For the love of winter

Winter in DC this year has been a bit of a bummer.  More cold weather than we've had in recent years but until yesterday, no snow.  Plenty of rain.  Cold, wet, unhealthy, and unpleasant rain. Blah.  A winter without snow is a bit sad in my mind having grown up in the northeast.  I've always loved snow days, well into adulthood.  I am one of those federal workers who live by the OPM operating status updates from December through February.  And snowmen, cocoa, and sled riding make me happy.  Winter sports traditionally alluded me.  I started skiing at 25 and admit that it's only been in the last year or two that I've actually enjoyed it.  Skating is quite another story.  (Even if hell froze over I am not sure I'd put on a pair of skates these days.)  

So our extreme brush with winter during the past few weeks has been lovely.  The girls and I headed up to NJ to see my family over the Martin Luther King day weekend.  They have winter in NJ.  We got a few small snow showers, freezing temps, and sled riding.  Of course, I managed to fly off the sled and wrack my back but I suppose that's part of the territory.  Now, the 4 of us are in VT, mostly inside today as we watch the snow pile up at a rate of 2 inches an hour.  We arrived last Saturday for a week of skiing.  Ryan has been in his glory- out from 9 AM-4 PM most days.  Even Isabel is enthralled, asking to be enrolled in ski school.  This was a bit surprising considering her reaction to being on skis on Sunday (lots of yelling and accusations that we were being mean to her.)  Only Lottie doesn't seem to be entirely moved.  She spent most of her time on plastic skis yelling her head of (well at least through the pacifier) and collecting huge chunks of snot.  She "played" outside for all of 5 mins today before demanding to come in.  I am confident we'll make a winter lover out of her yet.  Two more days of skiing before we go home.  I hope we don't have to leave winter behind as well.

A Picture's Worth a Thousand Words

In my never ending quest to fill up our time with sometimes futile activities, I thought it was high time to take the girls to have their pictures formally taken. Part of this decision was driven by a small measure of jealousy of all the formal pictures that populated the walls of our hosts' home in Kansas and part of it was driven by the fact that as fun as my random snaps can be, it's always nice to have someone else do the work and do it well every now and then.

Our experience wasn't quite as seamless as it could have been, but I think the several hours we spent yesterday encapsulated our family so well that I had to share. I should preface the story by saying that Ryan is very anti-portrait. He claims to have had too many bad experiences with the JC Penney portrait studio as a kid that the thought of even having them done makes him crabby. (I think he's just using it as an excuse to be crabby but I do have a certain amount of antipathy myself for the faux pastoral scenes, the hot lights, bad hair, and weird angles of the portrait studios/school pictures of my youth.) So the fact that he agreed to go with me to the mall to take the girls for their session was a feat unto itself. We got to the mall a full hour before it officially opened and sadly, a half hour before our scheduled appointment. I couldn't exactly remember the time of the appointment (case number 336 in point why I should have a blackberry if only I could justify it) so I wanted to make sure we were on time. Tragically, the Picture People failed to consult their appointment book the day before and did not show up until 11 AM. Facing a possible failure in executing the picture session, I was wracked with feelings of insecurity, flakiness, and self-recrimination, all popular themes these days with me as I enter week 2 of the health challenge. Don't worry, this is pretty common until I decide this course of action is not for me. The girls were bummed but were taking it in stride, arguing over who would hold the cat and who the dog stuffed animals they brought along. Both had erupted into spontaneous tears so many times during the hour we were there with nothing to do that I was sure if said photo session were to happen both would look like bloated, red floating heads.

Finally, the lights went on in the Picture People and Izzy and I charged in. Once she decided she wasn't going to be eaten alive by the photographer, she was all for some mugging. After reproaching the woman at the desk for leaving me hanging (and silently for making me feel so bad about myself- how dare she!), the girls and I entered the changing room (aka slightly sleazy bathroom) to change. Iz and I had worked out a complicated formula by which she would take some pictures in her preferred outfit and then switch to mine. Thank god the Picture People has no sitting fee so we could accomplish this with little sweat. And mug and grin and sally about did my little ladies. Lottie, of course, demonstrated none of hesitation Izzy usually displays and marched right into one frame. When we tried to take her out, she sat down. Izzy for hours and hours after talked about how much fun it was to pose. (Note here to the uninitiated: last time I took Iz to have her picture taken, she yelled and cried so much that I had a total of 1, that's right, 1 usable picture after a half an hour of trying.) Unfortunately, Picture People does not release the digital files (at least not for the price I paid!) and without a scanner, I can't show them to you here.

After loitering through the mall and having lunch, we returned to the Picture People to view our photos. Here's where Ryan's funny part comes in. PP "markets" its pictures by choosing some of the prints they think are nice and sticking them in frames to show post session customers. Sadly, Ryan didn't know this. When the PP lady helping us came out with a stack of large, framed photos of the girls, Ryan was this close to falling off his viewing stool. He actually said out loud, "I think I am going to be sick." I had to explain to him in front of PP lady that they were just promotional items and that no, I had not in fact ordered all of them. The PP lady thought it was so funny, she directed him to the changing room/slightly seedy bathroom and then proceeded to tell all of her coworkers who howled in laughter. It was second only to the time when Ryan almost fainted when having his blood drawn for our marriage license. In fact, he was so moved by the PP experience, he had to go home and take a nap to calm down. (I am not making this up.)

So, after all of that, we have some lovely new pictures of the girls. Ryan's calmer today but I think he's living in fear of my idea to have a photographer come to the house in the spring. More on that later...

Life with Lottie

I realized earlier this week that a blog that was supposed to be about our family has largely devolved into a large opportunity for me to whine about one thing or another. So here's a kid update. Because, believe it or not, in the midst of all the holiday nonsense of late, the kids have been growing and changing. Shocking, I know!

I am not sure who wins the award for leaps and bounds this month (in fact I'd almost say it was a tie) but I thought I'd start with Lottie since I don't blog about her shenanigans quite as much. Lottie has really become a lovable pill. Her favorite phrase at the moment is "No mommy," which I believe is the Lottie equivalent of a swear word. I am not the only one who gets the perpetual "no mommy." Ryan has been on the receiving end, as has Isabel, the cats, and I swear, completely inanimate objects if they get in her way. And something is frequently in her way these days. Lottie doesn't stroll anymore, she practically leaps at things using very rapid steps which almost equate to a run. Up the stairs, down the stairs, around and around the house, on the potty, off the potty, you get the picture. Usually shrieking about something. One of the most heinous parts of the "new" Lottie, however, is that sleeping happens only on her terms. Ryan and I are perhaps the WORST parents in the world when it comes to enforcing good sleep habits because we are weak and spineless in the face of the two-foot tall blond onslaught. We were the same way with Isabel. Unlike Izzy, who would lay in her bed and cry for assistance (convinced I am sure that the 2 inch drop to the ground from her mattress would kill her), Lottie has no problem climbing right out of bed, opening the bedroom door, and marching into our room at all hours yelling either "Cup" or "No mommy." She does not accept being put back into her bed and most of the time won't come peacefully into ours unless we accede to her demands. This makes my sleeping life a huge let down these days. Because once installed into our bed, she begins an elaborate ritual with her cup (hand pacifier to mommy, drink cup, demand pacifier back, demand mom take cup, stare at ceiling for approximately two mins, demand cup be returned to her for a repeat of the ritual). We usually do this for about 20 mins until she finishes her cup. Once the cup is completed (and by the way, the cup MUST be milk. We tried water once and she protested so loudly that the cats bolted out of the room in a second flat), she begins her elaborate bed hogging routine. This usually involves pulling my hair hard enough that I roll over to get away from her. She then inches closer and higher so she can get a good grasp on my scalp. (At this point, most nights I am also greeted by a loud "Hi" in my ear.) I move farther and farther to the edge of the bed so by the time we're done, she has my pillow and the prime place on my side. By this time, about an hour or more after the Lottie invasion, I am sleeping with the cats at the end of the bed or in the guest room because she doesn't usually bother Ryan if left alone with him.

Needless to say, I've had a hard time being positive by the morning. And, because the routine has intensified in recent weeks, Lottie herself has a hard time being positive as well. Strangely, Izzy, our usual morning grump, has been waking up happy these days. Thank goodness. I think with all the sleep deprivation, Ryan would otherwise find me hiding out with cats in the AM otherwise. As for Izzy, we've entered ABC season in a big way. They've started on learning the alphabet in preschool and we've been instructed through those ever "helpful" handouts teachers leave for parents in the boxes to work with our children on pre-reading skills. I say helpful sardonically since I never find any of those things particularly enlightening and instead have lingering guilt about not reading Eloise for 8 straight weeks in a row. (Apparently I am supposed to be reading the same damn story over and over again since repetition is the mother of learning.) In the spirit of prolonging my bad mommy-ness, I find the whole process of learning a bit daunting. I kind of expected Izzy would be able to identify the alphabet by now. She's been singing the alphabet song since she was two and could identify her name by 3. I find myself constantly fighting off bad mommy impulses of "why aren't you learning this?" I hope this is somewhat normal.

Anyway, I am sure Iz will learn her letters soon and Lottie will learn to sleep again someday. I just have to remember that I am supposed to be enjoying this, even half dead.

Oh those resolutions

It's that time of year again- I've found myself lingering in the magazine aisle, pouring over issues of Real Simple, Body & Soul, and Shape to come up with the latest fool proof way to fix all that ails me. My intention this year was to have only manageable resolutions- I would like to learn to sew, run 4 miles regularly (I am more or less a routine 5K'er so it's not that impressive), figure out a way to get the girls to eat more veggies, and volunteer. Banished to the back of the closet were the perpetual goals of weight loss and eating healthier. For better or for worse, resolutions past have lingered with me in some modified way over the years, and I would like to think that our diets and life styles are healthier already as a result. I never did lose those magic ten pounds, but I eat an awful lot of salad and drink a healthy amount of water. As noted above, I've actually begun to enjoy running 5K distances. No more half and half in my coffee and my usual breakfast is low-fat plain yogurt with granola. How sanctimonious, right?

Last night at dinner, though, Ryan, for the first time in our 11 years together, introduced the idea of a joint resolution. He wants to gain weight so he thought we could make a competition out of it- I lose while he gains. Before anyone is shocked and appalled that my husband suggested I lose weight (dangerous topic for most men), I admit here that EVERY January along with the "clean scented" candles, I publicly trot out my resolution to live better/lose weight. And I didn't brief him this year on my decision not to make this a goal. I've also been ragging on him for years to incorporate weight training into his exercise routine. Ryan is one of those magically blessed people who loses weight simply by waking up in the morning. It has made it difficult to be married to him at times. So not to agree to a friendly competition seemed a bit rude to me last night after dinner. Of course, I'm sure this is going to get my goat over the next few weeks since even the idea of actively dieting frankly scares the bejesus out of me. (As weird as it is to admit now, I had some massive self image problems in high school which led me to stop eating more or less my junior year.) Plus, I don't really believe in dieting and have spent the better part of today reading articles about how dieting doesn't work. For those with dieting resolutions, stay away from the Well blog on the NY Times website. For what it's worth, I don't find Oprah's struggle inspirational at all. Does that make me a bad person?

All in all, this makes for a fine way to start a resolution, huh? If by some miracle, I actually do lose the weight (and for now, I've only agreed to five pound increments), I'll certainly share my news. But, in the meantime, I am going to go back to running 4 miles at a pop. And maybe I'll cut out that diet coke and toffees...