Tequila!

OK, so we are now at the airport (I am blogging this whilst waiting in the queue to check in, how technologic am I!), and not only are we suffering because BA are such a bunch of inept morons (they haven't even opened the check in desks yet), but we are suffering terribly with evil Mexican hangovers. 

Last night we had a farewell thrash at La Verdad, apparently the place to go for Boston's best (and most lethal) margaritas.  Turns out those kindly Isis moms aren't so sweet and wholesome after all, thay are full on party girls. How the hell did I not discover this before?

Needless to say we are feeling pretty sketchy today and not really in the mood for a transatlantic flight with 200 adolescent American high schoolers, but before we know it we'll be back at Heath Villas, tired but happy to be home.

I'll be doing a couple more posts to finish off the last week of our American adventure, but this will be my last on American soil.  Sniff..... 

The Long (Boozy) Goodbye

Yesterday we moved out of our apartment at 4 Emerson Place and all this week we have been saying various goodbyes to the friends that have made our stay in Boston so special.

On Tuesday Katie rounded up the original Isis mom-crew and we took our babies for a slap-up lunch at the Cheesecake Factory.  First of all I have to point out that the Cheesecake Factory is my most favourite chain restaurant in the US.  Its menu is, like, around 30 pages long.  Seriously!  But for some reason I always have the cobb salad (lunch size, and even then there's enough left over for a decent meal in the evening too).  Secondly, it was totally amazing to see the babies that a few months ago could barely hold their heads up sitting in high chairs and drinking from sippy cups!  Sniff, I have a lump in my throat just thinking about it....

Thank you wicked awesome Isis moms for being my buddies, and a particularly big thank you to Katie for organising the lunch for me and, more importantly, being such a good friend to me whilst I've been in Boston. 

On Thursday it was Eamon's last day at work.  To celebrate we went to the Equity Residential Annual Margarita Party with the neighbourinhos, Chris, Jessica and wee Amelia.  My experience to date with margaritas is limited and my only observation would be that they taste a lot like seawater.  Those served out of margarita fountains (!) at the party were not much different.  The food was pretty good though, it's just a shame that despite being held at the pool we weren't allowed in the pool to cool down after all those jalapeno peppers.  Well, you know how all those doctors can be after a few margaritas, they can go ker-azy!

Two drunk mommies (at this point I am past caring

whether I am sucking my stomach in for photos)

On Friday, our last night in apartment 1014, Bill and Helen came over and we went out for a boozy dinner whilst Eve and Zoë stayed at home under Bridget's watchful eye. 

Helen has beaten me to the punch by blogging about the evening first so I won't add to what she has so eloquently written, suffice to say that the next morning we were not in the tipmost-toppermost form to be sorting out the remainder of our possessions before hitting the road to start our vacation (as you can probably surmise from the photos above, there were a few sore heads the next day). 

Zoë finally says goodbye to that crappy swing, now on sale at the Salvation Army on Mass Ave

When we arrived in Boston at the end of February we had two suitcases each.  Going on holiday yesterday we managed to fill a Chevy HHR, Helen and Bill very kindly took away a people carrier worth of our stuff, we had four boxes shipped back to London and Eamon and Chris took a car load of gear to the charity shop.  That's an awesome volume of THINGS* to have accumulated in just six months. 

So, in conclusion, when we leave Boston we'll be leaving behind a huge bunch of stuff but, more importantly, a great bunch of friends. Sniff sniff, that lump in my throat's come back......

* Or TUT as it's known in our house.

Lists, lists, stuff, hairdos, PANIC

There's a lot to do before we check out of our apartment next Saturday morning.  I feel tired just thinking about making a to-do list.  Then there's the exhaustive list of items required by customs for the stuff that is being shipped home (I have done quite a lot of shopping, it's true). Unfortunately my attempts to flog Zoë's baby gear have been a bit hit and miss.  To date I still have no takers for the swing of doom and various other bits and pieces that we don't need to or can't take home, so next week I'll have to take a bunch of "lightly used" stuff to the Salvation Army on Mass Ave. 

I meant to get a lot of list-making done today, and maybe even some packing.  Zoë spent the day hanging out at daycare* and meeting her daddy's co-workers.  In the time available to me I managed a limited but nonetheless enjoyable list of activities.  Principally, I spent a whopping three and a half hours with Francisco getting my hair done and generally hanging out and chatting. 

I also managed to purchase a suitcase, get a dress for a wedding we're going to in September and buy some overpriced fish in Whole Foods.  What the bloody hell is she doing doing buying MORE STUFF when she can barely get a handle on the stuff she already owns, I hear you cry?  So, to make myself feel slightly less guilty when I got home I sat down and made the damn list and it only served to make me panic even more looking at all the crap I have to do before next Saturday.  Shiiiiiit!!!

* Zoë's teacher's dad came in to the nursery today with a guitar and a violin and apparently she was completely enthralled and even started banging in time with the music!

Sooper Pooper

Today's swim class was unfortunately cancelled due to a "toilet incident".  Why the offending child* was not wearing the prescribed plastic knickers I cannot imagine, but it must have been quite an "incident" as the whole pool had to be evacuated.  Bummer. 

Instead, Zoë went swinging with Josie.  Good times. 

* Or maybe it wasn't a child?  WE'LL NEVER KNOW.

Already planning her first cross-Channel swim

Geeks aren't well known for their love of outdoor pursuits and physical activity.  Surprisingly then, for a university reknowned for its extreme geekiness, MIT has some very impressive sporting facilities, including the Al and Barrie Zesiger* Sports Center.  Thanks to Katie's research, this was the venue for our little girls' first swimming lessons.  Wow, only 8 months old and already taking courses at MIT, those babies sure are super-advanced.... 

Here in the US they don't like babies swimming earlier than 6 months, for reasons that I think involve chlorine (?), but in the UK Zoë's NCT baby friends have been visiting the pool together for months already and are practically ready to form a synchronised swimming squad, so she has to be ready to join in when we get home!

At the moment the Al and Barrie's pool is overrun with babies and children, as all the geeks have gone home to their darkened bedrooms for the summer and MIT is running infant and toddlers' swim classes, and a "day camp" for older children.  I can only imagine the amount of urine and other kiddy bodily fluids washing around in that pool, which makes me grateful for, rather than wary of, our friend chlorine. 

The class is designed to teach the babies about water and to make them feel comfortable in and around it.  In my view, turning up the water temperature would make them (and their parents) feel much more comfortable.  The classes last 25 minutes and involve lots of singing and movement, particularly encouraging the babies to move through the water whilst kicking or "scooping" with their arms.  Zoë is like a manatee compared to Josie the seal - she spends most of the class chattering her new teeth together and chewing on the rubber toy she's supposed to be swimming after - but I think she really does enjoy it (although not quite as much as when she goes swimming outdoors in the sun with her daddy).  It's certainly been good exercise for me, as most of the time I walk from home to the pool and back, a round trip of about 5 miles. 

It's our last class at MIT today, but we'll be home in London very soon where Zoë can join Nelia, Alex, Matteo & Co at the Willesden Sports Centre for some more swimming fun,  All we need then is for some very rich person to give Willesden Sports Centre a lot of money so that they can rename it something super-glamorous like the Ira and Brenda Goldstein Memorial Lido and, if we're lucky, turn the water temperature up, as London in September is an awful lot chillier than Boston in July.  Brrrr!

 

* Here in the US, if you have enough cash and you want to be remembered for posterity, you simply need to donate an exorbitant amount of money and you can have a public building named after you.  Like the Barbara and Melvin Nessel Cancer Care Center at MGH, across the road from our building. 

Summer Fun, US-style

Phew, wot a scorcher it has been here in Boston these last few days.  Today it hit 100 degrees Fahrenheit (I think that's around 35 degrees in normal).  Walking outside at 11 this morning was like walking into an oven.

It was also lovely and warm this weekend, when we were able to celebrate our first Independence Day as Statesiders. Each year in Boston there is a big concert at the Hatch Shell on the Esplanade, followed by fireworks.  Happily, we live right by the river and so were able to enjoy the fireworks from just outside our building. 

Obviously, we were feeling a little nervous about being a couple of Brits in a nest of patriotic colonials, so Helen, Bill and Eve came over to boost numbers.  We "grilled" (trans. barbecue) our lunch at the communal "grilling area" whilst the babies had a little frolic on the grass.  We also had a good few beers and enjoyed the company of our equally alcoholic neighbours, Chris and Jessica, whom we pestered all evening for vital provisions, such as corkscrews and tonic water.  In fact, we were having such a lovely time I totally forgot to take any pictures, but here's one of the two girls in their red, white and blue 4th July finery. 

Photo (c) Helen Jenkins, Eve's dress from Waiyee Poon Jones, Zoë's onesie by the Boston Red Sox

Luckily, Helen did take some lovely pictures, which you can find here at her tremendous new blog. 

As you can imagine, we were feeling a little sketchy the next day.  Bill and Helen tried to tempt us to join them at the Boston Chowderfest, but in all fairness clam chowder in the baking heat is not a well-known hangover cure (although fair play to them!), so when we finally managed to drag ourselves out of the flat we headed to the pool. 

When we first found out that our new Boston apartment had a pool we were very excited.  It transpired that the pool was in fact outdoors, which in the early days of our stay was a distinctly unappealing prospect.  Actually, the pool was supposed to open on Memorial Day Weekend but some (unknown) piss-artist* threw a bottle over their balcony smashing glass all over the pool area and it took Equity a quite astonishing 6 weeks to fix all the resulting problems. 

Zoë's swimsuit courtesy of Aunty Loo-sey, fashion guru

Turns out a swim is a great hangover cure and a failsafe method of tiring out your baby.  Zoë had a lovely time in the pool with her daddy, followed by a mega-nap in the shade.  It's also a marvellous way to cool off after a day wandering around Boston in the baking heat, so tonight when Eamon surprised us by getting home before 6pm we headed straight to the pool for a cooling dip.  Now that's something we'll miss doing when we're back home in Swiss Cottage!

Boston or Benidorm?

* The pool is located by the Longfellow buildings so no Asteria residents are suspects (phew!). 

Fathers' Day Feasts

As with Mothers' Day, Fathers' Day is a pretty big deal here.  When my friends from Isis asked me "what are you getting Eamon for his first Father's Day?", I shamefully replied "err, a card?".  In fact I got him a rare and special treat, namely a visit from his in-laws.  I am sure he'll get round to thanking me later. 

It was a proper scorcher of a day (naturally, the weather forecast predicted thundery showers and possibly some hail).  We walked along the Esplanade (after a slight scuffle between grandparents over who should drive the buggy) and into the Back Bay for lunch at Legal Sea Foods, New England's leading chain of fish-based restaurants. 

For those who don't know my Dad, he's been fairly adventurous food-wise in his time.  I remember once when I was about 12 he ate a whole, slimy, curly sea-snail (cold, off a bed of mossy bladderwrack), which event caused his entire family to dry-heave in unison.  However, when faced with some simple grilled fish he becomes a 13 year old boy who would rather eat his own arm (or a slimy snail) than eat FISH! FISH! THE FODDER OF BEELZEBUB!  So, whilst Mum tucked into a lobster salad, I had some grilled prawns and Eamon had scallop ravioli, Dad was happily munching on some gammon, egg and chips.  Seriously.  Why he didn't go the whole hog and ask for a pineapple ring I have no idea.  But it was Fathers' Day so I guess he could have what he damn well liked. 

Eamon washed his lunch down with some Guinness, the perfect accompaniment to any seafood dish.  As you can see Baby Zoë quite fancied some too (after all, she is half Irish), but had to make do with some SMA. Believe me, post-SMA farts are almost as smelly as post-Guinness farts. 

The journée gastronomique did not end there.  Deterred by loud but, ultimately, impotent thunder, we scrapped a trip to the Redsox game and headed to the North End for some Italian delights.  First there was a stop at Mike's Pastry.  I had been "filled in" about cannoli (ho ho, that's a cannoli joke right there) and the queue was only at the door of the shop, so I got a box.  Boy, was it worth it.  They are f****** AWESOME.  You could totally live just on those cannoli - although it would be a life of obesity and heart disease you would probably die happy. 

We headed on to Pizzeria Regina, which is a very famous Boston pizza joint*.  You have to queue for a table in this slightly shabby but excellent restaurant but, like the cannoli, the wait is worth it.  We had a pitcher of Peroni and shared 3 fairly sizeable pizzas.  Any thoughts of a doggy bag were premature as we ate pretty much the whole lot, to a soundtrack of Don Maclean (Mum and Dad looked suitably nostalgic) and U2 (Eamon, ditto).

I shudder to think how many calories and grams of fat we consumed over the course of the day.  However, Fathers' Day comes but once a year and this year, Eamon's first, I think we did it justice. 

* It has now franchised the brand but the original restaurant is totally worth a visit

Now, I've driven in Brussels, but Boston is something else.....

There are plenty of very cool things about living in Boston, like being able to walk pretty much anywhere you want to go, being near the sea, the friendly people, the delicious food... I could go on.

One very uncool thing about living here is the unbelievably bad driving and total disregard for the rules of the road.  Oh, and bad road signage that spring exits on the novice driver so that you have about 10 yards to cross 4 lanes of traffic. 

Did you know that, in Massachussets, an attempt to make the use of mobile phones whilst driving illegal was blocked on the basis that to do so would infringe the driver's constitutional rights?  I'm no Revolutionary historian, but I doubt the Philadelphia Convention agonised over the right of some moron to chat unceasingly into his cellphone whilst merrily mowing down small children on crosswalks.

The state of the roads themselves is pretty dismal, which might explain why the taxi drivers here are so bloody miserable and rude.  I've only been here a few months and driven a handful of times, but even I would have a better knowledge of the streets than some of the jokers driving licensed cabs in the City of Boston.

My rant ends with the cyclists. In all fairness, they are a rare breed in Boston, but that is probably because none of them seem to think that red traffic lights apply to them.  In the last week alone Zoe's buggy has twice narrowly missed being hit by a freewheeling cycliste running a red light.  Today I screamed "JERK!" at the man who almost mowed us down crossing Commonwealth Avenue.  I am quite impressed that in the heat of the moment I managed to simultaneously translate the "WANKER!" that was actually going through my mind into understandable American.  I hope that ignorant tosspot ("asshole") hits a pothole ("pothole"?) and gets clipped ("winged") by a cabbie ("taxi driver") who didn't see him because he was too distracted talking on his mobile ("cell") 'phone.  That would be JUSTICE in any language.

Night of the Black Rose

Granny Kay is visiting at the moment.  It took me quite a while to track down some Pernod in advance of her stay, but I got there in the end.  Sadly, no Silk Cut to be had anywhere, not even for ready money. 

Yesterday Zoë took her Granny to the top of the Prudential Tower for some ear-popping views.  Then we went for lunch at Legal Sea Foods (Chablis & scallops, of course).  In the evening, whilst Zoë was running Bridget ragged in the flat, we went to Stephanies on Newbury for dinner. 

The last time we went to Stephanies we had a lovely time - it's a very busy place but the food is excellent.  However, that extreme business meant that, this time round and despite a reservation, we had to wait half an hour for our table.  To add insult to injury we were asked for ID before they would serve us any alcohol and, as a meal without Chablis would be unthinkable, Eamon had to go home to get our passports.  And after all that, our waiter never asked for them!  

The ID requirement is a recent and bizarre aspect of Boston life.  Apparently, anyone that appears to be under the age of 40 is required to show specific photo ID before they can be served alcohol.  Interestingly (worryingly?) I have only been asked asked for ID twice*, but suddenly ID checking seems all the rage.  In fact, you can't even get into a pub in the evening these days without your passport.  Lucky then that Eamon had gone to get them, as after Stephanies we headed to the Black Rose Irish pub downtown, for some Guinness and Irish fiddle music. 

I am sure Kay could have gone on all night (everyone was up & dancing when we left), but Eamon & I were exhausted (due in no small part to our regular 5.30 am alarm call, which unfortunately has no "snooze" button).  So, it was time to head home for a nightcap of camomile tea (me) and Pernod (Kay), which at the 4 am pre-alarm call turned out to be a very wise decision on my part!

* At the time I was immensely flattered, but the novelty has kind of worn off now. 

What a pair of piss artists*

We have some very lovely neighbours here on the 10th floor, Chris & Jessica.  Eamon met them in the lift one day and he has been stalking them ever since.  He managed to lure them into being friends with us by using our deadliest weapon (Zoë), as Chris & Jessica themselves have a very new and cute little baby girl called Amelia.  Chris has already led Eamon astray once, when they went out one Friday night "to watch the Celtics game" (which actually means "go on a bar crawl, get totally shitfaced, come home at 1 am and chunder in the toilet").  

Yesterday it was unbelievably hot (and pretty humid too), the perfect day for a few cold beers.  Chris & Jessica obviously felt the same way (naturally) so at lunchtime we packed the little girls into their strollers and headed to the Boston Beer Works on Canal Street.  Normally, a meal out with Zoë follows an unchangeable pattern - fast asleep in the buggy on the way to the restaurant, asleep whilst we peruse the menu, order and wait for our food, wide awake and up for some fun as soon as the food hits the table.  Yesterday was no exception, although she did wait until we'd downed our first pint of beer before deciding it was playtime. 

At the Beer Works the beer is brewed on the premises, and includes a variety of fruit beers.  They were extremely refreshing and I can confirm the Raspbeery is also a fast-acting sedative - by the time we got home after lunch we were both wrecked and wanted nothing more than to go to sleep for a very long time.

In the evening Bridget came to hang out with Zoë, but we had totally failed to organise anything for ourselves to do (after our daytime drinking we would have quite liked an early night). Our knowledge of Boston nightlife is pretty limited, so we headed back to the Beer Works, where Eamon totally kicked my ass at pool.  In 2002 Eamon, an early protégé of Stephen Hendry**, was crowned the SJ Berwin pool champion at a seedy dive in Victoria and, who knows, if the SJB/Proskauer merger does happen maybe he could lift the crown again?

I suspect that my evening pint of Bluebeery lager merely topped up my lunchtime Raspbeeries, but that still doesn't excuse how crap I am at pool so, after Eamon got bored with me being so hopeless, we headed to the North End and for a stroll down Hanover Street, the heart of Italian Boston.  There is a very famous pastry shop on Hanover called Mike's Pastries that sells cannoli.  Maybe if I knew what cannoli are I would be more inclined to join the block-long queue to purchase said pastries.  Instead we went to the Grand Canal Irish Pub, where we felt far more at home (more beer, less fancy pastries). 

Today we've taken things pretty easy as tonight's excitement is the second match of the NBA final between the Boston Celtics and the LA Lakers.  Do not underestimate what a huge deal this is in Boston.  LA may have Jack Nicholson sitting courtside, but the Celtics have the most devoted and hardcore fanbase a team could wish for. 

Despite myself I quite enjoy watching the basketball, but Eamon absolutely loves it. In fact, him and Chris are already plotting how they can get rid of their wives and have a good old session in front of ESPN.  They have cunningly disguised this as the opportunity for Jess and me to go out for a few cocktails, whilst the daddies babysit, drink beer and watch an upcoming game.  Let's hope this time, now he's a had a bit of practice, Eamon will be able to go beer for beer with Chris and not end up spending the night on the bathroom floor. 

* To be clear, I mean me & Eamon, not Chris & Jessica!

**  If you have ever met Eamon you will have heard the story about how Stephen Hendry came to his house once, together with a man called Mulligan after whom our cat is named.  True story!

O THE GLAMOUR!

It was a super-glamorous weekend for the Devlin girls of Boston.  On Saturday afternoon I went to see the fabulous hairdresser Francisco, who in the past has wrought so much magic with my High Barnet.  I time-travelled back to the 1950's and had a wash and set, complete with rollers, hairnet and huge hairdryer.  It was tremendous & when I emerged from the salon I reminded myself of a young Victoria Principal c.1986.  To celebrate, I went out for cocktails in the evening with Katie to Alibi at the Liberty Hotel.  Our little girls were safely at home with their Daddies.  Us big girls were busy trying to look 20 years younger, like the jailbait also hanging around the bar of this renovated prison (how apt). 

On Sunday however, Baby Zoe took centre stage.  Realising how quickly her babyhood is passing, we had arranged for a professional photographer to take some shots before she grew up any more!  I found Kristina Young through Isis, where her work hangs on the wall alongside other Boston-based photographers.  These photographers' styles range from the downright cheesy to the outright creepy, but Kristina has a very colourful and natural style that we really liked. 

After starting in our apartment, where the light is apparently fantastic (but the furniture horrific), we then moved to the Public Garden.  The Public Garden is my favourite place to go with Zoe; the flowers are always beautiful, the trees are shady and it is lovely to stand on the wrought iron bridge overlooking the swanboats on the lake.  I thought I would feel self conscious having our pictures taken in public, but in the end Kristina made us feel so relaxed that the time went super-quickly and before we knew it 2 hours had flown by. 

Here is a selection of pictures from the day, and I LOVE LOVE LOVE THEM!  In fact, seeing the beautiful ones of Zoe made me cry a little....  What do you think?  I can't wait to see the full gallery.  Thank you Kristina!

Baby Zoe Update!

Princess Zozo is almost 6 months old now.  WOW. Everyone said that the time would fly but seriously, she's like a little girl now. On Sunday our lovely neighbours Chris & Jessica came for lunch with their 3 week old baby girl Amelia.  I can't even remember Zoe being that small and delicate.  She is a 7.3 kg miniature sumo wrestler now!

Since we have been in Boston Zoe has learnt to hold things properly, use both her hands in a coordinated way, sit up (supported), play with her feet (& put her feet in her mouth!), recognise her name, started to really enjoy looking at books, she loves to gabble and goo, has developed a sense of humour and a wonderful giggle, has got 100x more confident on her tummy, can flip herself over and has started to get a kick out of being with other babies and children. 

Most excitingly, yesterday she cut her first tooth and the second has just popped out!  We were very excited and I was also a little sad too, because it means she isn't a little baby any more.  What made me even more unhappy was how miserable it made her (last night is a blur of Tylenol and vomit).  In a couple of weeks she will start to try new foods (and maybe go into the horrible high chair Marriot left for us in the apartment). 

Yesterday was also another little milestone as it was our last Isis "Next Steps" class.  Going to this group has been as important for me as for Zoe. We were so lucky to find ourselves together with some really terrific new moms and their beautiful babies.  I have made some new friends, who have been very kind and welcoming to me, and Zoe has started to learn that it's much more fun to play with other babies around. 

Clockwise from Zoe:  Samantha, Josie, Noah & Ethan

The playtimes at the beginning of class were great and taught me things I can do with Zoe at home (although sadly parachute play would require at least 3 people so we can't do that).  The discussions in the second half of class were also really helpful and covered topics including weaning, baby-proofing, returning to work and developmental milestones.  Any questions we had, we could ask our teacher Teresa (surely the world's most patient woman).  What was even better were the get-togethers outside of class in various corners of the Prudential Center. And guess what? mother-in-laws cropped up quite often in conversations..... 

Needless to say we've all pretty much joined up for the next group together, starting in June.  Zoe and I can't wait!

Parklife

A stroll to the South End today, via the Common and the Public Garden.


All human life is in the park, the strollers, the ice cream scoffers, the doggies, the Red Sox fans, the bums and the quidditch players. I shit you not. The maniacs pictured below are playing quidditch. Quidditch is, I mistakenly thought, an imaginary game based on the premise that the players can fly on broomsticks and the balls move magically. Unable to defy the laws of physics, these nutters simply look like they are hobbling around doing a giant poo!

I suspect a significant Anime/quidditch participant overlap.

Easter Zoe

Happy Easter! Which in Boston means no bank holidays, an awful lot of candy and Easter baskets and the "opening night" of the baseball season with the beloved Red Sox taking on their arch rivals, the NY Yankees. This year it has also meant some AWESOME weather, so we hit the streets of the Back Bay on a pilgrimage to Fenway Park, home of the mighty Sox*.

It was also a very sociable weekend for us; colleagues of Eamon very kindly invited us to dinner on Saturday and also to lunch on Sunday. We have been made to feel very welcome and it has been great to see other areas of Boston. On Sunday we took an $80 cab ride (!) to Needham, a town about 10 miles west of Boston. It is basically Desperate Housewives made real - every road looks like Wisteria Lane, all the cars are big & shiny, all the kids have braces on their teeth, all the ladies are trim and groomed. We enjoyed a sumptuous Easter spread until Zoe, who had dressed in her prettiest party dress to honour the occasion, finally got fed up with the taffeta and it was time for a swift exit.

Zoe has found Easter a little hard; the drooling has reached rabid levels and she is also gnawing on anything she can lay her hands on. I really wish the Easter Bunny had brought her some teeth at last instead of a dose of nappy rash! Although I am very glad he brought such delicious candy for her Mummy & Daddy.... Yummy!

* I haven't a clue about baseball although I am reliably informed by Bridget at the chiropractor that games can go on for 5/6 hours! FYI the Red Sox won, so there was much rejoicing in Beantown last night.

Friends old and new

These are our lovely NCT friends, whom we met at ante natal classes. At the time we were heavily pregnant first time mothers with nervous husbands. Now look at us! Having that little group of friends, in the same part of London, all going through similar trials & joys of a little baby has been great. Me & Zoe miss them all and are jealous the babies are all going swimming together now without us (hello ladies & babies!!!).

As far as I know there is no similar organisation here in the US, nor are there facilities comparable to Sure Start centres. In Boston Isis Maternity is a company that has centres in and around the city that sell baby equipment and run classes and groups for expectant and new mothers. It seemed like the ideal place to meet some new Bostonian friends and babies of a similar age to Zoe, much like our NCT group.

On Tuesday we had our first "Next Steps" mom & baby class. At first I was a bit concerned as the course materials (!) were 38 pages long (!!), and included song lyrics for nursery rhymes I had never heard of. I was kind of hoping the sessions would pan out like an NCT meet up, which tends to involve a lot of coffee and moaning about in-laws. However, they seemed from the materials to focus on developmental milestones and doing perplexing activities with the babies like tripod sitting (?) and parallel play (??).

In fact, after some parachute play (which was actually AWESOME & Zoe just loved it) and some singing (or in my case miming), there was an introductory discussion about how our lives had changed after having our babies, what we enjoyed & found hard, and our experiences in general.

One thing that I found interesting/alarming was the US attitude to maternity leave and returning to work. Apparently it varies from state to state but, in short, if you get 3 months off you are extremely lucky (and don't imagine for a second you'll get paid for it either). In fact, many women go back to work after just 6 weeks. That's right, 6 weeks.

Now after 6 weeks I still had trouble getting up & down the stairs, let alone felt able to leave my tiny baby in daycare and go back to the office*. And you can throw in the fact that most mothers here breastfeed (nursing), which means they spend much of their free time whilst not caring for their baby, or indeed working, milking themselves so that their baby has enough to eat whilst they are out at work all day. I still find it hard to put it into words how I feel about that, suffice to say that the word BARBARISM springs to mind. The only alternative I guess is to quit your job, if you can afford to do so.

Anyway, I discovered the things that worry and charm new mums are universal and mainly centre around sleep (or lack thereof) and your baby's ability to hold their head up. Although now I understand why each meeting has to have a structure and a topic, because these girls cannot afford to waste time sitting around gossiping all day; they have to get back to work, breastpumps in hand like the superwomen they are!

In the UK we are lucky we have a bit more time to spend with our little treasures. I am lucky I have had the time to spend entire afternoons hanging out in cafes across north west London doing not a great deal other than making new friends and drinking an eyepopping amount of coffee. Hopefully now I will be doing a bit of that here in Boston too (albeit to a background of pumping).

*Although I suspect my boss would think this an excellent plan. ONLY JOKING THEO.

The family supermarket

It was pouring with rain today, again. Enough with the rain already! We had to take a taxi to the Prudential Center, and even then the taxi aquaplaned across Storrow Drive and the shopping mall was leaking in several places.

Whilst we were there I visited Shaw's supermarket, which I must say has now overtaken Whole Foods as my favourite supermarket. As well as having a tank full of unfortunate lobsters in the fish section, it also has a "foods of the world" department where exotic fare from around the globe is on offer. Check out the British & Irish section. Tempting, non?



Because, when you're away from home, OF COURSE all you want to eat is tinned treacle pudding, picallili and Ambrosia creamed rice?! I have never eaten any of these things in my entire life! Although I am very pleased to have found somewhere I can get Barry's Tea and so surprise Eamon with a taste of Ireland. And also pick up the odd lobster....

Come back Michael Fish, all is forgiven

Don't let any New Englander give you a hard time about the British weather; the climate here in Boston is ridiculous. Since we have arrived we have experienced snow, torrential rain, baking sunshine and gale force winds. Yesterday I was strolling along Boylston Street in a t-shirt; this morning it was snowing and this afternoon the sun has come out! How do you get dressed for weather this schizophrenic? And more to the point, how do you dress a tiny baby with no ability to regulate her body temperature?

To compound the problem I have no idea how to work the air conditioning unit. Although the British weather is frequently shit, at least we have gas central heating for when it's cold and windows that open when it's hot. And don't even get me started on the 1950's style twintub washing machine.....

Sunny Weekend

This weekend it has been kicking the ass of 75 degrees farenheit here in Boston. That's a good bit over 20 degrees in normal. That's quite a difference from the diluvian weather of last weekend. To honour the occasion we ditched the bulky footmuff from the buggy, Zoe donned her snappy new sunhat, and we hit the Esplanade.




The fat Americans of British imaginings do not really exist here in Boston. None of their food appears to contain any fat or real sugar, and when they aren't watching sport they are jogging, cycling or engaging in some form of physical activity (see the bonkers yoga bunnies below; sore was the temptation to sneak up on the one on the left and tip her off the pontoon). Those bloody runners in particular are always clogging the pavements of Charles Street, curse them, and on Saturday the banks of the Charles were heaving with them.




We managed to escape from the runners and get a bite to eat at a lovely little Italian cafe on Charles Street, opposite De Luca's market (apparently Martin Scorsese was once seen there squeezing Leonardo di Caprio's avocados).





You'll see in the picture above a t-shirt that Eamon bought in Old Navy last weekend. I guess he just liked the look of it and thought it made him look cool, but it actually turns out it's the University of Michigan logo. We found out because people kept coming up to him all day saying "Go Blue!" (not "F*** you!", as originally thought), assuming he was a Wolverine. Given how seriously Bostonians take their sport, and their quasi-religious devotion to their local teams, it's surprising he didn't get thrown into the Charles River for his treasonous dress-sense.

Today it has been just as sunny but slightly cooler. We went to the North End via Quincy Market and lunch at "Sam's Cafe", a truly horrendous homage to the sitcom Cheers located next to the Food Hall. We then followed the Freedom Trail back through the North End, stopping off at various landmarks entirely meaningless to European-educated folk, such as Paul Revere's House and the Old North Church. The North End is a very cool neighbourhood, full of Italian eateries and Irish pubs, so we'll have to go back and explore a bit more (perhaps less history next time & more eating at somewhere that doesn't have signed photos of Ted Danson on the wall).

The North End is also home to the TD Garden, the home of the legendary Boston Celtics and the slightly less legendary Boston Bruins.



Outside the ground were several t-shirt peddlers, although this time Eamon decided not to buy one, for fear of not knowing who he might be insulting by wearing one. Boston really is a town where they wear their hearts on their sleeves.

Beautiful Beacon Hill

We are lucky to be staying close to the amenities & charm of the Beacon Hill area of Boston. Beacon Hill is the place where in the 19th century the posh Bostonians built their redbrick houses, leaving the waterfront area behind. It is a grid of brick-pavemented streets*, gas lamps, rickety doorways, wrought iron balconies and extremely limited parking. It is proud to be a friendly community that is almost cut off from the rest of Boston, and a place where everyone knows your name (the bar that inspired Cheers is on Beacon Street by the Public Gardens).

Charles Street is the main street of Beacon Hill and it is lined with twee boutiques that call themselves things like "framery" and "clothier". The oldest US Post Office is on Charles Street. It has got away with only two branches of Starbucks and NO Dunkin' Donuts (in Boston that is quite astonishing)!

Some famous people live in Beacon Hill, including John Kerry, who lives in Louisburg Square (top picture), and the supermodel Gisele. It is also where Matt Damon lived in the film The Depaahted (that's the non-rhotic way of saying it). Gisele is married to an extremely famous and beloved american footballer called Tom Brady (NOT to be confused with Tom Daley the diminutive diver), and this morning I think I stood next to him in the queue at Starbucks! I thought it might be him because everyone was staring at him and he was carrying a baby boy in a Baby Bjorn, and I knew they had had a baby at the end of last year. And obviously I then came home & Googled him. A certain NCT friend of ours will be very excited to hear this. But I am still quite a way from from being Gisele's NBF.

As well as getting "adjusted" by Dr Rick (cohort and helpmeet of Dr Chris) today, I had my hair cut at Adela's by the magnificently camp Francisco and his boyfriend Gilson. I knew it was my kind of place when I walked in at 4 pm, they immediately offered me beer and comiserated with me about my dramatic post-pregnancy hairloss. And do you know that they made me look so fabulously young that I was asked for ID when I tried to buy a bottle of wine on the way home!? That's a pretty bloody marvellous hairdo.

* Not buggy friendly - our stylish Chicco will be knackered by the end of April. Now I know why all the moms 'round here drive ugly buggies that look like reinforced wheelchairs.