Another "I love where we live" post

We have had a couple of really fun Richmond outings recently.

Last weekend, the entire family attended a parade in celebration of the 134^th birthday of Bon Air (a neighborhood very close to where we live).

While Will and I assumed there would be a marching band or two (for Frances) and maybe some fire trucks (for George), we had no idea how many of each there would be, that there would also be motorcycles, horses and a slew of dogs in the parade, and that nearly every parade participant was throwing out candy to the spectators.  Needless to say, we had two very happy children on our hands.

Frances and her marching band

George and his firetrucks

And just when she thought the best part was over...

Dogs and horses and motorcycles (oh my!)

George, still in shock

The Rotary car, in honor of my mother

Our loot!

Once the parade passed us by, we were able to follow it down the street to a local church where Boy Scouts were selling BBQ and had a spontaneous family picnic.

"Are you going to eat that?"

This is Frances's best attempt at a smile in exchange for her special treat.  (And as an aside, I am currently gathering the pictures where I look most tired - this one is a front-runner.  Ugh.)

Just when we were about to call it a day, we saw a sign pointing us to “Children’s Games” behind the church.  When we turned the corner, we saw this…

A moon bounce – Frances’s heaven on earth.  She bounced, and bounced, and bounced and then bounced some more while Will, George and I happily watched.

And there may be some of you thinking (because I know I would be) that while these pictures may look like we had a good time, it must have been hot, buggy, and humid; the kids must have been tired, hungry, grumpy, fighting and only happy in the pictures I happen to post; and it must have been a fun but exhausting day.  But in all honesty, the day really was about as perfect as you can get.  The weather was a sunny but cool 65 degrees and the kiddos had a fantastic time (okay, yes the “fun but exhausting day” part is completely accurate).  While I may jest about Frances and George’s fiery personalities, they are behaving wonderfully these days (I fully realize I have likely forever jinxed that).  They are at the perfect ages right now for having these morning outings—everything still feels very new to them, but they are also both mobile, eating normal food (no more bottles or baby food) and genuinely love being with each other and their parents.

For our second recent outing…

Frances and I ventured this past weekend to the Virginia Museum of Fine Arts, which I had promised to do with her several weeks ago.  She was the perfect little date for this excursion, which lasted (as I had anticipated) less than an hour (not including lunch of course).  And while I failed to take any pictures of the incredible masterpieces the VMFA has in its collection, I took numerous pictures of Frances’s favorite part—the fountains outside of the museum.

She was trying to show off her dress for Nana (that really is what she said, Mother!)

We topped off the day with a hotdog (bun-less) and ice cream (her actual favorite part of the excursion with the fountains being a distant second).

Not a bad way to spend two weekend mornings!  And if you've made it through this entire post, you deserve an outing, too.

And so it begins

Yesterday, I found George reading in the book nook without his shirt, shoes and socks on.

I suppose I should be grateful that his diaper and shorts were still on – they are bound to be next.

Success!

This past Friday, Frances, George and I returned from another visit with my parents in Lynchburg – and it was wonderful!  Not perfect, not stress-free, not easy, but wonderful nonetheless.  The three of us ended up camping out two days longer than planned to help my mother out with the doggies while she escaped to Texas to visit some friends (should I be worried that she left the ‘burg in the middle of my visit?), but Frank was there in the mornings and at night and Frances, George and I had plenty to do.  And of course, there was ample Nana time before she left…

My parents’ house is very easy to visit and although it is beautifully decorated (think Southern Living meets Real Simple meets Pottery Barn) it’s surprisingly child-friendly and Frances and George blend right in.

My mother's beautiful screened-in porch

Typical George look

Snack on the porch

Popcorn in the family room

Whenever I am in town, I try to visit my step-cousin Mary who has two adorable boys Ryan (5) and Spencer (3).  Our schedules don’t always match up, but the timing worked well this time around and we were able to meet up at her house (i.e. the incredible toy house) for a rainy afternoon play date.  Frances is still talking about the moon bounce in Mary’s basement and George is still obsessed with the balloons they were generously given on the way out of the door (did I tell you this house is heaven on earth for children?).

While Mary and I are cousins (by marriage—Frank and Mary’s father are brothers), we have been great friends since high school when we both attended the Virginia School of the Arts.  I have so many lasting friendships from my high school years at that school and I treasure my time with Mary, although it is always fleeting.  Mary is one of those effortless beauties (Frances calls her “Snow White”), but she is also so kind, easy to be around and generous with her house and her time.

The four cousins in various stages of happiness/sadness

Is it no wonder that Frances and George love visiting?!

Frances, George and I made our way through the Lynchburg attractions (playgrounds, children’s museum, grocery store, Wal-Mart on day 5 – we were getting a bit desperate) during our five-day visit and we ran into several of my childhood friends and their children (all very close to F&G’s ages).  It was such a comfort to see these friendly faces and made me realize how nice it would be to have some better friends in my neighborhood.  I am hopeful that meeting other mothers in my similar situation (young children, compatible interests, maybe some even some former professionals turned full-time mothers) will come easily, but so far I haven’t had any luck.  I have many long-distance friends from my various walks of life (high school, dance, college, law school) that I visit as often as I can; but I am feeling lonely for some local friends and need to figure out how to meet these women without feeling like I am the new kid on her first day of school looking for someone to sit with me at lunch.

Until then, Frances, George and I will continue to figure out our own little routine, which is certain to include more trips to Lynchburg (for my upcoming 10^th college reunion – how did that happen?!) and other unknown outings that I am eager to uncover.

Happy weekend everyone!

Short and Sweet

For my first non-picture blog post (and believe me, you will thank me once you read further), I wanted to share a quick thought that I have had several times a day for the last 8 months or so…

I think that changing a boy’s diaper should be deemed an Olympic sport.

This is apparently old news to people who have (at least) two children of different genders and had their boys first.  They are pleasantly surprised at how much their daughters love to have their diapers changed – they giggle, coo, smile, sing and just generally make the activity an enjoyable experience (or as enjoyable as a diaper change could be).  Clearly I did not fully appreciate this time with Frances and naïvely assumed that all babies acted this way on the changing table.  And then came The Boy.

George can turn the seemingly minor event of a diaper change into the decathlon of baby activities.  Every.  Single.  Time.  First, there is the catching him phase.  This portion can last anywhere from a few seconds to several minutes and can increase in difficulty depending on whether we are upstairs or downstairs when said phase begins (if we are downstairs, this phase actually morphs into two separate phases—catching him downstairs to funnel him upstairs and then catching him again upstairs once we have reached the top of the stairs that he insists on climbing himself).  

Once the catching phase is complete, there is the carrying him to the changing table phase.  As my poor arms (primarily shoulders) suggest, this phase is often accompanied by a round or two of biting, kicking, hair-pulling and scratching, particularly if George is hungry, tired or in the middle of playing with his big sister; in other words, nearly every time.  

Immediately subsequent to a successful carrying phase to the changing table comes the hardest phase of all – changing the diaper.  And I have discovered the hard way that the difficulty of this phase directly correlates with how messy George’s diaper is (aren’t you glad there are no pictures now?).  

First comes removing the dirty diaper as quickly but as neatly as possible while George stretches to see the activities going on in the hallway or the trucks/cars/buses driving outside of his window.  Then there is the necessary cleaning, diaper cream application and putting on the clean diaper while George arches his back, lifts up his legs, tries (and often succeeds) to roll over to his belly, or just generally makes it nearly impossible to finish the task at hand.  I am lucky in that George loves to read and will sometimes be pacified by the well-placed board book; but this only works if he isn’t already fired up from phases 1 through 3 to focus on anything other than endlessly squirming.

Somehow the diaper gets on every time I need it to, but it is rare that we don’t both walk away with large, white smudges of Desitin on various parts of our clothing and a chip on each of our (sore) shoulders.  And all kidding aside, I really do feel like I’ve earned a medal (or at least a glass of wine) after changing some of the more difficult diapers.

And this post doesn’t even include the much harder subset of this event – changing a diaper in public.  Forget the Olympic medal; after that event any mother deserves a Nobel Peace Prize.

So much for the promised short blog post.  I suppose using the word “decathlon” at some point during your writing is a sure-fire way to increase any word count.  I am also at my parent’s house for the remainder of this week, so I will likely not have another post until this weekend or early next week.  I know you will all be dying of suspense!  Kidding, of course; but while I love being with my parents in Lynchburg I have missed my daily writings so I will be happy to be back to my routine with lots of stories to share.

Happy Tuesday!

A thank you note to my mother

I feel very fortunate to be traveling to see my mother on Mother’s Day.  I suppose I should feel a little bad about descending upon her with two energetic toddlers for the next 3+ days while Will gets some much needed time at the office, but I’ll get over that very quickly when I see images similar to those below:

Mother and I are extremely close and she has been a huge part of my life since I was born (obviously), but even more so these last few years since venturing out on my own.

When I was small, Mother (yes, I call her “Mother” not “Mom.”  It is a tradition in our family on both sides that I plan to carry on.  To this day, the thought of calling her “Mom” makes me giggle.  She is simply Mother to me) exuded love, nurturing, confidence and discipline.  Mother always seemed to know the right things to say, do and think and never held back in teaching her four children these life lessons.  In other words, Mother was one of those “strict” mothers.  I am not sure I can thank her enough for expecting so much from us, but also letting us find our own way (sometimes the hard way).

To this day, I cannot believe that she let me move to Nashville, Tennessee at the age of 17 to start my dance career.  At the time, of course, I could not appreciate how hard it must have been to watch her baby leave the nest, move nine hours away, rent an apartment alone, and (most shockingly) not be going to college.  I am almost certain that I could not have the strength to let Frances do the same thing and I thank her enough for her faith in my abilities as a dancer.

Mother was the first person (except Will and me) to hold my precious children after they were born.  When Frances was born, she had been “Nana” for over 17 years, but she has never skipped a beat and 10 grandchildren later still makes each one feel important, loved and unique.  Frances and George call Nana daily on their play kitchen phone; they want to be near her, play with her, hold her and just know that she is there.  To them, Lynchburg (where Mother lives) is a magical place that is well worth the 2 ½ hour drive so long as Nana is waiting for them when they arrive.

While Mother and I have become much closer friends as I have gotten older, I still rely on her advice, opinion, judgment and guidance through major life decisions (baby #3?  New house?  Career on pause?) and the much more mundane questions (do you like this outfit?  How does this picture look here?  Do I need a new hair-do?).  She has spent countless hours on the phone with me weighing pros and cons, dispensing her own wisdom and experiences, or just letting me vent, cry, stew or deliberate—somehow she knows exactly what route to take when we start our conversation.

September 1999

May 2004 (law school graduation)

Sometimes my mind wanders to a time when I won’t have my (nearly) daily contact with my mother and the sadness hits my chest like a ton of bricks.  Mother not only gave me life and created such happiness in my childhood, she immeasurably enriches my adult life and, even more amazing, my children’s lives.

What words cannot express in this post I hope to be able to convey in my hugs and kisses when I see her again soon.  I love you, Mother!  Happy Mother’s Day!

On Mother and Frank's wedding day, April 22, 1984

On my wedding day, August 14, 2004

The fountains

A short ten minute drive from our house is a beautiful outdoor mall, Stony Point Fashion Park.  It has incredible stores, most of which I have never visited because they are well out of our budget:

But a girl can still dream, right?  (Especially dreaming of that Tiffany & Co blue box coming my way Mother’s Day, birthday, Christmas morning…)

The mall also allows (even encourages) people to bring their dogs by putting water bowls throughout and “dog friendly” signs on the fronts of stores where the four-legged friends are permitted (i.e. not Tiffany and Saks 5^th Avenue).

But the best part of this mall is the outdoor fountains.

Now that the weather is turning warmer, the fountains are a great place for Frances and George to cool off and to run off some excess energy.  Frances loves the fountains.  The jury is still out for George, but he’s getting braver by the day.

 

The fountains sit right next to Sur La Table, one of my favorite window-shopping stores (and it’s a good thing because I rarely can ever get inside the store to do much more than window shop).

As you can see by these pictures, George spends the majority of his time watching (and chasing) his big sister.  Frances doesn't seem to mind the attention at all.  How strange.

Maybe one of these days I will be able to repay all of these malls who let us come and use their free play areas with actually shopping; but for now, Frances, George and I are content to mooch-away.

I suppose we provide some pretty adorable free entertainment for the shoppers passing by.