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In Memoriam . . .

Dearly beloveds, we are gathered here today in memoriam of yon Valentine’s Day plant. We must bear the shock that death brings—especially poignant when in the rose of bloom.

In life, it gave of itself for the pleasure of others. Never seeking for self. And though its leaves have yellowed in shrivel haste, our memory lives on that we might have roses in March. And in April. And in May. And all the way to December, whereupon we can finally forget.

And though the tragedy strikes harsh, we find comfort in knowing it has moved beyond this cold, cruel world to the pastures of a better place. A kinder place. A place where black thumbs exist no more.

And thus, “I hold it true, whate’er befall; Despite outrageous valentine cost; ‘Tis better to have loved and lost/Than never to have loved at all.” -Alfred Lord Tennyson (with a slight adjustment by J.S. Johnson).

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Mount Vernon, part 2

As promised, more of Mount Vernon.

This is our proof we were there. Do we look cold? We were. This is at the end of the outdoor trail. We were ready to be done. But, despite the cold, we all had a good time.

But we all had our favorite parts:

At the very beginning, the boys were given a map of Mount Vernon. On the back of the map were nine puzzles to solve at the various locations. They promised a prize at the end if they were able to solve them all. London was very into it. He loved his map and was determined to get the prize. It turned out to be a smushed penny with a picture of Mount Vernon. Lucky boys!

In the museum, they had a children’s center with a large dollhouse that had all kinds of intricate furniture. Brandt was enthralled. Redecorating, sending the dolls through the doors . . . that’s all he wanted to do.

However, I did convince him to pause to play dress up. It wasn’t easy, but isn’t he super cute in his colonial ensemble?

3) Become an apprentice under a town doctor for 7 to 8 years, and then you can be a doctor on your own.

Okay, my favorites were the view from the back porch of Mount Vernon, and Washington’s tomb. However, I found this hilarious. It’s like political correctness back in the day. It’s not an outhouse. It’s a “Necessary.” How true it is.

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A Bun in the Oven . . . Literally

So I open the oven a couple of weeks ago and a bunch of smoke pours out. Fire alarm goes off. Something smells burned, but it wasn’t the dish I was cooking.

“That’s odd,” I tell Rick. “Something must have spilled in the oven. Guess we’d better clean it.”

But of course, I forgot.

Next time I’m baking, same thing. Burned smell. A little less smoke. Fire alarm. “Hmmf, we’d better clean it.”

So fast forward to today. I’m about to bake some rolls for dinner and amazingly, I remember about the burn smell before turning on the oven.

I pull out the wire racks, and guess what I find pushed way to the back?

Yeah, it would be the black one. I just set the other one there so you could see what it was before it was sacrificed.

Point of the story? Finish your French baguettes in one sitting . . . because they are yum! (Assuming, you know, you don’t burn it.)

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Mount Vernon, part 1

Okay, last picture for today. Since this is a living history sight, they have period actors and actresses. Martha was answering questions in the greenhouse theater. She was really great.The most interesting tid-bit I learned from her is when she pulled a little corset out of her sewing basket. She said she saw babies of 6-months in herring-bone corsets. Can you imagine!? Thankfully things have changed.

So after we’d been listening for a few minutes, London looked at me with an uneasy expression. Why is Martha Washington still alive? So I explained how she was just pretending to be Martha. He gave me another weird look. Why is she pretending to be someone else? He was seriously weirded out. I tried to explain the whole living history concept, but it was lost on my 6-year-old. Oh well. It was still fun.

So next time, I’ll share more pictures of us and what we liked best. Sorry if this felt like a history lesson, but I found it all fascinating!

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To Honk or Not to Honk?

So, we were driving at night. HUGE drifts of snow cover full traffic lanes. They blindside you at every corner. They fill half of every parking lot. But the snow is not the problem.

Blinker on to enter the Kohl’s parking lot. Roll slow over the sheets of ice that cover the road.

But no.

Two people (no cars in sight!) are standing in the middle of the entrance. Apparently oblivious of the car (for which the entrance was intended; and which could cause them some serious bodily damage).

We stop. We wait. They don’t move.

In the end, Rick flips off the blinker and heads to a different entrance.

Discussion ensues.

Me: You have a horn you know.

Rick: I don’t like the horn. I think the horn is rude.

Me: It depends on how you do it. If you lay on the horn, of course it’s rude! But if you tap, tap, tap, it’s merely a way to say, “Excuse me. May I get by?”

Rick: Well I think it’s rude.

Me: You, who drives ten inches from the next car thinks the horn is rude?

Rick: I drive in DC, so sue me.

Me: If you had any money, maybe I would. [Okay, so I didn’ really say that.]

What I really said was: Hmmm, this would make a good subject for a blog. Let’s let the masses decide.

So we ask you to end our perfectly civil “discussion” for us. Is it rude to honk the horn?

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Khyah Doll

Khyah discovered Brandt’s doll, and it was love at first sight. Aren’t they cute?

A little love bite.

A little hand-holding.

And a little schlurbit.

I guess this means it’s time to get Khyah her own doll. Twist my arm. 🙂

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Snowed Under

We got 32 inches of snow from Friday to Saturday. They say there have only been 2 other storms in the last 60 years that compare to the amount of snowfall we got in such a short time. I went to the store on Thursday, and it was a madhouse! No parking. Crazy long lines. They went about halfway down the shopping aisles. And the same thing Friday morning. School was cancelled Friday and will be cancelled again tomorrow (Monday).

This is our parking lot. They were very good about plowing and snowblowing the walks.

Rick began the process of digging out our cars on Saturday. He worked all evening and got about halfway done. He finished today and is now groaning about his sore arms and back. We heard the sirens and watched an ambulance head down our street . . . apparently a man had a heart attack from too much shoveling. (!!!)

Khyah and I made a quick visit outdoors to take some pictures of London and Daddy. Rick insisted on taking some pictures of us. My face clearly says: “Why are you taking my picture, honey?” And Khyah’s clearly says she LOVES snow and being outdoors.

London hard at work shoveling. He was outside almost as long as daddy. 32 inches is a school boy’s dream, right?

You can see he has his work cut out for him.

The boys all decked out ready to go play. Note London’s snow pants. They’re about 3 sizes too small, but he didn’t care. He was just happy to have pants that slide on the snow . . . that and the “rare color,” as he called it.

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Chocolate and a Little Valentine’s Help

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Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs

Growing up, I loved the book “Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs.” Whenever we had the dreaded broccoli casserole, I would imagine it raining hamburgers or something yummy. (Either that, or pretend I was sick!)

Anyone who has read the book, knows the new movie that just came out has very little to do with it (other than, you know, food raining down). Usually I hate that, but in this case, I was prepared. Silly gags, fun with food, a little bit of love . . . we enjoyed it. That might have a lot to do with the fact that we watched it with our 6- and 3-year-old . . . nevertheless, fun for all.

So I asked my family what they would invent if they could. Here is what I got:

3-year-old: A Banana! One that I like! (He does not eat fresh fruit. Vegetables, yes. Fruit, no.)

When I pressed him on it, he changed his mind: A cookie! With chocolate on top, sprinkles on the bottom, chocolate on the sides, and chocolate in the middle. (Can you guess he likes chocolate?)

6-year-old: An underground base that would beam all my friends into it. (I can imagine that would be a pretty crowded place since he’s our little social butterfly.)

My husband: An interface that would let me download information directly into my brain. (Do you think he might be a wee-bit stressed about his upcoming boards this summer? Maybe a little.)

As for me: I would invent the internet. I mean Al Gore did, why can’t I?

Okay, seriously, I would invent an All-Purpose Item Detector. With this device, you could program in specific items (keys, wallet, lego pieces, blankies, binkies, etc.), and then when they are lost, you could select that pre-identified item, and the machine would do its stuff.

I honestly don’t lose my keys very often (really), but the boys’ toys? Talk about a life-saver.

“Mom, where’s my green jedi?” “Mom, where’s my Voltron guy . . . not the red one!” “Mom, where’s the teeny, tiny lego piece missing from my ship?”

I mean, surely every item has some specific identifier that makes it unique, right? It can’t be all that hard. Get with my program, inventor people! I’ll even let you have my idea. 🙂

So what would you invent?

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Who Needs Sleep?

So our darling angel-by-day transforms into a shrieking stinker by night. (Sounds a lot like Shrek to me.) With both London and Brandt, I could sleep through the cries, no problem. But Khyah’s little wail just strikes me in the depth of my bosom and I jerk out of sleep like a Mexican jumping bean (and those things are real, in case anyone wondered).

I have been Little Miss Grumpy Pants all week, and soon, I feel certain my brain will enter shut-down mode to preserve what little battery I have left. And then where will I be?

So, in desperation, I am going to let her cry it out. Multiple sources tell me I need to let her cry it out. I need to put my foot down about midnight snacks. She can sleep 8 hours in a stretch and all this should only take 3 days.

We never did this with the boys because London would throw-up which I couldn’t deal with (that and his daddy’s a big softy), and Brandt was always a pretty good sleeper—he doesn’t take naps . . . but at least he sleeps at night.

So, all you experts out there . . . what did you do to get your baby to sleep through the night? Any suggestions? Coping strategies? Name of the store you bought earplugs? Because I’m having visions of white coats and white walls while I shriek to anyone who’ll listen: “SLEEP?! I DON’T NEED NO STINKIN’ SLEEP! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA! HA!” (You’ll have to make the laugh sound as maniacal as you can in your own imagination.)

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