Sand on'ne Beach, or, Sandy Thanet

Looks like a bunch of beach to you? So it is. We're surrounded by beach, and Tara loves it. Between her toes, under her bum, and especially over her feet. She loves it in Ramsgate, in Margate, or in Botany Bay; on a regular day or a festival, with or without ice cream, with or without picnick, and with or without friends. All she really needs is a shovel, although she loves her sandy beaches best with friends, picnick, shovel and ice cream too. Me too. That's the combo on which I get to lie back, enjoy what sunshine remains of the summer, and read a mag. Beaches are bliss.

BROADSTAIRS, VIKING BAY

Earlier this month, when the weather was still officially (as opposed to wonderfully and accidentally) sunny, and Onkel Andi-to-us was around. Tara begged to be allowed on the beach, and then Tara begged for help burying her feet. Can you see her asking, "Please, kind sir uncle, bury my feet some more?" Actually, her English is not quite that advanced, but I'm sure you can still see her begging, "Mehr! Mehr! Mehr!" (morex3)

"Mehr? Meehr! Meeehr?"

She did get some help (see big handprints at front of Mount Foot), but she also did a pretty good job herself, and only had enough when a kilo of sand had accumulated inside her clothes, and ice cream was offered as a bribe...


Here it is, in all it's glory, a proper English summer beach, complete with (under-used, due to pap weather all around) swings, merry-go-round, and trampoline-frames (right front). All closed. Early September is end of season, innit. Donkeys gone home, too.



MARGATE MAIN SANDS, INTERNATIONAL KITE FESTIVAL


A festival! Oh aren't we glad we came down! This is de-light-ful! Look at all the kites in the air! Regular, 3D ones, monster-ginormous ones, extraordinary ones, and most of all we love the panda! Look at our delicious picnick... ah, can't see that, we ate it up before I took my camera off the kites. Never mind. Now, Tara? She has to be forced a little to get her to admire the kites. She's spotted the mini-"demmi-demmi" (Remmi-Demmi, i.e. amusements) at the back of the beach, in particular the swings, and is dying to go. We trudge off with a little pocket money from dad and blow it all on the rides. Tara bravely sits through three trips on Thomas Tank (see pic on main link), then blows her last Penny on the scary ride that doesn't only go in circles but also up and down a mini-mount. "Mami, finished!" she tells me once she's gone round twice, but has to sit it out for another two minutes. Brave girl. And the swings? Too big for my small girl, and we're out of pocket money too.

We lurve Mr. Panda

Aaaaaww, kites!

Ice cream, on this occasion? A treat, not a bribe.



RAMSGATE MAIN SANDS


The beach at our doorstep. Not the most attractive looking of the lot, so I'm giving you a picture of the adjacent harbour instead.
We come down right after nursery, sometimes, tired Tara complete with left over lunch in much loved, smoothie containing lunch box, and a shovel if Mum remembered to bring one. Tara loves this beach too. She's not a discriminator of beaches. I am. I judge them by aesthetic surroundings, and this one fails us badly. You can't actually see the harbour when you're playing. My favourite is Botany Bay, where you can't see anything other than beach, sea, cliffs, people and ships in the distance. That one rocks my boat, so...


(You never truly like what you got, don't you. Beaches, straight/curly hair, all the same...)


BOTANY BAY, THE FAMILY FAVOURITE


We sat here the other day, and I was thinking, 'Not bad, not bad at all. Not quite Leicester and New Walk, but actually, not bad at all. Actually, good!' There we go: My first truly positive Thanet moment, ten (10!) months after the move. It's been a while, but this beach in peach.


So of course we bring a friend. And a picnick. And a mag. And then we trust the men to look after the child. And don't they all look delighted? Me too. Behind the camera, munching on a brownie, reading some randomly interesting articles about random health and fitness things directly opposed to munching on brownies, and chilling happily in the late summer sun. As fate had it, just half a week before a cold autumn chill descended and ended the season, for all that we know.
*Sigh*

Sand in'ne Garden

It took a considerable amount of ice cream, sand, and discussion about the amount of 'flamango' (aka mango) permissible an hour before dinner to get Tara to play outside without me. But I finally made it into the kitchen to start dinner, only to look out and... think clothes on line, think mess underneath... be reminded of a much earlier scene... click: FLASHBACK!
Two years and three months ago.

PS.: NOT A HINT / KEINE ANDEUTUNG / NO ES UNA PISTA

Snap: Helping hand

Or, helping head and hands and torso... Good daughter!

"Baby am Bauch"

Ich nicht. Aber Tara.
Sag ich zu ihr beim Baden: "Ach, du süßer kleiner Dickbauch!"
Tara guckt pikiert: "Nein, kein dick. Tara eine Baby im Bauch."
Ich: "Was!!"
Tara: "Ja. Schoooon wieder!"
Stimmt. Tara hat immer mal gern ein Baby "am" Bauch. "Tara eine Baby am Bauch wie de Marc wie de Kerstin." Sprichts und klopft sich liebevoll auf den kleinen Dickbauch.
"Das ist aber schön," sage ich ihr dann. "Aber wir müssen noch lange warten, bis das Baby rauskommt, richtig?"
"Ja, waaaten," stimmt mir Tara zu.
"Genau," sage ich. "Noch mindestend so um die 25 Jahre."

Außer 2 Jahre alt und schwanger, betätigt sich Tara auch professionell in einem ganz spezifischen Gewerbe. Als Tänzerin, wenn sie Musik hört, besonders gerne aber Mittwoch früh.
"Tara auch eine pole dancer!" deklariert sie und setzt sich auf die oberste Treppenstufe.
Dienstags abends gehe ich zum pole dance. Offensichtlich.
"Nein Tara, wenn man pole dancer ist, muss man aber auch tanzen, nicht sitzen," erkläre ich, und wir gehen die Treppe runter und wackeln ein bischen mit dem Popo, bevor der Tag anfangen kann.
(Ich überlege immer noch, wie ich ein "Stripperstange" im Haus unterbringen kann *seufz*, und die blauen Flecken sind auch schon nicht mehr so schlimm...)

Meine Tocher, ganz klar. Erziehung auf dem richtigen Weg für die kleine Frau Vidal von Rönn!
Auch wenn ein Teil der Erziehung wieder in den professionellen Händen des Kindergartens liegt. Dafür ist ihr Englisch wieder auf dem Vormarsch, nach eine Sommerruhepause. Ich höre sie im Kindergarten krakelen "Sally, tidy up time" "five minutes!" "See you tomorrow, Maddie", und wenn ich beim Abholen um die Ecke spähe, sehe ich sie im Kreis der Kinder stehen, laut Lieder singend ("Old Macdonald had a farm EEAyeeay-ooo"). Zu Hause spricht sie vor sich hin "My name is Tara... my name is Ben... My name is Tina...). Kigatante Tina erzählt, wie sie im Garten alle Kinder klar beim Namen ruft und vor Bären warnt "Maddie, run! It's the bear!", und generell findet Tina, dass Taras Englisch (trotz Sommerpause) genau so weit entwickelt ist wie das der anderen Kinder in ihrem Alter, und dass sie ganz besonders schlau ist. Finde ich ja auch. Ach! Meine Tochter, meine talentierte Tochter!

Und hier ein Foto, weil's schön ist, auch wenn man darauf das Baby im Bauch oder den Popotanz nicht sehen kann. Aber so in der Küche, mit der Hand in den (Bio-Baby-no-junk) Chips? Auch ganz die Mama!

Onkel Andi To You

Uncle Andi is a pretty cool dude. He's young, he rides bikes (ex-ci-ting, says Tara) from Hannover to Wunstorf and back (a feat, and well fit, says Mummy), he plays the guitar (self-taught, we might add), and currently he's inter-railing Europe, and has fit in a visit to Thanet, somewhere in between Portugal and Sweden. Tara is delighted. She calls out to "ONKEL ANDI" so often in the first 24 hours that it takes on a musical quality that must remind her of, well, her favourite tune, for before Onkel Andi has completed his first day in Ramsgate, she is officially singing out loud: "Onkel Andi to youuuu, Onkel Andi to youuuuu...." At this point we have to help her out a little. The compexities of musical lyrics, you see... "Onkel Andi, liebe Taaaraaaa...."
Chorus, all: "Onkel Andiii toooo youuuuuuu."
(Yes, really. She did sing that.)

Tara takes a lesson. Pling pling.

Advanced and inspired

Applause for the master!

I have to say, having a lovely tune played for bedtime has undeniable charms, although I'm quite sure my singing has improved greatly over the last 2 years, if only noticeably so on the three songs I mix and match at bedtime. Happy Birthday to You is not one of them, much as Tara would like that.

Snap: Hello from sunny Canterbury

Hello Alex! What? You have a job interview at Canterbury College tomorrow? Well good luck with that! (You know, if it's meant to be...)

Hello Tara... Oi! Oh well, bye then, off you go...

Hello Jose!

Tara...? Oh well...

Tea Party

Ok. No tea. But Tara's best friend Isabelle is with her, plus she's got new Dora wellies. Swell!

Snap: We love our nursery

Todas'y session was from 8am to 3pm, so a long six hours (detract morning delay and worried keen mother arriving early). Oh there were tears! When I said to her: "We're going home now!"
Tara (howling): "Nein, nich Hause gehen! Tara noch mehr (s)pielen! Tara ein Buch lesen!" (No, no going home! Tara play some more! Tara read a book!) So we read a book, and then agreed: "Morgen Tara schooon wieder Kinnergarten!" (Tara tomorrow again nursery)

Above how I found her today. Dancing with whacky bunny ears that she'd put on herself, hair all messy and hairclip dangling between extra ears. Not to mention the very great amount of colour on her previously plain brown cardigan.
I think we're loving it.

Snap: Sandwich Training

It's Sunday afternoon and only half a day to mummy-less nursery sessions and packed lunches. Packed lunches need some training, both on the production and consumption side. Sandwiches... Grab them, extract suspicious content (here: watercress) without the sandwich falling apart, then extract favourite bits (here: eggwhite) without sandwich falling apart. Ubung macht den Meister. One thing I swear will not happen: Tara will never ever unpack anything that seems to be quite an average lunch here, like white bread with chocolate spread, and super sugary battenberg cake for dessert. I mean, really. I nearly cried when i saw it, and the big eyes that little thing was making at Tara's healthy tasty and fun smoothie. Poor Tara. She'll be the freak with the healthy lunchbox. The freak with the nutrition nut mother. Watercress. Really.

Spinach Cake

A few weeks ago, Jose and I had the following conversation - not word by word, but essentially it ran like this:
Jose: Why don't I make spinach cake for dinner tonight.
Alex: You mean that incredibly finger licking delicious concoction that in seven years of mostly cohabiting you have not mentioned even once, that one that is so tasty I'll be wanting to ask for it every other day henceforth, and that is so good and full of spinachy iron that you should have fed it me throughout the whole pregnancy two years ago instead of that daily portion of salmon, and that is ever so quick and easy to microwave in a rubbish bag (clean) that it's the perfect lunch or supper, not to mention the fact that your bonny spinach deprived daughter loves it and eats it very merrily?
Jose: That's the one.

Well, then. It's a recipe the world must be told about.
1. Take a clean rubbish bad, but really any other bag will do too; you will also need a microwaveable bowl of ca. a large hand's or a short foot's length.
2. Fry one or two gloves of garlic until golden. Then add two chopped up onions, then a portion of bacon/pacetta (ca. 150g). Add half a bag of frozen spinach (ca. half a kilo), then season (salt / pepper). Let cool down a bit after spinach is fully defrosted.
3. Stick your (rubbish or other) bag in your bowl, and put three eggs in it (minus shell), together with ca. 50g of Tara's very favourite Red Leicester cheese (cubes).
4. Pour your fried things into your (rubbish or other) bag, and mix everything well inside said bag.
5. Close bag, place in bowl again, punch a few holes into the top, and microwave at full heat for 10 min.
6. Set aside to cool down, cut bag off, slice, and enjoy like ME!
Hmmmmmm...

PS.: Really, that idiotic picture should show my own stupidly rapt face.

PPS.: Says Jose, "Gosh, I absolutely and resolutely forbid you to use that picture of me looking a complete dimwhit, unless you also post one of me looking really gorgous and handsome, for good measure." What can I do...

My lovely live-in cook

It nearly went unnoticed, what with the weather being so glum and us all so busy, but yesterday it was five years exactly since we both came to live in the UK, Jose with a PhD to start working on, and me with an open return ticket and no idea what lay ahead. Ah, sweet Leicester; what a strangely beautiful and exotic place we came to... But I'm drifting. When it comes to Leicester, all that Tara talks about is RED Leicester... If I'm not mistaken we are now allowed to apply for naturalisation, even. So. Stick a candle in that cake when you make it. It belongs there.

New nursery, day three

Half way through her breakfast, she spoke: "Tara finished. Gehen Kinnergarten jetz! Tara nein pushchair. Tara laufen." It's quite a thrilling walk too. Neighbours to chat to, Vogelkacke to admire on the street, flowers to pull off, Schnecken to be studied... ("Mama, EKELIG!") I can't say how glad i am that this new nursery is so much much closer than the old one!

Alex...

... Day three means, I get to leave her for an hour. I'm still hurting too bad from Tuesday's pole dancing session ouch ouch to go to the gym, so it's coffee and a girly mag in town. Mummy chill time!

Tara...

... Very busy sitting doll house folk on doll house sofas. Happy! Happy and well, while I feel a bit sick. Must not mess with coffee and odd syrup flavours in my child free time. Better do some cooking and cleaning! (Or some brain reviving sudoku in case i do score a job that needs my head to function right... Something I can't quite imagine at present...)

New Nursery

HIDE!

New nursery, day one! Are we scared? No, no way! For a week, Tara's been talking non-stop about meeting Tina, her new main carer, and all the things she wants to do with and show her. So she's quite confident and excited on the way up, although still in denial about the presence of other children. "Nein, keine anner Kinnders! Anner Kinner gehen Hause!"
We take dolly Baby Isabelle for moral support.
We need Baby Isabelle! We need moral support! The sight of all those other children shocks Tara into silence, and at hello-hello circle time, where each child is required to say their name, get up and show a thing they can do (like standing on one leg), Tara relies on Mummy to say her name and demonstrate her great skills at... HIDING! ('My name is Tara, and I can HIDE very quickly indeed... inside my mummy's cardi!... Boo!')

But half an hour later, an older girl has attached herself to the mummy-Tara-dolly trio. I suspect she was mostly attracted by our darling Baby Isabelle, but stuck with us throughout, and was extremely polite at asking Tara if she could hold her baby, and always handing her back about five minutes later when Tara would want her back, only to ask to borrow her again another 3 minutes later. So the four of us played with the dollies, sang songs, danced holding hands (real and dolly ones), and generally felt good about the whole experience. Tara left willingly, but shall return equally willingly.

So back to hide and seek at home! Today's speciality: "Mami kann verstecken share-share mit de Baby auffe Boden!" ('mummy can hide share-share with the baby on the floor') So mummy shares a rather small blanket with, from left to right,

Die Sofa-Kuh, G(r)oßes Baby, Baby Isabelle, Dalili (Teletubby), Kuschelbaby, Teddy, Puppi, and Anna Baby. I'm quite sure my feet stuck out from under that overcrowded blanket, and I was easy bait. Good job she's occasionally convinced that other toys are fun too... On to the Klötzchen and other less tiring delights!


PS.: I'm a lunch box packing parent now! Exciting! Tara's very first lunchbox contained: Ketchup-fried pasta with veg and cheese, grapes, a strawberry yogurt, and a smoothie.

Hide & Seek III

Variety: Build me a house. "Mama, Haus! Baby night-night!"
Nursery, here we come. Bags are packed.