Chitter Chatter

Hey hey hey! Remember how I was going to post all my vacation photos? HA! Joke is on you; I'm super pregnant and my back hurts and I can do anything I want. 

Instead of sharing those photos, let me tell you about my chatterbox daughter. The Noodle is now two years and one month old and she just will not stop talking. She mixes up her languages and her word order can be a little Yoda-esque, and she has cartoon lisp that only me and her dad fully understand, but still. She can talk.

It runs in the family. As those who know me know, I suffer from a terrible case of think-while-I-talk. The blah blah blahs. It's like a neurological deficiency. But obviously it's not MY fault; I inherited it from my father. Although unlike my verbacious dad (and his siblings), I talk without having anything interesting to say. 

We are also a terribly loud bunch. I'm not sure about my granddad, because he died long before I was born, but someone wrote a book about HIS dad and literally the third sentence is: "The father had a loud bass voice, and the little boy (my great grandfather) inherited those stentorian tones." 

Two pages later there's a story from when my great grandfather was three years old, and someone thought he was a girl because of his long curly hair. "The child proclaimed his gender in a voice half croak and half bellow: 'I am not a girl; I am a boy.' The visitor laughed and responded, 'If I had heard you speak first, I would have known you were a boy.' In an aside, he commented, 'There is a coming orator.'' 

So you see. Exuberant speech is in the blood. 

Back here in the Gumpen Village, our little piece o' pasta's latest milestone is that in addition to being super bossy, she now wants to negotiate everything. "Just one episode, mommy." "Please mommy. I want pizza mommy." "No vegetebegedebebbas...Let's buy stwawbewwies! Stwawbewwies ONLY." 

And of course the classic, "It's not bedtime." We made a video to record her speech development for posterity plus also my mother, and, lucky you, you get to see the edited version. Champagne, confetti, party blowers*. 

Behold, an incredibly long (it used to be longer?) video of Noodle procrastinating with her enablers, who clearly think she is adorabubble and are probably ruining her but don't quite mind yet. 

*Party blowers? Really? That's their actual name?... Huh...*Snort*harhar.

10 More Weeks. Also we went to Cornwall.

Uuuuurgh. The temperature is scorching, this city sucks at AC, and I am eight months pregnant. I keep wanting to update this blog, just like I really want to do all kinds of things that would require the most minimal initiative. Like taking off my crusty toenail polish, or getting up at night to pee. It's not that I can't. It's just that I CAN'T. 

I'm like a slug in the desert: won't be long now. 

That said, I must, I HAVE to, I cannot NOT post pictures of our family vacation to England. So here they are. Photos. With captions. 

We were staying in a lovely cottage in Lostwithiel, which is near Fowey, which is a Picturesque Ancient Village on the southern Cornish coast. It was charming. The stone walls were charming, the exposed rafters were charming, the sheep were charming, the herbs and flowers were charming, the clotted cream, scones and tea that awaited Alex, Noodle, my parents and me on arrival were charming. You get the picture. I don't know why you are still reading; this blog post sucks. I'm sorry. Don't leave. I love you.

I might be pregnant. 

Anyway, we kicked off our week in Cornwall by visiting  one of the most charming places I've ever been: the Lost Gardens of Heligan. It is basically paradise. Especially for kids. 

There are green giants

There are logs and things to climb over

If the airline loses your stroller, you can always ride on daddy's head

There's a little jungle that has all the beautiful sights with none of the leeches, mosquitos, thumb-sized ants, flesh-melting wasps or face-sized spiders, which I personally always found to be the most distressing part of the real life rainforest.

A jungle where you have to wear a sweater. Heaven.

Complete with rope bridge. If you bring a toddler, you can carry her across while she screams about wanting to go by herself. Extra points if you don't accidentally drop her into the pond below!

There were dewy meadow flowers

Perfect for sitting in.

CHEEEEEEESE.

Hydrangeas are a Cornish theme, apparently. They are everywhere. 

Grandma was around, so Nava had braids all the time.

Her first ever emu. She thought they were hilarious.
Which is understandable, since they look like evil,
noodle-necked, five-foot dumplings on stilts.

Epic meltdown because we wouldn't let
her cross the electrified fence to pet the pigs. 

Granddad spent much of our vacation teaching Nava to recognize different types of poop. The turd you cannot really see on this picture was, I believe, bunny. We also saw horse, cow, pig, sheep and goat shit. "Sheep shit, mommy," said my then-one year-old. "Hahahaha!" The animals were invisible to her. All she cared about was their feces.

Sheep shit. Also, sheep.

At the end of a long, stroller-less day it was blankie + pacifier on top of daddy's head.

My parents and some hell cabbage*

I think my mom said these were ancient giant rhododendrons*

Typical Cornish coastline, plus cow and sheep poop.

Restormel Castle. Here is what I remember about the history of Restormel Castle: It was built in the early Middle Ages. It used to have four wooden towers. It is good for castles to be round. 
There was a moat..Yeah, I'm out.
Man, this vacation was super educational.

Granddad, Nana and Noodle on the grounds of Restormel Castle.

Noodle and me.

Can you spot my father?

Bubble.

This is the Eden Project, which we visited on a rainy day because it has giant indoor biomes.

The Mediterranean Biome.

Indoor vineyard plus dancing sculptures.

Now that I have a kid, I have an excuse to participate in all of those free, character-building activities that libraries, zoos and other public places put on for the entertainment and edification of children. Here in the biome we visited a storyteller. Here is my father, sitting in the storyteller's big wooden throne. 

There was also a Rainforest Biome, and in this biome there were these little guys.

And a giant banana flower.

And so on.

The best part was this tiny air-conditioned box along the middle of the trail, whose sole function was to keep sweaty British people from keeling over dead in the middle of their approx. 30-minute biome experience. It was packed to the gills. 

Outside it was raining. Except apparently they don't do raindrops in Cornwall. Instead it is this sort of ultra violent mist that I found pretty refreshing but which, if I had to live in it, would drive me to distraction and maybe the colonisation of Asia.

Aaaand that's for now. Here are ships.

And that is but a fraction of a fraction of our holiday photo collection! Don't worry, I'll be back to bore you with more tomorrow. <3 <3 <3

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*I'm not very good at plant names.