'Happy Birthday Xana'

It has been a serious Nanny Diaries month for us, courtesy the planned, sad end of our nanny share.

The Reader's Digest synopsis: The couple we have happily shared a nanny with for nearly two years recently had another baby and moved to McLean. Roxana didn't want to choose her new home (too much pressure, she said). Are you sure, we all urged? Yes, she said. And we understood. So we very agreeably flipped a coin. Family Smith-Barnes lost said flip. And I started the painstaking process of finding a new nanny.

But before we could ink a deal with someone new, Roxana appeared at our doorstep on a rainy Saturday, flowers and middle child in tow, and asked if she could stay. She loves the other family and their sweet daughter Lucy, but she didn't want to leave her tight nanny collective, cherished Starbucks (my words!) and the park where she spends four-plus hours a day. Harry adores Roxana, we trust her, we feel we owe her our loyalty. So, with the other family's whole-hearted blessing, we welcomed Roxana to formally join our household for the duration.

Friday was her birthday -- thirty-something, I think. A Hallmark card seemed weak given all the tumult. So I spent part of yesterday morning (away from the vital concerns of sailors) in the kitchen baking. We sang (Harry the loudest of all), we blew out candles and we ate greedily.

Roxana, I hope you like us, 'cause you're stuck with us now.

Mother May I?

We started our Mother's Day picnic tradition when Harry was born. He was but a wee, skinny little one (pictured right-- you too will agree that even with a buttercup tucked behind his ear, he looked two servings short of a meal. A stunning 'then and now').

But we had a lovely afternoon two years ago and have continued to picnic. This year, we tried the zoo, camping on the lawn just outside the Great Ape House. And it was, without a doubt, the best afternoon I can remember. I could attribute it to the half bottle of champagne I drank in the shade of a blossoming tree or the sublime weather....but really, it was the fact that Harry and Charlotte had so much fun, and us watching them. She rolled and rolled and rolled on the picnic blanket, trying to snatch a turkey on rye out of Harry's paws. Harry, on the other hand, ran around on the grass, trying his best to enter forbidden zoo enclosures, all the while shooting us that 'watch me do something naughty' grin. Fortunately we were nowhere near the polar bear den.

We were given two big treats, the first when the orangutans swung overhead (nearly, literally overhead) on the zoo's O-line...what a show. I swear they were eyeing us...'look at those feebs with their lunch...are we close enough to huck poop?' Later, a mama and papa mallard paid our picnic blanket a visit, eating pita chips straight out of Harry's hand. Even he was shocked.


Harry, today a much more robust version than the baby I brought to my first mother's day picnic, has absolutely no shame when it comes to food. While he's willing to share with the birds, he too is a skilled moocher, roaming over to neighboring picnickers to score some grapes. No, he doesn't outstretch a hand. He simply opens his mouth with the unspoken directive 'please deposit food within.'

It was a great, great day, all thanks to my incredible husband, who gave me the best gift (which ranks somewhere after the kids, but definitely before any piece of bling).....he secretly formatted, printed and bound my blog...presented over breakfast with a bouquet of flowers. It may be a mixed media message to print a blog, but what an incredible treat for me, the still unpublished would-be author. Mostly, it drove home how special it will be for the kids to one day have a record of their lives. It made me cry, right there over my goat cheese omelet.

Leaving on a Jet Plane

Today seemed like a good day to show our nanny Roxana a) how to use the Metro and b) how to get to National Airport, one of Harry's favorite rainy-day destinations.

She took to it like a pro while I was the one who accidentally demagnetized my Metro card by putting it too close to my cell phone. Ahem.

'MoreToad Food'

Anyone who knows Harry knows that he's a big, sometimes insatiable eater. I think today's lunch pretty much sums up his need for food, and lots of it.

1 organic chicken hotdog, no skin, sliced
1/8 cup peas and carrots, steamed
1/4 cup pears and strawberries

Most kids would be done at this juncture. But not Harry!

Round two involved eating half of mom's lunch.

1/4 cup Quinoa
1/4 cup curry tofu with diced tomatoes

It was the tofu he couldn't ingest fast enough, ordering 'more toad food!"

Today Charlotte had her 6-month check (a month late because of delayed vaccinations). Harry insisted on going along to the pediatrician to see "Doctor Maisy," a new favorite storybook character. Frankly Dr. Bergman DOES look a little bit like a mouse.

After peeing on the changing table -- an act that annoyed a nurse I don't at all like (way to go Charlie!), she got her vital stats: Huge head, 80th percentile for weight...and short. It is not the stuff of a runway model, but who know exactly what Heidi Klum looked like as an infant anyway, right? Charlie, I think you're just right.

Aunty Jordana

We were delighted to host a guest over the weekend. Jordana, a friend from college, former roommate, fellow journalist, all-around great gal, was in town for a work conference and spent some time getting to know the kids. The last time I saw Jori I was pregnant with Harry. So we had a lot of catching up to do. I'm smaller. The house is bigger -- crammed with diapers, toys and tots. Harry and Charlotte either charmed her into adding to her family or have assured that she and hubby Dan will be childless. Not sure which it is.

Regardless -- we had a great time in her company. We went to a very posh cocktail party in Old Town, for which we were all painfully under-dressed despite the heels and skirts (yes, my fault), we went to hear the final season performance of the Alexandria Symphony Orchestra, and we spent one very soggy afternoon camped out at the Building Museum in DC where Harry ran amok.

I hope she comes back soon. There are diapers to change...

Happy Birthday to You, Happy Birthday to You...

We don't just enjoy our own Birthday parties at our home, we sing about them. Every day. Over and over. We sing for the dog. We sing for the grandparents. We sing for the window, the chair, the trains, the dog. We even sing for Harry's poop on occasion. He makes a lot of requests. But last week we had an opportunity to sing with purpose -- for the birthday of Harry's friend Morgan, held at the city's newest rec center. Pizza, cupcakes, a big floor to slide around on. What was not to love?

Firsts

Miss Charlotte has been patient with my tardy blogging. Especially since she experienced some personal milestones. These won't get her into Harvard, but they certainly were entertaining (for me and the nanny who was the smart one and realized it was time). So, I give you Charlie...on the rocking horse at the park (riding solo) and in the swing, the first of many to be sure.