Vim &Vigor

Charlotte is nearly back to her old self. She awoke from her congested state and began rewarding us with the fun that is a 4-month-old. She was always a smiley baby, but now she gurgles and babbles and razzes (think: plthththhtthh!). Her lips are clearly her newest plaything. I think tonight we may give some rice cereal a try.

Like the Hollywood Walk of Fame....Only With Frosting

We took a walk today and stopped in for lunch at Nickell's & Sheffler, where we heard Harry's photo was tucked in the window display. We got there and I looked and looked, thinking it was probably propped near the bottom of the casing. Then I looked up. Harry's frosting covered face was staring right at us, hanging larger than life with two other pictures smack in the middle of the window. I asked Harry if he knew who the poster child was. He said "it's baby." But I'm pretty sure his own identity eluded him. Hey...the kid was bald, a miniature Kojak. I totally understand.

We celebrated his 15-seconds of fame by going in and purchasing a red velvet cupcake with vanilla frosting. Harry let me have about one bite.

The Fat Envelope

Forget the Lotto. We need to go to Vegas and see out this unexplained winning streak. I returned home from Harry's playgroup this afternoon and began to dig in the unopened mail. I'd heard that letters had gone out from Washington Street Methodist Preschool, another one of our favored spots. And there was the letter. And there were the words..."We're very pleased to inform you...."

How can it be? Maybe we have a little preschool fairy looking down on us. I feel so blessed and at the same time so crummy that our luck is not being shared by everyone we know. I remember so clearly dropping off the application at Washington Street. The place was jammed with moms. Everyone was writing checks and bemoaning the odds. I felt positively doomed. Right now I'm just flat out stunned.

I'm Alive

"...And the world changed for me today.... Suddenly I am here today. Seems like forever. Thought I could never feel this great. Is this really me? I'm alive!..."

OK, I didn't say it, ELO did in that cheese-o, cult rock-musical Xanadu (watch this clip at your own risk..man I miss the 80s!). Feel like getting your Olivia Newton-John on? Well I did this morning when I woke up with clearing sinuses and an infant who had bright eyes and a smile for the first time in days. If life had a soundtrack, this would be mine today. So turn up your speakers, lace-on those roller skates (leg warmers optional) and join me in a little 80s groove. I'm alive!

Bring Out Your Dead....!

That's pretty much us, a parody of a parody courtesy Monty Python. If you don't know the very funny scene from The Meaning of Life -- as the dead are picked up from doorsteps and hauled away in a wheelbarrow, then you have to give it a watch. Because as they take one last poor pathetic soul away he peeps his head up and says "I'm not dead."
"Oh yes you are," explains the guy tossing him on the cart.

Well, we're not dead yet...but it's feeling close. I now also have an ear infection (we're three for four folks! And no, they're not contagious.) and sinus pain to beat the band. Charlotte went back to the doctor this morning for good measure (terrified as we are that her cough will morph into pneumonia and we won't be the wiser. It has not.). The doctor tells us this is the worst wave of winter respiratory ick they've seen in a long time. Indeed it seems like everyone we know has it or has had it. Or like us just keeps passing it back and forth between family members.

Last night a girlfriend dropped some beef stew off. She'd made extra and thought we might enjoy it (it was indeed delicious Annie!), but unwilling to come near our house of assumed germs she literally knocked on the door, handed Paul her efforts and beat a hasty retreat. As Paul rightly suggested, it's starting to feel like the villagers with pitchforks and lit torches are going to come knocking with a big bottle of hand sanitizer.

Cupcake Part Deux

When Harry turned one (nearly a year ago!), I hosted our playgroup for a little cupcake fest. I purchased said cupcakes from a shop in Old Town Alexandria called Nickell's & Sheffler. Harry so loved the cuppies that I emailed the owners a few pictures of him in a frosting coma. Yesterday Susan Sheffler got in touch with me to report that she's posted the pictures of our cupcake monster in her shop's front window. I can't wait to go take a look! So if you're walking down to the waterfront (my fellow locals), stop in to N&S for a cupcake and keep an eye out for Harry.

Ear Infections, Hot Pizza and Hollywood Memories

OK, so we didn't win the lottery. We were home last night, still battling illnesses (Charlotte is the latest recipient of an ear infection, right on the heels of her brother), to watch the Oscars. The incredible (Anne Hathaway!) and not-so incredible (Meryl Streep) dresses, the moronic banter, the cheering, wanna-be throngs on the red carpet at the Kodak theater....makes me homesick for my years in Los Angeles.

The festivities were cause for some culinary gymnastics. I thought Harry might enjoy his first peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch. HIS sandwich, not a bite, but his own. So I carefully cut off the crusts and explained to him the miracle that is the marriage of peanut butter and jelly. For the occasion I even gave him a glass of milk (not in a sippy cup but a plastic glass...) Harry took one bite, looked at me askance and then swept the sandwich onto the floor for his buddy Typo to eat. Apparently we don't like PB&J as much as our mother.

So, I engaged Harry in a little cupcake baking. No uncertainty there. Before Harry went off for his nap he said "night night" to his "cuppies" still rising in the oven. He awoke to the glory that is homemade frosting. For the Oscars we celebrated with some homemade pizza. Ever true to his Italian heritage, Harry helped me roll out the dough and actually did a good job sprinkling the pie with cheese and placing the meatball slices just so. It was very yum. The meal, however, did not help our favorite recovering drug addict -- Robert Downey Jr. secure a win for Tropic Thunder. Perhaps he likes PB&J.

WONderful

I knew that sending Paul to this morning's preschool lottery was an inspired idea. After decades of camping overnight for Dead tickets I knew he had just the right mix of luck and gumption, And he did not disappoint. No sooner has he left the house this morning but he returned victorious. Our number was the first called to fill one of just five empty spots at our favored preschool. Harry's friend Jack also got in.

Paul was positively giddy and raced home to share the news. I hardly believed him, but given how tired and sick our entire household has been of late it just wasn't something he'd joke about. Even a sore throat couldn't stop me from woo-hooing and doing a little jig. Then Paul and I did the only thing we could think of to celebrate our unexpected good fortune......we bought some lotto tickets. If there's no blog post tomorrow it means we're on the Amalfi Coast.

In the meantime, we wish all our friends similar luck as the lotteries continue.

Into The Trenches

Tomorrow is the big day, our first preschool lottery. Unlike most where you send in your money and wait for word -- this one requires being outside the preschool at 8 a.m. with your check, application and child's birth certificate in hand. They herd you inside the building, the lock the doors, assign you a number and put it into a fishbowl. Then the fun begins, lottery style. Our odds are terrible but we maintain hope that we might succeed ( at one of the four schools we've applied) if only because our friend Jen Van Goethem just got word that her darling son has just been accepted for one of the most competitive schools. Wish us luck!

Blind Ambition

My friends know I'm an avid knitter (that's putting it politely). So it is with more than a little awe that I pass along a video my friend Dinah has shared with me...it it not for the weak of heart...behold!... a woman knitting with what appear to be pins.

She will positively be blind in a few years, so let us all admire her petite creations. Her fingers have nicer clothes than I do.

Bye Bye Baby

Last week marked the end of my maternity leave. Today I'm back to work, shut in my office, trying extraordinarily hard to remember how to do the tasks that were effortless before I had Charlotte. For her part, she's under the nanny's care today, for the first time. Who knew you could take a self portrait with an iphone? But here we are, all mussy-haired and snuggly in front of my keyboard before punching in. Yes, it's true, when you work from home you get to wear sweats. Nope, haven't combed my hair either. Hers is just naturally tidy. She does not get that from me.

I miss her so much already. Tissues please.

Quack Quack Cough

So what do you do when your children are sick enough that you miss all your play dates and spend every moment administering Tylenol, nose wipes and hugs? Charlotte is still coping with her tummy virus (last night I was simultaneously coated in puke and diarrhea) and Harry, we discovered this morning, has an ear infection. So...we did the only thing we could think of yesterday that wouldn't tax him (there's only so much Thomas the Tank Engine a parent can watch without needing a frontal lobotomy), we took the kids to the waterfront to feed the ducks. Then it was back to the warm house for more rest. You know your toddler is sick when he requests his afternoon nap an hour early. But we didn't need a reminder. His cough rattles the rafters and his mood is low. Poor guy doesn't even want to eat. And for Harry, well, that is something indeed. Before dinner I engaged him in some cookie making. We think he's going to be a good cook one day. He handles a rolling pin better than some of my girlfriends (who shall remain nameless).

Two Exits, No Waiting

This is for you folk who relish the fact that you don't have two under two (or any for that matter). In the last few weeks we have been walloped by sniffles and coughs and nose runs that hamper sleep (including mine). Yesterday we were visited by the 24-hour stomach bug. Would that I was an investor in a liquid hand sanitizing company. Charlotte is miserable, until this morning unable to keep down her liquids. Harry, has a cough that gets betterworsebetterworsebetterworse. What gives? We dress them warmly. We bathe away the dirt and germs. We change their diapers. We smother them in love and still the viruses infiltrate our collective. Everyone has the grunge during winter. There's no realistic escape. I only wonder what our lot would be without flu shots. I'm tired of calling the pediatrician. I'm tired of talking to the nurses who advise saline up the snoot and Tylenol and patience. Funny thing is, they're not the ones up all night worrying, changing toxic diapers, refilling humidifiers and cleaning up nuclear-orange Pedialyte puke. Summer, where are you?

Going Out of Business Sale

Someone tried to sell me (and Charlotte) a toy store yesterday. We were out taking a walk in Old Town when we stumbled across a going out of business sale. The owner, desperate to recoup his investment, had a 50-percent off sale. I bought a few things, finger paints, a puzzle, if only to help him out. I wish I could say it was an anomaly, but King Street is but a slice of the larger national crisis. I talked to several store owners on our walk. Everyone is suffering. Every store has whopping non-holiday sales, several businesses have gone under and more will follow. As I left the toy store the owner asked me if I wanted to buy his business. Funny and not so funny.

Minutes later I saw something in a shop window that I thought might please Paul for Valentine's Day. I went inside, saw the price tag ( too expensive) and began to stroll out. The shop owner asked me if I needed help. "No," I said politely. "I love the (sorry can't disclose said gift until after Valentine's Day). I only planned to spend X. But I'll be back to shop some other time," I promised. Without skipping a beat the guy dropped the price by half. "Huh? Are you having a sale?" I asked? " I don't see a sign." "No, he said, but it's yours." What could I do? Happy Valentine's Day Paul.

Stepping Out

The saucer is proving a big success. Charlotte definitely has happy feet. Let's face it, yellow socks make anyone feel like prancing.

Fabulous Four

Three cheers for Charlotte who has managed to navigate the waters of life and turn a healthy, hearty, barely-sleeping four months of age today. She marked the event by test-driving her Exersaucer with some help from the brother, who showed her how to kick the tires and all the 'bells and whistles' this plastic hand-me-down beauty has to offer. It's all yours girly!

I've Become THAT Mother

We've (I've) spent the last three nights Ferberizing Charlotte. For those of you unfamiliar with Dr. Richard Feber, he's the authority on getting your child to sleep (no matter how it kills you), the idea being you'll be better off in the long run if you can just make it through a few painful nights listening to a howling infant. It's not cold turkey. Ferber bases his methods on intervals (let the baby cry for one minute then comfort her. Then let her cry three minutes, comfort her, then 5 minutes, then 10....).

Charlotte has begun associating her bottle with sleep, thus she now needs it in her mouth to fall asleep, and despite her tender age, you can imagine we're developing very bad sleep habits (up every hour for a nip or she can't fall back to sleep). Yeah, no thanks. So three nights ago I began training her to self-soothe sans bottle. She's doing great. I'm the one who's near collapse. Last night we did exceptionally well until 4 a.m. when she was up for nearly two hours crying. I spent that time comforting her and bracing myself against the wailing (she sleeps next to me in a co-sleeper). Paul slept with a pillow over his head.

Feber's methods worked great for Harry. In three days we had him sleeping through the night. Already charlotte has eshewed all but one nighttime feeding. But Lordy I am just wasted, so trashed that this morning, as Harry chucked his crayons around the kitchen and dumped his lunch on the dog's head (see photo of Alphabet pasta stuck in Typo's fur), I became THAT mother -- the one who plops her kid in front of the TV for a few episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine so that she can regroup. Both the kids are down for a nap and what I'd give for a glass of wine. I will have to settle for a caffiene free diet Coke. Oh the humanity.

It's Not Easy Being Green

Where is it written that little girls have to wear pink or be subject to gender confusion? No less than three women asked me today how old my son was. Because she was wearing a green outfit. No, it wasn't a dress. But it was cute, kinda fem. Too girly for a boy. So I ask you, why? I was so rattled I bought her two dresses, perfect for the arctic temps we've got going on this week.

Snow Day

I call this "Winter Baby." When are they going to start making adult buntings? I'm rather partial to the footies and built-in mittens.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream

We owe a debt of gratitude to Eliza and Jessica (grandmother and aunty, respectively) for breezing in from points north and northwest to watch over Harry and Charlotte while Paul and I escaped to NY for two days of rest. It was our first ever trip away from the kids. We needed to recharge our batteries. And so for two days we walked, slept and watched movies on the silver screen. It was glorious, and overdue.

We're told they had a grand time with the kids, minus the round-the-clock feedings (see a groggy Jessica featured above with baby and bottle) -- trips to the American History museum to let Harry drool over the trains and the super-kid friendly Building Museum, feeding the seagulls on the Alexandria waterfront and lots of episodes of Thomas...indeed that was Harry's first word when we reappeared Sunday night. Not 'Mommy, mommy!'....no, he grabbed the remote, handed it to me and demanded "Thomas!"