What do you mean you don't have a newspaper?

Some situations really strike hard to reveal how quickly our world is changing, like during my septuagenarian, non-driver mother-in-law's unexpected stay.

There have been massive power outages in the DC Metro area since Sunday when temperatures were upwards of 100 degrees and we had a sudden and violent thunderstorm. Many places around the Beltway are still without power, including my mother-in-law's neighborhood. On Monday, Monkeyrotica got a phone call from his mom that she needed to be picked up and stay with us until her power came back on.

Monday, this was fine, since Monkey had the day off and was able to get his mom, take her out to lunch and run a bunch of errands with her. When the kids came home from summer camp and preschool, they had a great time with Grandma I, showing her school projects and enjoying her company. They even watched a couple of Japanese movies with her. Tuesday morning we had a dilemma, as her power still wasn't on and Monkey and I were both going in to work. She was trying to figure out how she would spend her day in the scant minutes before I had to whisk the kids off to school and head to work.


Suggestions from Grandma I:

"I could read the newspaper or some magazines?"
Nope, we don't get a newspaper and have no magazine subscriptions, we get all our information from news websites.

"I could call my friends on the phone?"
Nope, we don't have a landline and use our cell phones at work.

"I could watch TV?"
Nope, we don't have TV, just laptops with Internet connections."


My suggestion:

"Why don't I show you how to view www.washingtonpost.com on this laptop?"
Oh, no, the text is too small, I can't read it or see the keyboard to type.

"Here's my Kindle, I could upload a few books onto it for you?"
No thank you.


I wound up buying her a paper and some magazines at the local 7-11 and dropping them off before I headed to work so she wouldn't be hopelessly bored. We might as well have been in Amish country for the amount of acceptable entertainments that we could have offered! Maybe we could get her one of those pay-as-you-use cell phones, so at least she could make some phone calls next time? Our home is unfortunately totally not set up for technologically unadapted houseguests.

Lucky for her, she'll be heading back to her house today. The power's finally back on, her newspapers are waiting, the TV's just an on-switch away, and unlimited local phone calls are within arm's reach.

The 2010 Dance Recital Videos! Now with more Dash!

The Dance Studio's recital theme this year was "Written Works," with our four dances referencing Eric Carle's "Hungry, Hungry Caterpillar," Marcus Pfister's "The Rainbow Fish," Roald Dahl's "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory", and Gregory Maguire's "Wicked." Apologies in advance for the focus issues in the 1st two; we are getting used to a new camera...

Dash's Dance, Pre-Ballet (adorable little preschoolers!): "Fuzzy Wuzzy Caterpillar"


Rosie's Dance, Introductory Ballet (1st graders) "The Rainbow Connection"


Rosie's 2nd Dance, Introductory Tap (1st graders): "The Candyman"


Nylonthread's Dance, Modern (teen & adult): "Defying Gravity," Glee

Dash & friends at the Park

Dash is in the back, 4th from the right!

Rosie & the Os

Todd, Thea & Liam are posing with Rosie in the background. They joined
me for my birthday breakfast! Thanks, friends!!

How my brain ties events together

I missed the very last final exam of my college career.

Isn't that every college student's nightmare? You cram all night, then arrive at the exam hall at the testing hour to find it deserted? But, I didn't wake up in a sweat, screaming; it actually happened.

The fact that I missed the event has everything to do with how I schedule things, with my particular way of stringing my plans to each other. I might loosely pin an event to a Thursday, but it also is stuck to other events, like "after I pick up the dry cleaning" or "before my dance class." Sometimes I might say "tomorrow" to someone, actually meaning "the next time I see you."

What happened on the day of my "Literature of the 1600s, The Awesome and the Sublime" (a class that I adored!) exam was several weeks in the making. I knew the day and time of the exam, of course, and along the way, my parents told me that they were arriving that same morning to pack up and drive me home after graduation. So, in my head, I roped those two events together tightly: i.e. my-exam-is-on-the-same-day-my-parents-arrive. However, in the weeks before said day, while I was in the midst of the other exams and projects and papers leading up to the final days of my senior year, my parents switched their arrival date. To the next day.

Can you understand what happened? I didn't see the repercussions, I just stormed ahead, with my little threads of planned events all strung together, bobbing along ahead of me, without looking at a calendar. My parents arrived. At 3 p.m. that day, I went to the exam hall. All that late afternoon, I attempted to get in touch with my professor and finally found her home number in the white pages. She and I were both distraught about my absence at the final until I remembered that I had taken her class—which was far, far outside my major—pass/fail. Her response, "Pass/Fail? Oh, OH! OF COURSE you passed!!" If I had taken the class and exam with standard grading, I would have had an A. I graduated, with one credit to spare.

This anecdote is an illustration of how I process schedules to this day. Yesterday, for example. I had a full schedule at work, and was planning to meet friends at the end of the day. The happy hour was cancelled, but I had strung the rest of my day to that event. Forging ahead, I decided to cut that thread, and tie on my usual Wednesday plan: go to the gym. I also had to collect Rosie and take her to a recently rescheduled swim lesson immediately after my gym session. Knot.

What did I forget? I had invited my dear husband, Monkeyrotica, to the happy hour and had arranged for my mom to watch the kids while we socialized. He and my mom bumped into each other at kid-pickup, while I was at a secure gov't customer meeting with my phone off. Hilarity (and many apologies) ensued.

Is this peculiar to anyone else? Is it a symptom of a right-brain thinker? Or am I unique?

Dash's 5-Year Checkup & Am I in denial?

Yesterday was such a beautiful day. I requested that I telework, since I had Dash's midday doctor's appointment, and that just opened up all sort of possibilities.

After I got the kids up for breakfast, I announced that we were walking to school this morning! Since Rosie is in summer camp at the same location as Dash's preschool, this was an ideal way to start the day. The weather was perfect: 75° and overcast and the preschool/camp is just a 1/2 mile from our house. The preschool is housed in what used to be the neighborhood elementary school, but was converted to a senior center in the 80s due to the baby bust at the time—I often feel like my kids' generation was robbed of walking to school due to this type of event and other things, like heightened safety concerns and regulations that prohibit kids' autonomy. Rosie's elementary school (that Dash will be going to in the Fall) is 2 miles away. If I can get more telework days or a alternate schedule next school year, I would love to walk them to this preschool, where I'm enrolling them both for morning SACC (school-age childcare); they'll bus to their ES from there.

At Dash's appointment, he was being very Dash. He was waving and charming all the nurses, complimenting random things (I like your shirt!), and being a cheerful little guy. He weighed in at 42 inches and just about 42 pounds, so he's a cube (shorter than his younger friend Liam)! The doctor arrived within several minutes and after recovering from Dash's disarming compliment (I like your glasses!), Dr. R checked up on normal things, like whether he knew colors and numbers, if he had chores, or could ride a bike, regular eliminations, and his balancing skills. All this time, Dash volunteered a great deal of random information and showed off a bit, keeping a running dialog, humming and making other noises. As an aside to me, Dr. R said, "Well, this boy will always have his own fun!" Set for life, Dash is, able to be his own entertainment! Dr. R did a bunch of calculating and suggested that we need to watch Dash's weight. Whaaaa?!? Really? Dash looks like such an average, healthy kid. Why? Dr. R quoted Dash's BMI (82nd percentile) at me and said that while he is not (whisper it...) F. A. T. , he isn't LEAN either. We need to up his activity levels and keep him eating healthily.

In doctor-speak, Dr. R let me know that Dash would need one shot, so I tried last year's approach. I asked, "Dash, last year you had 5 shots, how many would you like this year?" Dash answered, "Ohhhh, only just one." Dr. R said, "You're in luck, there's only one this time!" and went on his way. After several minutes of waiting for the nurse to come back and letting this sink in, Dash changed his response. "Aaactuuually, how about zero? Can I have zero shots?" Please?"

After dinner (grilled chicken breast and roasted potatoes), Dash and I spent an hour at the pool while Rosie had a swim lesson, splashing and goofing around. So, we were plenty active today, walking, playing, swimming. I was thinking about the BMI business on my commute this morning when I heard a report on WTOP about parents agreeing that obesity is an issue for kids today, but are in denial that it's a problem in their own child/children. Am I in denial? What do you all think of BMI calculating for 5 year-olds?

HAPPY 5TH BIRTHDAY, DASH!

2005

2006

2007

2008

2009

Birthday Boy!
I can't believe time has passed this quickly. Cheers to my sweet, imaginative, easy-going, playful, curious, and gorgeous little man.





June 22, 2010 If your birthday is today:
You're passionately emotional, regardless of how calm you appear. You love to explore the unusual because you're an adventurer. You appreciate fanciful whimsy in people and situations around you. What you build or construct this year will help you in the future. Other people's resources play a part in your search for household comfort this year. Instead of depending on them too much, you will want to inspire your own work by using all your talents, not just the ones that make obvious sense. Think outside the box and you win! There's a financial bonus in September. Love inspires you to travel in November and December.

My two ballet dancers

Rosie and Dash, in costume, right before the 2010 dance recital. Video
to come!

Constructions

Dash made this for me out of Tinkertoys this morning. He explained to his Grandma and me, "it's the drill that the Romulans made in Star Trek to drill a hole in planet Vulcan before they dropped the red matter in and imploded it."

Yep, I'll go with that!

Future Secret Service Special Agent

When Dash grows up, he wants to be... "part of the Secret Service!"

Looks like jet packs with rocket launchers will be standard issue for
U.S. Secret Service Special Agents! (Or that's what Dash says he drew,
anyway.) Aim for the stars, Dash!

Dance Studio Photo Day!

(Sorry in advance for this long, long blog entry!)

Hey, I don't see any dance photos here! What gives?

Let me explain. If I had a split second, or perhaps a clone of myself with me who could wield a camera on Saturday, I would have taken a few photos. I didn't.

This was my day, June 5, 2010:

10 a.m. After breakfast and getting everyone dressed (Dash in dance clothes) & ready to head out the door, Rosie's calligraphy kit in hand, Dash's dance bag ready to go, we were off!

10:30: Arrived at Seichou Karate, where they teach Japanese calligraphy and Karate! There was a Karate class at the same time as calligraphy, did Dash want to try? Nope, he'll just watch. However, after the stretching and warm-ups were done and the Sensei was teaching punches, Dash announced, "I think I'll try now!" This is my only photo from the entire day. I swear, he had just been kicking like a champ!

11:30: We rushed off from Seichou, to get Dash to ballet by Noon.

Noon: My 1st trip of the day to the Dance Studio, to drop off Dash. Rosie and I headed home so she could get lunch, then I arranged her ballet bun with many pins and hairnet (thank goodness I had a bit of foresight!), then on with her leotard and back to the Studio for her class.

12:45 pm: 2nd trip to the Studio. Rosie's back-to-back ballet and tap classes started, then I got Dash home to eat his lunch. Now was the time I decided to try his dance costume on and see how it fits. I knew it was way too big, but did I alter it ahead of time? Nah, why not procrastinate instead! I measured and pinned his clothes, then set up the sewing machine. It fought with me, I adjusted settings, then had to leave the house again.

2:30: 3rd trip to the Studio to pick up Rosie. One other student hadn't been picked up on time and the photographers were setting up their equipment. Mrs. H was anxious that the parent wasn't coming in time. I offered to take Rosie's friend and get in touch with his mom via her cell, but was turned down. We headed to RiteAid to pick up some hair accessories, then took a side trip to pick up my costume from a classmate who had offered to do my alterations, then sped home. There, I got back to work on Dash's costume. It needed the pant legs taken up about 8 inches and the sleeves about 3 inches. I got the legs done, and Monkeyrotica came to warn me that "it's now 3:15, aren't Dash's photos at 3:45?" I finished the sleeves by hand-stitching with a loose baste, then threw the entire costume on the boy (white and baby-blue!) and arranged his hair with some hairspray. We left.

3:40: 4th trip to the Studio, for Dash's photos. It was a madhouse. The room was full to the brim with costumed ballet dancers, parents and siblings. Mrs. H popped her head out of the curtained studio to make announcements every few minutes. I put Dash's black socks on and slid his black ballet slippers over them. Somehow, I missed the call for his class but shoved him through the curtain just in time. I peeked in on him now and then, but parents are prohibited behind the curtain. At a few minutes past 4, I realized that Rosie's photo session is at 4:15 and Dash was nowhere near done!! I asked another parent to keep an eye on Dash until I'm back as I rushed home to gather Rosie's two costumes, all their accessories and get her dressed, all with no time to spare.

4:10: 5th trip to the Studio, with Rosie, her two costumes, and my dance bag. What? We needed her dance bag, with her ballet slippers inside! I phoned Monkeyrotica's cell, guided him around the house to try to locate her bag. He found it and agreed to drive it to the Studio. I went inside with Rosie, gave her a bit of lip gloss, tossed her tap costume in the dressing room, and asked her to stand with her classmates. I grabbed Dash, got his street shoes back on and took him outside with me. Monkey pulled up (the parking lot was also a madhouse), I grabbed Rosie's bag from him, and informed Monkey that he was taking Dash. I buckled Dash in, tossed his dance bag in the front seat and they were on their way. I pushed my way through the press of people to where Rosie was, jammed her slippers on, and shoved her through the curtain with her class. Whew! I found Rosie's friend Margaret in the dressing room, changing by herself, with a full ponytail, not a bun. "Margaret, sweetie, do you need help? Where's your mom?" I asked. "My dad dropped me off," She answered. I popped back in to the waiting room and Steve waved at me. "Would you like me to help with Margaret's ballet bun?" I asked. "Please!" he answered. Stepping back into the dressing room, I set eyes on Rosie's tap costume and realized that there were pieces missing. OMG-crap-crap-crap, I thought! Her tap photos were in 20 minutes. I ran out, apologizing to Steve.

4:35: 6th trip to Studio, with costume accessories in hand. I had completely forgotten that Rosie's tap costume had little wrist bands and a long ribbon that needed to be shoelaced through little slots all down the back. I started lacing like a madwoman. I finished just in time to get the costume on Rosie, then remembered that she didn't have standard tap shoes (needed to match in the photos). We borrowed a pair from Mrs. H's stash. 4:55. Kids' photos, done! Rosie and I went back home.

My class' photos were next, but at 6:45, so there was a little time to spare. However, it dawned on me that we were going out that evening and had hired a babysitter, my neighbor's kid. The house was a scandal. Dishes were everywhere on all the tables, stacks of them in the sink, food left out, soiled socks and clothes abandoned in the hallways and bathrooms (quick changes necessitated this), scraps of random debris all over the floors! I worked up a sweat unloading, loading, and running the dishwasher, bagging laundry, sweeping, stashing food away, etc. By the time it was all acceptably picked up (not cleaned, who has time for cleaning?), I had 3o minutes to fix my hair properly, do my makeup, remove all nail/toe polish, get costumed and head out the door. Oh, and with the kids in full costume. See, I had my heart set on having a portrait of the three of us together, all in our recital togs. Who knew if or when this might happen again? One or more of us might opt out of participating in coming years.

6:40: 7th trip to Dance Studio. My class had our group photo taken. I was irrationally angry at a teenager in my class for having chipped black polish on her nails and toes. There were strict guidelines sent out weeks ago about no jewelry or polish. I'm sure she had all the carefree-teenager-time in the world to remove it—unlike me—but I managed to anyway. Oi, listen to me, I'm being a freak. I beckoned the kids to join me and I realized that I didn't have Dash's bag with his ballet shoes in it. Remember where I put it? Monkey's car. Thankfully, Mrs. H had a spare pair that fit perfectly. We gathered with the photographers and they posed us. I was instructed to kneel on one knee (on hard-wood floors! ow-ow-ow!) while Dash sat on my bent leg and Rosie stood behind him.

We posed for three photos as a trio and I'm crossing my fingers that they turn out fabulous!! I'll post them when they are shipped, in 4 to 6 weeks, I'm guessing.

B, the sitter, arrived and we went out for the evening, off to wish our lovely friend Liz a wonderful birthday at a bar downtown. Wheee! I sure needed to celebrate after such a long day.

The highest highs and lowest lows of last Friday

Now that I'm distanced a bit from last Friday, I'm recording it here for posterity, in all its glory and infuriatingness.

First the good bits:
Monkeyrotica and I had a lovely evening out. Our sitter arrived on time and was received with a seamless transition—Rosie and Dash adore him (B., our babysitter is a 17-year-old boy who lives two doors over; he's geeky, brilliant, slightly awkward, and great with the kids. We [heart] B.) While Monkey waited for me to appear, the kids were already engaged and not concerned about their parents.

We had last-minute reservations for dinner at The Majestic. Our table wasn't ready when we arrived, so we found seats at the bar and ordered drinks. Somehow, the cocktails that we ordered were the most fantastically perfect mixes of their types — they were über-cocktails!! I had a Pimm's Cup (a cocktail I have blogged about before), a lovely and simple concoction of Pimm's No. 1 (a gin-based beverage), ginger ale, and a long cucumber strip over ice cubes. Its delicious, intoxicating, and refreshing flavors turned the corner on my evening and I started warming up to the idea of just enjoying a night out with my husband.

Monkey ordered The Majestic's Mint Julep. Oh my, that drink was excellent! Perfectly prepared, muddled, mixed with freshly crushed ice, and served in a pewter cup, THIS was a damn good drink. I liked my Pimm's, but his Julep was stunning. [A moment of reverence here, in the memory of all beautiful and long-consumed cocktails...]

We had fried green tomatoes and fried oysters for appetizers, Monkey ordered the calves' liver (very good even in my judgment, and I don't ordinarily appreciate organ meats), and I went out of my comfort zone, ordering a whole (yes, whole!) grilled orata (a whitefish). My fish was served over a salad of fennel, olives, orange wedges and toasted almonds. Our waitress must have thought we were high, unbalanced, or eccentric, because Monkey kept telling her our food was fu¢&ing awesome! And it was. It was a great, glowing, triumph of a dinner out with my man.

Now for the bad:
Leading up to this was three hours of crossed signals, missed connections, poor assumptions, obstacles, and calamity — all mine. I left my office around 4:30, with plans to meet friends at a happy hours later Friday evening. We typically meet for mid-week drinks around 8, because there are children and parenting issues involved, and it didn't occur to me that this meet-up would have a different schedule. I replied to a Google invite, but really didn't look at it. I was on the on-ramp for the Beltway 20 minutes later (! — it's only one mile!) when the 10-minute calendar alarm went off. The happy hour was for 5 PM! Crap! I called friends to let them know I'd be late, maybe arriving by 6. Then, I checked traffic on my Google maps app — the Beltway was RED (code for slow as heck) on much of my route and I was already on the highway. I quickly exited and circled back to where I started, in order to take a different route that showed green (code for moving at speed) on the map. Despite the green, it crawled. Stop-and-go, stop-and-go, never getting above 35MPH for the twenty-five miles to home. My 45-minute commute dragged into an hour, then an hour and a half, and kept ticking away.

By the time I got home to pick up Monkey, the sitter had been there for 20 minutes, I had to pee! and it was well past 6. The roads looked better, so I promised my friends that we'd arrive by 6:45, in time to catch them before they left to make their dinner reservations. With Monkey behind the wheel, in familiar territory, we sped into town. At 6:45, we were just a block from the bar! I rejoyced! We made it, the goal was in sight! But, calamity: our right turn lane, without any signs or warnings, turned into an on-ramp for the Southeast Freeway. WTF? Typical DC.

On the G.D. fracking freeway now, we merged into traffic and took the very next exit, to circle back. The off-ramp fed into streets surrounding the Marine Barracks, where there was some sort of ceremony in the works. Graduation? Whatever. Young Marines in full-dress uniform were marching here and there, crossing-guards were directing absolutely unmoving traffic, and we were stuck, STUCK.

After a short discussion on whether we'd attempt to meet our friends just to hug goodbye, or just turn around and do our own thing, we bailed. So, at exactly three hours after I left my office, I was sitting down at The Majestic, ordering my Pimm's Cup, determined to purge the stress and just enjoy an evening out. I sincerely hope my friends had just as wonderful (eventually) a time without us.

Arlington National Cemetery: Memorials

Rosie has a research project this month on "Historical Locations." There are so many in DC, she had her pick from a long list. After a short discussion on all the options, she changed her pick from the Lincoln Memorial to the much richer mine of the Arlington National Cemetery. Of course, now she needs to narrow down her options to which part of that vast area (624 acres!!) she'll do her project on. It's a mixed-media project, with a model-building part as well as a written part, and of course an oral presentation.

We took a family trip over to Arlington last Saturday with the ultimate goal of giving Rosie fodder for her project, but a smaller goal of visiting her great-grandfather's grave out in Section 17. We all got up early that morning, had a light breakfast and headed out. I didn't realize just how lightly Dash ate (he only had a 1/2 cup of milk and 3 apple wedges) until he started saying he was tired during our walk from the car to the visitors' center! We had another 3 miles of walking to do and used this opportunity to teach a lesson about the consequences of not finishing your meals.

On our walk, we passed the Tomb of the Unknowns, the Nurses Memorial, the USS Maine Memorial, the Space Shuttle Challenger and Columbia memorials (Rosie is pictured at the Columbia Shuttle Memorial, expressly because her teacher is related to the late Dr. Laurel Clark, one of Columbia's astronauts who perished in the 2003 disaster), and we ended our trek with a gambol through the grounds and gardens at the Custis-Lee Mansion/Arlington House. We didn't visit the burial site of Dash's namesake, Samuel Dashiell Hammett; maybe another time, as it was well off our path.

After all these experiences, I'm pretty sure she's planning to work on the Tomb of the Unknowns. We had the luck to arrive right at 9 a.m., when the changing of the guard was happening. I'll admit I knew next to nothing about the honor guard for the Unknowns, but we noticed the air of quiet reverence as we approached, so watched in kind. It was a mysterious bit of ceremony and I left somewhat confused as we moved on. When I next had a chance, I checked the good ol' Internet for details and am now astonished at the Honor Guard's rigors. Here are some facts that I was completely in the dark about (from TombGuard.org) :

• The tomb is guarded 24 hours a day, year-round and has been, every minute since 1937.
• Guard selectees must be between 5'11" and 6'4" in height and have a 30-inch waist.
• 80% of the soldier-applicants for this duty are not accepted.
• Guards must spend 8 hours of every day preparing their uniform, which is 100% wool.
• Once selected, Tomb Guards must serve at least 1 year at the Tomb
  
• At the Tomb, the Sentinel walks 21 steps, stops, faces the Tomb for 21 seconds, turns, changes his/her weapon to the outside shoulder, walks 21 steps back, faces the Tomb for 21 seconds, and repeats until his/her relief comes, every 30 minutes (or hr, or 2 hrs, depending).
  
• I read that Guards make a commitment to not drink alcohol ever again in their lifetime, but was very relieved for them when I learned that this was a myth.
• Only three Sentinels have ever been female.
• Only 578 Tomb Guard badges have ever been awarded.
  

Finally, the Sentinel's Creed:

The Sentinel's Creed

My dedication to this sacred duty
is total and whole-hearted.
In the responsibility bestowed on me
never will I falter.
And with dignity and perseverance
my standard will remain perfection.
Through the years of diligence and praise
and the discomfort of the elements,
I will walk my tour in humble reverence
to the best of my ability.
It is he who commands the respect I protect,
his bravery that made us so proud.
Surrounded by well meaning crowds by day,
alone in the thoughtful peace of night,
this soldier will in honored glory rest
under my eternal vigilance.

These Guards do most certainly deserve our respect as they protect and honor our country's Unknown Soldiers who died while in service.

Dash's School Portraits

My little guy! His pre-school graduation is next month.

I'm a track meet parent

Rosie had her very first mini-meet for her K-1 track club last night. She was thrilled about it and such a champ. Despite gray, rainy weather that seemed to drop as low as 55 degrees, she was upbeat, goofing with her friends and ran her little heart out. (sorry about the digit in her photo!) After the meet was over (it lasted at least an hour and a half), I told her, "Rosie, you ran so fast!" Her answer was definitive: "Uh-huh!"


Rosie competed in four events, the 100-meter dash, the long jump, the shot-put (using a softball), and 4 X 100-meter relay. We won't know her standings until later. It was a great first effort!

Since I'm not one to often attend outdoor sporting events, I'll pass on these tips.

• Bring a blanket. Even if you're not cold, your butt will need cushioning on the hard, metal bleachers.
• Bring snacks, or cash if there's a concession stand.
  
• Don't forget water for your little athlete! (I did.)
  
• There's a lot of waiting around. A lot. The coach is pretty good at wrangling the kids, but it gets dull for spectators.
• If you have a younger sibling with you, hope to Bob that there are friends of his there. A little girl named Katya saved us hours of Dash's whining.
• Don't forget a flask for yourself, with enough to share!
• Invite or make friends with other parents to stay entertained.
  

Thanks to Monkeyrotica and my parents for coming out to support Rosie and her team!

***UPDATE*** The school just posted photos from the track meet! Here's my girl (#5), powering up for the 100-yard dash.

I look freaking COOL!

So you do, little Dash, in your fabulous new suit.

Dash's faux-seersucker suit and tie were on sale at a consignment store for a ridiculously small amount. I snapped them up without him around and was amazed how perfectly they fit!

We went out with Grandma Ikiko for mothers day dinner at Kushi Izakaya in downtown DC and Monkeyrotica didn't want Dash wearing his usual "hobo" clothes. He and Rosie both behaved like little gentlefolk. Cuties!

Solo Parenting Week

Starting last Saturday at 4 a.m., I began my week-without-a-spouse. Monkey has never traveled for work before, ever. Seriously. This is fresh and new. Not to worry, I still have extended family helping out, which required lots of driving, at least Saturday.

The kids spent Friday night at their Auntie's so we wouldn't need to deal with getting them up at 4 am, too! Can you imagine how *fun* that would have been? After I dropped Monkeyrotica off at the airport and came back home (20 miles) early Saturday morning, I spent my first few hours completely alone at home well... watching tv. It was too early to be functional, but I couldn't get back to bed. Then at 8 am, I made an elective, autonomous move—sky's the limit!—to get the expired safety inspection sticker on my car renewed. Hoo girl! Livin large!

So, off I trekked to my sister's to pick up the kids (30 miles). They had tons of fun as usual, didn't want to leave, but we had dance classes to think of, so off we went back home (30 miles). Rosie started complaining that her hearing in one of her ears was muffled. I made the kids some lunch—pizza for Dash, chicken for Rosie—and took Dash to dance class. Upon returning home, I checked Rosie's ears, for what I don't really know as I'm no doctor, then collapsed in the bedroom for a bit. I heard Rosie struggling with her dance tights, the grunts turning into soft sobs, and gently suggested that she ask for help if she was having trouble. I fixed the tights (which still weren't right) and found the real problem was her ear was causing her lots of pain. She didn't want to miss dance class, which was a good sign (right?). We compromised by me insisting that Rosie take some Claritin. Dropped off Rosie, picked up Dash. I took a shower and picked up a call from the dance teacher, Mrs. H., that Rosie was weeping, holding her head, and wanted to go home. I started imagining that I might be spending my first stint solo-parenting with our first visit to the emergency room.

By the time I dried off, got dressed, wrangled Dash and drove to the dance studio, Rosie was back dancing, felt much better, and wanted to stay in class. Dash and I went to the cafe next door, where I ordered an iced coffee (so groggy) and he had a cookie while we waited for class to end. While we drove home I asked Rosie about her ear an annoying amount of times, all with her assuring me she was fine. We changed and got ready for a barbecue with Kelly, Mike, and several other friends in Silver Spring (30 miles and for those of you that are adding, we are at around 120, including all the incidental trips I made around the neighborhood). I had so much fun!! So did the kids. It was a wonderful break. (Total Saturday miles: 150.)

We all collapsed that night, and Sunday was uneventful, aside from my being my first attempt in I can't remember when to cook them breakfast from scratch, and not just reheat leftovers. I know I'm pretty spoiled by Monkey's cooking prowess and willingness to handle all things food-related. I got them off to school on Monday, and sent a quick email to Rosie's teacher to mention the ear. Sure enough, she was still complaining, so I took off work later in the afternoon, grabbed her out of school (asked my mom to pick up Dash), and went to the doctor's office. 45 minutes later, we had a diagnosis: ear infection.

So, the rest of my week went like crazy, getting lunches packed, washing clothes and dishes, getting clothes out for soccer, track, bathing kids, dressing kids and medicating Rosie. AND, it was Teacher Appreciation Week FFS. I publicly apologize here: I am sorry if Rosie and Dash's teachers don't feel as appreciated as they might have been by our family. I'll try to do better and make up for it soon.

Monkeyrotica arrived home late Thursday evening, after the kids were in bed. Thank you to my mom for all her help!

Rocking My Commute

I have a 23-mile commute (46mi round-trip) everyday, primarily along the Washington DC Beltway (I-495). If you picture the Beltway as a clock, I travel from the six-o'clock (Exit 1) to 9-o'clock (Exit 10) points and back. After I dropped off Dash at daycare today, I checked the Google Maps App on my iPhone (LOVE this app! It's the reason Monkeyrotica gifted me the iPhone in the first place) and saw the Interstate was colored red (very slow traffic) right around my exit. As I approached my exit, I could see that traffic was NOT moving at all, and the ramp to the non-local exits was full of cars. I took the local route.

Here's a screengrab of what 495 looked like this morning, with my route in pink. See the red-and-black segments across the bridge in Maryland? That means traffic is stopped, not moving, you're SOL. I never got on 495, as my ramp continues as a ramp for the next exit, Telegraph Road—I took it and followed Eisenhower Avenue, which is a frontage to the Beltway for about four miles.

The next exit to merge with the Beltway is Van Dorn, and Eisenhower Ave conveniently ends right there. I ramped onto 495 at a point where there's usually heavy volumes of merging cars and there was NOTHING—only about three or four cars, including me. The rest of my commute, which typically takes 30-45 minutes? I sped through in 15. All the cars that were normally clogging the roads were stuck in Maryland or Occoquan, VA.

Woot! It's rarely this easy to navigate a bad snag. Anyway, now I'm at work. Have a great Wednesday, everyone!

Philly, Day 4: Come Again Some Other Day...

On our last day in Philadelphia, the sun came out. I swear, with the rain clouds gone, the temperature jumped 40 degrees within hours. We took the kids straightaway to a playground that was already heavily populated with all the local kids, happy to playing in the bright, lovely air.

We picked up some deli sandwiches to have for a picnic lunch at Chickie's Deli. The grass was really, thoroughly wet on the circle in front of the Academy of Natural Sciences Museum, but that wasn't stopping me from eating al fresco (Monkeyrotica ate from a comfortable, dry bench, several meters away). What a beautiful day!

















Inside the museum, we experienced a looming Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton, Rosie admired the taxidermy polar bear, Dash sampled what life might be like as be an amateur archaeologist and tortoise wrangler, and we saw a butterfly habitat up close.





















Goodbye Philadelphia! You're not too far away, and we didn't really catch you at your best. We'll visit again soon.

Philly, Day 3: Damn, it's Cold!

I know, I'm really dragging these posts out with details on the only trip we've taken as a family unit EVER (all other overnight trips have been with extended family). Here we go with more photos and riveting commentary!!

So, for you, my friends, here's the obligatory shot of us with the Liberty Bell — done. See, there we are! Don't we look stiff and cold, with our hats, coats, and extra layers? We were so frigid that immediately after leaving the Bell's museum, we decided to scrap our tickets to Independence Hall (a mostly outdoor tour) and go straight to a children's clothing store to buy shivering Rosie some extra clothing and Dash a raincoat. I did pack a lot of extra clothes (Dash was wearing my 2nd scarf), but we just weren't prepared for it to be in the 30s, raining and blustery when it was practically April (it would be 70 degrees the next day). True to form, Lolli Lolli was selling bathing suits and Summery frocks, but I scrounged a few items out of the deep-discount, off-season sale rack.

From here, we had lunch at Lee How Fook's Tea House in Chinatown, where we were the only customers. Dash made friends with the waitress and ensured us some excellent service (he's such a charmer). After lunch, we went back to the hotel, had more baths and stayed warm until dinner.

We ventured out again for the HIGHLIGHT OF THE DAY, Jones Restaurant! We scuttled the four blocks to Jones, hobo-umbrella flapping inside-out and back, and settled in immediately. The atmosphere was comfortable and family friendly, the waitstaff was quirkily pierced and tattooed, the music piped in was eclectic 80s and 90s tunes (I recall hearing The Cure and Love and Rockets, among other familiar bands—I was their demographic), and the menu was pure comfort food. The kids split fried chicken (Dash) and waffles (Rosie). Even better, there was a full bar offering fabulous cocktails. Here are a few photos of us really enjoying ourselves at Jones. I don't think there's anywhere quite like it in DC. I suggested to our waitress that they open a franchise in our area, to which she responded that they did have plans to start a location in Atlantic City. If I do make it to AC, I'll check it out. Going to Jones is like visiting an old friend's house—an old friend that loves to cook and has a great bar.




It's time to get these kids in bed:

Next up, Day 4: Come Again Some Other Day