Six Months With Peanut

Today is February 11^th – a Tuesday.  Driving home from work today, my mind wandered to mundane end of the day things.  I’d just grabbed a quick late afternoon run.  I was relaxed and happy.  I was driving along the same road I always take to go home, wondering if I should detour to the grocery to buy coffee pods or suffer with instant until the Amazon delivery.  Wondering if bread and butter with the stew I’d thawed out for dinner would be too much starch.  Wondering if my husband had picked up the kids from daycare or if I’d have to do it.  This was a day like any other. 

It didn’t occur to me until later on in the evening that today is the six-month anniversary of Peanut’s Gotcha Day.  We’ve gone through so many ups and downs on the road to the place we are now.  It was surprising – pleasantly so – that the day that marks Peanut’s six-month mark with our family was a day like any other.   

Six months ago, I was pacing around a hotel room in Jinan, China.  It was Sunday afternoon and my family and I had rolled in to Shandong Province’s capital city just shy of noon.  We’d gotten situated in our hotel room and had some lunch.  The food was good, although the tea pot full of hot water (sans tea leaves) that had been given to us as our beverage was a little different. 

About an hour after meeting Peanut

Day 2 - not very sure of each other. 

 

I remember the minutes leading up to meeting Peanut with a great clarity.  I was hot and sticky, despite the crankin' AC.  I was wearing two necklaces adorned with colorful plastic bugs…one kept breaking.  I’d set up my laptop and my mom and some of my sweet adoptive mommy friends were blowing up my Facebook wall with comments like “can’t wait to see pictures” and “let us know as soon as you get him”. 

While the rest of my family was remarkably chilled, I was anxiously staring at the phone on the desk, willing it to ring.  When it did, my heart jumped in my throat, at least that’s what it felt like.  Even though I’d been expecting to hear our guide Missy’s voice on the other line, hearing the words “I am downstairs with your boy and we are coming up” somehow caught me off guard. 

Although I can recall many details about the moments before the knock on the door that brought Peanut in to our family for keeps, the moments between then and now have been a blur, a whirlwind.  I can hardly believe that six months have passed since I sat in that hotel room in Jinan waiting on the phone to ring, in my sweaty dress with my broken bug necklace.  I’m stopping to catch my breath to give an update on how our little guy is doing. 

I won’t rehash the difficulty of our adoption trip or the rocky roads of our first month home.  If you follow my family, you know it was hard on us, unexpectedly so.  We got through it, as I always knew we would.  I am not sure if I’d go as far to say that we are the poster family for international adoption, but we’re in a good place.   

Growth & Development

Since coming home, Peanut has gained about 8 pounds and grown almost 4 inches.  He’s gone from wearing 12 month clothing (at three and a half) to a 2T, although his waistbands are a little loose.  His little arms and legs have filled out and although one could certainly not call him a chunkster, he is sporting a couple of rolls around his middle.  He seems to be gaining height versus girth right now, although he eats like a champ. 

Cheese scones with butter - we're all about carbs here 

 

After six months, Peanut’s appetite and food intake continue to surprise me.  For all his progress, he’s still a really little kid and I can’t believe what he can pack away.  For the most part, he eats whatever we give him and cleans his plate.  His favorites are any protein heavy foods – especially yogurt and eggs.  Might be his body’s way of telling him what he needs.   

As far as cognitive and motor development go, Peanut is on track for his age now.  The kid who looked at toys in “what the heck” style consternation now expertly assembles puzzles and train tracks.  He makes “dinner” in his toy kitchen and loves arts and crafts – play dough, paints, crayons, etc. 

I am happy to report Peanut is now potty trained.  Some of his medical issues can delay potty training, but he seemed interested, so I bought some underwear and decided to give it a go.  Easiest kid ever to potty train.  

School

Kyle is thriving at Children’s World nursery.  He moved up to the “Butterflies” room before Christmas.  He is a class with other kids his age and doing beautifully.  We started him out in the toddler room because he was still adjusting to so many things, but he’s caught up and then some.  His caregivers report that he’s doing awesome…the one drawback is that he is now in the same room with Zack, so those two are pretty much together 24/7.  That has good points and bad.  The teachers say both Kyle and Zack get along with other kids well but bicker with each other. 

Kyle is eager to go to school each morning and sometimes sulks on non-school days.  Being in a classroom setting has done amazing things for his adjustment and vocabulary.  He correctly identifies most colors, matches objects, counts to ten (kind of) and is starting to sing songs by himself.  He’s easy to drop off – he happily goes to the breakfast table or the play area and will only once in a blue moon cry when I leave.  He is crazy excited to see me at the end of the day and seems entirely secure. He announces to the room “my mommy here” when I show up to take him home.  He’s delightful. 

Sibling Rivalry

Peanut and Doodlebug play well together about 80 percent of the time, which I think is pretty good.  They squabble over what to watch on TV and toys, but not outside of the range of typical.  They do a lot of hands on and pretend play and cooperate very well.  The bickering comes when they actually play with toys.  I said we weren’t going to be one of those families who buys 2 of everything and the kids were going to have to suck it up and take turns.  Not so much.  We pretty much have doubles of everything now.    

First night together in Jinan....oh-so-peaceful!

Still in Jinan...one of Doodlebug's first realizations that "this other kid wants to touch my stuff". 

Feb 2014 - relatively peaceful bathtimes (there is a ton of splashing involved daily)

Christmas morning 2013

Chinese New Year 2014 - Happy Year of the Horse!

Me:  "Act like you like each other". 

 

They play separately now and then or do activities by themselves in different rooms.  They seem to sense when it’s time to take a break from each other.  Their verbal abilities are to the point where they can have conversations with each other, and that is pretty funny to listen to. 

Doodlebug:  You farted

Peanut:  No I didn't, you did

Doodlebug:  No, you.

Repeat this about ten times

Doodlebug:  Sissy MY best friend

Peanut:  No, sissy MY best friend

Doodlebug:  We all best friends

Peanut: Doodles, you my best friend

Doodlebug:  I not share my grapes

Ninety-nine percent of their squabbles occur over what to watch on TV.  If one child wants to watch Sponge Bob that will be the ever loving last thing the other one wants to see.  I solve the problems by choosing their TV programs – they’re either both happy or unhappy and it keeps things simple.  Thankfully, Peanut has branched out to watching other things besides Barney the purple dinosaur.  Everyone is happy about that. 

Language

Peanut’s English is great and most people who spend time with him can understand what he says, although his annunciation still needs some work.  His Chinese “hold out” word is “bobo” which he says when he wants to be held or picked up.  Until about 2 weeks ago, he was calling Doodles “didi” (Chinese for little brother) but he’s using his proper name.  While I’m thrilled to see his language exploding, it makes me a little sad to see how quickly he’s lost his Mandarin.  

Social & Bonding

Peanut is easy going with a side of stubborn.   He’s a pouter when things don’t go his way, but a good tickle fest can usually cause him to lose his ‘tude quickly.  He likes people and likes being out and about. He’s not hesitant to interact with strangers but he doesn’t display any inappropriate affection of familiarity with anyone outside of our close circle, which is sometimes a concern with adopted kids.   

 

We’ve made great strides with attachment and bonding over the past few months.  Although Peanut quickly accepted us as caregivers, I would not say bonding and attachment came easily for any of us.  He allowed me to meet his needs from day one and showed clear preference for his parents versus other adults.  He accepted affection and would give kisses when asked for kisses.  He’d say “I love you” before we left his room at night.  All of these things seemed very routine versus having any real emotion attached to them. 

 

It is difficult to bare the fact that we had attachment/bonding issues with Peanut.  I try never to compare any of my children to one another, but my bonding experiences with Sissy and Doodlebug vastly differ from my bonding experience with Peanut. I felt a huge rush of love when my first two kids were placed in to my arms. Even though the circumstances of how I came to parent them was completely different, the instant maternal love was identical.  Things were different with Peanut.  I'd heard about attachment struggles from the adoption support group I'd joined when we brought Doodlebug home and I used to scoff at the mommies struggling to bond.  "They must be doing something wrong", I would smugly think.  I was totally in love with my new baby and all I wanted to do was kiss his head.  I know he might not have been quite as smitten with me at that point, but I did a lot of eye rolling at mommies who reported concerns about attachment to their new kids. 

 

Bringing Peanut home was humbling.  I was suddenly one of "those moms" who was struggling.  I'd thought I'd done everything right.  I was uber prepared...heck, I was an adoption veteran.  But Peanut & me...instant love it wasn't. 

 

My biggest concern was his lack of need for comfort when upset.  He would stand and cry but wouldn’t seek me out or reach for me.  He’d usually allow me to hold him but wouldn’t lean in, cling or hug back.  Although this was worrisome for me, I kept on showing frequent and liberal affection.  While he wasn’t particularly huggy, he was usually up for sitting on my lap or next to me out the couch, so I took advantage of these opportunities to be physically close to him. 

Some might find the phrase “fake it till you make it” distasteful, but the feelings of love and the bond between Peanut and I was something that had to grow.  It wasn’t “instant love” for us.  I felt protective but our bond had to evolve.  I credit the circumstances of the trip and aftermath with some of this.  The magnitude of his actual needs compared to what his paper file said was also a contributor.  At any rate, it took a while.  And that’s okay.   

Some days were just going through the motions.  Some days were really, really hard.  Some days were golden.  We kept plodding on and I cut myself some slack.  And, eventually things fell in to place.   

At about the five month mark, I noticed things were different.  I sat down to watch TV with Peanut, at his request.  He jumped on my lap, took my arm and locked it around his body.  He held on tight, making sure that I wasn’t going to let go of him.  I had only meant to sit for a second.  I didn’t really have time to sit at all.  But on that evening, Peanut wanted me to hold him, so I did.  I sat through the “Hula Duck” episode of Ni Hao Kai Lan, which I’ve seen way more times that I ever want to.  

 

A couple of days later, I woke up at about three in the morning to find Kyle curled up against my legs.  It’s rare that we don’t wake up with a kid in our bed, but that kid is never Peanut.  Since then, he sneaks in with us about once a week.  He doesn’t seem particularly distressed or afraid…he just comes in to hang out and snuggle, which is okay.  

At six months home, Peanut will seek me out when he’s distressed or has an “owie”.  He bumped his head in our kitchen last week and my husband picked him up.  He allowed the cuddles and them hollered for “mommy” and held his arms out for me.  He definitely thinks daddy is more fun, but when he’s “in distress” or wants someone to do something for him, he is a mommy’s boy.  That is A-OK with me.  

Peanut is one of the bright spots in my day.  I absolutely can’t imagine life without.  I love him every bit as much as my other kids and the stress and doubts present during the early days of our adoption seem like such a long time ago.  Bringing Peanut in to our family was a commitment that has resulted in some rocky times…and some amazing blessings. 

Me & Peanut 2 weeks ago at a Chinese New Year party

Medical exam in China.  We had known each other 6 days. 

About an hour after meeting.  He was still wondering who the loud redhead was but he tolerated me (I had snacks).  

Medical

Peanut continues to be a pretty healthy kid.  We have some follow up blood testing to be done in March – he’s being re-screened for certain parasites and infectious disease, just as a precaution.  We are also having genetic testing done – our doctor offered it and we’re going to press forward with it (simple blood testing) to see if there is any “missing puzzle pieces” we’re able to put together about his medical history. 

On the 26^th of February, Peanut is having some testing done under anesthesia.  His urinary system is going to need some reconstruction – whether that is major or minor, we’re not sure.  The testing will tell and if it’s a minor fix, they may be able to take care of it on the spot.  This will result in some short-term discomfort for our boy, who isn’t too crazy about any medical professionals in the first place. 

We’re hoping and praying that the fix will be minor.  If it isn’t, we’ll likely have to readdress this when we get to wherever we’re going in the fall of 2014.  If things look complicated, we simply don’t have enough time left in the UK to pursue anything that is going to require a great deal of follow up care.  It’s a shame because we really do like his urologist and feel comfortable with him.  It would stink to start at square one once we make the big move. 

And there you have it – six months

I blinked and six months passed by.  I think we’re past the first big hurdle and life is good.  I have no idea what the next six months hold.  Much is up in the air for our family but I am excited to see what is around the corner for us. 

On the playground, Feb '14, enjoying rare English winter sunshine...brrrrr!

My crazy crew

 

We are in contact with the staff at Peanut’s orphanage.  We exchanged email info with them at the time of adoption and they send us a note about every other month.  We send them pictures and let them know that he is okay…we have yet to really give them any info or ask questions but we’re very fortunate the door is open. 

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to open that door.  The condition Peanut was in when we adopted him causes me some angst, although I believe they did care for him and thought they were doing the best they could.  A friend reminded me that it wasn't my door.  Until Peanut is old enough to decide if he wants to open that door, I am sort of the doorstop.  Perhaps my willingness to communicate will bring answers one day.  For now, I’m content not to ask questions. 

Peanut’s extreme fear of medical personnel and dogs continue to perplex me.  I get that the poking and prodding he has to endure isn’t fun, but his reaction goes beyond what makes sense. Now that he has some language ability, he’s told me “dogs eat your face”.  He shows no signs of ever being bitten, but I kind of wonder if he saw someone bit or if someone told him this.  We happened on a lady walking some sort of poodle mix on our way home from school last week and he about climbed up my leg.  For Peanut, there is no “nice doggy”.

Peanut is a treasure, a challenge, a blessing and sometimes, a bit of a mystery.  Looking forward to so many more milestones and firsts with you, sweet boy.  I am so honored to be your mom and “saying yes” to you is something I thank God for every day.
 
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Sunday Snapshot

Two cool kids eating some Chinese cookies - another great Sunday in England. 

Jill's Top Ten Reasons to Adopt a Toddler

I used to really love David Letterman's Top Ten lists.  Yes, I know I am dating myself, but that's OK.  In reflecting on how much my life has changed since we opened our hearts and minds to bringing these two little dudes in to our family, I've put together my own Top Ten list. 

"Older child" adoption is a little hard for some people to get their heads around, I guess.  Most people can identify with infant adoption, but families who adopt toddlers and up are often a curiosity.  I've tried to capture the very best aspects of our choice...some of it is humorous, some of it is really from my heart.  So, here we go, people:

-- Because it adds a little something to  your day when someone claps for you because you went number one in the potty

-- Because experiencing an endless array of firsts through their eyes is priceless – first visit to the zoo, first ice cream cone, first grilled cheese and tomato soup, first game of Angry Birds, first train ride…the list goes on. 

-- Because it is really fun to have a “secret language” with your spouse.  Right now, we’re taking advantage of the fact that they can’t decipher the spell code we’ve got going on.  Our tots are blissfully unaware of the true meanings of c-o-o-k-i-e and
b-e-d unless we want to clue them in.  Eventually, we’ll have to switch to Pig Latin, but I think we have a few years. 

--Because sleeping past 7AM is completely over-rated.  

--Because you learn to cherish the present.  You’ll never get back the time in your child’s life before you became his/her family, but the time you didn’t get makes the time you do get all the more precious.

--Because you can watch all of the Disney cartoons you want without people judging you. 

-- Because the capacity you have for love and wonderment will amaze you. 

-- Because you will get really (really, really, really) good at doing laundry. 

-- Because adoption – any adoption – is a gift.  Most people think the lucky ones are the children.  Most parents who have adopted toddlers believe they are outrageously lucky. 

And the top ten reason to adopt a toddler is…

-- A child who could have grown up without a forever family doesn’t. 

And just because I can, here are two reasons that I have an eleventh reason for why adopting a toddler totally rocks - because yes, people...they are just that cute. 

 

 

Service and Sacrifice

(I wrote this post last week after I came home from the memorial service for the crew of Jolly 22.  It has taken me a week to tweak my words and my thoughts).

I normally maintain social networking silence on the subject of military service.  This is a mommy/adoption blog.  I write as JillR, wife and mother.  Private citizen.  Today, it is not so easy to compartmentalize.  And so I break my rule…just this one time.

Today, I attended a memorial service for four people that gave their lives in service of our country.  These three men and one woman were the crewmembers on the rescue helicopter that crashed while on a training mission in England on January 7th.  This crew was assigned to my base, and while I did not know any of these Airmen personally, their lives and deaths have touched me in a way that I find surprising. 

Life on a military base, especially a base overseas like ours, is a lot like life in a small town.  People live, work, shop and connect in a relatively small amount of real estate.  There are few strangers and few secrets.  Military families have a common bond and when you add the “strangers in a strange land” aspect, the result is a pretty tightly knit community.  And when we lose one of our own, the loss is felt.   

My job in the Air Force is in no way sexy or glamorous.  But, when I raised my hand and signed on the dotted line twenty-three years ago, I did so with the knowledge that I was agreeing to put my life on the line for my country.  I was young and maybe a little directionless on that January day in 1991 when I repeated the words “I do solemnly swear” but I knew what I was agreeing to.  

What I do on a day-to-day basis is low risk.  I am not an aviator.  I don’t handle a weapon as part of my everyday job.  I don’t work with explosives and don’t regularly come in contact with people who are hostile, unstable or combative.  When I kiss my family and head to work each morning, I do so with the confidence that I will see them again at dinner.  I don’t wonder if this is going to be the last morning I get to kiss my kids or hear them laugh.    

I believe when it’s your time, it’s your time.  My mom always says “you never know when your room is going to be ready.”  Conscription is a thing of the distant past.  Those of us who wear the uniform chose this life, knowing and accepting the risks that go with it. 

Our base had a memorial service for all four service members.  It wasn’t a funeral but rather a way for the military community to pay their respects and to celebrate their service.  This was an event held in an airplane hangar and open to the entire military community. 

I hemmed and hawed about whether or not I’d go.  I kept making excuses to myself about how busy I was and how my presence wouldn’t really make a difference.  After all, I didn’t know them.  I knew a couple of them by sight, but they weren’t friends.  They weren’t even acquaintances.  My presence or lack thereof would not matter to the four members of the helicopter crew who gave their lives. 

But the real reason I was hesitant to go was this:  hesitation to deal with my own emotions.  One of the fallen Airmen was a young mother of two young boys, married to another military member.  This Airman, this mom in uniform kissed her kids goodbye on a Tuesday and went off to do what the Air Force had trained her to do just like I did.  But on that day, her room was ready. 

It hit a little too close to home and made the “what if I” thoughts that lurk pretty far down in my consciousness rise up and nag.  I keep a pretty heavy guard on my emotions – at least in a professional setting – and going to a venue where public grieving was on the agenda made me uncomfortable.    

I went to the memorial.  It was well done, as those things go.  Being at this memorial was like looking through a window of what things would look like if it had been me or my husband.  Parents, walking with their shoulders sagging, wearing masks of pain, facing the fact that they’d outlived their children.  A husband wearing his service dress uniform holding a child in his arms that was crying for his mommy, not quite understanding everyone's explanations as to why she wasn't coming home.  A mother struggling to comfort her children while burdened with her own grief. 

There were a total of about two thousand people at the memorial.  I doubt all these people knew the deceased personally.  Most were probably just like me…fellow Airmen who came to pay their respects.  There was a big screen that showed pictures of their lighter moments, some poignant testimony about the lives of these Airmen…along with some really funny stories.  These were four bright individuals who loved life, loved their families and loved serving their country. 

I am glad I went and glad I was part of the community showing of support.  If it had been me, I would have wanted my parents, my husband and my children to draw some comfort in seeing how my Air Force family rallied.  As saddened as I was to see these grieving families, I was enriched by getting to hear a little bit about their lives.  They leave behind a great many people who will mourn and miss them, but there are also a great many people who are tucked at home safe and sound because of their service.  They did what they did every day “so that others may live”. 

Crewmembers of Jolly 22 – thank you for your service and rest in peace. 

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!

 

Sunday Snapshot

I thought "first Chuck Taylors" was photo worthy.  Have a great week!