Big Daddy

There is no greater bond than that between a girl and her daddy. I know. My father was the moon and the stars: the handsomest, the cleverest, the bestest father...to me. So it is no surprise...to me...that Charlotte is just gaga about her daddy. Totally. Completely. Besotted.

And so it goes. As I snuggle with her on the sofa, my nose buried in her beautiful strawberry blond hair, I declare my affection:

"I love you Charlotte," I whisper.
And she considers this for a moment.
"I love my daddy," she coos dreamily.

And I remember how much I loved my daddy. And it makes me happy.

Giving Thanks

We have so much to be grateful for: healthy, happy children who give us joy every single day, loving family and wonderful friends-- too many things to name. We celebrated our good fortune on Thursday with turkey and good cheer at my godmother's home. We brought the stuffing and she made the rest of the fabulous meal.

While we did not trot with the turkeys Thanksgiving morning, we went outside and bashed pots and pans to cheer them on.

Stuck a Feather in His Cap and Called It......

I wonder what the Indians think of replica Native American jewelry made of colored macaroni.

Harry brought home from preschool a very cute headdress and a necklace that was immediately confiscated by his sister. She wore the string of penne and tri-colored wagon-wheel pasta for the two days leading up to Thanksgiving. I remain grateful she has not tried to eat it.

Block Head

We are really enjoying the heavy wooden blocks loaned to us by Uncle Doug and Aunt Bonnie. They are perfect for designing skyscrapers (and toppling skyscrapers, requiring a call to the imaginary rescue squad).

GobbleGobbleGobble

I'm flashing the bird to working motherhood this morning and baking cookies for Harry's preschool Thanksgiving feast, which is tomorrow. I was excited to be a designated cookie provider. And even more excited when Aunty Skippy found me the very elusive turkey cookie cutter I had been long searching for (um, Williams-Sonoma...what's your problem? Seriously, no turkeys? Blasphemy).

A little flour, a little royal icing and voila! I give you my turkey prototype. Harry about lost his marbles when Charlotte tried to touch one. "No!!!!" he screamed at her in big-brothers tones. "that's for preschool!"

Wishing everyone a very happy Thanksgiving.

Picture Day

I'm not going to spoil the Christmas card unveil, but a sneak-peak is warranted, given the terrific work of our friend Nancy Ho Foster, a member of my mothers' group and a super-talented photographer. Nancy, you rock. An additional thank you to my mother-in-law who helped out with some precious holiday togs.

Winter in the Air

Yes, yes, enough daydreaming about the beach. It's nearly Thanksgiving and we are embracing the fall, what's left of it, with bonfires in the backyard and roasted, toasted marshmallows. Nothing says fall like a squashy blob of melted sugar on a stick.

Mr. Bubble

Here at Potty Mouth we don't hold anything back. So, we close our beach retrospective with a very clean photo, which also doubles as a cautionary tale. This is what happens when you put a cap full of bubble bath in the tub and turn on the jacuzzi jets. The suds were about three feet high.

You have been warned.

Crabby

The kids weren't the only ones who got crabby without their afternoon naps. These buggers came to lunch. I like the fact that crabs offer the diner both a good meal as well as entertainment. Please note the skeptical look on Harry's face. Yes sweetie, we're going to eat those.

We were so lucky to be joined for a few days by the grandparents, who happily consented to go fishing with the kids on the Salvo pier. While I can't say much about the catch (Paul reeled in 4 or 5 tiny puffer fish), the kids loved it. Harry is perhaps the most traditional among us -- preferring the sitting and waiting and eating to the fishing itself. Charlotte might make a fine fisher-girl one day.

Fly Me to The Moon

Yes, still reminiscing about the beach. This post is for Auntie Julie. Thank you for the Awesome train kite! No doubt about it, you've got our number.

She Sells Seashells By the Seashore

People are still asking me how our postponed Salvo vacation was. (probably because I never put up real photos, short of blurry iphone snaps). Well, we love traveling with our friends. It's one of our great delights. But this week of beach exile, just us, was phenomenal. The kids could have napped more, but I can't say enough about our trip. Today, as the frost starts to collect, I finally dumped a whopping 375 beach photos off my camera onto the hard drive and have decided that today's blog post (s) will be an ode to the Outer Banks 2010. I recommend calling up these photos as soon as you unpack the woolens.

Boo! (hoo)

The only thing scary about this Halloween post is how late it is...the date....Nov. 18. What can I say? Mama works for a living. But this tardiness should not undermine the fabulousness of our trick-or-treating night. A big shout out to Aunty Jessica who helped me put together Charlotte's handmade ladybug skirt (it was a fine collaboration in the tradition of my grandfather, Mario, an Italian tailor who arrived at Ellis Island in 1923, and made all of my Halloween costumes...every my floaty ballet skirts).

Suffice it to say, the kids loved every moment of the night, racing from door to door. Charlotte would knock, and Harry, our astronaut, would yell (in a very high pitched voice) "trick or treat!" I stress high-pitched, which I think earned them extra candy to just. please. move. on.

It was the year that Harry really GOT it - carving the pumpkins (I actually let him try his hand with a dull saw and we did not lose a hand, yea for me), checking all the neighborhood decorations on the drive to preschool "ooh mommy, that's a scary one!," the mountains of candy, the begging door-to-door, sitting on the stoop with friends gorging on sweets until bedtime (he took a bite of at least 10 pieces and handed them back to me at which point I chucked them into our Ivy, don't tell Paul.).

I adore Halloween. I think my children do too. So, I present you with some photos from the night and our Batman jack-o-lanterns (daddy did not photograph the painstakingly-carved "Harry" and "Charlotte" pumpkins....so maybe I WILL tell him about the candy in the ivy bed.)

Jingle Bells, Batman Smells...

I have discovered there is no better motivator for a good, long stint in the loo than Christmas toy catalogs.

HARRY: "I want this one, and this one and this one and this one (pause)...this one is for a girl. Charlotte wants that one (pointing to a doll/stroller/something pink)."

I like to think we haven't instilled them with this kind of merchandize-mentality, but I do recall that as a little girl I would page breathlessly through the then HUGE Sears catalog, circling toys for Christmas. Maybe it's genetic.

Athos, Porthos & Aramis

Harry and his friends Luke and Jack hung out yesterday after school. This was a big-boy play date, no moms allowed (just Luke's nanny Thelma). They wore costumes, they played with trains and trucks, they had 'licious snacks. And as they say, breaking up was hard to do. Harry was eager to

stay and play with the other musketeers. The only sunny-side to leaving was getting to drive home with Jack and regale mom with all kinds of potty humor.

JACK: it's fun riding in someone else's car

HARRY: Better than a vomit car! (peels of laughter)

JACK: Better than a poo poo car! (more giggling)

HARRY: Better than a pee pee car! (launching into hysterics)

JACK: Better than a stinky gas car! (laughing so hard they can barely think of the next gross thing.)

When did they get so big? Many thanks to Luke's mom for letting us come over (and for dashing home to snap pictures).

'Gusta!'

Harry isn't the only one who gets play dates. We were so happy to have Augusta Jay over last week. The girls got on like a very delicate house on fire, sharing toys and giggles and lots of hugs. Aren't girls precious? Forget the shoving...let's have tea!

Petite Ballet

Charlotte was last week invited to attend a ballet class as a guest of her friend Reagan. This mom couldn't say "yes" fast enough. Eliza had just given Charlotte a tutu as a birthday gift. So we put on our leotard and tights and drove to McLean for this very fun class. Charlotte (who barely makes the bottom of the height chart) may not have a dancer's body (yet) but she was a star.