matryoshka

My mom bought these adorable nesting glasses for Bee for Christmas. She loves them. I love them. (And secretly use them.)

the things we keep

It was raining when I picked Cheeks up from daycare today. I squeezed her stroller's rain cover over the stroller frame, and, after a lot of tugging and silent cursing, finally managed to put it on properly. My daughter stared out inquisitively from behind the thick wall of plastic.

Raindrops falling all around.

I, on the other hand, had forgotten to bring an umbrella. My umbrella is still in my hotel room in Christchurch. It--along with my favorite jeans, my house keys, my laptop computer (with all the photos of Cheeks McGoo from her first year of life, shame on me for not backing those up), passport, ipod, and the rest of my luggage--it was all left behind in my hotel room after the earthquake.

Since I was in a meeting when the earthquake struck, all I had with me was a North Face tote bag that I had been using instead of a purse. (The better to tote around papers in.) Fortunately, inside my tote bag I had my wallet, blackberry, digital camera, a hair brush and some lip gloss (oh vanity!), chewing gum, and lots of notebook paper and pens (which came in very handy). After the earthquake, I felt like a little refugee with my tote bag. I carried it everywhere, not wanting to be left with nothing if there was another earthquake.

This is not a tragedy though--the things I lost are just things, mere ephemera that can be replaced. What can't be replaced are the mothers, the fathers, the children, and the friends who died in Christchurch on February 22. I am blessed and lucky to be home with my family when there are those who will never get to go home again.

And this being New Zealand we're talking about here, I'll probably even get my luggage back eventually, once the center of the city is deemed safe and the hotel staff can reenter the hotel to put things back in order. It just might be a while.

In the meantime though, I'm going to go buy a new umbrella.

Christmas in March

My Christmas cactus is blooming in March, which only further proves that I do indeed have the "black thumb of death" when it comes to houseplants.

Upstairs, my angel wing begonia is dropping its leaves sadly. I can't seem to get the balance of water and sunlight right and I fear it has reached the end of its life.

I long to plant tomatoes this summer but don't know if I can deal with the disappointment of another "two tomato" harvest this year. Yep. Last year's tomato plant yielded exactly two tomatoes and then it died. (In comparison, the eggplants did great, I think they produced a record-breaking four.) Clearly, my future as a gardener is very bleak.

But the cactus is very pretty.

Friday Vacation

I am very good at cleaning the house, organizing my daughters' toys, and matching socks. Taking care of myself, not so much.

Earlier this week, I received an email from a colleague with a gentle admonishment to take some time off. I didn't reply.

But then I finally slowed down for long enough this morning to realize that he was right; I very much need a break. This past month has been more difficult than I care to admit.

I'm not sick, none of my daughters need to go to the doctor, there are no repairmen (that I know of) coming to my house, no trees have fallen into our backyard.

I just need a day to do nothing.

So tomorrow, nothing is on the agenda.

Tomorrow is my day to play dolls with Miss Bee and read board books with Cheeks McGoo. To walk to the library. To make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for lunch and bake cookies for teatime.

There is no reason to stay home tomorrow other than the fact that I think it would be a good thing for me right now. But maybe that's the best reason of all.

(Thank you A.P.)

Homebody

Less than one year until we go on our 5 night Disney cruise.

The best thing about booking a cruise 18 months in advance? The months of delicious anticipation. The bad thing about booking a cruise 18 months in advance? Well, there are many things.

As a result of our less than one year away journey to decadent eating, and the fact that my dear sister is getting married toward the end this year (in Germany) we don't have any elaborate vacation plans for this summer. We need to save our pennies.

I keep thinking that we need to find a way to take some short trips, as our weekends are currently regimented to the point of ridiculousness and involve cleaning, grocery shopping, church, and hanging out with the family. If we're really feeling wild, we'll watch a movie on iTunes and make popcorn.

The problem is, we have become creatures of habit. Maybe I should be more concerned that the children never travel further than a 5 mile radius from home, but you know, I'm really not.

It's all almost too easy in the United States. In Romania, grocery shopping for the week meant going to the grocery store, the vegetable market, the other vegetable market near our apartment to get the things that the first market didn't have, and then a trip to the other grocery store to get the things we forgot. It was a foraging adventure that took at least a couple hours every Saturday. (If we had learned to cook Romanian cuisine, our lives would have been much simpler.) Whereas here, I can do all my shopping in less than an hour.

In Romania, going outside to play meant schlepping to the park (which was beautiful, and nearby) but here in the United States, it means stepping out the door. I arrived home from grocery shopping this afternoon to find Cheeks and Bee busily playing cars with the little boy next door. My husband and the neighbors were standing around chatting. To anyone else passing by, this little scene would have seemed perfectly ordinary. But to me, seeing my family, in our own place, living in the United States after so many years away--it's the embodiment of a dream.

You know, I think I will be happy to not travel for a while.

Baby commuter

Riding the Metro with Miss Cheeks is never dull. People hold their belongings tightly when they see her coming, her legend as a kleptomaniac toddler has spread up and down the Orange line. What can I do? The child loves purses. Other people's purses.

Cheeks was relatively mellow this afternoon, which meant she only rejected two board books, and didn't scream. "Touch and Feel Meal Time" is usually a favorite story, but it went flying.

Finally, after disagreeing with the entire contents of my purse, Cheeks settled on my blackberry. She made several important phone calls, which was adorable. She would made a very serious expression and press the phone up against her fat cheek. I guess that's how I look when I talk on the phone. I think she might have called Alaska.

I need to go read the chapter in the parenting book about how not to raise a baby tyrant.

The working moms and dads will know what I mean

Here's to those of us who have t0 leave for work before the sun is up in the sky and don't get home until it is well and fully set.

Here's to faking it with our kids when the stresses of work follow us home. As in, "What's that? Mommy's really happy! She's not looking at her blackberry!"

Here's to tall laundry piles and aggressive dust bunnies.

Here's to the pediatrician who actually offers 7 pm appointments.

Here's to feeling guilty for not being home with the kids when they are little.

So, just for tonight, I'm throwing in the towel.

I'm off to wallow in self pity.

I will count my blessings in the morning.

Out like a lamb

Spring has finally started to make itself known. There are purple crocuses in my backyard. The tulip trees have deep pink buds. On Friday, it was finally warm enough to go walking without a jacket. The robins have returned. Yesterday, I ventured into our postage stamp of a backyard and planted a flat of flowers.

This afternoon, Cheeks McGoo and Bee played in our driveway with the boy next door. I drew chalk highways and train stations and airports and brought out a basket of cars and trains. They provided the soundtrack.

If only the weekend could last all week long.

Yesterday

It had been a bad morning. During breakfast, Cheeks McGoo smeared yogurt in my hair.
(Thanks, baby!)

Then, Miss Bee had a fit about her tights. Or as she termed them: "TIIIIIIGGGGGHHHHTS!!!!!" (The problem: she felt that they were too tight. Which I believe is an oxymoron of sorts.)

It was a very long, but surprisingly good day.

I got home just after 9:45 pm and took the dog for a quick walk in the rain. Poor Max. He was very ready to go out and do his thing, but thankfully just as ready to run back in.
(The fact that I have a Labrador retriever who is slightly afraid of water is a whole other issue.)

I spent a few minutes answering emails on my blackberry and then went to kiss my sleeping daughters goodnight.

Miss Bee was curled up under a mountain of covers, her favorite sock monkey perched on her pillow, standing watch against "things that might come out from under the bed." During the day Miss Bee is constantly in motion. At night, she is as still as one of Botticelli's angels. Cheeks McGoo, on the other hand, sleeps wildly, sprawled on her stomach, hair mussed in a halo around her head. I sang them lullabies they did not hear, so deep was their sleep. I whispered all the things a mama says, then went to bed myself.

My love for them is profound.

Neither here nor there

Driving to the grocery store this morning, Miss Bee in the backseat, feeling just about as jittery as the rain beating on my windshield.

Bee must have sensed my quiet mood and tenderly called out from the backseat, "Mommy, I love you like the tracks of a train."

Train tracks, you know, go on and on, for as far as the eye can see.

I found myself blinking back tears.

Later, driving home with a trunk full of groceries, a car passed me with a bumper sticker that said, "The best things in life aren't things."

I felt as though the universe had seized me by the scruff of the neck and given me a good shake.

I can just imagine someone up in heaven must have said said, "All right angels, so, this particular human is rather slow so we're going to have to spell it out for her:

You're home, you're safe, you're with your family. Let them love you and it's going to get better."

Yes.

Auckland in the Morning

There is something special about a sunny day in Auckland. The sky is big. The light is brilliant. It's as if the entire city puffs out its chest and preens a bit.

I contemplated going up to the top of the sky tower, but decided that I had risked enough calamity already. A colleague told me that you can even bungee jump off the thing if you want. Now that's insanity, if you ask me.


Even going out on the harbor seemed a bit risky. I was content to keep my feet on solid ground.


However, if I were ever to go sailing in Auckland harbor, this is the boat I would commandeer: