It seems like every time I sit down to write I post, I feel like writing, “well, it’s been totally nutty around here.” Every day can seem like an adventure, both exhausting and exciting. I had intentions of starting a series on the seriously cool playgrounds here. But since I missed posting yesterday and today is Travelzoo Wednesday, we’ll postpone the start. Just a bit. Don’t fret. Lots of playplace photos to come.
Two thrilling things happened to me yesterday. My Phil & Teds arrived! I had glorious grand plans of flying to the UK to go pick this puppy up. Well, okay, I wouldn’t consider easyJet glorious or grand. But I do have a travel itch, and a flight would have scratched it. A few details fell through, so we just had it shipped. Boy was that more of an ordeal than I thought.
In the US, Fed Ex is usually called Fed Ex, they usually speak the same language as you do, and they also typically bring the package to your door. Three strikes for me – I’m outta luck with all of the above. Fortunately, I did put my phone number down in the shipment details, and the driver called me from the lobby of my building. UNfortunately, he did not speak English. Attempting to appear as anything but the clueless American that has found herself living in a country where she doesn’t speak the language, I offered another suggestion. Rysski?
To my utter shock (and a bit to my dismay), the driver was Russian. Bona fide from the Motherland Russian. Oops. Guess I should have studied up on that more. After some crazy exchanges and lots of “sorry”‘s in several languages, I figured out that I had to go downstairs to sign for the behemoth. And not only did I have to sign for my own package, I had to accept a package for someone else in my building. The driver put what we would know as a doortag in the person’s mailbox with my name and flat number. And THEN he proceeded to help me with my packages. Good thing. One weighed about 18 kilos.
One ridiculously awkward elevator ride and two dasvidanyas later, I did a happy dance. And then I went to town putting together the most awesomest stroller everest. I puffy heart Phil & Teds.
And the second thing? Well, I botched my meal plan for the week and had nothing to make for dinner. Nothing appealing, that is. I loaded Screech and T-Rex in the P&T and walked to Lidl. Doc Sci met me there to help corral kiddos because trying to grocery shop for more than 3 items with 2 boys is a total waste of time. And brain power. You’ll need to do some serious damage to a chocolate bar in order to recover. Not that I object to that. But if you have a helpful husband, use what you’ve got.
As the man was wandering around, boys in tow, he stumbled upon some serious gold. Okay, they weren’t gold. They were peelies. But such things are as rare as gold in Germany. And not just 50 euro cents off some random gag-me-now, strongly perfumed laundry powder. No. Free Kids Meals at Burger King!
Now, I am not usually a fast food eater outer. T-Rex has only eaten McDonalds once. In Ireland. (Chick-fil-A does not count so keep your gloating about the freely available waffle fries, milkshakes, and spicy chicken sandwiches to yourself.) In fact, we have only eaten out once since we’ve been here – our Aussie friends took us out for pizza. Other than that, I have cooked every last measly meal of ours for weeks and weeks. Hooray for a night off cooking. Even if it means potato sticks fried in lard. Walk it off, mama.
The Bad & The Ugly
T-Rex stayed home from kindergarten yesterday. For good reason, too. His face looks like he took on a Bengal tiger and lost. Poor thing. What started out as an innocent, exhilarating bike ride down a steep slope ended with a skidding stop. On his face. Doc Sci was there to catch him, but the bike hit a rough patch, swerved, and the Rex went down. Lots and lots of blood and tears later, we determined that he just had a bunch of bruising and swelling. One of his teeth seemed a little loose, but we’re on a wait-and-see course. And he’s got a free pass out of eating raw carrots and apples for a few weeks. I think he’s doing a little happy dance of his own about that.
p.s. – I’ll spare him the embarrassment and you the pain by refraining from posting a picture of the busted face.
How was your Recover-From-Halloween Day? Leave a comment with your own good, bad, and ugly.