So it has been a perfectly wonderful Saturday--farmer's market, Bee's dance class, a clean house, a quick run, grocery shopping and a visit to Penzey's, finished off with a fantastic bbq (beer can chicken on the grill, my mom's special potato salad, romaine with ranch dressing, and grilled corn).
For dessert, I finally got to try out my new maryann cake pan, and filled it with vanilla pudding and fresh berries.
Unfortunately my Saturday is lasting a little bit longer than I would prefer, because Cheeks McGoo is wide awake and declining to go back to bed. She has been sent downstairs to read the newspaper with her father until she is good and bored--and tired.
Saturday, July 17, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The beautiful
I had the privilege of celebrating the 4th of July this year at the National Archives: a fancy breakfast, special viewing of the Constitution before the Archives opened to the public, and VIP seating for a public reading of the Declaration of Independence. We, the crowd, booed King James as Thomas Jefferson read the Declaration's lists of grievances.
Afterward, we trekked down to Capitol hill to meet friends of ours from Latvia for Mexican food. Which, now, looking back, seems vaguely unpatriotic. We should have gone for burgers and apple pie. Regardless, it was great to catch up. As we metroed home, I felt very virtuous watching the hoards of tourists head toward the mall. No fireworks for us this year, just a laid back barbecue at my sister in law's house.
Having spent almost every Independence Day overseas these past six years, being at home for this one was a real treat. Although my schedule seems impossible right now--juggling work, working frantically, and coming home to equally frantic children, there is just so much to love about being home.
Tuesday, June 15, 2010
Monday, June 14, 2010
Priorities
My husband and two wonderful daughters went to our local pancake house for breakfast this morning. I went to work.
While I was making my solitary morning commute, Bee was savoring silver dollar pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. My husband enjoyed blueberry pancakes and hash browns. Cheeks McGoo had pears. I had a sticky hot metro car. Yuck.
At the office, I boiled water in my electric kettle and mourned my formerly lazy mornings at home. Oh, my babies need me and I am not there!
It's not all bad. Just mostly. And I know I'll get the hang of this new routine eventually. In the meantime, I keep thinking about this:
Saturday morning farmer's market.
I am working for the weekend.
While I was making my solitary morning commute, Bee was savoring silver dollar pancakes, bacon, and scrambled eggs. My husband enjoyed blueberry pancakes and hash browns. Cheeks McGoo had pears. I had a sticky hot metro car. Yuck.
At the office, I boiled water in my electric kettle and mourned my formerly lazy mornings at home. Oh, my babies need me and I am not there!
It's not all bad. Just mostly. And I know I'll get the hang of this new routine eventually. In the meantime, I keep thinking about this:
Saturday morning farmer's market.
I am working for the weekend.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
The longest day
Now that I have been home for over a month, I think I can write about our trip home without having any harmful flashbacks.
It was an adventure, full of stories that will become party of family lore, and repeated for years to come. Above all however, traveling solo from Romania to the United States with my two little girls was a reaffirmation of the kindness of strangers. If it weren't for all the help I received on my trip, I would still be on the first floor of Bucharest's airport:
We arrived at the airport very early, and after saying goodbye to my husband, and doing my best to put on a brave face for Miss Bee, we proceeded through security and headed for our gate. I pushed Cheeks in her car seat, which fortunately attaches to the stroller, had Bee in one hand and a suitcase and duffel bag in the other. The diaper bag was stowed under the stroller. We must have looked much like a peddler with his cart, baby toys jangling, suitcase wheels squeaking, and Bee singing to herself. "I can do this," was my silent mantra as we made our way to the gate.
I was actually feeling pretty good; the girls were behaving, I was managing all the luggage without a problem. We were going home!
Oh, how quickly things unraveled from there. Our flight was leaving from gate 10. As we walked through Bucharest's smoky terminal, it became apparent that Gate 10 was not on the first floor. Oh no, it was located downstairs. "No problem, there has to be an elevator around here somewhere . . ."
I looked all around but there was no elevator. I looked around for someone to ask, but of course there was no one to help me. Finally, out of desperation, I stopped the one person in uniform that came walking by-- a pilot for KLM. He confirmed that there was no elevator, thought it over for a minute, and then offered to help carry the stroller and my luggage down the four flights of stairs to the gate. Another man pitched in as well. (I really would like to know how someone in a wheelchair accesses the lower terminal.)
That problem solved, it was time to solve the problem of Cheeks McGoo's diaper. I had plenty of time before our flight left, and figured I would probably change Cheeks and then feed her and she would be ready for a nice nap on the flight to Munich. We find the bathroom, wheel in all our luggage, I start to change Cheeks and she pees all over herself and her clothes. Wheeeeeeeee! Faaaaannnntastic. Fortunately I had packed a few extra outfits.
Our trip proceeded in the above fashion. . .the plane was not at the gate, but instead a bus ride and a very tall set of stairs away. (More help was necessary, including a wonderful gentleman who waited on board once we had arrived in Munich to help us deplane.)
During the flight to Munich, Cheeks napped and Bee ate three packages of gummy bears. I cannot say enough good things about the professionalism of Lufthansa's flight crew. They were unflappable (need to feed the baby? can I get you an extra pillow to support your arm?)--helpful (giving Bee every coloring book, sticker set, and puzzle on board)--and above all, kind. U.S. air companies could learn a thing or two from the German concept of service.
The good thing about flying into Munich is that it is a small airport, with the bonus of flying in and out of the same terminal when en route to the U.S. After a relatively peaceful four hour layover, we were ready for our 8 hour and 49 minute flight to the United States. (Why don't we call it like it is, and just say NINE HOURS!) Ahem. Many thanks to the man in seat 1A who ferried my bags from the door of the aircraft to my seat. Evidently he was not only a millionaire, but also a gentleman.
I would say that eight out of the nine hours went very well indeed. I abandoned all my usual parenting guidelines and let Bee feast on ice cream and chocolate candy. She watched Sesame Street on my laptop until the battery died. Basically I did my very best to keep both of my children quiet and well behaved, even if that meant indulging them like crazy.
Cheeks had me quite worried when I realized about halfway through the flight that we only had three diapers left. In her excitement at traveling halfway around the world, Cheeks was averaging one dirty diaper every 45 minutes. Thank you to the very kind woman with a very red headed baby who lent me enough extra ones to make it home.
The biggest drama of our trip was saved for the last hour of the flight. Bee, having refused to nap throughout the entire flight, finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. This also happened when we flew to the U.S. in November 2009. I couldn't rouse her. The plane was landing and she was curled into the seat like a hibernating turtle in its shell. I spent 30 minutes trying to gently wake her to no avail. Once the plane began its final descent, and all passengers had to put their seats in the upright position, Bee was maneuvered upright and awake and screaming. The emphasis was on screaming here.
We landed, and Bee's screams eventually reduced to sniffles. The plane reached the gate. It was time to get off. Exhausted, Bee refused to walk. She had to walk. I had to carry Nora and all of our bags. She refused to walk. Stalemate . . .We were evidently going to be stuck on the plane for the rest of our lives.
Sensing my distress, several passengers came over to help. I found myself handing over my suitcases and backpacks to total strangers. Bee was still not walking. Finally, and thank the Lord because I was running out of ideas, a big fat bearded man scooped her up. She started to scream in protest. I took a good look at the man, judged him to be neither a murderer or kidnapper, grabbed Nora's car seat and fled the aircraft. The man followed in hot pursuit with my wailing daughter.
The whole family was reunited on the jet way and while Bee was very displeased at having been abandoned by her own mother, the plus side was that she was now wide awake.
We had almost made it. All that was left was the shuttle bus, immigration, baggage, customs, and staggering through the double doors into the waiting arms of my parents. And while accomplishing the above things, while exhausted, with exhausted children, seemed to take almost as long as the actual trip itself, we made it. We really did.
Becoming a parent has made me fearless.
It was an adventure, full of stories that will become party of family lore, and repeated for years to come. Above all however, traveling solo from Romania to the United States with my two little girls was a reaffirmation of the kindness of strangers. If it weren't for all the help I received on my trip, I would still be on the first floor of Bucharest's airport:
We arrived at the airport very early, and after saying goodbye to my husband, and doing my best to put on a brave face for Miss Bee, we proceeded through security and headed for our gate. I pushed Cheeks in her car seat, which fortunately attaches to the stroller, had Bee in one hand and a suitcase and duffel bag in the other. The diaper bag was stowed under the stroller. We must have looked much like a peddler with his cart, baby toys jangling, suitcase wheels squeaking, and Bee singing to herself. "I can do this," was my silent mantra as we made our way to the gate.
I was actually feeling pretty good; the girls were behaving, I was managing all the luggage without a problem. We were going home!
Oh, how quickly things unraveled from there. Our flight was leaving from gate 10. As we walked through Bucharest's smoky terminal, it became apparent that Gate 10 was not on the first floor. Oh no, it was located downstairs. "No problem, there has to be an elevator around here somewhere . . ."
I looked all around but there was no elevator. I looked around for someone to ask, but of course there was no one to help me. Finally, out of desperation, I stopped the one person in uniform that came walking by-- a pilot for KLM. He confirmed that there was no elevator, thought it over for a minute, and then offered to help carry the stroller and my luggage down the four flights of stairs to the gate. Another man pitched in as well. (I really would like to know how someone in a wheelchair accesses the lower terminal.)
That problem solved, it was time to solve the problem of Cheeks McGoo's diaper. I had plenty of time before our flight left, and figured I would probably change Cheeks and then feed her and she would be ready for a nice nap on the flight to Munich. We find the bathroom, wheel in all our luggage, I start to change Cheeks and she pees all over herself and her clothes. Wheeeeeeeee! Faaaaannnntastic. Fortunately I had packed a few extra outfits.
Our trip proceeded in the above fashion. . .the plane was not at the gate, but instead a bus ride and a very tall set of stairs away. (More help was necessary, including a wonderful gentleman who waited on board once we had arrived in Munich to help us deplane.)
During the flight to Munich, Cheeks napped and Bee ate three packages of gummy bears. I cannot say enough good things about the professionalism of Lufthansa's flight crew. They were unflappable (need to feed the baby? can I get you an extra pillow to support your arm?)--helpful (giving Bee every coloring book, sticker set, and puzzle on board)--and above all, kind. U.S. air companies could learn a thing or two from the German concept of service.
The good thing about flying into Munich is that it is a small airport, with the bonus of flying in and out of the same terminal when en route to the U.S. After a relatively peaceful four hour layover, we were ready for our 8 hour and 49 minute flight to the United States. (Why don't we call it like it is, and just say NINE HOURS!) Ahem. Many thanks to the man in seat 1A who ferried my bags from the door of the aircraft to my seat. Evidently he was not only a millionaire, but also a gentleman.
I would say that eight out of the nine hours went very well indeed. I abandoned all my usual parenting guidelines and let Bee feast on ice cream and chocolate candy. She watched Sesame Street on my laptop until the battery died. Basically I did my very best to keep both of my children quiet and well behaved, even if that meant indulging them like crazy.
Cheeks had me quite worried when I realized about halfway through the flight that we only had three diapers left. In her excitement at traveling halfway around the world, Cheeks was averaging one dirty diaper every 45 minutes. Thank you to the very kind woman with a very red headed baby who lent me enough extra ones to make it home.
The biggest drama of our trip was saved for the last hour of the flight. Bee, having refused to nap throughout the entire flight, finally passed out from sheer exhaustion. This also happened when we flew to the U.S. in November 2009. I couldn't rouse her. The plane was landing and she was curled into the seat like a hibernating turtle in its shell. I spent 30 minutes trying to gently wake her to no avail. Once the plane began its final descent, and all passengers had to put their seats in the upright position, Bee was maneuvered upright and awake and screaming. The emphasis was on screaming here.
We landed, and Bee's screams eventually reduced to sniffles. The plane reached the gate. It was time to get off. Exhausted, Bee refused to walk. She had to walk. I had to carry Nora and all of our bags. She refused to walk. Stalemate . . .We were evidently going to be stuck on the plane for the rest of our lives.
Sensing my distress, several passengers came over to help. I found myself handing over my suitcases and backpacks to total strangers. Bee was still not walking. Finally, and thank the Lord because I was running out of ideas, a big fat bearded man scooped her up. She started to scream in protest. I took a good look at the man, judged him to be neither a murderer or kidnapper, grabbed Nora's car seat and fled the aircraft. The man followed in hot pursuit with my wailing daughter.
The whole family was reunited on the jet way and while Bee was very displeased at having been abandoned by her own mother, the plus side was that she was now wide awake.
We had almost made it. All that was left was the shuttle bus, immigration, baggage, customs, and staggering through the double doors into the waiting arms of my parents. And while accomplishing the above things, while exhausted, with exhausted children, seemed to take almost as long as the actual trip itself, we made it. We really did.
Becoming a parent has made me fearless.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
Relief
Miss Baby Cheeks is so relieved that today is Saturday; she can finally eat again.
I started back at work on Wednesday. While work is fine, the separation is not going so well.
My dear husband is doing a wonderful job taking care of the children, but Cheeks has decided that bottles are decidedly uncivilized and she will only deign to drink from one if it is absolutely necessary. So . . . . every few hours, she will drink an ounce of milk or so to stave off starvation, but that's about it.
This means that all week I arrived home to a hungry child who spent the entire evening nursing. It's breaking my heart. Cheeks McGoo, we cannot go on this way!
I started back at work on Wednesday. While work is fine, the separation is not going so well.
My dear husband is doing a wonderful job taking care of the children, but Cheeks has decided that bottles are decidedly uncivilized and she will only deign to drink from one if it is absolutely necessary. So . . . . every few hours, she will drink an ounce of milk or so to stave off starvation, but that's about it.
This means that all week I arrived home to a hungry child who spent the entire evening nursing. It's breaking my heart. Cheeks McGoo, we cannot go on this way!
Saturday, May 29, 2010
Little things about home
There are the main reasons being home that are wonderful: living close to family, having my own home (my dear dear husband is finally here, hooray!), and exposing the munchkins to everything I love about the U.S.
Some of the best things about being home, however, are small conveniences and courtesies. Here's what's been making me smile this month:
--Frrrrrrrozen waffles! Pop them in the toaster and breakfast is ready in two minutes. And don't even let me get started on how exciting it is to go grocery shopping in America. (To those who have never lived outside of the first world, I sound like a babbling idiot.)
--Friendly neighbors. The kind that inquire as to whether I can hear their TV because they're worried it's too loud. The kind that invite us to barbecues and welcomed us to the neighborhood with chocolate cake. The shared front yard mowing-trash can replacing kind. Good people.
--Community activities. Story hour at the library. Children's gym at the community center. Saturday morning farmer's market. Dance and pilates classes to look forward to this summer. All of this community involvement is also known as "making the most of my rather hefty property tax".
--Gardening. I have a tomato plant and an herb pot, and so far, both are still alive. We had a few tense hours last when the temperature shot up above 90 degrees and the tomato plant leaves started to shrivel and fry, but I doused it with water and it pulled through. We have also planted some flowers out front and the manual labor was totally worth it to hear Miss Bee shriek "Earthworms!" I'm still unsure whether her reaction was in joy or terror. Maybe a little of both.
It's good to be here.
Some of the best things about being home, however, are small conveniences and courtesies. Here's what's been making me smile this month:
--Frrrrrrrozen waffles! Pop them in the toaster and breakfast is ready in two minutes. And don't even let me get started on how exciting it is to go grocery shopping in America. (To those who have never lived outside of the first world, I sound like a babbling idiot.)
--Friendly neighbors. The kind that inquire as to whether I can hear their TV because they're worried it's too loud. The kind that invite us to barbecues and welcomed us to the neighborhood with chocolate cake. The shared front yard mowing-trash can replacing kind. Good people.
--Community activities. Story hour at the library. Children's gym at the community center. Saturday morning farmer's market. Dance and pilates classes to look forward to this summer. All of this community involvement is also known as "making the most of my rather hefty property tax".
--Gardening. I have a tomato plant and an herb pot, and so far, both are still alive. We had a few tense hours last when the temperature shot up above 90 degrees and the tomato plant leaves started to shrivel and fry, but I doused it with water and it pulled through. We have also planted some flowers out front and the manual labor was totally worth it to hear Miss Bee shriek "Earthworms!" I'm still unsure whether her reaction was in joy or terror. Maybe a little of both.
It's good to be here.
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