CodeName Pinkerbelle

Snow (and more snow and more snow)

2010-02-08T16:59:00.000-08:00

Since marrying a winter lover from the Midwest, I've developed a certain fondness for the season. Last year, I blogged about not enough proper winter. Not enough snow, sledding, hot cocoa, fire place opportunities. I should be so lucky this winter. Having survived the 16.8 inches Snowpocalypse in December, we just "enjoyed" the mind-numbing, back-breaking Snowmaggedon (26+ inches) this past weekend. And now, my beloved Capital Weather Gang tells me we're looking at another blizzard and possible additional foot tomorrow. Even Uncle Sam has panicked and shut down government for the second day in a row. It's been a long time since we've gotten consecutive days off (the Post thinks it was 2003 but I am 99.9% sure that isn't right since that Monday was a federal holiday and OPM closed us down on Tuesday as well.) Ugh.

I reached a certain desperation point on Sunday, vowing that come hell or high water I would leave the house on Monday. I am just not made out for full time housekeeping- three meals a day, endless loads of laundry, snow pants on, snow pants off. Thus, the girls and I escaped for some retail therapy this AM. Tysons Corner never looked so good. The indoor playground was enough to give somewhat sane parents nightmares. Kids who probably not been outside since Friday paced the perimeter of that damn place like the hounds of hell. In between you had ninny parents trying to capture that magic moment on film. Hello? Still, I was heartily grateful for this brief interlude with the rest of humanity especially since I came home to the dire warnings of more snow on the way. In fact, the forecast not only drove me out to shop just because, it also drove us to a restaurant for dinner since we probably won't see one of those again for days. SNOW (Imagine me raising my fists to the sky in a somewhat pointless gesture.)

For those curious about how we survived Snowmaggedon, OPM called a 4 hours early release on Friday so we were safely home as the snow began to really come down. We are gecko-sitting this week which makes the weather even more of a challenge, as we discovered to our peril on Saturday after we lost power. Geckos, being cold blooded creatures, require a heated tank. Only after wrapping the gecko tank in blankets and surrounding it most ritualistically in candles, we discovered that our elderly Dutch neighbors had power. Gecko was thus shipped next store after an extremely laborious explanation that when we said "gecko" we did actually seem small lizard. Power was restored in due course (we were one of the very lucky ones) and gecko was returned (I believe much to gecko's delight. Our neighbors are relatively quiet people unlike our two children and felines who spend the better part of any given day crawling around the kitchen counter to check on the lizard.) After 7 passes we liberated ourselves at least out of our driveway but are still waiting for our street to be entirely liberated.

And so we wait for the next wallop. Florida never sounded so good. And remind me to revisit the topic of trying to "make up" to my now three years old her birthday spent almost entirely indoors with her sister, gecko, and cats for company.

If you listen hard enough, you can almost hear the schuss

2010-02-01T18:59:00.000-08:00

We did it! We finally made a real none VT ski trip this past weekend. Not that there's anything wrong with a VT ski trip. In fact, we've become spoiled rotten having a good mountain, free lodging and some Q-time with grandparents available to us whenever we say yes. (For the record, we're saying yes in a few weeks time.) But even though it requires a bit of a hike, going to VT is almost a mindless effort. We don't have to prep, explore, convince the girls that this is in fact fun. Some of this ease has made me feel like a bit less of an enthusiast. So buying a ski rack, packing a gear back, throwing the girls into the wagon as the first snow was beginning to fall in VA, and then making a slow but steady push towards WV made me feel a bit more legit. It was a LOOONG weekend- 5ish hours to get there, one half night of sleep, 6ish hours of skiing, 5 hours back (considering the Arbys stop) and back at work this AM. But still, we did it.

Best of all, Snowshoe was a decent mountain and definitely worth the trip and the girls loved it. After a skiddish start, Isabel was queen of the magic carpet, demonstrating that she could in fact do it all on her own. We're trying to encourage her to turn and the incredible, weird thing was, she was almost parallel ski turning at a few points. She could snow plow to stop herself when she needed to. Could she be that advanced? I doubt it but can you imagine?

We got Lottie up on skis as well. She was more fond of the lift than anything but she skied some between our knees and some being carried. Her favorite part was singing a wobbly rendition of the "Hokey Pokey" as we went down the hill. Isabel was the same at 3- a good "Wormin' Polka" (for you Backyardigan fans out there) could distract her from the cold. My question (for anyone out there) is how do you explain "don't sit on your skis" to a 3 years old? Please stand up wasn't doing the trick.

Of course after a morning of squat skiing and cheering, by the time I was ready to take a few runs after lunch I was a bit shocked at the pitch of the run I chose. So shocked in fact I mini panicked and then face planted. Always a good way to warm up after a year of rusting. I was so tired I felt a bit like Derek Zoolander, only able to go to the left in this instance. I seriously paid for it today. My right calf muscle is in a knot and no amount of stretching or the two miles I jogged today will seem to pacify the beastly thing. I fear my Zumba performance may be impacted.

Oh well, it's too bad we couldn't pack a little more time off in this weekend. Now to just get myself through the next two weeks before my next fix.

Update! Phone Recovered!

2010-01-26T18:57:00.000-08:00

A new me? An end to crabbiness? Oh come on now, people, it's too fun to mope. And I still have that management thing to contend with. But at least half of life is right with the world. Now, to figure how to reactivate that phone...

Blah

2010-01-26T18:24:00.000-08:00

It's probably not the best idea to blog when you're crabby. And boy am I crabby. I lost my cell phone. To describe this as a small issue is probably an overstatement given how much I use my phone, but I am still incomprehensibly crabby all the same. That's because I hate to lose things. Don't get me wrong, I am no patron saint of my worldly possessions. I've been known to lose some major things in my time, but the thing is I AGONIZE over the loss for days, sometimes years. I've been known to get upset over losing an earring backing. I lost a necklace that someone gave me for my first communion when I was 22 years old, and I still get upset over it when I think about it. It may be the act of losing something more than the actual lose itself (although I mourn that necklace as much as my own stupidity if I am honest.) Losing something represents forgetfulness, lose of control, some sense of irresponsibility, and a measure of ungratefulness for what you have. Can you tell I am catholic? But it upsets me down to my core that I can and do lose things.

Back to the phone, I am fairly certain what may have transpired. I had the phone while grocery shopping with Lottie on Sunday. We had to go to Safeway after our TJs run because for some strange reason TJs does not carry garbage bags. Lottie walked in Safeway and I have a fairly good recollection that she asked for and I gave her my phone so she could "call" daddy. And that's the last I remember of the phone. Did she put it down somewhere and I failed to notice? Did I pocket it and lose it myself? Hard to say and of course Safeway says they don't have it. Ugh.

I am also crabby today because I've come to the realization that managing people is harder than managing yourself. Ok, so that's a no shit statement, but (and don't kill me for my arrogance) I have traditionally deluded myself into thinking that the manager whine about how hard a job it is was really just a whine. How hard is it to edit, attend meetings, and pretend to listen to people? But as I sat across from someone for the fourth time in a single day trying to explain to them that "there wasn't any there there" I was toast. Ready to yell, tear my hair out, or have a snack. I chose the last option which itself is defeating because I haven't emotionally eaten in ages. How is it that smart people can be so stupid? I cringe to think how many times my managers have thought the same of me. I've also begun to wonder if this little experiment is really worth what I thought it might get me, or perhaps better to say where it might get me professionally. Sadly not even Zumba was enough to break through the double dose of crabbiness.

So there's my little ray of sunshine on this Tuesday returning us to winter. I'll try and blog about something more cheerful next. We're heading to Snowshoe this weekend so at the very least, I should have some pictures again finally. That is, if I don't lose my camera before then!

Let's Dance!

2010-01-12T17:35:00.000-08:00

The girls and I are in full dancing mode this winter. Both Isabel and Lottie have started ballet again. Since I haven't blogged in awhile, they both started in a "real" ballet class last autumn. We're still doing rec center classes, but this one is taught is taught by an instructor from Reston Conservatory. She is FABULOUS. She brings costumes and teaches the girls French. And of course they love her. She taught Isabel's class a small routine at the end of the class in the autumn. Lottie knows that chasse means "gallop." And both know the joys of magic boxes and dead bugs. (You have to have been there.) In fact, Isabel seems so devoted to ballet that I think we're going to enroll her in a full time program come autumn of 2010. What a difference from a year and a half ago when we couldn't get her to go into class!

As for me, I've started Zumba. Tonight was my first class. Lord, that can kick you butt. I am taking it through the fitness center at work and of course the instructor is tight and can shake her booty like no one's business. Doubly of course, she's 47 years old and looks more fabulous than I did at 27 (nevermind 36). I knew I was in for some trouble when I picked her up from the lobby- yes I am a brown-noser!- and noticed her her pants had "ZUMBA!" down one of the legs. On the way out, she casually informed me that she ran marathons. Of course I had just bragged that I ran 5K distances. I always suspected that fitness instructors were a different breed.

I was a little apprehensive since I was somewhat convinced I'd be in a class of white women decades older desperate to look sexy and fit. Is that mean? I apologize but 36 is close enough to middle age that my inclination is to want to be hip to people 15 years younger rather than 15 years older. I guess it's my mid-life crisis. My only experience with zumba prior to this class was watching one with the girls next to our local pizza place while waiting for Ryan to show up for dinner. In that class, the only ones looking sexy (and boy did they) were the instructor and her assistant. Everyone else was really lame. Our class was a good mix of age ranges and fitness abilities, but even with that, I couldn't bring myself to look at myself in the mirror. Fitness clothes always look so much cuter in Lucy than they do when I am panting trying to keep up with hip thrusts. (There were of course lots of hip thrusts in Zumba.) And, for the record, it is next to impossible to gracefully salsa in running sneakers. We did have one superstar student who was good but not sexy. She did manage to catch the eye of the other "slower" students, tho, probably b/c she could salsa along with the instructor.

So, hopefully at the end of the 10 weeks, Lottie's chasse will actually meet the spirit of the music, Isabel's plie will be stronger, and my bootie will be firmer.

Au revoir

Brrrrr....

2010-01-04T18:28:00.000-08:00

As nanny might say, it's cold, cold cold here in Virginia. Despite assurances from the ever cheerful Capital Weather Gang at the Post, I'd argue that arctic winds is still an apt descriptor for the weather, especially as I was blown around a bit on my way out the door from work tonight. And, of course, since it's January and frigid, Lottie is sick, sick, sick- wildly congested and probably a little feverish. I wonder if all those antioxidants I've been shoving down my throat will work to stave off the cooties she is likely sharing with me even as I type and she instructs me to get my "uter" so I can "work."

In between creaming, chapping, blowing, and whooping (in the wind), we're trying to figure out how to enjoy winter. We spent the better part of Sunday chasing down ski racks and trying to locate Lottie's strap-on skis. We took Ryan to the Ski Chalet in Arlington just so he could go inhale some hot wax. We also discovered that the Drafthouse is hosting one (?) Warren Miller movie next week for all you bunnies out there.

Part of our existential dilemma is how to become more regular bunnies ourselves. We went to WVA this autumn for a peak at Snowshoe Mtn and were almost instantly drawn to the image of the S4 in a log cabin of their own. In an ideal world, we might be able to pull off a vacation house nestled in the mountains but not without some serious reordering of our finances. And, being us, we tend to be much bigger talkers/dreamers than we do actualizers. Ryan assures me it's a family legacy. So for now, we enjoy hot wax in Arlington and grainy Warren images with beer in hand.

Rest assured, we will ski (we already have our VT plans firmly mapped out) and with any luck, we'll do it more than once.

Hello 2010

2010-01-01T17:00:00.000-08:00

Is it weird that part of me actually looks forward to the post holidays period almost more than than I do to Christmas itself? I love the relative emptiness of the house after the decorations come down. I like the smell of citrus candles and pomegranate juice and water. Getting back to the gym and reading health magazines. All of this is especially refreshing after my almost clockwork over-indulgent tendencies throughout the month of December. Too many cookies, too much champagne, too little sleep, too much wrapping paper.

I've decided this year that my New Years resolution would in fact be nothing new at all. I am going to go back and try and actually live up to all of my resolutions of New Years past. I started off ok last year- I did in fact buy a sewing machine and made some pillows. I started doing small volunteer projects with the kids and at least for the first half of the year I ran routinely, making 4 miles a few times. Things totally deteriorated in the second half of the year, as they are wont to do.

So I am back to a fresh start. I pulled at the sewing machine yesterday, went back to the gym last Monday, threw out the rest of the cookies, took down the tree, and I going to try my very best to let things come instead of dwelling on what does or doesn't happen.

And with all of this, I'd like to blog again. I've actually missed Pinkerbelle these past few seasons. So, welcome 2010. We have big hopes for you!

Some scenes from Christmas-

GS Christmas Party 2009

Baking cookies

The Great Blizzard of Christmas 2009

Tea at the Mayflower, Christmas Eve

Presents

Happy New Years!

Catching Our Breath

2009-08-30T13:41:00.001-07:00

It's hard to believe that the end of summer is almost upon us. We head out Wednesday night for a much needed break to the north woods of Wisconsin to see Ryan's grandparents and much of the rest of the extended clan.

Fortunately, we leave summer with a bit of hope on the horizon. Tomorrow, I "re-interview" for the job I thought I had and that I still desperately want. I've got my fingers and toes crossed but I am not really sure what to expect since I don't understand all the bureaucratic machinations behind the cancellation of the selection in the first place. Still, I bought a new suit for the occasion and will actually blow dry my hair for once. Nothing like the right impressions!

Today, we met with a kitten that we may adopt through the SPCA of Northern VA. Because of our vacation plans, we couldn't possibly adopt her/take her home until we come back but Izzy is thrilled by the prospect. She spent some time playing with the kitten and her two brothers in the foster home this afternoon. She already has a pink collar picked out. I should be thankful it doesn't have rhinestones on it.

We do desperately need a new kitten since Coco has taken to expressing loneliness, boredom, what have you by leaving little presents for us in the living room. Thursday Ryan and I both walked through said present right before we were due to go to work and yesterday Izzy had the honors. I love motherhood. Not only did I have to scrub and clean the piles off the carpet but I had to scrub Isabel's foot down. Yum!

In other news, both girls finished their ballet class this weekend. Since I posted a pic of Lottie last week, here are some fun ones of Izzy for this week. (I meant to take more of Lottie but like the bad mommy I am, I didn't charge the camera battery beforehand. Oops.

I felt like an especially bad mommy with Lottie since not only did all the other parents come equipped with camera and video to record this precious moment of their young female offspring not listening to someone else while dressed in pink tulle, they also dragged along assorted grandparents to capture the moment. Double oops.

I think that's all we really have to report. Oh- and I finally took a picture of the kitchen project in progress. This will mean nothing to any of you who have not been to my house, but if I am feeling ambitious, I'll post separately the really before pixs. For those who are familiar, check this out-

Sexy, huh? We are waiting for the new countertops to come in and Ryan is going to reface that heinous cabinet that you get a suggestion of in this picture (a nice formica addition that matches nothing else). A new floor and really right sexy, I'd say. I actually am really starting to love it. Now, if only we could get rid of the behemoth refrigerator...

Happy Sunday all!

Lordy it's been a while

2009-08-23T18:46:00.000-07:00

Lottie is appalled I haven't blogged in more than a month. Or is she enjoying the train ride at Lake Braddock park?

I can't believe I've been off blogging for so long. That's what I get for ending my sabbatical in early July and going back to my regular job. Boo hoo for me I guess.

Our summer since I last wrote has been both bitter and sweet. Sweet first since it seems only fair (nothing like an anvil to get people interested in your blog again.) The girls have both been taking ballet class to some success. Lottie spends most of her time ignoring her teacher and making exaggerated faces at herself in the wall length mirror. That is when she's not hanging off the ballet bar. Isabel has actually gotten pretty good at it and is perhaps the second most earnest girl in her class. It's easy to get her to listen to her teacher. We've been making excellent progress on our kitchen project. We have the cabinets painted now and Ryan this weekend installed some nifty under the counter lights. Home Depot is coming to measure for the new countertop this week and we brought home floor samples from Ikea. I might actually not be embarrassed of our kitchen soon. How exciting!

The reluctant ballerina

Izzy and Ryan on the go

On the sad side, we lost one of our cats very suddenly about 3 weeks ago. We took her to the vet on a Monday AM thinking she was looking too thin and was having a hard time breathing and the next thing we know, our vet calls and tells us she's terminal. Ryan came to the vet with me to put her down and we both cried and went to the local pub and shared a pint. As terrible as it was, I was so grateful to have him in my life. I can't imagine having to go through life's sorrows large and small without him. Even sadder than our cat, my cousin who has struggled to get pregnant lost the twin boys she was carrying. She was probably around 16 weeks or so when it happened. We were set to go to NJ for an early baby shower when we heard the news. Finally, I was selected for a job I really, really wanted (and still do) in mid July only to have my "big" bosses decide the selection process was not everything it could have been and canceled the selection as a result. I was so put out by the whole thing I dyed my own hair (something I've done only once before in college when I thought it would be fun to have red hair after a very long winter) and encouraged a family make-over. That's right. A personal makeover was not enough. The girls and I all got our hair cut and Ryan shaved off his beard (again.) I should have probably taken a picture right after but my mood was still a little black even if my hair was a little blonder.

I'm personally just hoping for lots of luck and good fortune in the autumn.

We have a bit more summer fun in our future before officially signing off of the season. We head next week to WI for a week long vacation with Ryan's family. Izzy swears she'll go on the boat ride this year around Squirrel Lake (Ryan's grandparents have a lake house in the north woods that attracts city folk like us once a year.) I have tried to explain to her that I will not hold her hand, though, when she goes fishing since I don't fish. I don't know why, but she has developed a real enthusiasm for the concept of fishing. This from a kid who tried to dive off the paddle boat we had her on last weekend before realizing it was not in fact scary.

Well, cowboys and girls, it's time this little doggy goes to bed. Hope everyone has been well during my hiatus! Talk to you real soon. (and yes- I realize they have black dots on their noses in this one. That's another story for another day.)

Road Trip!

2009-07-07T18:49:00.000-07:00

We bit the bullet this past weekend: we packed up the kids, toys, snacks, books, and video player and made the ten hour drive to Atlanta for the 4th. Ryan's parents, Mimi and Bob, are in Atlanta and we were way overdue for a visit, having last been when Isabel was an infant. During the weeks running up to the trip, I began to live in dread of the drive. The girls are pretty frequent car travelers since we go visit my family in New Jersey and New York every few months. We even drive routinely to Vermont with them. But we always overnight in NY on the way to VT breaking up the trip into manageable shifts. This was 10 hrs in the car straight through. I was so worked up by the night before we left that I only slept an hour and a half. Clearly I have issues. The thought of 10 hrs of whining, crying, and general complaining still gives me hives.

But surprisingly, the girls did great. Each slept the first three hours of the trip (it helped we rolled out at 4:30 AM), didn't have to make incessant potty breaks, and managed to keep the whine to a minimum. It helped that we stopped for breakfast and lunch although neither stop was long. Thank the lord for the charger adapter I bought at Radio Shack before the trip.

Atlanta itself was wonderful. We went to the Georgia Aquarium on Friday.

It's been a long time since I've been to an Aquarium and according to one of the guides, the Georgia Aquarium boasts one of the largest tanks in the world. There were plenty of fish, including several whale sharks. Very cool.

For the 4th itself, we took the girls down to Olympic Centennial Park. It's smaller than I imagined but the fountain there was definitely worth the trip! We arrived in time to see a fountain show and got some good splashing in. Well, Isabel did- Lottie wasn't particularly keen.

Saturday night we drove to Decatur for their parade, concert, and fireworks.

The Children's Museum of Atlanta, swimming, lots of eating, and looking at old family photos rounded out the trip. As lovely as it was, all I want to do now is stay home. It's been alot of traveling for the Schroeders and we're barely halfway through the summer!!

Happy Tuesday.

A Weekend Away

2009-07-07T18:35:00.000-07:00

I am a bit behind on my blogging and I am officially dragging at the moment, so these few entries will be kind of short. Ryan and I took our first non-small fry vacation two weekends ago. To be fair, we've managed to slip in a conference or two sans enfants (and had a lovely time doing so since both conferences were in the UK) but this weekend entailed no thinking, no time management, and only fun. Look how happy we were...

Well maybe we weren't as happy together as Ryan was playing pirate at the Field Museum.

Officially we were in Chicago for my cousin's wedding. The wedding was just as all proper weddings should be: a bit touching, a bit tacky, and alot of fun. I do just love Chicago. I don't think I've ever had a bad time when visiting as an adult. We stuck to our old favorites: the Art Institute, Millennium Park, the Walnut Room in the old Marshall Fields. Someday we'll venture out more, but for now, a perfect weekend.

Some Way Cool Dudes

2009-06-21T20:14:00.000-07:00

Ryan and the girls at the Museum of Natural History

Happy Father's Day to two great guys- Ryan and my dad. OK- and my father-in-law although I don't have a good picture of him to share here. I have to say (and I really am not trying to kiss up since neither my dad nor Ryan read Pinkerbelle) I think dads are an under-appreciated commodity. Thank god the girls have Ryan in their lives. He keeps it real. He's willing and able to deal with all of their peculiarities but adds a distinct dose of masculine perspective into most proceedings. And I know the girls love him for it. If it weren't for Ryan, neither Izzy or Lottie would have any idea of who Sherlock Holmes was or how to scramble an egg properly.

My dad and grandkids

As for my dad, well, this picture probably says it all. He's a pretty quiet person but with lots of good humor and a distinct willingness to be bossed around by his wife, three daughters, and two granddaughters. Maybe someday he'll revolt, but we're glad he's on our side now.

Our father's day weekend didn't turn out quite the way we were expecting or hoping. The weather in NY did its best to make everyone miserable. It was humid, sticky, and raining pretty much from the moment we arrived to the moment we left. This was all the more disappointing since we arrived equipped with beach umbrella, bathing suits, towels, sunscreen, tennis rackets, and bike helmets. A weekend outdoors was not to be. In a last ditch effort to entertain the girls, we went into Manhattan to the Museum of Natural History. Unfortunately, it seemed as if every other New Yorker (but most especially the obnoxious ones) had the same idea. The place was mobbed. Parents and other bystanders were crabby, lippy, and cared not to notice other people around them in their quests to get to wherever it was they were going. Funny thing is, I don't think the girls noticed. They seemed to be having a pretty good time.

Izzy and the Triceratops

Strange too was that the Ocean Hall was actually pretty tame. People were sprawled out under the whale watching a film on oceans, but they were sprawling quietly. I was impressed that we actually got Izzy into the Ocean Hall. I remember being cowed as a kid myself by the sheer size of the blue whale hanging from the ceiling.

The Natural History Museum's great Blue Whale

Most successful was our trip to the gift shop. Isabel and Lottie are now the proud owners of a jaguar and dinosaur, respectively named "Baby" and "Six." If you know my girls, you'll know whose is whose.

And so ends another weekend adventure with the Schroeder girls. They sure do love visiting their grandparents.

And that's that

Next up- a weekend away for mom and dad! (Note the exclamation point.) We're heading to Chicago for a family wedding this weekend.

Someone other than Mimi reads Pinkerbelle?

2009-06-19T12:38:00.000-07:00

How fun-

The folks at Kidburst.com found my blog and asked for permission to post it on their website. If you are in the DC area or just visiting, give them a look-see. Great ideas for parents in the DC/northern VA area.

Happy Friday.

Girl fever

2009-06-19T12:08:00.000-07:00

I wonder if it would be different if I had little boys. Would I be like my sister who since the birth of her sons hasn't met a motorcycle she didn't like? What if I had a boy and a girl?! I imagine I would be extremely conflicted. As it is, I have two girls. Not just any girls but two bubble gum pink girls. The purse carrying, bead wearing, high heel kind of girls. Idols in life include (in no particular order) Eloise, Angelina, Madeline, Lola, and sometimes Pinkalicious.

The funny thing is is that the more time I spend with them, the more I become like them. I spend my time lusting after Swish and Swanky posts. I mean look at the kinds of things she finds-

these coloring books:

Or this print maker:

When not lusting online, I am drawn to shops. Who wouldn't eat this kind of stuff up?

(By the way- for anyone in DC- the Kid's Closet is still having a sale on Bonnie Jean dresses...)

Or the ribboned flip-flops that the Purple Goose has right now among the other way expensive delights they boast. I mean just look- don't your teeth hurt with all the sweetness?

Izzy and I have been known to have serious conversation about wands. Where does it stop?

It's not that I don't think I can relate to a boy anymore or not that I don't secretly harbor a wish for some more blonde goodness running around- I'm also addicted to Darby Stickler's blog and think well maybe three wouldn't be so bad and I bet we could make a cute one- but could you imagine a boy in a sea of all this pink these days? I imagine, as I have threatened to do sometimes when things get too much, he would simply want to puke.

More fun on the way for the weekend. See you see!

The Weekend that Was

2009-06-15T07:29:00.001-07:00

I'd like to say I had pictures to document our weekend adventures but alas, no pictures and no adventures. Pretty much just the standard fare of summer- pool on Friday night followed by tex-mex and the best custard outside of WI (anyone from the DC area would know I was of course talking about the Dairy Godmother). Saturday was filled with yard work, painting, and kiddie pooling in the backyard. I will get a picture of the kiddie pool soon since it is really quite delightful this year. The girls were also rather delighted to have their play house restored to a more playful area of the yard and I was delighted to have my patio back, even if there's hay still on it. (Long story involving lots of wet, yucky mud and grass seeds.) Saturday night we had dinner on the newly restored patio and were entertained by a bevy of rabbits in the lower back. Apparently the clover down there is quite tasty. We returned to the great outdoors following bath to watch for fireflies. It was just about dusk and so the viewing wasn't superb and the kids got a bit antsy, but in my mind there's nothing like a red plastic Adirondack chair on a June evening.

Sunday was much of the same except that I got into the kiddie pool myself for awhile. Yes, it's that big. A BBQ with friends Sunday night and it was off to dreamland.

Part of the hectic pace was dictated by our fun summer weekends (only so much time to fit in necessary house projects) and by my really strong desire to tackle a small kitchen upgrade. We've tried to make the kitchen more presentable by painting and swapping out the light fixtures, but we're in some serious need of more make-over. I'll post some pix this week to prove it. I am determined to do this for cheap- we're not talking a full make-over here and so I expect that the kitchen is going to occupy a lot of our time in the next few months. Alas (unless it turns out well then joy!)

Happy Monday!

No More Thunderstorms Please!

2009-06-11T08:47:00.000-07:00

Today is Thursday and this will be our fourth day in a row of thunderstorms. I hate thunderstorms. Mainly because they turn my four years old daughter and now my two years old daughter (who absolutely must do EVERYTHING her big sister does) into snivelling piles of whiny mush. Even the most subtle rumble of thunder miles and miles away will start Isabel quaking and blurting instant demands to sleep in our bed. (Funny this since it usually happens hours before bed time is actually to occur.) Monday most of the storms were in the afternoon which wasn't too terrible to manage. Tuesday, the storms began at 5:00 AM which meant that by 5:01 both girls were in our bed telling us how much they were afraid of t-storms. Lottie just repeats "scary" over and over again. Tuesday afternoon we had a repeat which quickly curtailed our idea to inflate the kiddie pool in the backyard. Wednesday, most conveniently, the storm started just as we were putting the kids to bed, which inevitably meant that I was confined to my room surrounded by small snoring tow-heads. Thank god for my unseemly obsession with home improvement blogs these days. At least I can keep myself entertained for a little while.

Course the 'effin weathermen are predicting t-storms all the way through next Tuesday. Lovely. By that time, I might be blogging about how I've run away from home.

This weekend at the lake

2009-06-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

Aiming not to disappoint, we were again busy with summer-y fun, this time under the guise of a visit to my mom's rental cabin on a week lake in NJ. The weather was none too promising when we left on Friday driving us inside to the cheesy delights of a NJ kid destination. This one was called the Giggle Station or something like that. It was kind of a weird amalgamation of boardwalk, climbers, and odd train, plus pizza! (sadly without the beer) but the girls seemed to like it.

Post odd train ride

Fortunately, Saturday and Sunday proved much finer weather and we got to do lots of lake activities, like playing on the wee beach and a kayak ride (a first for both Lottie and I.)

Picnic on the beach

The rowers return

Izzy keeping watch on our progress having declined a "boat ride" herself

Saturday night we visited our second carnival of the season, this time with my sister and her two sons. The highlight of this one hands down was going on the ferris wheel with Isabel. She was so delighted by the quick uptake and large, high loops. She announced that she would very much like a carnival permanently installed in her back yard.

Izzy, Lottie, and Baz on the train

Whirling Strawberries

The Longest Story Ever Told

2009-06-04T07:27:00.001-07:00

The other night in the bath tub Isabel asked me for about the hundredth time to tell her a story about when she was a baby. Having played along for 99 times, I turned the tables on her and asked her to tell me a story. Here's what she came up with:

Isabel and Lottie were playing one day when a storm cloud with a very mean face [[face was demonstrated]] came along and tried to get them. Izzy and Lottie ran and ran until they ended up in a cave in which to hide from the storm cloud. Unfortunately, the cave was inhabited by a mean which who kept a pet dragon. The witch thought Izzy and Lottie would make a fine dinner. Before she could put them in the pot, however, the storm cloud, who decided he would rather be friends with I & L than scare them anymore, ate up the witch himself. Sadly (for I & L and the storm cloud), the witch had a magic wand and was able to put all her eaten up pieces back together. After reassembling herself and acquiring a new henchman in the form of an alien, the witch was successful in putting Izzy and Lottie into a pot and cooking them up. Of course, Lottie was the first to be eaten, followed by Isabel. Fortunately, somewhere in the course of the action, Isabel had acquired a beautiful magic necklace and was able to reassemble herself. Lottie was not so lucky and the storm cloud cried copious tears over the loss of his friend.

[[After receiving some meaningful looks from both her mom and sister]], Isabel decided that Lottie too could share in the charms of the magic necklace and could be reassembled. The witch, however, would not be deterred and quickly recaptured our two hapless heroines. At this point, my mother made an appearance in the story bearing a sword and told the witch very solemnly, "You are not nice." (Truly fighting words if I do say so myself.) Nonetheless, the witch already had I & L in the pot and cut up into pieces. And, being smarter than your average chicken, had managed to get the magic necklace and hide it so that I & L could not reassemble themselves so easily.

It's here that the story ended for the night although Izzy promises that there is much more to come. As she very earnestly told me, "It's a long story, mom."

**This is not a completely faithful rendering of the story since I missed the part where the third henchman, a monster, comes in and I believe a dramatic chase sequence. But I was trying to wash, dry, and clothe children while Iz told me the story.

Why Don't They Sleep?

2009-06-01T08:13:00.000-07:00

I don't have the mental stamina to do more than a few lines of blogging at the moment. (My "work" blog has a couple of pathetic links and that's all.) But I thought I would record here for posterity's sake that my girls DO NOT SLEEP. Almost ever. Well maybe that's an exaggeration, but that's what it feels like at the mo'. Both girls had fits last night and fits this AM when we woke them up to get ready to go to school. Not sleeping makes me not a nice person. It makes me crabby and weird.

I wish my kids would sleep. I miss my bed.

Thank goodness there were no incidents on Box Hill

2009-05-31T17:56:00.000-07:00

Wouldn't it be nice to think that we had something fun to record every weekend this summer. Somehow I doubt that we'll be able to keep it up, but this weekend we did do something very fun, and new, at least for us. We went strawberry picking. Our outing almost ended before it began. After doing some due diligence of you-pick farms, I settled on one near Markham, VA since we know the area generally. (I think Naked Mountain vineyard in Markham produces some very nice reds!) All was well until we got to the farm and faced a large sign saying to try again on Tuesday, 2 June, since all the ripe strawberries had already been picked. I think I was more disappointed than the kids. Fortunately, an enterprising competitor posted a large sign adorned with only a strawberry and an arrow at the intersection down the hill from the strawberry-less farm. Eureka! We were in business.

Here are some of the results- Pretty, huh?

A taste of summer

2009-05-26T12:01:00.000-07:00

Again, I've been slacking off blogging. Things really are going on in our lives. It's just that I don't seem to have the energy these days to recount them. All that being said, we had a fine holiday weekend. I worked from home on Friday and picked the girls up early afternoon after their school closed early. We made a Target run for diapers and then treated ourselves to Dairy Queen. (Yum!) At Izzy's suggestion, we had a tex-mex picnic on our front porch, complete with chips, salsa, and margaritas. Saturday, after the farmer's market, we all lounged in the girls' inflatable pool, which Izzy has aptly christened the cold tub. And damn, was it cold. Nothing like hose water when the weather is really only in the high 70s/low 80s. The real treat of the weekend came over the following two days. Sunday we drove to Sandy Point State Park near the Annapolis to go to the "beach." I say "beach" because the sand is weird (kind of orange in hue) and it's on the Chesapeake Bay, not the ocean. On the positive side, it's only an hour from our house. You would have thought that I was Tinker Belle and Peter Pan all rolled into one given Izzy's reaction. She was in heaven. It wasn't too crowded, the waves were wee, and the weather, despite being somewhat overcast, stayed dry. She proclaimed it better than FL, which is high praise for a kid who has been angling to live there since she was 2.

Lottie enjoyed herself quite a bit as well, although her effusiveness was measured by the occasional demand for tommy and wa-wa. (As in go in water NOW!)

The beach was my idea, but the real coup came from Ryan. On a "daddy downtime" bike ride after we got back from the beach, Ryan discovered that Vienna, VA was having its annual town pride celebration. "Viva Vienna" meant a carnival. And the girls have never been to a carnival. And despite having just announced that she wanted to live at Sandy Point State Park, Isabel decided she instead wanted to live at the carnival. I have to say, it was fun and very old school- down to the glittery dune buggie cars under the stripped umbrellas to the Scrambler (here called the Sizzler), the giant slide, and even bigger boxes of popcorn and bags of cotton candy. Lottie was a little put out that she couldn't go on all of the rides Isabel did, but in the end, she was satisfied that she got to ride the "Wiggly Wurm" (kid you not) and had a fiesta Dora that Ryan won for her in balloon darts.

Welcome back summer! We missed you.

Things I hate

2009-04-28T07:13:00.000-07:00

A photo essay by me...

Sure, I love Easter egg hunting ALOT. I spend at least a week buying and filling plastic eggs before the big day. But the aftermath always kills me. I find plastic egg shells around the house for weeks, sometimes months, after Easter. Somehow, despite my best efforts to clean up and pack the decorations until next year, those damn plastic eggs continue to pop up in the strangest places.

Another-

Isabel's train/boat

Ok- I don't hate this per say (since that would make me a really bad mommy), but Izzy has a proliferating art habit that is getting a bit unmanageable. Everyday she comes home from preschool with at least 3 bits of paper with some new masterpiece on it. And she has a habit of becoming immediately attached to her "work," usually by gifting it to me. It's not as if we don't support her habit. Our house boasts this display venue-

As well as this-

It's just that the house boats/trains as well as the clay baby dinosaurs and numerous bird finger puppets don't fit neatly into the girls' art folders and end up collecting dust and undue attention from the cats.

Oh well, such is life. Happy Tuesday!

Those We Love

2009-04-23T10:16:00.000-07:00

I've been dwelling on relationships alot lately. Not actively dwelling, more passively taking in the joys and pains of loving other people. This reverie started somewhat shallowly with my new found fascination for the Beales (big and little Edie of Grey Gardens fame). I haven't seen the documentary- nor for that matter the Drew Barrymore bio-pic on HBO- but I read Gail Sheehy's original article in New York magazine and subsequent takes on the relationship between big and little Edie and how big Edie's neediness preyed upon an already weak and unstable little Edie. Perhaps neither one was ever destined for any sense of normality but to essentially keep a person emotionally and physically locked up with you for 40 years seems so painful.

Next came a passing glance at an article on parenting.com which polled readers about marital relationships. Surprisingly or not, a plurality of female respondents reported being quite angry with their spouses for not shouldering equal responsibility of child rearing. The level of anger, disappointment, and general unhappiness of many of these women was sad to say the least. Sad directly and sad in a "get over yourself" kind of way.

Finally, my stepmother called the other day to let us know that a dear friend of hers had died of cancer. We knew this friend was very ill with only months to live but the fact that she went rather suddenly was heart-breaking all the same. In telling me about her friend's death, my stepmother tried to explain to me why she would miss her friend so much. There was a tremendous poignancy in listening to her. All of us can identify with her efforts to try to explain the role that friends play in our lives- secret keepers, advise dispensers, shoulders to lean on, faces and hearts to laugh with.

Over all of this, I've been editing a manuscript for someone that delves into these relationships- the joys, disappointments, the shared history, the misunderstandings, and hopefully the redemptions that accompany knowing and loving people. In a way, it all feels like a cause for celebration- of not being alone, of finding those connections which bring us closer not only to each other but to ourselves. But at the same time, it also feels like too much for one heart to capture. Maybe it's better to just dwell on these things in silence.

I'm Baaaack

2009-04-22T10:52:00.000-07:00

Wow, it's been so long since I've blogged I don't know where to start. Maybe with a quick update on how we've been?

Busy, as always. Since my last post, Ryan took a business trip for 10 days with only some disastrous consequences this time. (Bad things ALWAYS happen when Ryan gets on an airplane without us.) This time it was the stomach flu for me and a fall down a few stairs for Lottie. Somehow we survived. More happily, we all got down to FL for 5 days at the beginning of April for some much needed R&R. Beach, golf, tennis, Disney and mostly good weather. Very dreamy and we're all still a bit sad to be back.

Then there was Easter, of course, with a visit from my sister and her boys. It was a beautiful day in VA after a most cruddy Sat and a perfect occasion for egg hunting, ham, and a delicious Vouvery.

The girls have finally gotten to their county classes- Izzy in soccer and Lottie in gym jam. We went for our first trip of 2009 to the Falls Church farmers' market this past weekend to delicious results. We also had our first BBQ and mass playdate. After all of this, I think I can safely say, spring has arrived, thank the lord.

Pre-Easter Egg hunting

Golfing in FL

Cousins

The Coolest Kid in the Class

2009-03-16T08:09:00.000-07:00

When I first started this blog, I wrote about how my hopes for Isabel being "cool" (as I defined it) were being replaced with the realization that she, at then three, defined cool in a very different way. Well, shiver me timbers, the kid is changing again and is developing a cool streak larger and deeper than I could have imagined.

I should warn you that my idea of cool may be much different than anyone else's. But Izzy is learning to wrap her bubble gum pink around a stark sense of realism that is at once surprising and yet, as I said too many times already, very cool. Take, for example, the Izzy-ceratops that she drew for a school project last week. Izzy and her classmates were asked to imagine themselves as dinosaurs and then draw a picture of what they might be doing. Inevitably, the girls in her class couldn't do it, so they drew themselves "cute," usually involving eggs or simply as they are as people. Izzy relished the project and drew herself as a dinosaur as well as Ryan and I and Lottie who had yet to hatch. My favorite part, tho, was my role in this picture. I was off cooking dinner. When her teacher asked what I was cooking, she said, "People stew, of course." The other day I asked her if she enjoyed her salisbury steak for lunch and she replied, "actually mom, I had cow for lunch." Um, ok, so you did.

Her realism is also accompanied by a new sense of compassion, which is in itself very cool as well. She told me very solemnly over the weekend as I was trying to get us home without vomiting on myself again that it was Lottie's and her job to take care of me while I was sick. And then she encouraged her sister to sing a little song with her to take my mind off being sick.

Where did this little person come from? Don't get me wrong, she's not 4 going on 40 quite yet. This flashes of brilliance are still mixed in with random yelling and talking in a language that I can only describe as being comparable to the black Smurf disease (i.e., "GNAP"). But I really like this little person. At the risk of sounding a bit off, it's one thing to love your kids, and another to like them in the toddler stage when the goofiness is so fetching, but it's quite another thing to like them when they have budding personalities. Izzy is becoming someone I'd really like to know. And I hope she feels the same about me.

Dammit!

2009-03-16T07:09:00.001-07:00

Isabel was home sick from school last week. The stomach bug, which I, of course, caught literally 12 hours after Ryan boarded his plane for a 10 day business trip. But that's a story for another day. Ryan and I split the day that Izzy was sick and, despite the vomiting episode the night before, she was perfectly fine by the time I took over sick duty. So of course she and I went shopping. On the car ride over to World Market, Izzy was commenting on something and in the middle of her soliloquy, I distinctly heard her say "dammit." Like most moms, I was thrown for a loop for about a second and then asked her where she had learned that word. Visions of me driving or Ryan swearing at his never-ending house projects raced through my mind. Izzy, ever nonplussed, said "Oh my friends and I say it at school all the time." My reaction: relief. At least I could blame someone else for the parenting skills that lead to the bad language this time.

There are days that the whole parenting experience can be numbing, but I've been finding it a curious journey of self and small fry discovery lately. As Lottie was having one of her "demanding" episodes at bedtime the other night, I heard a fire engine siren off in the distance that was getting closer by the moment. Of course it was never as close as the wailing in the bedroom next door to mine. As I heard the dueling noises a little voice in my head was compelling me to tell Lottie that that siren was coming for her if she didn't pipe down. As soon as I thought it I was shocked and appalled that I thought it at all and that I thought it was funny. Memories of my own mom threatening me with the alligator at the bottom of the tub drain if I didn't get out came flooding back to me. It made me realize that all those "lofty aspirations" I had about what kind of parent I was going to be before I was a parent are really a bunch of horse poop. There's nothing like having a child of your own to help you get over yourself. We all go into the parenting experience with the best intentions and we all end up in the same place our parents were largely because we all need to survive with a shred of sanity and a sense of humor left to our names when it's all said and done.

Gosh I love my kids!

Raising Good People Part 2

2009-02-27T10:05:00.000-08:00

I think I might be onto something with my fear about our (the collective gen-X, middle class America our) new obsession with food. For those who didn't catch it, check out George Will's op-ed in yesterday's Post for some "food" for thought. Even more disturbing, though, was this article in the New York Times. God knows that I don't miss the "Molly McButter" and "Stew Starters" of my youth. And I certainly enjoy eating as much fresh food as I can. I love farmers' markets and seasonal fruits are a cause of much joy in my family. But I do believe that we risk raising a generation of children with fears of food. And food fears only lead to unhappiness. I know this from personal experience. As as person who lived through a year of not eating, it's no place I want my children to go through. Why is it that we as a country, a class, or whatever, reject balanced lives? Why does everything have to become the next big thing to the exclusion of sensible responses? And how do we protect our children from this? I guess we don't. We just try and arm them with the best tools possible to make decisions for themselves.

Speaking of arming your kids with tools (and covering the topic of soul as well as body in this post), I've come to the decision that I probably should begin more formally exposing the girls to religion. Both Ryan and I are Roman Catholics, although at this point in our lives it's more of an association rising out of family history rather than actual subscribing to the church's philosophy. But I think kids do benefit from exposure to religion. I think it's a great way to begin to understand communities, morals, and personal stability in an ever changing world. Much like my approach to finding middle ground to govern self image (and food), I'd like to provide them with not only the religion but with the ability to recognize the faults and failings of organized institutions, like the catholic church. I actually have more hope for this pursuit than I do with the food thing. But I realized that the time was upon us when Izzy had the same reaction to Ash Wednesday that my Shia friend did in grad school. She just couldn't understand why anyone would want to put dirt on their forehead.

While I consider myself much more of a liberal than conservative, I think George Will is onto something. It's a screwed up place when we replace "morality" with organic. Guess it's time to go to church and buy some candy! = )

Teaching this old dog some new tricks

2009-02-23T09:32:00.001-08:00

One of the hardest parts of being a parent for me is to overcome my natural tendencies towards drama and the occasional bout of pessimism. For example, in the face of tired, yelling children this morning, I reminded them that the sun was shining and it was the beginning of a new, lovely week. Did I feel it would be a lovely week? Absolutely not. I am tired myself- tired of my fellowship, tired of winter, tired of not sleeping enough, and tired of crabby kids in the morning. But, fortunately, the sane part of my brain took over and what came out of my mouth was optimism.

This need to suppress my natural response is never so keen as when I am learning something new. I am a really SLOW learner. Ask Ryan who tried to help me ski. Ten years later I may finally be getting the hang of it. Or my knitting teacher who told me she never, before me, was unable to teach someone how to knit. (I do knit now for the record.) It's almost as if part of my brain goes into slow motion when I am learning something new and I absolutely cannot do it without tons of practice. This becomes a self reinforcing loop since taking a long time to learn a skill is a matter of great frustration for me, increasing my propensity towards drama and pessimism.

My new skill of the season is sewing. For some reason, perhaps all the craft blogs I read these days, I decided I wanted to learn to sew. Visions of sundresses and appliqued shirts for the girls danced before me. I even made it a New Year's resolution. So last week, after a slow start (and a special thanks to Elaine who did not laugh in my face when I showed up at her house for a sewing lesson sans fabric, pattern, or machine), I bought a sewing machine. It took me at least an hour to figure out all the movable parts and how to thread the thing, taking up most of my "play time" for that day but within a few days, I was able to thread, change the bobbins, and sew somewhat straight lines on a practice scrap. On I moved yesterday to something a bit bigger. I went to the local fabric shop to buy some more scraps and ended up coming home with some flannel to make blankets for the girls. (Not that they need blankets, but a blanket seemed to be the easiest project I could imagine.) Mistake #1- taking the girls with me to said fabric shop. Now they knew they stood to benefit from my experimentations. Mistake #2- telling Izzy I would work on it yesterday. Mistake #3- allowing Izzy to get up from her fake nap to "help" me with my project. Picture a scene with Isabel asking me every two minutes if her blanket is done yet, me completely unable to sew a straight line despite the fact that I pinned the seam, Izzy resorting to talking to herself none stop (she has a very active imaginary life in which she and her stuffed animals take on multiple roles) in between asking for a progress update, me actually sewing a line straight off the fabric and then breaking the needle, and finally, me totally freaking out and asking Izzy to go down in the basement and watch daddy stain crown molding.

I actually went grocery shopping to chill out and then came home and decided to make myself a smoothie as a treat. Smoothies are the latest craze in the Schroeder household since I discovered the joys of frozen fruit in Whole Foods. Alas, even yesterday's smoothie attempt went pathetically awry as our blender coughed and churned and began to ooze smoothie all over the counter from the base of the glass pitcher. Even smoothies were too much for my crafting ability yesterday! Fortunately, in honor of the Oscars, our dinner consisted of frozen canapes ala Trader Joes so there was no chance for me to burn the house down. Ryan, of course, was so supportive of my craft meltdown that he actually had to support himself with a wall he was laughing so hard.

In the end, I managed to not so delicately pull out the horrible seam from the flannel and sewed a less crooked, but crooked all the same, line the second time. And, despite the fact that I wanted to morph into Medea when Izzy asked again how her blanket was coming, I calmly said that I understood she was excited but that these things take time, especially when mom is learning.

Raising good people

2009-02-20T07:40:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's just my age or the fact that I find myself with a little more time these days to think now that the girls are able to entertain themselves for at least a few minutes every day, but I've been pondering the notion of raising my kids. We're slowly moving beyond the point in our parenthood where we're simply responding to physical needs (although we still do a lot of that as well) and into the phase that requires some sort of moral framework, for lack of a better term. And of course this is where is gets tricky.

How do you raise a "good" person? And what is a good person anyway? I'd like to teach my girls something beyond learning right from wrong. I'd like to give them a foundation from which they are able to view themselves and the world around them in productive, interconnected ways. I'd like them to have a healthy sense of self- to accept their limitations but not to be limited by them, if that makes sense. I'd like them to be physically active and not have the same fear of food that I developed in my teens. I'd like them to see themselves as attractive but not be cocky or influenced by that. I'd like to see them connected to a community and willing to give back to that community (however defined) as much as they take. In short, I'd like them to be near perfect people. (Imagine emoticon here.) But how do you go about setting up a framework for kids without becoming preachy or demanding? I'm already finding with Isabel that if I don't step into this void quickly and firmly, other people will.

It's funny how quickly kids are influenced. Izzy, until this year, existed in a sort of self-involved bubble. She said please and thank you, shared with her friends most times, and was responsive to commands and questions. All in all, what you might call a generally polite child. But as far as I could tell, she didn't think about things much in any way recognizable as cognitive. That's changed. She now comes home concerned about our diets, telling us sugar is bad for our bodies. She needs to wash her hands incessantly, taking her teachers' remonstrations about germs far more seriously than they could have imagined. More troubling, though, she's come home and called people fat with the clear implication that there is something wrong with someone who weighs more than you do. I am not entirely sure she understands most of this, but it's clear that she listens to what she hears at school, whether from her teachers or friends, and takes much of it to heart.

This, of course, doesn't make Isabel a bad person, but it's not the person I'd like her to be. Making my own bias quite plain, I've come to believe that a lot of parenting these days is dictated by fads (baby Einsteins, cloth diapers, and carrots only for snacks) that takes a lot of the joy out of childhood and, quite frankly, out of parenting. My hope for myself and for my kids is that we can see beyond all the fluff and live lives that are balanced and ultimately happy. Because I simply cannot believe that a life that has no cupcakes at school to celebrate your birthday is happy. (A rule, by the way, being enforced in Montgomery County, MD.)

So where do we go from here? Well, beyond trying to reinforce the importance of a healthy diet (and yes, we eat lots of whole grains, fruits and veggies, drink organic milk all with caving in to our sweet teeth) AND the importance of exercise, this year we're planning to introduce the concept of volunteering. This will be lost on Lottie, but I am hoping it makes an impression on Izzy. First up in our projects is joining up with Project Linus to make blankets for chronically ill children. Second, we're going to volunteer in a river clean-up project on the Anacostia River for Earth Day. I'm hoping that these experiences will help the girls to imagine the world beyond themselves in ways that are safe but meaningful.

Wish me luck.

Lottie at Two

2009-02-10T11:57:00.000-08:00

I've been slacking off a bit on my Pinkerbelle blog for which I apologize! I've been a bit distracted with work these days, surprisingly enough. But we celebrated a milestone in our family last week: Lottie turned two on Friday. My baby is officially a toddler. Her toddler-hood has been a long time in coming but I still feel a little sad all the same. It's funny. I didn't feel much nostalgia when Izzy turned two but that may have been because I was already pretty pregnant with Lottie at the time and we were looking forward alot more than we were looking back. It's not to say that I don't enjoy Lottie at two. She's definitely a character. In the past month she's developed a fiercely independent streak. She wants to put on her own clothing and coats- "I do it" has become a common refrain. She's gotten pretty good at using the potty (at least for some of her potty issues). She likes to cut with knives and apparently started using scissors at school. She runs and kicks balls and is keenly interested in what the bigger kids are doing. (She wanted to have her hair cut the other day when she saw me giving Izzy a trim.)

Since Ryan and I are still not convinced one way or the other about having more children there's a good chance that Lottie will forever be the baby. Which makes everything a bit more tender since there's something of our own youth wrapped up in her babyhood. Perhaps their birth order will be a saving grace for our kids since Isabel prefers to be indulged and I prefer indulging Lottie. Either that or they will both resent the hell out of me when they're older.

As for Lottie herself, I think she prefers getting bigger, even if she remains one of the smallest kids in her class. She really enjoyed her parties-- a very sheepish yet self important look came over her face every time someone sang happy birthday to her. Like Izzy, Lottie benefited from the never ending birthday. The celebrations started in VT when we shared cake with grandparents and cousins. Next, the school festivities and dinner on Friday. Finally, for the big finale, a party at the house with Ms Nancy, the local rock star music teacher at the girls' daycare center. Somewhat shockingly, everything went off without a hitch. The kids all behaved. Everyone seemed to enjoy the crafts, music, and food. And, perhaps for the first time in my life, I got the thank you cards done within a few days.

And so, life goes on but I have to wonder-is it wrong to miss your kids already?

For the love of winter

2009-01-28T13:48:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-12T12:44:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-08T08:41:00.000-08:00

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

2009-01-02T10:56:00.001-08:00

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...

The Finish Line is in Sight

2008-12-30T07:22:00.000-08:00

I am really itching to take the Christmas decorations down. This actually has nothing to do with my somewhat disappointing holiday (more on this in a minute) but happens every year around this time. The tree dries out horribly, the house feels cluttered, I feel like I need to enter detox from all the cookies and champagne, etc. Yesterday I bought "clean scented" candles which I burn every January (this year, the scent is grass) and some new ornament storage boxes in an attempt to be more organized next year. I can't bring myself to take everything down until after New Years, though. Even in my eagerness, it seems a little wrong to discard of the holiday too soon.

But I don't think I'll miss this holiday season too much. Don't get me wrong- we had some good laughs. Our holiday open house was a success (I think) and people actually cleared out ahead of schedule which meant I had time to clean up and put the kids to bed before the cookie swap the next day. The cookie swap was tremendously fun. We had a good time in NY visiting with my family and the girls had a blast dancing the night away at my dad's office party. We had a good dinner Christmas Eve and the looks on the kids' faces on Christmas Day when they came downstairs to find Santa had come were priceless. And then there was Isabel's first holiday concert (thanks to NAEYC, the theme was one that even Irving Berlin could be proud of- winter. Izzy still says her favorite song is "Let it snow" which she and her friends sang for the parents.) And Isabel's newfound love of puzzles, Candyland, and Peter Pan has made the evenings alot of fun lately. Ok, so it wasn't all bad. But the holiday did have a weird feel to it- as if no one, other than the kids, really cared that much. Ryan admitted to being distracted at work and not really "into" the holiday this year, my in-laws decided to forgo wrapping most presents so we ended up handing around cardboard boxes (not that the kids cared that much). My poor niece was thrown off her schedule, left without her usual toys, and probably teething, so spent the better part of her stay with us balling her eyes out. I got myself so distracted with everything that I ended up missing our Christmas Eve outing after forgetting my wallet at home.

And then there was the dreaded stomach bug. Lottie caught it first Monday night last. A few episodes of puking all over our bed in the middle of the night (one of her specialities), some runny BMs, and she was fine. Next to go down was Ryan on Tuesday. Dry heaving, stomach craps, and fatigue for several days, but by Thursday evening, he was more or less in shape again. I went down Thursday night. It was ugly. As usual, I got the triple strength dose. I was prone Friday, up a bit Saturday, prone Sunday, and tied up in knots yesterday. Today is my first day "back in the saddle." I hope I am able to stay upright.

I suppose if everyone holiday was picture perfect it wouldn't be memorable. But I'll be relieved when the last ornament is off the tree. Then I can start planning for Easter... (just kidding!!)

So this is Christmas

2008-12-22T12:47:00.000-08:00

Things are definitely looking up. With the open house and cookie swap behind us, the presents wrapped, and the house generally in order, the girls and I have decided to have some fun before our extended family arrives for the holidays. I decided to keep Izzy and Lottie out of school this week to enjoy a little time alone before the next round of madness descends.

Today we went to see the train exhibit at the Botanical Gardens downtown. This is our third year attending so I wasn't expecting magical but then again, I'm not a kid, so what do I know? Clearly, as you can probably tell from the pictures, I was in the minority with that one. It's bitter cold here in DC today, like much of the rest of the East Coast so we decided to drive into town and to forgo foraging at the outdoor Christmas market near Chinatown. (I guess there's always tomorrow for that.) But despite the wild winds and the itchy wool hats, the girls had a magnificent time. And the trains, which were all indoors this year, were lovely. It is, after all, the little things that make up memories worth remembering.

Bah Humbug

2008-12-19T07:09:00.000-08:00

I feel a little bit bad about even broaching this topic since it doesn't seem to be in the proper spirit of things, but I am really sick of Christmas. I fully recognize that I do this to myself and do it almost every year, but this year it seems a bit worse. My problem is that I take on too much, start too early, and by the time the actual holiday is here I want it and everyone else to go away. This year we packed in birthday parties, a boat parade, a dog parade, dinner with friends, our anniversary, a trip to NY, a holiday open house, a cookie swap, and soon, a visit from my in-laws all before the 25th.

It seems that we add on some more to this crazy list every year and every year Ryan seems to disappear a little bit more from the holiday planning part of the whole thing. He'll claim this is totally unfair (and it probably is since I am so stressed out and tired right now that I want to crawl under my desk, have a good cry, and then fall asleep), but I think my breaking point happened last week when he sat around complaining about my liberal use of bookmarks on my bookmark bar while reading a Sherlock Holmes website while I sat in a giant pile of gifts that needed to be wrapped. Sound familiar to anyone? To make matters worse, it seems that few people around me think of themselves as organizationally challenged at best and at worst think that I am insanely anal. I have tried the Schroeder method of waiting til the absolutely last minute to get anything done and, in it's own way, the Schroeder method has driven me to the brink. I am one of those people who compile a list of gift ideas, scout the Internet and my favorite stores for the best deals, order the Christmas cards before Thanksgiving, and hopefully have everything in place with a few weeks to spare. Needless to say, I have been having dark thoughts lately about being surrounded by procrastinators. I do believe I sounded quite shrill at 11 PM the other night as Ryan agonized over getting his grandparents another food basket for Christmas. My response was that it didn't matter anyway since they would never get it in time unless he was willing to pay $40 to ship the damn thing.

Oh the holidays. If it wasn't for the girls, I would be on the first cruise ship to Bermuda right now. And poor Izzy is sooo into it this year. She keeps running around saying "this is going to be the best holiday ever." Meanwhile I am in the kitchen pouring myself an increasingly large glass of scotch.

What is it about Target?

2008-12-15T12:46:00.000-08:00

Have you ever met anyone who doesn't like Target? Who would rather say, "no thanks," when someone asks if they want to do a run? For a long time, I just went along with it, not questioning the universal appeal of a mass market chain retailer. But lately, I am finding it kind of weird. People with a wide range in tastes, incomes, geographic locations, family status, etc, all say the same thing- Target has everything and I never go in without spending at least $100. I should admit here, at the risk of sounding like a snob, that I am decidedly NOT a Walmart person so Target is about the closest I have to an obsession with mass marketers. I'd like to think my Walmart antipathy is not a class thing but more the result of being a textile analyst in the mid to late 1990s and watching one textile mill go out of business after the other. Every last person at those mills blamed the loss of business on the mass market retailers with Walmart being chief among them. Anyway- I digress. This isn't about Walmart but why everyone loves Target.

I admit to being a late comer to Target mania. I didn't start shopping there until after I moved to VA from DC in late 2001. Course before then, I didn't own a house and was furnishing my apts mainly out of family cast offs and quirky finds from Urban Outfitters (a definitely misguided attempt at hipness.) But the addition of a (town)house and four years later child essentially solidified it for me. I need Target. I need to feel economical but still somewhat stylish. How is it that a mass marketer can lure you in by feeding your need to feel quirky and a little different from everyone else? The Target addiction is so bad among my peers that there have been days when Isabel has walked into preschool wearing the exact same shirt as three of her classmates.

Today I made a Target run and ended up spending $170. I still am not sure how. Somewhere between the silver reindeer statuette, the Archer Farms caramel apple pancake mix, gift cards, gift tags, and cat presents from Santa, I spent way more than I should of. There are some days I want to cry over the general homogenization of taste and shopping impulses, but then I grab my latte, fill up the trunk with goodies from Trader Joe's and get over it.

My Lovely Man

2008-12-10T09:23:00.000-08:00

Prepare yourself for some gooey stuff here. (I promise not to make this a habit.) Ryan and I celebrated our 8th anniversary yesterday. We went out to dinner last night and after a strict rejoinder that we would not talk about work (which of course was broken by the time desert came), I thought I would offer a quiz to get the conversation started: what are your three favorite memories from our eight married years together? Ryan's were sweet and not necessarily predictable: scenes from our honeymoon, the surprise party I threw for him for his 30th birthday, our trip to California. He said when you add in the kids, hands down our annual pilgrimage to apple pick is among his favorite collection of memories. I, of course, countered with mine- celebrating our first anniversary in our new house, California, and telling him I was pregnant with Isabel.

But here are a few more that I didn't share with him:

--Watching him swaddle Isabel in the hospital, a job he took very seriously

--Listening to him tickle the girls. Somehow he can make them shriek with laughter so much better than I can

--Watching him hoist Lottie up to the upper levels of our mammoth Christmas tree this past Sunday so she could put her ornament on

--His omelets and pancakes, which are way better than mine

--How any and all car rides are much more preferable when he's along, even if he passes out faster than the girls

--His willingness to try and teach me to play golf, ski, throw a baseball properly

--And the way he sniffs new tennis balls before serving.

WTC?! (What the craft)

2008-12-05T12:18:00.000-08:00

I think there is something wrong with me. I can't stop crafting these days. I think my latent desire to quit my fairly good-paying job that makes me generally happy and give myself over to crafting in some backwoods town in Vermont must becoming not-so-latent. Got all that? It really started innocently. Before I left for a longish business trip this past spring, I took a book out of the library on knitting. I started knitting a few years ago and after a disastrous start (a woman teaching knitting at a local Michaels in northern VA shook her head when she looked at my attempts and said "I've never not been able to teach someone to knit), I got the hang of the scarf thing. But I got bored. And Isabel still refuses to touch the scarf I knit her a few years ago. So I took the book out to learn to knit something else, anything else. I was happy to discover that I could actually make a hat out of a basic scarf. So I did. Four of them. And then I made a blanket. And now I am knitting a dress for Isabel's bear. But it doesn't stop there. I found a pattern for a sock puppet that Boden (a great clothing line btw) most unhelpfully sent me so now I have a stack of socks and buttons to create a family of sock puppets. Never mind the excessive amount of time I've been spending in AC Moore these days. I have ornaments to make with Isabel, candy cane reindeer for Lottie and her friends, and endless amounts of gingerbread men over the next few weeks.

This craftiness is starting to get in the way of relationships. My mother-in-law warned me off my craft habit after I showed up in Kansas with a stack of kits to make pilgrim and Indian hats for the kids at Thanksgiving. Eight pilgrim girl and boy hats and Indian headdresses later (as well as some finger cramping from holding scissors), m-i-l, who perhaps unwisely volunteered to help, was done with me and my campaign to "Do something creative everyday." Damn The Paper Source. (Want any more evidence of my addiction?)

Seriously, every time I read an article in the New York Times about some supermodel who goes to upstate every weekend to run her own bakery (such a story exists- see here), I get woolly-eyed about being surrounded by cupcakes and knit goods and books. Ryan likes to add here when I pine in such manners that a good bottle of scotch would also be necessary for happiness. Maybe someday when I don't have to worry about sending kids to college or affording "high heels" for this year's Christmas party. High heels for Izzy and Lottie, of course. I already have quite a few in case you're worried. In the meantime, folks will just have to suffer my habit. Until I move onto something else!

Btw- want a totally trashy, beach-read-y, Christmas diversion? Try "Bergdorf Blondes" by Plum Sykes. It's obnoxiously awful but somewhat fun, especially if you are secretly addicted to Vogue like I am. (Not that you would ever be able to tell from my closet.)

My New Image

2008-12-01T08:37:00.001-08:00

Just a quick note to comment on the new Codename Pinkerbelle look. After envying other blogs with quirkier titles or graphics, I had to find something that encapsulated the true meaning of Pinkerbelle-ism. I think my fairy does the trick. She looks happy enough but do notice the menace to her wand. Hope my girls don't find this one day and think I was totally off my rocker.

For the love of books

2008-11-30T17:31:00.001-08:00

Writing a post Thanksgiving about books seems a bit off even to me. Surely I could fill up a post about traveling with two girls under the age of 4.5, being thrown up on (literally by both kids just days apart), Isabel and her love affair with Duke the boxer, the problem with pancakes, or managing to have a lovely time visiting with family- which we did. But no, I want to write about the lovely time I had on my holiday surrounded by books not people. (How social of me!)

I've always been a reader, from the time of the story hours at the Wayne Public Library and accidentally losing "Fraidy Cat" in my mailbox-shaped toy box and almost having my first library card ever taken away. But it's honestly been a long time since I sat down with a book and remained immobile for hours on end. (Harry Potter excluded, although, at this point, I don't think HP counts since I am sure there was something subliminally added to those books to keep readers rooted to their seats.) Some of this has to do with having kids but some of it also has to do apparently with my more recent selection of books. Try as I may, Zadie Smith just hasn't moved me. But on the recommendation of "Bit o' Lit" I picked up "The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society" in the airport on the way out of town. And I have to say I was just delighted. I spent more of my evenings curled up in a chair in my host's house than I did elsewhere and I don't feel a bit guilty about it. My "booky" holiday was capped off by a visit to The Reading Reptile, perhaps the coolest independent bookstore I have ever been to. (In fact, it is so freakin' cool, I've added it to my links of recommended sites to check out.) I should caveat here by saying that it's my mother-in-law who deserves all the credit in the world for discovering the Reading Reptile in Brookside, Kansas City. We made our first trip there last May when we were out West but I swear it's almost at pilgrimage status for me now. This past visit, a bunch of kids were happily ensconced in the back shredding endless amounts of paper to no apparent purpose, two cats lounged about on the paper maiche Olivia, a rabbit was trying to ignore the swarms of children hovering around his cage, and I hear there was a rat near the stage although I never made it that far. Gosh what fun. We probably stayed far too long for the money we spent but the visit of course re-ignited my not so small fantasy of being a shop owner. There really is something really magical about good books, isn't there?

Thank goodness, Ryan and I have bred readers, at least so far. There's few things more heartwarming to my geeky self than saying goodnight to both girls as the lay in bed books in hand. (By the way- the cutie in my lap is my new niece Gillian. I hope her parents don't mind that she's made it to my blog!)

Ah Family

2008-11-24T07:36:00.000-08:00

In the spirit of the season and things to be grateful for, I thought I would share a few really funny vignettes about my lovely little family. (I.e., this is a cheap way to do multiple posts as one catch all.) I am sure I'll have more stories to tell after we return from our Thanksgiving adventures in Kansas.

So on to the first- Ryan and I have begun discussing the idea of earning an allowance with Isabel. We explained to her that in exchange for doing a set group of chores every week, she could earn some money. She could then spend that money as she saw fit. (We tried to explain that if she kept her money from week to week, she could save up to buy herself something really good.) I am all for the allowance and giving Iz some responsibilities around the house. We experimented with this idea last year using the Melissa and Doug responsibility chart. Iz was pretty responsive to it, but frankly, Ryan and I lost interest faster than she did. (Please imagine a frowning emoticon here.) This whole discussion about allowances happened on the fly after Izzy tried to strongly suggest we buy her a heinous and giant snow globe featuring the Disney princesses dancing around a equally heinous and giant Christmas tree to the sound of untuneful Christmas carols that she spied in Home Depot this past weekend. The whole experience brought home the fact that Ryan should NEVER hold discussions on the fly. He's just not good on his feet, unless it's a quick barb or witty repartee. But unconsidered parenting advice? Absolutely not. To be fair, I am pretty sure that it was Ryan that introduced the idea of an allowance, which you have to give him snaps for. Unfortunately he followed it with the following line- "Iz, you can earn up to a whole dollar a month." For Pete's sake, what century does he live in? I know she's only 4 but hello, Ebeneezer! Fortunately, he quickly reconsidered after I shot him one of my famous death rays and said "wait- how about a quarter a chore." With four chores, it equals to a dollar a week, which is a bit more in line with what I was thinking to start with. Then he starts ticking off what might be good chores for her to handle. On the top of his list- the cat box! So maybe he's not Ebeneezer but Cinderella's wicked stepmother?! I wouldn't let my worst enemy near that fecund mess of clay. (Never mind the aforementioned in a previous post problem the cats have with using the litter box.) Here I was thinking Izzy can clear the table after dinner, help fold some laundry, help her sister with her toothbrush and Ryan goes for the jugular. All in all, it wasn't a shining moment in dad history. I think mom will have to be in charge of this one. (Imagine smiling emoticon here.)

Second tidbit of the day- last night we hosted a dinner party for a friend of mine who we haven't seen in ages. I admit to getting hyperactive (as is my way) about the dinner party since I wanted it to go well and make a good impression. And I thought we were successful. The kids got along and behaved nicely. The guests ate much of the dinner and, of course, were gracious about the food even if they hated it. Folks left at a decent hour so I wasn't left to shout my goodbyes as I tried to wrestle the girls to bed- which I have done before on several occasions. So, all in all, a success- or so I thought. After everyone left and Ryan and I were cleaning up the plates, I noticed there was a chunk of the pot roast left that I had made for dinner. I thought I might give it to the cats as a treat. Please keep in mind that these are the same cats who have been known to eat crackers, popcorn, apple sauce, and whatever deconstructed food particles the girls leave laying around. So I shredded some of the roast and put it down in front of Coco, who is the main offender of said eating (and non-compliant pooping habits.) She took one sniff of the meat and started making forceful scratching motions towards it, as if she was covering it up in her litter box (which she does not use.) I was actually speechless although I do believe I shrieked.

Happy Thanksgiving everyone!

Sisters

2008-11-18T06:46:00.000-08:00

It's a two-fer today folks as I try to catch up on all my "important" news. Something very funny has been brewing in the Schroeder household these days. The girls are playing with each other. Don't get me wrong- Isabel and Lottie have been playing around each other for ages. You know- the classic parallel play. They will play in each other's company but usually they do their own thing. But over the past few weeks, Lottie has been seeking Izzy out to play. She pull out plates, colanders, dolls, blocks- usually whatever they have been last playing with and wanders around the house yelling "Izzy, Izzy." You can almost here the "come out to play" coming from her lips. It's really kind of cool.

Of course, playing together also means growing rivalry. (Here, for those of you familiar with the tune, please begin humming the sister song that Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen sing in "White Christmas" as my dad does to my sister and I whenever he hears us "discussing" things.) Usually, the rivalry goes no further than Lottie shrieking at the top of her lungs "mine!" when Izzy tries to play with a toy that Lottie is particularly keen on. It will get worse, as I know from experience. But it does make me look forward to the day when I can sit down with a trashy magazine and let them argue somewhere else in the house.

Is it wrong to envy the shoes of a 4 yrs old?

2008-11-18T06:20:00.000-08:00

I've been meaning to share this little ditty for a few weeks now, but work has been intervening. (sigh!) I suppose I shouldn't complain about being productive in my day job. A few weeks ago, my sister brought her sons down to VA for a weekend visit. Being a good NJ mall girl, one of my first thoughts for entertaining a preschooler, two toddlers, one infant, and two mommies was to go to the LL Bean store! Hooray- commerce and love for all. We decided to extend our outing by having lunch at Nordstrom's fabulous cafeteria. Nordstrom really is a suburban mommy's best friend.

While we waiting for my sister to feed the baby, I took the girls over to the shoe department for a little fun. (Yes, I know this story keeps getting worse but it will get better in a very bad mommy kind of way.) I should preface this by saying that somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew Isabel was likely to be in need of a new pair of shoes since she had chosen to wear only one pair over and over again for the past few months. I thought we would really make it a grand occasion so Izzy took her shoes off to have her feet measured by a "professional." Much to my horror, he told me she was a 10.5 and probably could easily fit into a size 11! Those pair of shoes that she'd been wearing over and over again for months- a 9.5!! Oh the guilt, the bad mommy coming home to roost. Really, I didn't want her to be a geisha. So I desperately combed the shoe rack for a pair that was not Juicy Couture and would not cost me $100 to buy. We settled on a pair of Merrells because they were pink and because they wouldn't freak out mommy's credit card. Of course, the day got even worse when we had Lottie measured (again for fun) and found out she too was wearing a size too small. Ugh. L did not get a new pair of Merrells, however, since I had a big box of shoes in the attic with her name on it, most of them Isabel rejects from a few years ago. Doesn't it stink to be a younger sister?

With my kids in shoes that actually fit, I began to mentally crank about my casual yet active footwear selection. Usually, this cranking came to the fore as I hiked the mile from the metro to my office. Ok- it's probably less than a mile and I could just transfer trains and walk about 10 feet but then how would I justify my cranking? My mind settled in turns on Isabel's pink Merrells and my desire for a pair of casual yet active footwear grew. I found myself daydreaming at work, casually checking out the Merrell website. I wandered over to the six (literally count them) Comfort Zone Shoes- the mecca of casual yet active footwear--in DuPont Circle. I tried to talk myself into waiting for my monthly trip to Target and checking out their selection. I didn't really need anything fancy. It didn't help matters when Ryan firmly told me that I was "too old" for a pair of Converse trainers. So I did it- I cracked. One somewhat chilly Friday night, I dragged my happy family with me to Nordstrom and bought myself a pair of Merrell's. Mine are brown, fwiw (in case you were afraid I'd go with pink.) Do I love them- absolutely. Did I need them- of course not!!

D-O-G (Sshh, Don't Say it Out Loud)

2008-11-07T11:37:00.000-08:00

For those of you not living in DC and freakishly following every last detail of the Obama family as we are wont to do here these days in our nation's capital, you may not have caught that our president-elect told the crowd in Grant Park Tuesday night that he had promised his two girls a dog after the campaign had finished. Obama's apparent attempt to be fatherly and folksy to the electorate has set off a minor furor here. The NY Times and Washington Post both started blogging on the topic, taking readers "suggestions" for what kind of dog they should get (?!) Advocates of shelters and rescue societies went up in arms when Malia Obama suggested she might like a cockapoo since it wouldn't bother her allergies. One society actually wrote a letter to the Obama family reminding them of their duty towards unwanted pets as the first family. Yikes.

I told Izzy the other night at dinner about Malia and Sasha getting puppy. We've been talking more about the election process by relating it back to Malia and Sasha figuring she would understand that more. Fortunately, she hasn't become so populist to suggest that they might sleep over or vice versa. But at the news of an impending first puppy, she nodded solemnly. You see, Izzy also has puppy dreams. I am not sure when it started, but Izzy began asking for a dog much earlier than either Ryan or I expected. We figured we would be petitioned regularly beginning around 8 with the usual "I'll take care of the dog. I'll walk it, feed it, etc." Neither Ryan nor I are opposed to a dog in theory but it seems to be alot of responsibility and I am not entirely sure we're there yet. Last year, we adopted two sister kittens after our beloved Sally cat passed away. We thought Coco and Lulu might forestall the dog push but alas, they have not. They are loved and patient (and also- for the record refuse to use the litter box as regularly as we would like and have a problem scratching things.) They even occasionally condescend to be dragged on leashes around the front yard but (sigh) they are not dogs.

We thought we would put Izzy to the test this summer by having her spend a week with my mother-in-law's Westie, Piper. Piper is also sweet and patient but she is a dog and does poop and bark. She is also not as pliable as Izzy's stuffed doggies which she has taken to dragging around on ribbon leashes. Unfortunately, our little sabotage effort backfired and Izzy and Piper got on like a wildfire. There was nothing about Piper that put Izzy off. Piper was so generally agreeable (even to Lottie who liked to stick her fingers in Piper's ears, nose, etc all the while shrieking "Dogga") that she did a little too much for the cause of furry four legged friends everywhere.

So, we've more or less resigned ourselves to getting a dog at some point sooner rather than later (although sooner still has not been fixed with a time.) Or, I should probably say that I've resigned myself. Ryan's still resisting a bit. I've warned him that the dog would probably be a gift to him so that he couldn't say no. Izzy kind of recognizes that a dog is not going to materialize tomorrow but she's pushing big time for the dog to join the family before next Halloween. She has plans for her costume next year (sadly, aided and abetted by her mommy after what had to have been one glass of wine too many). Iz plans to go as Eloise, with me as Nanny, Dad as either the scotch drinking lawyer or tutor, and the dog as Weenie. Of course, that leaves Skiperdee, the turtle, for Lottie. Not sure she's going to dig that idea!

Election Day

2008-11-04T12:47:00.000-08:00

We took the girls to the polls this morning. Although we were prepared to wait around (meaning we did bring a snack bag), we were thrilled to find almost no lines at the local high school. Thank goodness since the Washington Post and New York Times are portraying a total mess in other parts of Fairfax County. Explaining the process of voting and what it means to a 4 yrs old is hard (obviously Lottie was in it for the snacks and the sticker) but a large part of me wants to share this moment in our country's history with Izzy in a somewhat intelligible way. Ryan somewhat sarcastically said this morning that every election is an historic event and maybe he's right, but I do think there's something different about this one. Regardless of where you come down on the political spectrum, the fact that an African American man can run for and legitimately contend for the office of president of the United States is a really cool thing. It's about time that someone other than old white dudes got to represent our country to itself and the rest of the world. I know it wasn't a very PC thing to say but I'm with Michelle Obama on this one- for once in my adult life, I am proud of my country. And I am proud of the lines of folks waiting to vote and that enough people care to take part in this process. Ultimately, even if Barak Obama loses, I hope this moment represents a turning point for our country. Just as Hurricane Katrina exposed the absolute worst part of our nature, I hope this will become the best.

Cheers everyone and make sure you vote!

Boo

2008-11-03T07:54:00.000-08:00

We survived another Halloween. I'll admit upfront that Halloween is one of my favorite yet most dreaded holidays. Favorite since it's a relatively low maintenance, high impact event. For the cost of puzzling out and sometimes assembling a costume, you have free entertainment for your kids plus a bucket of candy to boot. It's one of my most dreaded because we still are unable to accurately predict which Isabel will make an appearance on Halloween night. More often than not (at least recently), it is fear plagued Izzy, who despite the "tough talk" in the run up to trick-or-treating shows up and ends up in a puddle on the floor begging to go home immediately. Last year she got so worked up after seeing one homeowner dressed up like a ghoul, she bit Ryan on the neck. Needless to say, our Halloween ended promptly thereafter. This year we tried what we hoped would be a foolproof solution. We decided to forgo joining our friends in Old Towne and kept close to home. My sister and her sons as well as some local friends would join us for a spin through the neighborhood.

All was going well until Izzy decided to actually grace us with a nap before trick-or-treating. (A rare event these days.) I probably could have predicted that this would be a mistake since Iz doesn't wake up easily from naps. She's alot like Ryan in that way. The thought of hyper active, under-napped 4 yrs old was equally daunting, however. Sure as the sun shines, she woke up a terror. She didn't want to put on her costume, didn't want to trick-or-treat until we had dinner (!), wasn't going to go but decided at the last minute that she would, wanted to be carried, and then conveyed from house to house in a wagon that was meant to house her younger sister and cousin. All the while, I, ever graceful, tried to play this down, taking turns yelling and having a sickly sweet smile on my face for the benefit of the other parents and children. "Isn't this fun?" "ISABEL- get over here now!" "Don't you look cute?" "ISABEL- if you don't stop whining, you're staying home and getting NO candy." "Can Auntie Jozie take your picture?" "Don't sass me young lady. I am your mom and I CAN tell you what to do."

Eventually, everyone calmed down and we just had to listen to the incessant whine of "I want to go home now." Funny how when faced with the prospect of candy, the whining would cease momentarily until she resumed her position in her wagon/chariot. The other kids gamely ignored "Fancy Nancy." Our two years old companion soldiered on insisting that Owie can walk just fine and yes Owie would like more candy. Lottie, bedecked as Angelina Ballerina, had wrapped herself around my neck early on and would not countenance stopping or being put in the wagon. My nephew, Baz, was so taken back that he was being offered free CANDY that he walked around in a bit of a daze and kept forgetting to hold out his pumpkin bucket.

Perhaps the highlight/low point of the very short evening was passing by a house occupied by teenage girls and presumably their parents although the parents were not apparent that night. These girls clearly were into the grizzly side of the holiday and set up shop in their backyard in order to issue blood curdling screams randomly. This unnerved our small troop. I gamely tried to explain to the screaming girls that pint size people were going past. (They ignored this outright.) Our friend tried to explain to her son Owie that they were in fact laughing and proceeded to laugh somewhat maniacally herself to demonstrate this. Neither Owie nor any of us bought that. My sister then tried to overcome the screams by singing "happy songs" loudly. Again, to limited effect. Fortunately, Fancy Nancy was too busy pouting to be totally put off and if the smaller kids wet themselves, they could always argue that it was just the normal call of nature and for godness sake they were wearing diapers.

Next year, I think I'll lobby to man the door. It's less scary that way.

Birthday Party Redux

2008-10-29T06:48:00.001-07:00

Iz celebrated her 4th birthday last Tuesday. With a Tuesday birthday, her birth"day" morphed into a birth"week" ending with a party on Saturday. I think we sang "Happy Birthday" to her more times than her 4 years would normally allow if you take into account an early celebration in VT, 3 jolly wishes on the day itself, and then at her party on Saturday. By the end of it all, I was exhausted.

Party planning is never easy for me. Reading Lisa Belkin's blog on the NYT website last week, I think I must fall into the category of "alpha mom." Fortunately, my alpha mom streak is not all encompassing like some of the other mom blogs that I've read. I am not disgusted that the school systems around here are not more environmentally friendly. My "green" streak largely extends to composting, buying organic milk and now biodegradable garbage bags. Unlike Lisa's alpha moms I don't feel the need to hand out baby organic carrots at Halloween and am not overly concerned that my kids are addicted to fruit-flavored snacks and Sprout. (Apparently Noggin is passe these days.) But when it comes to the holidays and events like birthdays it's like some alien creature overtakes me. Lucky for my neighbors, the holiday alien runs more in line with Martha Stewart than crazy inflatable characters on my front lawn. Still, even though Ryan, my husband, kindly says that he really enjoys "entertaining" with me, I think he must be secretly relieved when the crepe paper comes down and the dishes are safely in the dishwasher.

I knew I was in trouble with this particular birthday party when I had a nightmare at the end of September that all of Iz's friends arrived at our house and I wasn't there because I had neglected until then to buy anything for the party. In the dream, I arrived home two hours later with only a handful of treats and a group of people disgusted and leaving. After waking up in a cold sweat, I immediately broke out the laptop and got to work on the Oriental Trading website. The theme of this year's party was "cooking with Iz." I ordered aprons; we made chef's hats; I bought more colored crystal sugar than should be allowed by law; and I baked and baked and baked. We had cupcakes at school, brownies for the Halloween party at school, a cupcake-shaped cake for the main event, and individual cupcakes that the kids decorated as a party favor. I even came up with kitchen-themed games when the weather proved too foul to have them run some of their extra energy off outside. And, being all at once, a catholic, a girl, and from NJ, I complained the entire week going into and of the birthday celebrations. I scrubbed toilets, put away toys, and acted dramatic as I mixed the last batch of cupcakes at 10 PM Friday night. I fretted about what to feed the moms (we're still not doing drop off parties yet), what to do with all the extra cupcakes, and whether or not Iz should be allowed to open her presents in front of her friends. Last year, that proved to be a big mistake since as soon as the gifts were dispensed she asked me very loudly when everyone was going home so she could get on with playing with her new loot.

And so the party went off. The kids were vaguely interested in decorating their aprons, had little use for the chef's hats, tore through making lunch (the cooking part), but ended up being hungry when their small piece of sandwich wasn't enough. We had a few breakdowns when the girls rushed Iz and Lot's room and playroom with Iz in particular freaking out after a "friend" took a treasured necklace. The single biggest hit-shocker!!- was the colored crystal sugar which got summarily dumped all over a dozen cupcakes to very dramatic effect. I have another mom friend to thank for that idea. No honestly, I do thank her. After the crepe paper came down, I asked Iz somewhat worriedly if she had had a good time. (Something I've inherited from my mom along with the crazy holiday gene is the lingering paranoia that crazy holiday doesn't quite cut the mustard.) Iz, very solemnly, looked at me and said, "It was fun, Mommy, but next year, let's have it out. I don't like people going through my stuff."

Sister Margaret Mary and autumns past

2008-10-28T11:47:00.000-07:00

Last week, my older daughter went on her first field trip with her preschool class. The destination: the local and insanely festive pumpkin patch/autumn wonderland. I've known about this place for ages, and in a move very unlike me, have avoided it like the plague. As far as I know, it's hands down the most popular destination for haybales, apple cider, and general Halloween weirdness in the Northern VA area. Therefore, it attracts droves of people. When we got the notice that Iz and her classmates were destined to go, I decided to bite the bullet and sign up as a parent chaperone.

I'm not sure what I had in mind when I signed up but I definitely harbored images of fieldtrips past- the bus, the stupid songs, the naughty kids getting smacked around by the nuns, and inevitably falling asleep on the ride home. When we got to the preschool last Thursday morning, the center director told me firmly, "No parents on the bus." I have to admit, I was a more than a little disappointed. Iz opted to ride to Cox Farms with me rather than experiencing the tainted joys of the bus. Given my NJ-trained driving habits, we arrived at the farm WAAAY early and ended up standing in a wet field looking at a bunch of goats who looked for all intense and purposes like they too would rather be doing something else. Not a particularly auspicious beginning. The bus and the other parents did eventually arrive and after getting our bracelets and taking the prerequisite pictures of Iz and her friends (aw look at them on their first field trip!), we headed over to the attractions. We had a dicey start- a slide whose launch point started in an "active" volcano- I told you this place was insanely festive- which of course caused Iz to freak out a little. Before she could stomp her feet twice and shriek a third time, I had her on my lap and down the slide. And, like some autumn miracle, from thereonin she and I both had a great time. We went down a ton of slides, including one at which I left my daughter holding the supply bag while I went down solo on my jute sack. We drank cider together, ate apples, went on a hay ride during which Iz almost wet herself in the haunted barn, and then, after four hours of exhausting fun, we both went home and took naps.

And, perhaps not surprisingly, I found myself getting really nostolgic and probably almost caused even my syrupy, lovely pink-loving daughter to get a bit ill. Suddenly, I was 6 yrs old again and not so happily entrenched in Sr. Margaret Mary's first grade class at Our Lady of the Valley grammar school. Sr. MM was in a rare good mood the day we took our autumn excursion across the field in front of the convent over to the little farmer next to the school. We walked in zig zags in a single file line behind Sr MM as her habit flapped in the breeze. We each shyly took a pumpkin from the farmer and walked back and wrote a little "story" about our adventures. A pretty pathetic little memory but one of my favorites from that fairly dreadful place. I told Iz that she may just remember her first time at Cox Farms for the rest of her life. Thank goodness it was a good day to remember for both of us!

Confessions of a Pinkerbelle in Training

2008-10-26T17:53:00.000-07:00

Welcome to the latest somewhat pathetic attempt by a Gen X'er to get introspective about the rites and rituals of growing up. That's right-another mommy blog. I decided to start this blog in part for myself and in part as a way for family and friends to keep up with our lives. The title of the blog is taken from "Pinkalicious"- a must read and probably have read for those with girls between the ages of 3 and 100. It's the process of becoming Pinkerbelle that we'll focus on here.

Like a good chunk of the population of mommies blogging these days, I am a solid gen X'er. Grew up with shrinky-dinks, Hawaiian punch, stew starter, the Dukes of Hazard (with Catherine Bach being the one and only Daisy Duke), Saturday morning cartoons, and Olivia Newton John on roller skates. And like most of us (at least from what I can tell from the list of friends on my facebook page), I delayed motherhood until I hit that magic number 30. I had a great time in my twenties- I traveled, went to school, drank too much, finally met a great guy, got married and bought a house with my dad's help. Kids seemed like a good idea but I was honestly a little bit wigged out by the idea. It took me a long time to learn to like myself and even then, it wasn't perfect. I've always had an independent streak that ran distinctly on the nerd side of the line rather than the cool one. I've never been into sporting badass tattoos or belly rings but didn't think twice about going to a hammam in Morocco to have a traditional bath done. (Ok I did think twice when Fatima, our dorm maid, stripped me down naked in front of my "bath" companions.) How on earth would I ever learn to be a role model?

I honestly almost died when the doctor doing the sonogram with our first child told my husband and I we were having a girl. A girl was definitely dangerous. I always thought perhaps I could fake it a bit with a boy but girls know. They smell the weakness and are never afraid to express their unending disappointment. And here I am at 35 now with two.

After my older daughter was born, I had many preconceived notions about what kind of kid she would be. If she was lucky, she'd be much cooler than me, but not a prom queen. She'd be hip but not a poser. She'd be up on music, art, chunky knits, and "ugly dolls." Instead, at about 18 months, Iz discovered the Disney Princesses and there's been no going back. Anything that glitters, shines, or has a pinkish hue is sanctified in our house. She even had the words "high heels" down before she was 2.

And so, this closet nerd has had to discover how to be a girl and a kid I never was and try and make sure I don't disappoint my not-so-free-spirits. Welcome to my journey.