Brotherly Love

I think it's safe to say that Harry is wild about his baby sister. That doesn't mean he hasn't clonked her over the head with his musical refrigerator magnet (and it's big), but he seems to really care about Charlotte. Last night, as she wailed piteously for food, Harry scampered into the kitchen yelling "bottle bottle bottle!," snatched her bottle from the counter and returned to me pleading "baby don't cry." Not bad compassion for a 21-month-old. Charlotte I think you're definitely going to have a bodyguard on the playground. (And no, that's not a bruise, Harry has a Thomas 'tattoo' plastered on his noggin.)

And So it Begins

Applying to get your child into a preschool in Alexandria is a special kind of Hell. There are too few schools, too many kids and an application process that involves writing $60 checks and an ample amount of prayer. Charlotte took a tour with me this afternoon. We visited one of the five schools we're applying to for Harry. This one was in Old Town Alexandria. We like it a LOT. And so does everyone else. It was positively swarmed with moms (new moms, veteran moms, moms toting toddlers, pregnant moms, you get the picture). And each of us wrote a check on the way out. By my best estimate at least 200 applications were made today for no more than six or seven open spots. You do the math. The programs are just a few hours a week for two-year-olds. They learn shapes and colors, how to share....Sadly I think we have a better shot of winning Lotto than the preschool lotteries. Good thing we have finger paints at home.

The Inaugural Prom

OK, it was really a ball, but for all intents and purposes, it was a prom for adults. Gigantic crowds, lots of alcohol (with the appropriate drink tickets, of course) and some music. Good music actually. Marc Anthony was the headliner at this year's Western Ball, attended by an estimated 10,000 revelers. The Latin sensation did his thing for about two hours and (in what was hardly a surprise to any of us who read People Magazine) he brought his wife J-Lo out on the stage to do an "impromptu" duet. They were very good. My God is she gorgeous.

It wasn't long before the Bidens arrived to say howdy to the crowd and do a few steps. Obama and the new first lady, dressed in a white gown adorned with what looked like cotton balls from my vantage point, took the stage an hour later to dance to "At Last." As my friend Cathy rightly pointed out, they looked ready for a wedding. The newly installed president was totally at ease -- this was the EASY part of his day. He said a few words, basked in raucous applause and then glided off to ball number 9 or 10.



We made it home before 2 a.m., very ready for bed, and the next bedside feeding for Miss Charlotte.

A big thank you to our old friends Michael and Karen Page who shared their ball tickets with us.

Hail to the Chief

Even this morning, as our driveway filled up with the cars of friends headed downtown for Obama's big day, and we watched as scores of folks bundled against the cold streamed by our home in route to DC, we considered going too. But we didn't. We stuck to the plan and went to our friends Missy and Matt's home for a viewing party. And a good one at that. There were balloons, streamers, an "O" cake, lots of good food and a few tears as our 44th President was sworn in. There was also heat, audio and lots of see, which was a cut above what a lot of our much braver Americans experienced out on the Mall. But I give them lots and lots of credit for making the journey. If we didn't have ones too little to bring along, we would have been there too.

I put the kids in home-made Obama tee-shirts and vowed to them that they WOULD be on the Mall for the swearing in of our next president: A woman.

So we salute you Mr. President. And now it's on to tonight's official Inaugural ball. We'll be attending the Western States bash where we hope get a dose of our new Commander-in-Chief, in the flesh. Check in tomorrow for a report on Michelle Obama's gown!

Mr. Peanut

We had the fortune to visit our good friends Cynthia and Al for dinner last night. They have family in town for the inauguration, more old friends of mine, and it was a big gathering, in Cynthia's beautiful home, a penthouse adorned, every few inches, by expensive, fragile art. Think: glass and ceramics, delicate fiber art and sculptures...everywhere. A toddler's dream. A parent's worst nightmare. I kept telling Harry 'you break it, you buy it' but that meant very little to a child who makes no allowance, and, well, doesn't understand most of what you babble anyway.

Somehow we made it through, with a lot of help from some of the teenage boys who were also there and very sweetly played and watched over Harry. One of them even took Charlotte out of her stroller to rock her. A teenage boy. I was, just, well....A teenage boy! Would that my children are so gentle and thoughtful and well behaved when they're young teens. In truth, the thing that mollified Harry the most was a HUGE bowl of salted peanuts that Cynthia (Aunt Skippy, as Harry calls her) put out....he literally ate half the bowl. One nut at a time. That's my boy!

Hat Trick

It's remarkable. Infants change so fast. Last night, before my very eyes, Charlie discovered her tongue and lips and all at once the little coos emanating from the back of her throat turned into full-blown goo-gooing. How fun is that? I didn't even have time to soak it in when this morning she rolled over. Not once, but three times in a row, as if to say 'duh, mom, I have this thing totally nailed. What's next?'

It was at the time of this triumphant roll that Harry was roaming around our office sans diaper, about to get into the tub. Poor little Charlie, she rolled over to great cheers from mom, and then a shriek. "Good God, what is that?'' Indeed, there it was, a little nugget of poop about two inches from her head. Note to self....do not let toddler go commando. Ever.

Inauguration Madness

Insanity. That is the best way to describe the security restrictions, bridge closures, projected pedestrian traffic jams and lists of what you can NOT bring with you to watch Obama be sworn in in the freezing, possibly snowing cold (strollers, backpacks, umbrellas, thermoses...you name it. It's a wonder they let you wear a coat).

It's the first event in memory when the powers that be have specifically suggested 'don't bring the kids.' I suppose it's good advice for this once-in-a-lifetime event since there will be endless lines, few bathrooms, no elbow room and lots of chaos. Cell phones won't be working very well. Bridges connecting DC with Virginia will be shut. Metro stations near the event will be closed. It's basically a police state. The advice being given to supporters in Virginia? You want to be here --Walk. We're talking five miles. Each way. In frigid temps.

I've covered two inaugurals in my life, and they were rough experiences at best. Of course I was up at dawn chasing protesters around, dodging arrest (at the time my editors weren't sure if I should or should not be hauled in with the rowdies), calling in feeds in the pouring, freezing rain with a thin plastic poncho as cover and a couple hand warmers stuffed in my soggy mittens. Good times! Still, I was very much looking forward to actually attending this ceremony. At this rate, it's really unlikely.

So, my little family will probably be in Alexandria, in front of the TV, where we will have a good view but lots of regret for being 'cowards' on this historic day. Still, we will be warm, safe and far from the throngs expected to be millions strong, throngs huddled in front of jumbotrons. Senator, you got my vote and you have my congratulations, but don't expect to see this body on the parade route. God speed.