Wake and Bake

No, really...I did wake and bake. Cookies people, cookies! I was up at 5 on Saturday morning to prep for a little gathering of Harry and Charlotte's friends. They were invited to decorate cookies to kick off what would be known as The Saturday of Many Parties (3 in all...I could barely move by 8 p.m.).

But I was rarin' to go before sun-up and up to my elbows in dough and flour, cutting out cookies for the kids, 10 of our favorite toddlers, to decorate. Harry joined me when he woke up. There we were, in our jammies (yes, it's true, I wear Super-Grove PJs), cutting out reindeer and snowmen. Charlotte cheered us on from the highchair and snuck some dough, no doubt copying her brother.

Deck the Halls

It was time, indeed time, to scout out this year's Christmas tree. So we headed to Nall's Produce in Springfield to find the perfect specimen. Harry didn't have a lot of interest in tree shopping, per se, but running around the "tree farm," in the dark, now that was a good toddler time. (We visit Nall's to buy our tree each year because it "feels" like the country at night, with a fire burning outside and a country market selling cider, but the fact is it's just a block from a 7-Eleven. Next year I vow we're going out to Loudoun to cut one down. )

Despite the hour we kept Harry jolly in the car on the way home by providing the bounty that is kettle corn -- not the best pre-bedtime snack. Our first act back at the homestead was to ask Harry to water the tree, which he took very seriously. Into the kitchen he ran for his sippy cup which he shook at the tree, sprinkling it with drops.

The following night we set about trimming. Harry and Charlotte were both really engaged - she mostly with the lights. So far he shows no interest in toying with the ornaments. I've purposely kept all the fragile ones where they belong, in the boxes (!) but so far so good. Jury is still out on Charlotte who yesterday seems to have formally decided that walking is better than crawling. She is sure to discover the tree when my back is turned.

So, with the tree half-trimmed (the rest is mom's job, right?) the kids settled in to watch "A Charlie Brown Christmas." It just blows my mind that my kids are enjoying the same holiday programs that many of us did as a children. While the animation is positively prehistoric by today's standards, the shows never cease to delight. Even me.

Side-by-Side

I don't often think the kids look much alike. This picture makes me think otherwise and gives new meaning to the term "refrigerator side-by-side."

Parks, Pizza and Playtime...Christmas in NY

Our weekend frolic in New York started not in NY, but in Alexandria when Family Barnes pulled out of their driveway only to discover that the cigarette lighter plugs that power Harry's DVD player were kaput. A big problem when you've been promising your child he can watch a movie on the four-hour drive north. What to do? We gambled and called Rudy, then a total stranger, over at BMW of Arlington's service department and I pretty breathlessly explained the problem: No DVD, freaking toddler, long drive staring us in the face. Rudy must have kids because without even mentioning an appointment he had us drive right in and personally took the car into the shop where they popped in a new fuse, gave us a spare and sent us on our way (no paperwork, no money, nada). In truth I don't like BMW (my old Mini Cooper -- built by BMW -- aside) but they won a friend on Friday. My first order of business as we sped to NY was writing an email to Rudy's boss hailing him as a hero and suggesting he be awarded employee of the decade.

What followed was a terrific trip, full of walks through Central Park, which so puts our parks to shame, particularly the amazing playgrounds -- each beautiful with concrete climbing walls and faux battlements, recycled rubber "floors" and water features (that flow during summer). We visited the zoo -- Charlotte just adored it, maybe more than Harry who was entertained most by the clocktower that greets you upon entry and plays Christmas music. The seals danced for us, the penguins swam up by our noses and the polar bear shook his cancan.

We were positively the best thing Central Park's performers have seen in a while given Harry's love of tunes and his desire to stuff bills in each musician's case. One trombone player got a $five because we were out of singles. What resulted was our own little concert complete with "Elmo's Song."

On day two we rode the city bus from the Barnes' apartment on the East Side across the park and over to FAO Schwartz. What crowds in that store! But we were determined. Inside Harry stopped at every truck telling us to inform Santa of his needs, many needs, most of them involving tires. He was so wasted by the time we got to the check out line that he fell fast asleep in the stroller (see his picture with the FAO soldier), which gave us the illusion of being almost alone in NY (a date!), so we walked over to Rockefeller Plaza to see the tree and gaze in the store windows.

We explained to Harry that one of NY's best features is pizza. Never thought he'd be able to ingest an entire slice, but he did. Slowly, methodically, lick by lick, until it was gone. We rode subway a few times to give Harry a few kicks (Eliza the reason you think New Yorkers don't have two children is because the city is simply not equipped to handle double strollers. You want to see families with two kids? Go to the park. They're pretty much relegated to any place they can push -- public transportation is a nightmare for breeders there).

On Sunday morning Paul took the kids to let me take a run in the park. It was wicked chilly and I had no hat, so at Paul's suggestion I borrowed....my son's. My toddler son's. My 2-year-old's hat was on my big head. These Barnes children have HUGE heads! And he saved my bacon. Thank you Harry.

One of our last visits was to the Children's Museum of Manhattan on West 83rd Street. $10 to get in. The place makes Gymboree look triffling. It's beyond explanation, and so much fun for Harry and Charlotte alike. Can't recommend it enough if you're traveling to the city with your kids.

Perhaps the best part of the trip was sharing a small studio apartment with the kids for a couple days. Harry bunked with me each night in a murphy bed. He was dazzled waking up each morning to find mommy right there. On our second night Charlotte fell asleep in bed with me and Harry -- there I was with my two babies snuggled up with me fast asleep (which I can tell you never happens anymore thanks to the varied bed times and the advent of Harry's big-boy-bed.) It was so special. I remember reading years ago that Brad and Angelina (yes that Brad and Angelina) have a pajama party every Sunday night with their monster brood. I think I get it!

We can't wait to go back. But this time we're going to check the cigarette lighters before we get into the car.

Santa Baby

Charlotte has her first encounter with the Jolly One last night at an annual party we love attending. Let's just say it could have gone a wee bit better. The second her fanny touched the velvet knee she began howling. I felt so bad but just couldn't help laughing. Have you seen the website that chronicles crying babies on Santa's knee? It's a classic, a must-see that's been turned into a book. Perhaps i'll send in Charlotte's weepy image. Harry, on the other hand, is enjoying understanding Christmas and the presumed bounty that is Santa. He very politely explained his needs to the Man in Red ("Thomas trains, please") before seeking out a plate of butter cookies, which I'm pretty sure he cleaned of the very last crumb. 'Tis the season.

We did extract some smiles from Charlotte as the night wore on. I'm including a few (including a great photo of the kid faces smooshed into a glass window) just to support the fact that we don't intentionally torture our young.

Elbow Room...A Visit to the ER

I was wrong when I speculated to Paul days ago that it would be Charlotte who would be the first recipient of splints and stitches and trips to the ER. Last night, as Paul and I sat in the dining room signing some papers, Harry and Charlotte were upstairs with Roxana playing in his bedroom. He likes to play hide-and-seek in his closet, bursting open the doors and squealing with delight. On what would be his last and final attempt he slipped on a book and tumbled to the floor. When Roxana helped him up he began to shiver and cry "boo boo!"

We thought maybe his wrist was broken. He was cradling his arm and using his non-dominant hand, his little face was covered in sweat. Tylenol was no use and he really wouldn't let us examine it. Clearly the kid was hurting. So mom and Harry headed off to the ER in the rain, Harry crying the whole way "I want to go hoooooome." Me too, sweetie, me too!

I packed the diaper bag with a juice box and the portable DVD player, prepared for a wicked sit in the flu-infested waiting room. But minutes after arriving they ushered us into the triage room and Harry saw a doctor. "I think it's broken," I explained. The doc has no trouble getting Harry to surrender to an exam (the power of the white coat! I wish I had one). "So It's not broken," I gulped. "I guess we shouldn't have come." But Dr. Smartypants knew better. "It's his elbow," he explained.

So now I'm just confused. Reaching up the doctor twisted Harry's arm, one, two, three and POP! the tendon and the bone snapped back into place. It wasn't dislocated, I was told, rather a condition called "nursemaid's elbow." Huh? It's pretty common in the 2-year-old set. Their elbows aren't totally developed yet and when playing or being pulled up (by say a nursemaid) the tendon can slide out and shift the bone. Frankly it should just be called "Tweaked Elbow" because anyone can cause it to happen.

So, five minutes after arriving at the ER, Harry was giving the doctor High-Fives and we were discharged (would you be surprised at ALL if I told you the discharge, which involved me paying zero, took 30 minutes?) OY. Pictured is a photo of Charlotte that Paul snapped for Harry as we waited to leave the hospital. But can you ask for a better outcome? Hardly. We went home and celebrated, as Harry told his father "I'm all fixed!" with an ice cream sandwich and an introduction to "The Grinch Who Stole Christmas." Just like the Grinch, I think my heart grew two sizes that day...thank you ER doc.

Giving Thanks

We had the pleasure of hosting the grandparents for Thanksgiving. Their visits are a big thrill for Harry, who always seems to receive some replica NYC vehicle when Paba appears (this year: the city bus). Our day of turkey began with the local Trot, which circles right around our house (Eliza and I pushed Harry and peeled off after a couple miles, while Paul finished the race -- he may have been wearing Eliza's chip, we're not sure, so were there a time-prize for her age bracket, we're pretty sure she would have won accolades).

Before dinner we visited our friends the Swansons, old neighbors from my years down the road in Del Ray. We don't see enough of them, so their pre-turkey cocktail party is always a pleasure.

Then it was home for the main event. It's the first year I haven't cooked stuffing. Instead we gorged on whipped, roasted garlic mashed potatoes (Harry helped rice the spuds), Celery root soup (surprise- it was great!), homemade cranberry sauce with a hint of orange, brussel sprouts roasted with Fuji apple, a bird (somehow not dry...not the biggest turkey lover me), a light gravy courtesy Cooking Light (it's a keeper) and Grandma Barnes' pecan pie (courtesy Aunt Phebe who sent us the recipe). It was not an elaborate meal, but it hit the spot -- might have been the seconds, not sure.

We have so much to be thankful for it could fill volumes, but the most important is surely our family -- both the babies we hold so dear and the relations we don't see very often. We love you all.