Butterfly Kisses

As I returned home this afternoon I was greeted by the not-always-dulcet tones of my son hollering "mommy, I have something speeeeecial for youuuu!"

Hmmmmm.

But in the kitchen I discovered that Harry had found a big Monarch butterfly on the way home from the park and carried it home gently where he found his bug-spying case and deposited it inside. He and Charlotte were eating lunch, examining their great conquest.

"He carried it home? With his finger?" I asked the nanny? "My son. The one who squeals in disgust at buzzing flies?"

But there it was. And after lunch, we ceremoniously set it free. Pretty cool kiddo. Thanks for the nature lesson.

Kitty Cushion

I agree with you Gnocchi. Nothing beats a warm baby tush at nap time.

En Fuego

Since the day we moved into our home (read: money pit), we've known we had to redo the hearth, with its broken ceramic tiles that crumbled more each year. Simple fix, yes? With the aid of a chisel, roto hammer and a jigsaw, Paul extracted (at ear splitting levels) the tile and mortar from the hearth extension. Seriously, having a handy husband rocks.

We took the kids down to the brick hatchery to pick out our stock and days later welcomed Hugo and Ricardo, who despite my shabby Spanish, managed to do a great install.

"Dos." That's how many hours we were instructed to stay OFF the bricks while the cement dried. I'd say Harry and Charlotte waited a whopping dos minutos before poking, picking and prodding the masonry. At one point I looked around the corner at my naughty children and found them jumping up and down on the brick, right before Harry chucked a white sofa cushion into the unscreened firebox. Can you say "timeout?"

Pictured atop, is the NEW hearth. And before you ask me why we didn't put in marble or granite, I'll tell you, we wanted it to look "period" and brick was the thing.

Rain Date at the Zoo

Our Friday morning swim date got soggied-out, so we drove dad to work and headed to the zoo. Here Harry is reaching for a sign that he tells me says "do not touch." It was misty and 75 degrees, the perfect time to enjoy the zoo without a hint of crowds. Despite some good panda action, Harry said his favorite animal on this particular venture was the cow. He did have a very sturdy "mooooooooooooooooo."

Hell on Heels

Happy Birthday.....To Mom

The storm may have taken the wind out of our two-day get-away to NY but it did not undercut my day, which was super-dooper thanks to Paul, the kids and Paba and Zaza, who watched the babies while we dined at the Tasting Room at Restaurant Eve. Motherhood confession: I sat in that lovely dining room with pool-water soaked hair, but I'm hoping it looked like a very exotic salon potion mingled in my tresses.

Earlier in the day we did the thing I have longed to do: we bought a Persian rug (happy birthday to me!), a stunning, 80-year-old heriz. It looks amazing. It'll probably even look good coated in milk. If it doesn't look good, I know a very nice orphanage.

Before heading out for the evening I was serenaded by Harry and Charlotte who helped me blow out the candles atop a plate of the prettiest cupcakes I have ever seen. Who could ask for anything more?

Lights Out

Our weekend trip to NYC was called due to storms --a big one that took out more than 2,000 big trees in our neighborhood. We were spared, save for our electricity, which was out for about 14 hours. Still we remain grateful. Many of our friends and neighbors got socked much, much harder (power out for days and enormous trees thrown onto their homes and cars). It goes without saying, but I will anyway: thank God no one was hurt.

So instead of Manhattan, we sweated it out at the pool, grandma and grandpa in tow. We were very happy to have them with us for the weekend. They, on the other hand, might have preferred some A/C and lights. Maybe next time.

Sink or Swim

We were a mere two minutes into our second week of swim lesson at LHP when I discovered exactly how it was going to go down: our new instructor Cliff (maybe 16?), flopped Harry on a kick board, and, assuming he could handle it, turned his back to attend to his other charge. Harry did what any non-swimmer would do. He shot straight for the bottom. Cliff grabbed him in a flash, but not before I sprung out of my chair gasping as if I'd been the one headed to Davy Jones' locker.

Every day brought a new sink or swim adventure, like the underwater dunk that was a good three seconds long (for those of you without children, that's an ETERNITY for a 3-year-old who hates getting water in his eye) and then the head-first dives into the pool. What, I wondered, were we doing but totally spooking this poor kid.

But Harry, bless him, hung in there (probably better than I did), never a tear, and offering Cliff a heavy dose of adoration when he saw him go off the diving board.

We're done with lessons for the summer. Harry got a good (challenging!) based. I think next year, after some more instruction, we'll have a swimmer on our hands. No rush Harry, but your little sister has nearly mastered the dreaded kickboard. Maybe we should call Cliff.

It Takes Balls

At least two.

Birthday Wishes

As one of my former editors would say (and not to me, thankyouverymuch), it's time to get out the cliche rinse. Why? Because what I have to say is so dumb and so true: the summer is just flying by. So fast, in fact, that grandma Z is haranguing me for being tardy with blog posts. True enough.

We shall begin our recap of the last few weeks with a tribute to Patrick Thomas (a ball lover in the finest tradition), who recently turned three and hosted a super fun party at our local swim club. We're told he slept with our gift (a football, natch) for a couple nights.

And a big thank you to our friend Nancy for taking some beautiful photos of all the kids at the party.