Can we afford to stop our weekend walks at bad weather? Of course not! Besides, we have a lovely small raincoat and a lovely small baby umbrella to try out on Tara and the other four elements, so out we go, in not exactly England's best Sunday walk weather.But who cares?! Tara certainly doesn't... or just a little bit, like when the raindrops hit her on the head and in her face... you see, Tara just doesn't
do cold water on hair or skin... but luckily that's where brolly training comes in. Ah. Bad news. Holding an umbrella isn't quite as easy as it seems, the d*** thing keeps rolling off baby's miniature shoulder and hitting the floor and swaying in the wind. Asylum! Asylum! Anywhere! Under daddy's umbrella, on mummy's arm... oh wait! Is this a wall to balance on? Forget asylum, let Tara walk the wall walk (video)!
The world has seen sunnier days, surely.
Brolly Training (Stage 1)
A little later the weather just gets too bad, and here's what's funny: Getting Tara out of the rain is more difficult that getting her out into it. The only trick that does the trick of turning a kicking, car-seat fighting, shrieking toddler into a submissive, obedient and cooperative 'goo girl' (as Tara might put it) in an instant, is the promise of - what else? - food. "Milch! UND Kekse!" does the trick, as in: "Psss Tara, komm! Wir fahren jetzt in die Stadt und finden ein Cafe mit Milch! UND Keksen! Lecker!"But, boy!, does she remember what shes given the rainy walk and slippery walls up for! We've been driving for less than a minute... and yes, that's MUMMY driving, ug-hugh, family chauffeur mummy... before this little voice in the back of the car peeps: "Milch? MILCH?" (pause) "MILCH!"
"Jaja, Tara, Mami (oh yes, ug-hugh, Mami) fährt uns nur eben in die Stadt, DA gibt es dann MILCH! Gleich sind wir da!"
By God, I'm chauffeur to a little person with a memory and the ability to demand that promises be kept! Where has she come from, over night?!
Luckily, the town centre is near by and keeping this promise isn't much of a problem. Watch her enjoy it (video)!
Aaah, babycchino! Nothing like it!
Aaah, Babyccuddles! Nothing like it!PS.: Jose's forbidden me to upload any of my hard work on the pole, but I'm giving you this link to show you what's so great about it. Check it out! Isn't it beautiful?!
23 comments:
This blog has officially ruled England OUT as a possible future move... I guess i feel better knowing that we aren't the only ones FREEZING in the rainy cold (in Italy) while Nirit and Lia bake in the hot Florida sun...
Now, as for the pole dancing... I too find it really beautiful, except for the occasional crotch shots and fake boobies. Both of which I know you wouldn't be sharing with us. (Right?)
What? This entry is making you form negative opinions of England? I will remove it!
Na, I won't, and you're right, no crotch shots from me either... Jose won't let me ;-) and it's Tara's blog after all, not my crotch's *giggle*
Now fake boobs? Let's talk about that when we're through pregnancing and weaned the lot; see how we think about that 5 years and 6 children down the line, ey? Never say never...
Don't you think Lololo would also have lots of fun with umbrellas and slippery walls?
Hmmm, true, lets wait for the weaning...I may want my perky boobs back again as opposed to the raisins I think my children have left me with. As for wet walls, umbrellas and giant mud puddles, I'm sure Lorenzo would have a splashing good time in Ol' England. And yes, the UK is still on the list for possible places to live. After all, I've got to keep AT LEAST 1,000 miles between us and the in-laws!
Um, I will not be birthing SIX children thank you! You DO remember the pain without drugs, right???
Sorry to interrupt.
Hi! Very cute and rainy blog entry! Quite the opposite of our spring one! We did bring our British umbrella to the States, but we don't really need it here. Actually, we are in Florida right now, and although our feet are wet (from turquoise colored water), a Fulton umbrella does not help. But that's ok...
Nirit. Florida. Be quiet. Do NOT interrupt.
This is the blog for people suffering from the rainy European cold.
Now, where were we, fellow sufferer? Ah yes, raisins. TWO raisins, I reckon? I say, that was mighty generous of your lil boy (I'm ignoring the plural there), leaving you with that many! Most children wouldn't have left any, them being as tasty as they are. Has it occurred to you that maybe he's saving them for a rainy day?
Haha.
Is that 1000 or 10000? Miles, I mean, not children. The pain? Of COURSE I remember it as it should be remembered: vaguely and only when asked to!
Soory to interrupt, too. But weatherwise I'm entitled to - I guess. Snow and rain and slippery, icy streets - does that count?
Raisinwise - I know what you're talking about... But the good news: According to my gynaecologist nature will mobilize its self-healing forces three or four years after the vaguely remembered incident... Should we believe her? Now, I didn't ask her about the chances you take after SIX vaguely remembered incidents...
I'm not sure I believe her I'm afraid. I'd hate to be a pessimist BUT my grandmother did indeed birth 6 children and all she had left were the memory of raisins... Think genetics play into this whole thing? If so, I'm screwed. But at least I know who I can go "boobie-shopping" with! ("Ah, yes, that'll be a table for two. 4 boobies please and make them PERKY!")
Thank you, TJ, a very constructive contribution indeed. So your saying as per your gynecologist there's hope that by the time we hit 40ist, the raisins we correct themselves back to, what? GRAPES? Now that is something to LOOK FORWARD TO! For the next 6 years!
Brandy, who are you shopping with? The gynecologist? Or me? "Ah yes, that'll be a table for two PLUS SIX, yes, make it spacious, and would you have six high chairs? Ok, four will do. Are you able, perchance, to send one of the waitresses over to help with the children? What do you mean, you're out of ketchup, and no play packs either? That's appalling! Well, anyway, yes please, four perky boobs, but not the pricey ones, we still need to buy 12 new shoes!"
Or were you going shopping with TJ? OK. TJ, you can come too. Shall we shop in the UK, the US, Italy or Bavaria? Once Nirit gets her badly spoiled perky ass back out of sunny Florida, she can have an invite too. IF she feels she needs one, that is. Though I dread to think what that will do to the availability of space round that table, the number of high chairs involved, and the willingness of the waitresses to cooperate and think our brood are CUTE!
We are eating out EVERY NIGHT, and no, it's not a real pleasure for a one-year old, nor her mom. And no, I never order raisins, but whenever I look down on my plate I see a pair of them, until I realize that they are attached and simply block my view... Used to love my grapes. Let's hope for TJ's gynecologist's theory of reverse nature.
OH. MY. GOD.
You guys are hilarious.
Alex, yes, I meant YOU shopping. Together, me and you, for new grapes. Plump 'in-season' ones. "Table" referred to the one in the operating room of course and not to the one we'd be sharing with our collective broad of children. (Which, by the way, after experiencing melt-downs in real restaurants with only ONE Peanut, adding 20 more to that, ALL IN MELTDOWN Mode, does not sound like fun at all.)
But hey, I'm always up for an adventure (as referred to in above comments...) so lets just see how many we can pop out and play it by ear.
p.s. If we need to buy shoes, we'd have to add a few more pair to that number JUST for Lia... eh, Nirite???
Shoes? We love shoes! Do they come with raisin embroidery? Surely in Italy.
RAISIN embroidery? Gee, Nirite, do you KNOW what you're saying in the context of our little chat here?!
Well, as to the location of our little adventure - that's a tough one:
boobie table quality is probably best in the US (most experience in that field?), most experience in ketchup is England, isn't it?, for the collective broad of children I couldn't imagine a more paradise-like place than rural Bavaria, for shoe-shopping sprees (with raisin embroidery or without) rural Bavaria is definetely NOT the place to go, so let's consider Italy. And maybe Italy wouldn't really mind a broad of space and pasta consuming bambini?! Well, since there's four of us, maybe we should give each country a try and then have a vote on perkiness afterwards? Or would that be too risky?
MY BLOG IS BEING TAKEN OVER BY BOOB TALK! I MUST PUT AN END TO THIS! Now, everybody off to their respective bathrooms in Italy, the US, and sunny Florida, to apply some OILS. Circular motion.
And before I get a new pair of perky ones, I'm buying a pole anyway. You're all invited to have a swing round it, saggy or otherwise, to get in touch with your saucy selves. Bet ya, a few hours of swinging round the pole, and we'll all be fine with raisins.
Now.
Bathroom.
Oils.
Shoo-shoo, off you go!
www.youtube.com/alex250374
Just one last bit of boob-talk, only because I am sooo very proud.
My son says "BOOBIE". Yes, in front of everyone and while sticking his hands down my shirt. Surely he should be the judge if they are still there or not.
Ok, done. On with the blog!
I am not going to take part in the boob talk. : D
I do find the pole dancing extremely beautiful and I would like to see you doing it if I have a chance. You must be very fit now, while I am stuggling with the baby fat I've put on during the pregnancy.
- Kai's mum
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