Baby Blues

I've been prisoner at the Strictly Sail show in Chicago for four days now, missing my babies SO much (the mommy guilt has already compelled me to visit the Disney Store and tell the children by phone exactly what they're getting). So this morning when I called, Charlotte had to confirm "mommy you have my princess?" Yes, sweetie, it's coming home. And so am I, today!

Dazzling

Charlotte went out on the town today (read: to the Durant center for story and play time) with her play pearls on and a sequined bag dangling from her wrist. Inside the purse? Her princess phone, strawberry shortcake action figure and hot pink high-bounce ball, ....no self-respecting toddler girl should be without them.

Get Out of Jail Free Card

It was during a wicked bout of winter sickness that I woozily drove to my doctor's office and decided to wedge our SUV into a too-tight parking spot. And as if in slow-motion, I watched myself scrape the passenger-side door against a big concrete pillar. I simmered during my doctor's appointment and called Paul as I drove home "I totally blew it," I reported, confessing my stupidity. I've never hit anything, I kept insisting to those casting furtive glances at the huge white and red streaks embedded in the door.

Flash forward six weeks and a visit yesterday to the car wash to remove the mounds of cheerios and buckets of sand still decorating the car's interior following our October beach vacation. Some $22 later, the carwash guys did a rotten job vacuuming. So we asked politely for a do-over.

As the supervisor looked on, he said "you want me to remove that paint?" pointing to the massive blemish. I'm like, Jesus, this guy can't even tell that's a scratch? Using my nail to gouge at it more, I said "it's not paint, look at it!"

So he saunters off and comes back with a rag soaked in what I will now refer to as "miracle goo." Thirty seconds later this huge, two- foot gouge was gone and the sparkling, undamaged door was returned to me, along with my unspoiled collision record. I gave him a big tip. He thought I was insane. But really, considering that I was totally maligning HIM silently for being an idiot...well...it was the very least I could do. And yes, before you need say it, we know who the idiot is.

Remembering Gnocchi

We received devastating news yesterday morning, our cherished cat Gnocchi was struck by a car and killed a block from our home. He'd been missing for two days. An outdoor-indoor tom cat, who spent more time in than out, we prayed that he'd been enticed by someone else's kitty food and would return. But after 24 hours with no sighting, we put up fliers and hoped.

The news was crushing. I have always been a dog person. Gnocchi helped me open my heart a little wider. The kids adored him, even the dog thought he was cool, barking to alert us when his little spotted pal need to go out. He had love to spare and the brain power of four standard poodles combined.

We haven't told the kids. We don't plan on it. And I remain so very sad. Sick really, thinking about a speeder plowing into our super-smart, super-friendly 2-year-old cat.

Last night, Charlotte climbed onto my desk chair, grabbed hold of the computer mouse and up popped our "Lost Cat" poster. "That's my favorite kitty," she purred. Mine too sweetie, mine too.

Mommy and Me

Every year my friend Julie and her mommy Norma plan a group trip to Canyon Ranch in Lenox, Mass. The group is largely a mother-daughter affair. The daughters (we), were all like-minded gals, early- to-mid 40s, with young kids at home. We all needed a quick rest and we all had a super time, snow shoeing and cross country skiing in the fresh powder, taking yoga classes and aerobic weights and enjoying the spa and all of its many exotic massage rituals. The rooms were sumptuous (I miss the sheets already) and the food, was divine (the portions are excruciatingly small,

reminding us with every forkful how much we regularly heap on our plates).

It was not all relaxation. CR has an abundance of services available (from cardio-charging workouts to doctors and priests) that are hard to come by in the busy work-day world. So I took advantage of a VO2 max test to see how efficient my body is (or isn't) at using oxygen. The get-up made me look and feel like a Cylon (that's for you Missy), but the results were super.

Many thanks to Paul for letting me take a few mommy days and to my editor at LER for the freelance work, which afforded me, literally, the extra pennies to make the trek this year.

Trolleys, Aerobiles, Fast Squares

Leef is on vacation.

Day 1:

Saturday morning Daddy was determined to finish off the potty training once and for all. Strip 'em down and pop 'em on I say. Well Charlie waltzed in and just took care of bizznezz, Harry took a little longer. But so far the score is Potty 2, Mishaps nil.
I did manage a bit of household bill management and set H&C to shredding the mess of paper on the floor. But when Harry came across a photocopy of Leef's passport picture page he refused to shred it saying "This has Mommy's picture, I can't crunch this."

Then it was off to the DC Trolley Museum to meet up with our fellow mom-less family, the Barnetts. We were treated to a ride through the woods on a 1950's era Toronto Transit trolley car. The docents were a bunch of old geezers but I didn't know this when upon entering I advised Harry, who was shushing everyone, that it was a museum not a mausoleum. I recommend a visit especially if you live in Pennsylvania.

Day 2:

The score is Potty 0, Mishaps 1, Diapers 0

It's Sunday morning and we're off to the National Air and Space Museum Udvar-Hazy Center. There's Charlotte still sleeping after the ride out in front of the Waterman Aerobile #6.

In case you're wondering, no Daddy didn't drug them. There

she is full of Vim and Vigor. My little Hurricane! Behind her is the Hawker Hurricane, bane of the Luftwaffe. And here's Harry having declared the Enola Gay to be his favorite airplane.

Leave it to Harry to find the one and only railroad freight car in an airplane and rocket museum. I'll keep the location secret as a challenge to interested readers.

Day 3:
Not much to report. Everyone under the weather and it's cold out. After naps we watched back-to-back episodes of This Old House, Harry like the building bits but not when the visit the decorators.

And oh btw... when you leave a sick wife and kids the week before Christmas to fly out to Vegas for a week, "Instant Karma's gonna get you." I finally got the dreaded crud bug the very day Leef left.

The writer is father to Harry and Charlotte and is very happy Leef is home.

Two 'Man' Snow Plow

It wasn't a lot of snow, DC just narrowly avoided another snowmagedon, but it was enough to necessitate a sidewalk clearing and Harry and Charlotte discovered that our two-handled shovel was just the thing for a brother-sister snow-removal team. They did a wicked good job! New Olympic sport? England 2012! I think we'd have an edge.

Trading Spaces

We returned home last night after a very fast 3-day trip to the UK. Paul has been offered a job about an hour north of London, and we're deciding whether to move the family to the UK for a three-year posting. This was not a vacation. This was a recon mission.

In many ways the decision to live overseas is a no-brainer. Most people never get an opportunity for this kind of adventure and cultural look-see. Why go to NYC on the weekend when you can go to Paris or Amsterdam? And the children are young enough that changing schools or their social setting wouldn't be a hardship. Kindergarten is an adjustment whether you're in DC or Devon.

In other ways, it's like plotting a trip to the moon. We enjoy a very comfortable home, a lovely, full community that offers us anything we want, and the support of good friends and loving family, all close by. Leaving that, if just temporarily, is worth many deep breaths and a whole lot of consideration.

So we embarked on a trip to suss it out. We rented a car and we drove and drove and drove and drove - up to Cambridge, west to St. Neots and St. Ives (to see seven wives), through Buckden and Godmanchester and Huntingdon and half a dozen other villages before wending our way to exquisitely beautiful town of Stamford. Before we left we'd covered 350 miles, visited with friends who live and work in the area (one family in a country setting in Alconbury-Weston - I was totally charmed by the two Sussex chickens laying eggs in their backyard....I could SO do that) and then in the chic town of Marlow for a Michelin one-star pub dinner (pubs get stars? huh.).

We stayed two nights at the Talbot hotel in the stone village of Oundle. It is said to be haunted by Mary Queen of Scots - the staircase she descended to her execution is in the lobby. And drank ale in pubs many hundreds of years older than our own country. Any trip to Europe is exhilarating. This one was that, and a little scary too. As we flew out of Heathrow yesterday morning, I could not help but wonder when we'd be back and for how long.

SOLA Uncorked

This mom spent too much time this fall and every spare minute of November and early December planning a new fundraiser for the Alexandria Symphony Orchestra. It was pretty numbing. But in the end, we pulled off a super cocktail party: warm and festive and beautiful, catered foremost by The Curious Grape in Arlington, Va., which provided wine and cheese and chocolate pairings. Nothing went wrong, which is the first party I've ever thrown that I can say that about. There is only one real headline from the night: SOLA Uncorked raised $16,000 (our goal was $5k) and entertained 140 people (the stalwarts of my organization were quick to tell me I'd be lucky if 60 folks showed up,"good luck kid").

So, forgive me for using this digital ink to do a little crowing, but I'm pretty proud of the job I did as event chair, having never thrown a fundraiser. I offer now a personal thank you in my own personal space to my friends and family who attended and supported the event. I owe you. Paul deserves special super-husband credit for agreeing to be my lackey for my night, taking pictures the evening through.

NYE

So what do two married people with small children do on New Year's Eve when the grandparents happen to be in town? Go OUT, of course. Paul and I enjoyed a super meal at Bastille in Alexandria before heading over to the Birchmere for a performance by three bands, the headliner being Seldom Scene, a blue grass group. The highlight of the evening for me was parading around town with elaborate face make-up courtesy an artist at our friend Sabrina's 4th birthday party held earlier that day. Now I know what it's like to live with purple hair or a tattoo on the cheek...everyone stares. It was very amusing.

So Many Cookies, So Little Time

So where did we get our cookies for Santa? Well from Harry and Charlotte and all of our favorite friends, who joined us for a pre-Christmas sugar sprinkling marathon (more of a marathon for mommy than anyone else, but it is always fun, if sticky). We had 24 little elves on hand to do the decorating, so Harry and Charlotte and I got up early to roll out 150 sugar cookies and prep the hot cider and cocoa. The rest is history.

Milk and Cookies

Perhaps my most cherished moment this holiday season was helping the kids put out carrots for the reindeer (Rudolph, if you please) and cookies for St. Nick.

Magic Moments

Thanks to grandpa and his new camera, the kids will have a solid (SOLID) record of Christmas 2010. Here are just a few of my favorites.


Like watching the trains go around and around... Tooting our horns...

Tearing into a present....together
Scoring a really choice dolly...

Doing the annual "train dance"...
Feeding the Hungry Hippos...

And sharing Christmas Dinner with our some of our very favorite people.