'm going to knock Emma up", I thought to myself "well, that is just all kinds of weird", but it actually refers to knocking on someone's door.  

So...bip your hooter when you're ready to go shopping. If I don't answer, knock me up. I've really got to get to the store, because my child's teacher insists he has to have some rubbers to keep in his desk - in case of mistakes, you know.  We can put whatever we buy in my boot - lots of room in there.  And, I hope you're hungry because we'll be done in time to have some tea!  Cheers!