Mirror, Mirror

Original post written some hot July day, 2012

There are occasions when I hear myself in the Salad. I’m not always proud of what I hear. Sometimes it’s a harsh tone, sometimes it’s an unkind word. But twice today I heard myself in my Salad and I liked what I heard.

S began to play with a slightly older girl at the Air & Space Museum hands-on area. She introduced herself and asked the girl for her name. When the girl ignored her, S continued to ask until she got an answer. The girl said “Kate” and S’s immediate response was “It’s nice to meet you, Kate!”

It got hot on our walk back to the apartment, so I thought the Salad might enjoy and iced tea lemonade from Starbucks. As they slurped down their treat, S said, “Well this was a lovely surprise. Thanks, Mommy!”

“It sure was!” M shouted with enthusiastic approval.

We took them out to the Ball Game

Original post written on August 2, 2012

We had a very low key day. It was our first such day since arriving in DC. We spent the morning coloring, reading, and playing in the apartment. We ran a few close errands, drycleaners, CVS, farmer’s Market. We had a just-for-fun bath. We didn’t even go to the pool. I was trying to keep them calm and rested because I knew we’d be up late this evening. R had bought tickets to the Nationals/Phillies game. So when he got home, we headed straight for the metro.

The universe seemed determined to spoil our night.  It was 96 degrees at 6:00.  A was jumping up and down and gave herself a cut on her forehead.  The stadium ran out of hot dogs.  There was a thunderstorm brewing.  There was a metro card dilemma.  The Salad lasted 5 innings before R and I decided to cut our losses.  We headed over to a fountain we had seen earlier in the month that S had been asking to revisit.  It's clean, right on the waterfront and open for public wading.  Since it was close to 9:00, almost dusk and stormy, we were the only people crazy enough to be there. 

There was much eye rolling and growling through gritted teeth between R and I.  But you know, some nights are like that.  All in all, the night ended well.  And provided some cute pictures.  And isn't that what a blog post is all about, anyway?   

On hippies and hummingbirds

Original post written on August 1, 2012

The Salad and I drove to the National Arboretum on Wednesday. It was unlike any other arboretum than we are used to. You had to drive to each different area. Thank God I realized it before we’d gotten too far on foot, or it would have been disastrous. After feeding some GIANT koi, we headed straight for the Youth Garden, walked through the Butterfly Garden and caught sight of some beauties. The Salad was thrilled with all of the vegetables they found growing. The lack of upkeep and yet still abundant growth inspired me to double the size of our garden next year. If weeding isn’t necessary (and apparently staking isn’t either) I’d be much more inclined to commit.

We were on our way to our car when a group of hippies that apparently had squatted in the Youth Garden and were living off of the land cooking homemade pesto and tomato salad, asked if we had found the hidden play area behind the garden. We hadn’t, so we headed back into the woods and stumbled upon an area full of cut tree trunks, log balance beams, digging areas, musical instruments and a stage. We performed and played and dug and did gymnastic for another 75 minutes. Thanks, hippies!*

Most thrilling for all of us were the pair of hummingbirds we spotted. They were so tiny, I thought at first they were very large bees. And I got scared. And tried to hide my fear from the Salad. But I had already thrown myself into the fetal position on the garden floor. And then I picked myself and saw they were just birds. Parts of that story are true. I leave it to you to decide which parts.

Here, S hides behind her big sister, while M hairy eyeballs me cowering behind a shrub as if to say, "What the hell?!  They are just hummingbirds!"

*In retrospect, I think the hippies may have actually worked at the Arboretum. I’m only 45% sure about that though.

Flying High

Original post written on July 31, 2012

I’ve been trying to get to the Georgetown Waterfront for their Tuesday morning kid’s concerts, but it has been ungodly hot or thunderstormy. This Tuesday, the weather promised low 90s and cloudy. Perfect. We packed lunches and a picnic blanket and headed to the waterfront. There were 17 women with children, 15 of those were very obviously nannies. It was a strange audience, and an even stranger children’s performer. She sang a few Laurie Berkner songs, typical. But, the majority of her set was Grateful Dead songs. At least I think they were, most of the music was drown out by the many military helicopters, planes taking off from the nearby airport and air boat fire rescue drill that happened in the middle of her performance. She didn’t seem to notice. I spoke to her briefly afterwards and I’m pretty sure she didn’t notice because she was high. You gotta make it through the day anyway you can, I guess?

*

We had an early swim and dinner that evening. R had found a Marine Corp Silent Drill Platoon and Marching Band performance, so we headed to Arlington National Cemetery to take the free shuttle to the Iwo Jima Memorial where we’d watch the performance. The shuttle was M’s favorite part of the night. His least favorite part was a very unexpected 21 gun salute. He was leaning against my leg at the time and I could feel his little heart practically beating out of his chest. The performance was inspiring, but once again confirmed my suspicions that anything longer than 45 minutes is no bueno for us at this age. It made me feel a bit better watching the other families with small children fend off the same whines “I’m thirsty! How much longer now? Do you have any snacks? Can I go climb that statue? I have to go to the bathroom.”

* - OK, OK.  You're right.  That is actually Janis Joplin.  But it's a pretty accurate picture of what the performance was like.

He knows how to use it

Original post written July 30, 2012

We had our third and final class at the National Gallery of Art today. I’m not going to go on and on about how wonderful and free these amazing classes have been, that would be redundant of me. I love that they are learning something, as evidenced by S shouting at “Little Einsteins” artist of the day, “Claude Monet?! We know that guy! He got old, went blind and painted his blurry gardens in France!”

But the thing I want to remember about this week concerns M. Just before class today, he asked me if he could wear the headband that I had in my hair.

Me: “To class, buddy?”

M:  “Yep. Can I have it?”

So I gave him the headband and he pulled it on over his mohawk all 80s “Footloose” like.

He sat through the entire lesson on Degas and rocked that headband.

This kid has style.

Testing my Knowledge

Original post written on July 28, 2012

R and I took the Salad to Arlington National Cemetery on Saturday. I pulled the Salad aside at the entrance to read them the sign stating, “Please conduct yourself with dignity and respect. These are hallowed grounds.”

“What is dignity?”
“What does hallowed mean?”

Thus began their questions.  We just thought the kids would think the Changing of the Guard was cool to watch – guns and soldiers and all. They were reasonably interested. But the questions, oh the questions!

“What is a soldier?”
“What is an unknown soldier?”
“What is a war?”
“What is a tomb?”
“Is that a real person in the tomb?”
“Will the guns be loud?”
“Are all these peoples dead?”
“What does solemn mean?”

I had a question too.

What on earth was I thinking?

Pride

Original post written on July 27, 2012

I took the Salad to see a planetarium show at the Air & Space Museum this morning. I had low expectations, seeing as our last planetarium show was an epic failure. This show was geared towards children; Big Bird and Elmo were the stars. Judging from the “Wows!” and “Ohhhhhs!” I’d say they loved it. S was so proud that they made it through the “dark movie” that she made me call Grammy to share the news.

We headed down to the Astronauts section, where a little demonstration about flight suits was going on. As soon as we walked in, the woman asked for a volunteer. Each one of my babes shot their hands straight into the air. She picked M. He marched bravely onto that stage and sat on the stool. The woman told him he was going to put on a space suit. The first part of the suit was called a mag. The mag looks like an adult diaper. M saw it, looked like he was going to cry, shook his head no and told the lady he didn’t want to be the volunteer anymore. She told him he’d been brave, asked everyone to clap for him and asked for another volunteer. A and S shot their hands back into the air. This time, she called on A. A walked onto the stage, kicked her sneakers off and pulled that diaper right over her skirt.

It's strange to feel proud of your 5 year old daughter wearing an adult diaper in front of a roomful of strangers, but I did.