How Do You Like Them Pumpkins?

How Do You Like Them Pumpkins

A few days ago, I posted about my want of getting a pumpkin from an actual pumpkin patch. After extensive internet research, I found the closest thing to a pumpkin patch within a 30-45 minute drive of Southwest London. Yesterday afternoon we went to Crockford Bridge Farm near Weybridge in Surrey.

How Do You Like Them Pumpkins

Not surprisingly, I heard several American accents at Crockford. I obviously wasn’t the only American looking for a piece of home. I couldn’t even find a pumpkin in central London 11 years ago and now there’s a pumpkin patch not too far away. Amazing. Crockford even had a few shelves in their farm shop dedicated to American groceries.

Dubz enjoyed running around crazily, Moozles enjoyed the playground. I searched for the ‘right’ pumpkin. To my husband’s annoyance, I can never just buy something. I have to make sure it is the ‘best one’. But in the end, I did manage to find the best pumpkin. I think this may be an American thing as my British girlfriends seem a lot more relaxed about their purchases. Can anyone confirm or deny? 

Anyway, we had a fab day. And we will be turning our visit to Crockford Bridge Farm into an annual Halloween tradition. Do you have any Halloween traditions?

How Do You Like Them Pumpkins How Do You Like Them Pumpkins


Even though I have lived in the UK for over 11 years, I still sometimes forget British words. Yesterday at Chessington, I told my husband that the bottle of water cost two dollars. Then I called chips ‘fries’. Half the time, I pronounce tomato in the American way. I have had to recently explain to my daughter that I pronounce some things differently because I’m from America but that she should pronounce things like daddy or her friends. I don’t want her to be ridiculed for saying things in a ‘weird’ way, but she wants to do everything like me. I don’t think I’ll ever say everything the British way and I don’t want to. I like my Americanisms. So rather than going for a little lie down on the sofa to watch some telly, I think I’ll go veg out on the couch and watch some TV. Peace Out!

Happy Bug Day

Earlier this week, my five-year old asked what we were doing for Bug Day. After some confused exchanges, she clarified that it was Insect Day. Aha! What she meant was Inset Day. Schools in the UK have five teacher training days per school year, taken on different days per different schools. At my daughter’s school, the inset day is normally the Friday before half-term. So, today we went to Chessington World of Adventures to take advantage of some half-term fun but with term-time lines. A grand time was had by all, I think it might become our Autumn Bug Day tradition.
Selfies are the only way I make it in pics
Chessington looking Halloweeny
Cotton candy (that’s candy floss to Brits) seemed like a good idea until I had to wash and brush the sticky tangles from Moozles’ hair 
Dubz’s first taste of ketchup. He LOVED it!
My husband, the bird whisperer

How do you like them apples?

Tomorrow is Apple Pressing Day at my daughter’s school. Each class gets the opportunity to press apples into juice. They then sell it after school. In aide of this, I have diced 19 pounds of apples today (yes, I weighed them!). That’s a stone and a half of flippin’ apples.

If I had a job I don’t think I would feel sucked into helping out on the PTA. If I still had a job I would profusely thank the mums helping out whilst skipping off to work thinking about the lovely lunch I would be getting from Exmouth Market. I like helping out at school, even doing the thankless jobs like dicing apples. But I do sometimes have a pang of jealousy for those mums running meetings and breaking the glass ceiling.

We didn’t have apple pressing or such activities at my school growing up. I am not sure if British people my age did this sort of thing. But it seems like nowadays, school is so much ‘more’. I went to school, learned some stuff, then went home. In addition to school, my five-year old does one or two different after school clubs each term (run by school) and is learning French during lunchtime on Mondays. And it is not just about learning. Last week I helped out at the school disco. There was an actual DJ, and the kids danced crazily for over an hour.

School expects so much more from the students and the parents these days. Is it too much, or was it not enough in previous years?

Pretty Boy

I dragged the kids to the high street after school yesterday. In Lidl, my 17-month old boy was waving at an elderly gentleman. The man waved back and beamed, ‘what a gorgeous baby girl.’ I smiled kindly. This has become a regular occurrence. My little boy has beautiful curls, which I am loathe to cut (though I have trimmed his fringe). People keep telling me what a pretty boy he is. Is that not a compliment? I’ve promised my husband that we can take Dubz for his first haircut next week. I know it will make him look like a big boy. Boohoo. I will miss those baby curls.

The Queen’s English

For some reason my husband and I refer to our daughter as Moozles but we don’t call her that to her face. Anyway, when I was Moozles’ age (5 1/2), I was in my first year of school (Kindergarten) which I only attended from 9am-12pm. At that point I knew my ABCs, but don’t think I did much apart from painting and drawing. Moozles is in her second year of school, Year One, (9am-3.15pm) and seems to be learning everything and is already reading quite well. Yesterday afternoon, I listened to her read this week’s school reading books. Although she read all the words without much difficulty, she has started pronouncing ‘the’ as ‘der’. My British husband reckons that this is from my American accent confusing her. Um, excuse me? I have never in all my years pronounced ‘the’ as ‘der’. In fact, my American accent is lovely and I’m the only one in the house who speaks clearly. 
What am I to do? I already pronounce zebra and tomato like the British. Am I now suppose to speak in a British accent? I can only do a super posh British accent which wouldn’t go with the rest of the family. Hopefully it’s just a phase and Moozles will speak like other British people soon enough.

I Want A Pumpkin

I was doing my usual in bed/needing to get up but don’t feel like it perusal of Facebook, and most of my American friends have posted pictures of their weekend trips to the pumpkin patch. For those of you not from America, we don’t buy our pumpkins from the supermarket or the fruiterer. We go to a pumpkin patch, which is basically a big field where they grow pumpkins. Sometimes they have little rides for the kids. But pumpkin patches aren’t just for families. Single people, couples, friends, most people get their pumpkins from them. I can’t explain it, but it’s fun. 

We moved last year, and though we are still in Southwest London, we are bordering on Surrey. I think this may be the year we can find a sort of pumpkin patch. I’m sure there are a few places in Surrey that have masses of pumpkins to choose from. I’d really like to go look at a bunch of pumpkins, pick one or two out then come home and carve it. It is what I did with my parents, and I would like to do this with my children.

Is anyone else planning to get pumpkins to carve for Halloween? Does anybody know where I can find a pumpkin patch-type place in Surrey, not too far from London? If there is face-painting, my five-year old will be really sold on the idea.

Check out these American celebs at the pumpkin patch. Looks pretty fun, no?

Photo credit: PopSugar website

So, I’m just going to…

I feel like my first post should be filled with great insight or stories so hilarious that make you fall off your sofa. I suppose that many of us have this need to interest or amuse. If you didn’t, you probably wouldn’t write a blog. I’m also writing because I had my second child last year, and after a one-year maternity leave I resigned. I haven’t worked since April 2012, but technically I have been unemployed since April 2013. Or rather I am a Stay-at-home Mum, not unemployed. But I am starting to worry that my brain is rapidly deteriorating as all my thoughts seem to focus on my children.

This post is starting to remind me of the first episode of any new show. It has to lay down loads of background, so it’s not that interesting. Forget it, no more background. You’ll catch up in your own time.

Am I the only person who has difficulty remembering words or find that completing a sentence can take minutes? Is it old age? I am 38, surely that is middle-age. Or maybe it is a result of those two children who take up my thoughts and worries (yes, the dreaded baby-brain). Or maybe my mind is so focused on school projects, the PTA and balancing a budget for a family of four on one income that I don’t have time to worry about complete sentences. Yes, that must be it. Maybe I’ll take up Sudoku.