Today was Harry's first art class. I left Charlotte with Roxana so that he and I could have a special mother-son date. And it was a good one. Our teacher, Miss Julie, was a bit on the rigid side ("if your toddler can't sit quietly during story time, please leave the room." I'm relieved to report Harry behaved!), but the class seemed super-fun for Harry and the other kids, who were encouraged to dive into the the paints and "express themselves." Harry revealed a little of his personality by painting inside the valleys of an egg carton (and only inside the valleys of the egg carton). Which leads me to wonder if i'll be ironing his underpants in a year or two. I was totally amused. He was joined by two of his friends -- Morgan and Luke, who together sprinkled salt on their seascapes and adorned them with shredded paper.
After Harry put the finishing touches on his work, he began painting himself: his hands, his arms, his face. We're pretty free-wheeling with the paints at our home, but I gotta say it was nice to let someone else's space get filty. Made it fun for me too. If anyone would like to purchase one of our son's masterworks, I'm happy to oblige. An original Harry is currently going for the cost of one semester at UVa.
Not even a 20-pound sister could distract Harry last night from an episode of Thomas the Tank Engine. She lay in his lap for five minutes, cooing and trying to hold his hand. He was oblivious. Or maybe he's decided she's a good playmate after all.
Our friend Sabrina celebrated her 1/2 birthday this afternoon with a pool party. Harry could not have exuded more enthusiasm for 2-feet of water (perfect!) and a plate of super-clever faux fruit cupcakes. It was an inspired afternoon of splashing and toddler glee. Now if I could just learn to put sunblock on myself.
For all of his bizarre physical transformations and behavior that was all-but proven to be criminal, Michael Jackson defined the soundtrack of my childhood, as he did for so many millions. Maybe more. I remember watching that famed moonwalk live. I have parked myself in front of cable TV at least three times to watch the drecky TV drama about the Jackson's rise to fame. I have a stack of Michael's CDs loaded (somewhat abashedly) into my husband's 500-disc changer. And every time I go running I listen to one of his more obscure hits, "Dirty Diana," on my Ipod.
Whatever you think of Michael the person (and there is a whole lot to think), it's impossible not to recognize the impact he has had on the music of our lives. Like so many, I have been gripped by his untimely passing, reading the LA Times at night for new tidbits, watching cable news, even logging on to TMZ (a first for me) for the salacious details (the 911 call, the questionable private doc, you name it). So when I needed to see Michael this morning, to remember his contribution, I went to the only logical place I could remember: MTV. I have literally not tuned in to the channel in about 15 years. But there I was, glued to the tube, watching video after video. Thriller. Bad. Billy Jean. Beat It. I felt like a teen again, and I took Harry along on the ride. He was riveted, trying to dance along to the performer I told him was known as "Jacko." My buddy Bill sent me a link to some of Michael's best moves.
How unsurprised I was that that toe-tapping beat made an impression on my toddler. Before bed Harry asked for "more Jacko." Perhaps Michael's early death is poetic justice for the wrongs he has twice been accused of committing. Perhaps that is why his critics are now free to praise the force of his work without apology. He was a freak, truly hard to look at at times, saddled with debt and surrounded by unscrupulous hangers-on. It is a life that makes me sad. For him, for his alleged victims, for his children (so much therapy in their future). No doubt his music will continue to endure. I'm not so sorry that Jacko the man is gone. But I am sorry that Harry and Charlotte won't have more of Jacko's genius to appreciate.
Have you ever read a book and the plot was so alluring you wished you were part of the story? Harry had one of those moment at bedtime. We were reading "I Saw a Ship a Sailing." It's part of an awesome picture book, "If You Love a Nursery Rhyme" that my friend Cathy gave the boy for his second birthday. As you turn the pages, a paper engineering technique (a lot like paper shutters), mysteriously transforms the artwork.
Harry's favorite is the final rhyme, about the sailing ship. As you turn the page, a bounty of comfits and apples (read: candy) are revealed within the decks of the square rigger, attended to by 24 white mice. We've read the book a hundred times, but this time it was just too much. Harry slipped his feet onto the page and tried his best to enter the ship's hold. "Harry get in the boat!" he pleaded.
The weather was rotten Saturday morning. So we headed off to the Udvar-Hazy Center (the National Air and Space Museum near Dulles Airport). We had the good and bad fortune to show up on "family day" (lots of extra activities for the kids including a cool little runway -- and lots of extra people). But yes indeedy, nothing so grand as a masssssssive hanger full of planes (and when I say massive...I mean the place houses the space shuttle Enterprise, it's that big).
Enterprise is always my favorite stop (huge Star Trek fan that I am), and it turned out to be Harry's too. He is still talking about the "shuttle to the moon." How awesome and terrifying it must be to have a child grow up to become an astronaut.
When Harry was a but a wee baby we took a tour of a Russian sub -- he got fed a bottle right inside. So I thought it fitting that on this trip Charlotte get a feeding in front of an antiballistic missle. Photo to come.
Aunt Jori had a good rainy day suggestion to amuse Harry: bake granola. I've never made it before but indeed, it was super easy and frankly, tasted better than any store-bought I've encountered so far. The best part is that it's cheaper and you can tailor it to your own, yes, tastes. The recipe below is her favored one, taken from Alton Brown. Jori says she adds pumpkin seeds (a new word for me (pipians), sunflower seeds and flax seeds (all of which we included too). I didn't have coconut, so I didn't use it, and it tastes great without. (Whole Foods carries everything...including those weird little pipians...I'm saving that word for the NYT crossword.)
It rained. We baked.
Ingredients
3 cups rolled oats
1 cup slivered almonds
1 cup cashews (I instead used sunflower seeds, flax seeds and pipians)
3/4 cup shredded sweet coconut (I didn't use coconut)
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons dark brown sugar
1/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons maple syrup
1/4 cup vegetable oil
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup raisins
Directions
Preheat oven to 250 degrees F.
In a large bowl, combine the oats, nuts, coconut, and brown sugar.
In a separate bowl, combine maple syrup, oil, and salt. Combine both mixtures and pour onto 2 sheet pans. Cook for 1 hour and 15 minutes, stirring every 15 minutes to achieve an even color.
Remove from oven and transfer into a large bowl. Add raisins and mix until evenly distributed.
Of course this weekend was all about dad. Our planned attempt to check-out DC's National Aquarium was thwarted by not one but three roadblocks (festival? Race? Visit by the Queen? Whatever it was, we were not amused), but on our way home we found a new spot to play, which offered a trifecta of toddler joy: ducks, boats and airplanes.
I'm talking about a picnic spot behind the otherwise awful and overpriced restaurant Indigo Landing near the Dangerfield Marina. We sat on the grassy waterfront, ate our lunch and were literally surrounded by by mallards in search of Cheerios. The up-close boats and airplanes landing at National Airport were just icing. When we got home, Paul took Harry to testout his father's day gift: a helmet and baby-seat. I'm told Harry loooooved it as they sped through Old town and down the GW Parkway bike path. Considering he never complained once about the "funny hat" enroute, I'm sure it's true.
My friend Tina, a preschool teacher (and mother of three under 12) has shared a few DIY craft recipes with me. I thought I'd pass along the homemade PlayDoh. Harry and I made it a few weeks back. I keep it in a Tupperware container and it's still fresh (and the bulk is about ten times more than what you get in those official PlayDoh tins.)
After deciding it didn't taste so hot, Harry has taken to making blue "cookies" and "cuppies" for his teddy bear tea parties. I gotta say, the tea parties were a lot more fun with Lucy in tow. But I think I'm a suitable fill-in.
Materials Needed:
* 1 Cup Flour * 1/2 Cup Salt * 2 Tbsp Oil * 2 Tsp Cream of Tartar * 1 Cup Water * Food Coloring
Heat the oil in a pot. Remove from heat and stir in all other ingredients (use food coloring if desired). Continue to cook over low heat until mixture is firm, about 4-5 minutes. Remove from heat, set clay mixture on wax paper, and let cool.
Gone are the quiet moments in my life practicing a waltz or minuet. Today I'm like a lounge act, performing songs upon request from one very demanding customer (who I might add, does not tip). This morning it was Miss Mary Mack and Little Teapot. Yesterday, after getting off the plane, my services were requested for a rendition of Frere Jacques and "lamb" (as in...Mary Had a Little). Sometimes I'm ordered to sing. Sometimes it is demanded, quite loudly, that I zip it.
Recently my efforts have attracted the attention of a second customer who has discovered the joy of tickling the keys. To quote my friend Hector the pig, "Now I am the happiest, happiest I have ever been."
You know you're a parent, really, really a parent, when the first stop on your three-day Vegas get-away is FAO Schwartz, where you and the husband take pains to pick out just the right coming home presents for the kids. This is also a sign that you really, really need to get away.
But I lied, our very first stop was lunch at Wolfgang Puck's Chinois, a favorite from my years in L.A., where I downed a flight of sake and oozed into the fleshy stew that is Vegas. We had a very nice couple of nights at the Bellagio where our big excitement consisted of nice dinners, a little luck at the blackjack tables and time to enjoy the awesome fitness center and spa (oh right, and sleeping in). Ahhhh. But man, did we ever miss the kids. It was really hard at moments (sober ones) to have fun (is that possible?). I knew the kids were in good hands (their grandparents'), but Harry is old enough that I knew he'd notice we were gone and I just missed those baby hugs and smooches.
Meanwhile, the kids were having a ball, sans fretting parents. Zaza and Paba were the perfect playthings. Eliza is one of those women who just rolls with the punches. Can't find the bathtub stopper? No worries. She stripped Harry down, plunked him in the backyard with a bar of soap and sprayed him with the garden hose. This conversation, as it was relayed to me over the phone in Bellagio casino, took a minute to properly digest. As my friend Cathy observed "She's clearly spent a lot of time in the African bush"....but of course Harry loved it.
We gathered with friends at Monroe's on Saturday to celebrate Paul's birthday with a cocktail. We often now muse that our precious children wouldn't exist had we not met at the local restaurant. The owners, Mark and Laura, came to Vermont to attend our wedding and we still go in (somewhat rarely) to see our friends, including our buddy Tara, who shot these fun pictures during our little fete for Paul.
It's really nice to have a place to go where they not only tolerate your kids, but embrace them
(if I owned the bar I'm not sure I'd want it littered with baby bottles on a Saturday night...but that's community for you). Lucky for them we only stayed an hour (Harry is very well behaved when being plied with bread).
Why is Harry looking at his knee? Well to see his "knee sticker" of course. Our first band aid. I'm sure that will be the last one too.
When you have your first child everyone takes pains to tell you how fast it will fly by. "Enjoy every second!" they implore you. And you do. All focus is on that little life. I don't feel like I missed a moment, so you well-meaning harpies can all take a breath.
The advice, it seems to me, would be best served with the arrival of baby number two. Charlotte turns 8-months-today and for the life of me I don't know where the time went. I swear it was last week I was carefully maneuvering her dainty little form into newborn onesies. Now she is this robust, smiling, peals-of-laughter little cherub with two teeth and a burning desire to crawl.
She eats her own cheerios, one-at-at-time, stuffing the little "O"s between her lips and her protruding choppers, she howls (and i mean hooooowls) when her jar or prunes and oatmeal is not served at precisely the right moment come sun up and she is working very very hard to pull herself to a standing position from the floor. Just this week she began to clap, as if she knew she had a big 8-month milestone to celebrate.
It may be going by wicked fast Miss Charlotte, but we're loving every minute.
We go to the zoo a lot. Judging by how many people we see at the zoo, perhaps not that much, but we pay a visit an average of every two weeks. Any why not? As Washington goes, it's an amazing, cheap (nearly free with a FONZ membership) adventure that never fails to please Harry. Charlotte is even starting to get into the groove.
As a rule we go before the crowds arrive in earnest (that's between 9 a.m. and noon), bring our own lunch and let Harry be our guide. He shouts out the animals he wants to see "pandas!" "Peacock!" "Tucan!" are recent favorites...(he also loves the "dillo" but spotting that tricky armadillo is not easy)...and we scuttle off to the appropriate spot.
Want to avoid the crowds? Head up the bird house. Sure, birds can be a little yawn, but not to a toddler. Harry got pooped on by a sparrow our last visit. Can you buy that kind of memory? ahem. I made sure to snap a picture before reaching for the wet wipes but I will spare you the imagery.
The Asia trail also has great sights (a big-ass bear who rubs his bum against the glass was our latest prize), and the small mammal house, which is by far the best spot for little kids at the zoo if you ask me...everything is at eye level and the animals (many monkeys, meerkats and my favorite..the tree shrew) give a great show. The Washington Post's kid section ran a story on these sometimes overlooked treasures today.
If you live local, buy a FONZ membership ($60 for the year) and parking (which is otherwise $15 a visit) is free. They also send you a monthly zoo magazine, give you a little stuffed panda and every time you come...you get a bag of Zookies. I'm all about the Zookies. Just don't tell Harry. Seems to him the bag gets empty awful fast.
In preparation for Paul's birthday (he's repeating 39 this year, for the third time), Harry and I engaged in one of our favorite pursuits....cupcake baking. This was a particularly easy and loopy batch, given it used, a box mix, in part, and a dash of Grand Marnier. Harry needed a nap shortly after licking the bowl. But he was an excellent helper until then, offering (insisting) to beat the eggs with the electric mixer.
It was one of those moments a parent really has to consider...do I let him try it, and inevitably spray the kitchen with egg yolk traveling at 100 mph? Or do I tell him he can't help? I went (gulp) with letting him try. And to my great astonishment, he held that rattling, heavy mixer in the bowl for the prescribed 5-minutes. The eggs foamed. Harry beamed, and the wall (and I) remained egg-free. We also made some wicked good cupcakes. The recipe (by Barbara Thiesen, one of my writers) is running in Mad Mariner next week, along with a piece on potlucks for cruisers. I'm reprinting it here (given how many raves it got, if you're looking for a quick dish...this might be the one. I'll link to the story when it's published. Enjoy!
Molten Chocolate Cupcakes
Ingredients:
1 cup chocolate chips (you can use semisweet, milk or ½ cup of each)
½ cup butter (do not substitute margarine)
3 eggs
3 egg yolks
1 (14 to 16 oz.) package fudge brownie mix
2 Tbsp. Kahlua (you can also substitute chocolate milk, orange juice, cherry juice, Grand Marnier or other fruit liqueurs)
2 Tbsp. powdered sugar (bring along to potluck in a sealed container)
Directions:
1.Preheat oven to 400° F. Spray 12 nonstick muffin cups with nonstick baking spray containing flour and set aside.
2.Melt chocolate chips and butter either in a microwave (high power for 1 minute, stirring twice) or using a double boiler until chocolate and butter are melted and mixture is smooth. Cool for five minutes.
3.In large bowl, combine eggs and egg yolks and beat at high speed for five minutes until foamy, light in color, and doubled in size. This can also be done by hand, if you don’t have an electric mixer on board.
4.Slowly add the dry brownie mix to the beaten egg mixture. Stir until well blended. Fold in your melted chocolate/egg mixture and your Kahlua or other liquid. Pour batter into prepared muffin cups.
5.Bake at 400° F for 10 to 12 minutes or just until edges are set. The centers of the cupcakes will be soft. Cool on wire rack for a couple of minutes. Then run a knife around edge of each cupcake to loosen. Cover and take to potluck. Keep warm, if possible. When ready to serve, invert each cupcake on to a serving platter and sprinkle powdered sugar (that you’ve brought in a small covered container) on top of each cupcake.
Harry recently had a special play date with our friend Sabrina. Their love of books (and hotdogs), made for instantaneous bonding. We scolded the pigeon for trying to drive the bus, we yelled at the lunch wieners for being too hot: "hot, hotdog!" the two of them howled in unison, over and over and over, and we tried on some very Rodeo Drive sunglasses that my mother-in-law deposited in my Christmas stocking. Is that J-Lo? 'Please, no photos!"
When Charlie was born I predicted she'd need a haircut before her brother. I was almost right. Just one week after Harry's locks were shorn, I got to take little sister to the salon -- A Place to Be -- where the proprietress was kind enough to do a 2-minute trim, free of charge (all those pedicures finally paid-off). It's not that she needed a full-on haircut, but after she shed her "undercoat" she looked a little unkempt and as you may know, a lady has to look her best at all times. Next time Charlie, I'll take you for a mani-pedi.
Charlotte took her first dip in the pool this weekend, a great opportunity to model this season's swimwear (she has more suits than I do, largely courtesy my friend Jen Van Goethem, who periodically stuffs one into our mailbox. Either the mailman is a pedophile, I muse, or Jen has stopped by again).
Harry seems to consider his sister a suitable pool-mate, agreeably splashing her in the face and fetching her little red ball when it floats out of her grasp. Mostly he's consumed with dumping the water out of the pool. Our backyard is now a wee bit boggy.
Today marks the first in a series of stories on Mad Mariner about the economy. Just in case you haven't read enough about debacle, I give you my story about the maritime industry in peril.
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Today was Harry's first art class. I left Charlotte with Roxana so that he and I could have a special mother-son date. And it was a good one. Our teacher, Miss Julie, was a bit on the rigid side ("if your toddler can't sit quietly during story time, please leave the room." I'm relieved to report Harry behaved!), but the class seemed super-fun for Harry and the other kids, who were encouraged to dive int
o the the paints and "express themselves." Harry revealed a little of his personality by painting inside the valleys of an egg carton (and only inside the valleys of the egg carton). Which leads me to wonder if i'll be ironing his underpants in a year or two. I was totally amused. He was joined by two of his friends -- Morgan and Luke, who together sprinkled salt on their seascapes and adorned them with shredded paper.
f anyone would like to purchase one of our son's masterworks, I'm happy to oblige. An original Harry is currently going for the cost of one semester at UVa.
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