The Older One

Finally it's the 30th. The days between the 21st and 30th of November tend to be filled with recognition by daddy that he and mommy, if only for those brief 9 days, are the same age. But thank the shining stars that the 30th is finally here and mommy is once again the young one. Not that I'm obsessed with age at all, it's just that I like being the younger one. Makes me feel, younger.

Back to the point, it's the older one's birthday today. Ash spent the morning serenading daddy with Happy Birthday, asking when we're going to go get the fishies for the toilet (Daddy's present this year was a Fish N Flush which turns the tank of your toilet into half-tank / half-fish tank. It's installed but the fish haven't been added yet.) and me reminding him that we would be going to get the fishies after school. Then we dropped the tot off at school a titch earlier than usual so that we could enjoy a birthday breakfast out. Hey, one must take full advantage of any and all methods of babysitting to facilitate lovers moments out.

So. Happy birthday to the one who will always (aside from those 9 pesky days in Nov) be one year older. You don't look a day over a year more than me.

Sunday Styles

It's the last Sunday in November and we spent most of the day raking leaves, riding bikes, playing on the swing set, and rolling down hills. All without a coat on. Ash had his bike helmet on which kind of counts as a hat, but aside from that it must've looked like a typical family fun day circa end of September/beginning of October but certainly not nearly December. I suppose we were pretty much robbed of a summer this year (the only sunny weekends we got were the ones when we traveled elsewhere) so we do kind of deserve a longer than usual fall, but I'll admit that my eyes did look on a bit longingly while passing the holiday aisles at Lowes today wondering if we're ever going to be able to break the sleds out. And then I quickly ate my words and dashed back outside, without a coat on, and hurried my way home to play outside some more.

'Tis The Season, Minus The Butter

Two weeks ago Grandma was in town, and she spent at least one of the days baking cookies with Ash. Then last week Gamma and Papa were in town, and they spent at least one of the days baking cookies with Ash. These days were sandwiched around a massive Thanksgiving feast and officially kicked off the holiday season and "OMG did I really gain a dress size overnight?" kind of realizations.
We plan on sharing a good portion of grandparent-love-in-the-form-of-cookies with Ash's preschool class (if there are any left by the time Monday rolls around that is...) and just today tossed out every bit of leftovers that we knew were prepared with at least a stick of butter (you'd be surprised how many that accounted for). We're quite intent on making sure this holiday season wraps with a new kind of realization of the "OMG I lost 2 swimsuit sizes" kind.

See, we're abandoning the cold of the North for the warmth of the South for Christmas this year. The WAY South. The Costa Rica kind of South. And for those not yet aware: It's a lot freaking easier to cover up a few extra pounds behind an XL wool sweater than even the most tummy-tucking bikini on the beach. And don't get me wrong, it's not like we're going to completely avoid any and all holiday savories and treats. We're just going to try and avoid the recipes that require multiple trips to the Stop and Shop to restock the butter in the fridge. 'Tis the season, minus the butter.

Christmas Tree 2009

OK I promise some actual words here eventually, but default yet again to a photo for the day's post. We've been putting up our Christmas tree the day after Thanksgiving since our first Thanksgiving in NY 8 years ago, and this year was no different. We cut down a concolor again this year - if you break the needles in half it smells like citrus and just makes the whole house smell yummy. Tomorrow = words. Promise.

Happy Thanksgiving!

Wordless Wednesday

We Should've Waited

This was the expression on Ash's face when I revealed to him that in a mere 48 hours he's going to be front and center with 75 foot tall Clifford the Big Red Dog and Buzz Lightyear. We took him to the Macy's parade last year and he loved it then, but at that point he hadn't learned about any of the characters yet so to him they were all just a bunch of really cool really big balloons. Not this year, this year they're his favorite story book characters, cartoon superstars, and music he dances to daily! Honestly, when I started telling him about the parade and everything we are going to see I had a slight moment of "OMG his head is going to start spinning 360 and pop off" and quickly regretted telling him with a whole 48 hours of advance notice. I should've waited until we were on the subway, on our way, Thursday morning. Now I have a super-stoked 2 1/2 year old bouncing off the walls singing "me see Clifford me see Buzz me see Clifford me see Buzz!" repeat repeat repeat, jump jump jump, repeat repeat repeat. We definitely should've waited. Lesson learned.

When Your Tattoo Artist Moves To Texas

You go to Texas for your tattoos. Which is exactly what happened last weekend to mark an (if you ask me) unremarkable date. Grandma flew from MN to NY to care for the tot so that mom and dad could fly from NY to TX to get inked. Mom was turning 29 with 12 months experience and dad thought it appropriate to mark the occasion by officially inking the design we'd been skipping about for months via a weekend trip to Austin, TX. Where, the most talented tattoo artist on the planet (who abandoned us by moving from NY to TX last year...) had blocked off an entire Saturday afternoon. For us. So grandma flew, we high-fived and tagged off in passing, and then we flew.

To anyone un-inked this may seem a bit frivolous, but to the inked in the crowd it makes complete sense. After all, once you've had someone use your body as a permanent canvas, well, you're kind of leery about having anyone else step in. So there ya go. That's the whole story, A-Z, about why mom and dad had to fly to the live music capital of the world and not listen to any live music at all because we spent the whole damn weekend in transit just because the only person on Earth who could ink the way we wanted lives there. In Texas.

GO LONGHORNS.

And guess what. The tot and the grandma, and the mom and the dad, and the inker and the inked, well, we all made it to Monday. In a "my back is just a wee bit sexier than it was on Friday" kind of way. Not at all in a "30" kind of way, but in a completely kickin 29 + gaining experience every day kind of love.

Go Mom.

Style details:
Mom: Ash leaves (from the Ash tree) circling Wondemu in Amharic script
Dad: Wondemu in Amharic script through the star shown on Ethiopian flags and passports
Womdemu = Ash's given name at birth.

Sunday Styles

Details to come, but this definitely counts as fixerup #6...

Fixerup #5

And this one is a sure-fire winner. Breakfast in bed. But not just any 'ol breakfast in bed, the kind that takes place in a separate time zone than the one you usually wake up in. This is sure to guarantee an extra shine in your aura and kick in your step. Of course you may need to fly in grandma for the weekend to care for the tot and accommodate the whole mommy and daddy being in a different time zone thing, but we never said this whole fixerup project was going to be simple did we? Oh, and this step is also in complete compliance with fixerup #4, the maintenance step, seeing as I now have two entire mornings of my own private hotel bathroom (well I have to share with daddy, but whatever) to apply all of those extra tubes of guk purchased earlier in the week. But that can wait until after they deliver our warm homemade cinnamon rolls and extra large pot of coffee to the room...

So About That #4...

For those still interested, I am now the proud owner of both mascara and lipstick. Well ok, maybe not lipstick but tinted lip gloss (hey, at least it's not chapstick), and maybe I haven't broken the seals on either of them yet, but there might just be a Friday (ok let's be real, Saturday) night unveiling of painted mommy. Maybe. Hey, I shaved my legs and had my toes done and allowed the chainsaw to have it's way with my hair so I may as well jump completely overboard and paint the remaining pieces. Operation fixerup #4 = maintain enough sanity to survive continuation of #1-3.

And in the meantime have a whole lotta fun...I'd break into a raucous tune of "I feel pretty" but I'm not quite there yet.

Yet.

Nearby Enough

Some readers of this blog may occasionally wonder to themselves, "jeez, for a family who doesn't have any family nearby they're sure nearby family pretty often." And I would happily respond, "yup". It's amazing how watching airfare like a hawk can result in semi-affordable quick trips here and there, and how just being willing to pick up and go makes it completely possible to raise a child in NY who knows just as much about his MN grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins as anyone else in their class who's family lives right next door. And then there's the magic of having family within driving distance. Sure there's an hour and a half between us, but that's a heck of a lot shorter than the distance between us and any other member of our family. And when the end result is hanging out with family on a random Saturday and watching Ash revel in the love that is Jess, well, that hour and a half pretty much disappears.

So that's the deal. We're lucky enough to have some family just nearby enough to be able to hang out on random weekends. And we're lucky enough that airplanes exist to connect the rest of our family, who, thanks to those airplanes are also just nearby enough. Nearby enough that Ash's grandma is taking over Ash duty in NY this weekend, and nearby enough that Ash will be spending a NY Thanksgiving with gamma and papa and aunt and uncle and cousin Jess. Nearby enough that more auntie fun will be had over New Years. Nearby enough.

Of course we still share those "holy crap if I just had a grandma to drop him off with for a moment" kind of moments, which we share with every other family out here it seems. But they're just moments, and life is working, and conveniently enough when family is just not quite so nearby enough we have friends who are. And life is working. But just to make myself clear, anyone out there with multiple sets of grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and extended family who even dare so much as to squeak about not having adequate moments to yourself, well, to you I share my most prized electronic muzzle.

Nearby enough? 'Nough said.

Fixerup #3

Between moisturizer and paint and getting my toes did and my hair done I'm a bit lost... Do I really need to do all this stuff to be "fixed up" every day? Operation fixerup may go well but operation keep-her-fixed-up is going to be the challenge. I'm sure there's a matrix out there somewhere that can help a mama devote adequate time to fixerup activities, but if not I definitely know of a matrix that helps a mama savor vino style activities. So in either case I stand to benefit. Though right now I'm leaning towards the vino...

A Hit And A Miss And A Slam Dunk

So maybe I didn't make it to the store to purchase lipstick or mascara (that's right, I have neither in my cabinets, not even 10 year old versions stored away for a rainy day). But here's what I did do which in my humble little opinion takes me right through operation fixerup #3, 4, and 5:

I sat in a salon while someone transformed my feet from workin'girl blisters to sparkly painted DEAR LORD I WANT A NEW PAIR OF SHOES TO SHOW THESE PUPPIES OFF kind of tosies and then went on to schnazzle my hair into something slightly more acceptable than the scraggles my locks have resembled as of late. That's right - I got my hair done and my toes did. Take that operation fixerup.

But tomorrow, tomorrow I WILL find paint. And maybe even the eye AND lip kind. After all, now that my moisturized self is all let me sport those peep toes even though its 45 degrees outside I may as well build on the momentum. Hell, I may even smile for the camera in a way that doesn't shout dear Lord please make this end.

Maybe.

Mike and Ash swung by the salon while the transformation was in process, and Ash couldn't take his eyes off of mommy's hair falling to the floor. Perhaps this was also step #1 in the process of readying Ash for his first haircut, set to happen sometime in 2010, but somehow I doubt it...

Wordless Wednesday & Fixerup #2

Fixerup #2: I'm happy to report that this morning I moisturized, and today I plan to purchase either mascara or lipstick. I haven't decided which yet, but one will find it's way onto my face before sunset. Moisturized and painted? Watch out Heidi. On to Wordless Wednesday...

Fixerup #1

Warning, serious vanity is about to follow. I've decided that instead of growling at every daddy who walks by for being "put together" I'm going to attempt putting myself, the mommy, together. Dads have it so easy, pre-child they shower, shave (maybe, and when they don't it's considered "sexy rustic"), grab any pair of pants and any 'ol shirt and they're done. And guess what, post-child they still shower, shave, and dress. I wont attempt to speak for all mommy's out there since apparently there are some who manage to be put together both pre and post child without missing a beat but I, for one, have failed miserably at being one of those women. It's now taking a national act of NaBloPoMo (whoo hoo, something to write about!) to get my act together. To "fixerup".

I'm not going to go crazy over this and do something silly like attempt to integrate more than one additional activity into my routine each day. One a day is just fine with me, and two weeks from now when NaBloPoMo is finally over I'll have made 14 ginormous strides towards looking and feeling like Heidi Klum. Ha. And for those of you who read the posts that are about to follow today and think "she actually needs to commit thought and set reminders to succeed at the most basic steps of morning routine?" To you I say, yes.

Fixerup #1: Moisturizer
I'm starting easy. Thanks to my bonus mom I now have one of those jars of moisturizer that someone put lots of thought into whipping together. The trick is to actually open said jar and use the contents daily. The sad funny thing about this is that I have zippy problem finding time to thoroughly rubdown my son twice a day with coconut oil and absolutely adore his soft buttery skin, so it's not like I don't get the benefits of moisturizer. I do. It's just that I also really suck at listening to myself so extending any sort of daily health/beautification activities from my son to my self is going to take a super special act, hopefully NaBloPoMo can handle it. I'm off to moisturize.

Half Way There

I made it through the first half of NaBloPoMo so it's all downhill from here, right? Thought so.

This past weekend held the kind of schedule I wish could be repeated every single weekend, the kind that leaves you wondering how on Earth it could ever be beat.

The 3 of us went to a Saturday night photo show opening in Woodstock where Ash devoured the grapes and cheese plate while we caught up with friends and saw great art. He fell asleep on the ride home, so we picked up some sushi for a late dinner and SNL after tucking him in for the night. And then Sunday happened.


Sunday:
8:30 Ash wakes up
9:30 Bacon & egg breakfast in bed
10:00 NYT & Dora the Explorer (in bed)
12:00 Finally get ready for the day, spend most of it running around down on Main St popping in and out of the little village shops
7:00 Mommy manages to fumble together an amazing chicken curry meal where Ash once again unleashes his devouring skills
8:00 Train time
9:00 Night night

One pretty kickin' way to spend a weekend if you ask me.

Sunday Styles

Frequent Flyer Miles

It's no secret that our family journey is one that prioritizes (among other things of course) food and travel. Many of the furniture, art, and appliance items in our home came from used, swapped, or refurbished histories and we don't really collect anything that requires high cash output (unless you count Ash's current matchbox car fetish, but at $0.99 a pop that hardly counts). We enjoy maintaining the necessities, but reserve discretionary income for our "let's screw the necessities and have dinner at Nobu then fly to MN for the weekend to see family and book a Spring trip to Thailand" kind of moments.

And with that naturally comes frequent flyer miles, which of course translate into more travel, which obviously creates a thirst for the next trip, and so on and so forth and yet again. Long story short, Ash has more frequent flyer miles stored up at the ripe age of 2 1/2 then I had by the time I reached my University years. He knows that the flight attendants are the men and women on the plane he should smile at and charm the most - often done by boarding the plane and promptly high fiving the greeter. He knows he has a choice between pretzels or ginger cookies, and he no longer complains when we have to turn off daddy's iphone (and corresponding kids apps) in time for landing. He waves and yells "Bye bye Minnesota!" or wherever we happened to have travelled, and walks the airport concourses (blue Diego rolling carry-on in tow) with a certain style that warms my heart, as if to say "hello airport, good to see you again!"

Today we taught him the word "arrivederci". Unfortunately our check book (due to aforementioned food/travel habits) is in a bit of it's own state of "arrivederci" so I have a feeling the fling to Italy may have to wait. Not to say it's been put on hold or anything crazy like that, just not needing to be booked this very instant. How uncharacteristically non-impulsive of me...

Behave

I just may have been a child who was asked to bite her tongue a time or two, maybe even persuasively requested to behave when the hopes of me doing so voluntarily weren't exactly stellar. But never, ever ever ever, were my thoughts or my individualism or my desires to search and learn nailed into a wooden chest and sealed forever. Rather the opposite was true. I don't remember a time when I wasn't encouraged to search. Or a day when I was told no "just because". There were rules and I got those rules and from everything I can gather, they led me to be a somewhat not freakishly unadjusted individual. Maybe even a good parent.

So as we search to find the "right" parenting strategies for ourselves, of course we look back on our own upbringings. And let's be real folks, they were D to the I to the F to the...well, they were just different. And neither involved anything anywhere close to the rhyming symbolics of hip hop lyrics. But the one commonality, without doubt, is the one that woke us up each morning knowing it was OK to question and consider and reflect and then act. Not just listen and follow, but actually be a real person. And I'm very certain that this single life strategy may just be the single bit of useful parental advice that we'll pass on to our child. Question, prepare, think. BE real people.

Obviously a post like this doesn't come from nowhere. Obviously we encountered folks who (in our humble opinion) might just not be questioning or preparing or thinking. And maybe just then we found our own little version of requesting ourselves to bite our own tongues because, well, sometimes you just have to behave.