Guess who has returned from va-caay-caaay?! That's right, our favorite little friends, Hen and Kitty. A week in the Outer Banks at Finis Terre (Latin for "End of the Earth") leaves us sun-kissed and in a bit of a beachy daze. This was the perfect vacation, and the first with Liam and Alice, which made it especially wonderful.
There are many things that I enjoy about the beach. A general disregard for time is one of them. Keeping time at the beach matters very little. The clock doesn't limit our activities or dictate where we must be and when we must be there. There is not "9 o'clock" or "half-past three" at the beach. When you want to eat lunch, it's "lunch time", when you want to go to the beach, it's "beach time", when you want to nap, it's "nap time". You're saying, "Hey, time, I really don't care that it's only noon and that I ate breakfast, oh, two hours ago, I'm having a margarita." It's my favorite part of beach vacation (second only to the memories we create with our family...and the aforementioned loose rules regarding how late it must be for one to enjoy a cocktail).
As for our schedule-loving kids, they did quite well. Naps still happened (for Kitty, at least...Hen held out for most of the week) and food was ready before bellies could eek out the first grumbly growl. Hen was a huge fan of beach time and took to the ocean like...well...a fish to...you know.
I took a ton of instagram photos throughout the week and posted many to my facebook page, but I've put many of them into a slideshow (previously posted) and included photos that Megan and Brigid snapped. Hope you enjoy a little recap of our week of relaxation. If you haven't vacay-ed yet this year, maybe it will inspire you to do so!
Monday, July 25, 2011
Thursday, July 14, 2011
10 to 30
In ten minutes it will be July 15th. In ten minutes I will be thirty.
I've thought about this more than I would have expected. I'm not one to let something as silly as a number get in the way of the pleasure that comes with a day that is all about me (honestly, in my world, isn't every day about me?) ;)
I think I'm over-thinking "30" because everyone makes such a fracking big deal about it. What is really different about me or my life now that I'm a nice round number? How much of a leap will I take from 29 to 30? The other day I reflected on this with my sounding board and candy "dealer", Monty (not kidding about the dealer part...it's unhealthy...someone hear my cry for help please). Before I get into this, let me just add that everyone should have someone in their life named "Monty". It is so pleasing to say. If you don't know someone who happens to have a last name that lends itself to such a moniker, just pick a person you like and start calling them "Monty". I doubt they'll persist.
Anyways, I sat with Monty and worked through this idea of being a "person in their thirties". The majority of the time that I was a "person in their twenties" I was pretty terrified of life (or, I should have been). I was just finding some professional direction, I was blindly making my way through the gruesome world of the "single and ready to mingle" crowd, I was operating under the idea that it's "better to ask for forgiveness later than to seek permission now" without actually understanding what that meant.
In my twenties, weird things happened, and then some good things, and then a lot of dramatic things, and, ultimately, towards the end, the best things in my life. My marriage to Mike and my two cherubs, Hen and Kitty. In my twenties I experienced great happiness and triumph, as well as some great confusion and loss. I am not someone who likes to think about sad things. I don't dwell on pain and I will do anything to avoid discomfort. I'm a real big baby. With that said, I realize that I've learned more from those squishy, awkward, painful moments than I ever could have guessed. They've helped to shape me, and while it still hurts to think about them, I do feel oddly grateful for what they've brought me.
In my thirties, I have no doubt that there will still be plenty of discomfort. I know that I haven't figured things out, but I do have the confidence that comes with a few years of experience and a few stories to tell. Ten years ago I had a half-completed major in English, a super-cute new boyfriend (who would very shortly turn out to be majorly craptastic), an average relationship with my family...but I had reached my goal weight!!!
Now...I have a career that excites me, I have a husband that I am still majorly crushing on, two outstandingly cute, funny little kids and a relationship with my parents and siblings that is so important to me, I would do just about anything to protect it.
As for the goal weight...I have absolutely no idea. I threw out my scale years ago.
Hey, thirty-years-old, you're not lookin' so bad after all.
mb
I've thought about this more than I would have expected. I'm not one to let something as silly as a number get in the way of the pleasure that comes with a day that is all about me (honestly, in my world, isn't every day about me?) ;)
I think I'm over-thinking "30" because everyone makes such a fracking big deal about it. What is really different about me or my life now that I'm a nice round number? How much of a leap will I take from 29 to 30? The other day I reflected on this with my sounding board and candy "dealer", Monty (not kidding about the dealer part...it's unhealthy...someone hear my cry for help please). Before I get into this, let me just add that everyone should have someone in their life named "Monty". It is so pleasing to say. If you don't know someone who happens to have a last name that lends itself to such a moniker, just pick a person you like and start calling them "Monty". I doubt they'll persist.
Anyways, I sat with Monty and worked through this idea of being a "person in their thirties". The majority of the time that I was a "person in their twenties" I was pretty terrified of life (or, I should have been). I was just finding some professional direction, I was blindly making my way through the gruesome world of the "single and ready to mingle" crowd, I was operating under the idea that it's "better to ask for forgiveness later than to seek permission now" without actually understanding what that meant.
In my twenties, weird things happened, and then some good things, and then a lot of dramatic things, and, ultimately, towards the end, the best things in my life. My marriage to Mike and my two cherubs, Hen and Kitty. In my twenties I experienced great happiness and triumph, as well as some great confusion and loss. I am not someone who likes to think about sad things. I don't dwell on pain and I will do anything to avoid discomfort. I'm a real big baby. With that said, I realize that I've learned more from those squishy, awkward, painful moments than I ever could have guessed. They've helped to shape me, and while it still hurts to think about them, I do feel oddly grateful for what they've brought me.
In my thirties, I have no doubt that there will still be plenty of discomfort. I know that I haven't figured things out, but I do have the confidence that comes with a few years of experience and a few stories to tell. Ten years ago I had a half-completed major in English, a super-cute new boyfriend (who would very shortly turn out to be majorly craptastic), an average relationship with my family...but I had reached my goal weight!!!
Now...I have a career that excites me, I have a husband that I am still majorly crushing on, two outstandingly cute, funny little kids and a relationship with my parents and siblings that is so important to me, I would do just about anything to protect it.
As for the goal weight...I have absolutely no idea. I threw out my scale years ago.
Hey, thirty-years-old, you're not lookin' so bad after all.
 |
| Hey...guess which one is me. Pretty sure it's obvi. Refused to take the glasses off for the entirety of the party. Celeb status at 3 years old. Baller. |
mb
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Something in the way she moves
Posting has been on hold this week. Not that there hasn't been enough to write about (there's been plenty), it's just that a mid-summer cold has had me out for the count. Honestly, I think my body is rejecting the idea of turning 30. Fever, sore throat, stuffy nose, achy body...yep, it's got to be a rare but serious Peter Pan/anti-aging allergy.
I'll tell you who is very interested in "growing up"...our little kitten! This series of photos was taken by Mike (on his cell phone) the course of a half an hour. She makes her way across the room, giggling and drooling all the while.
Just can't hold this kid down. She's on the move.
I'll tell you who is very interested in "growing up"...our little kitten! This series of photos was taken by Mike (on his cell phone) the course of a half an hour. She makes her way across the room, giggling and drooling all the while.
Just can't hold this kid down. She's on the move.
Thursday, July 7, 2011
Ponyo Noodles
The new favorite "show" in our house is not actually a show at all, but a movie that we happened upon as we searched through our Netflix recommendations. That trusty list has brought us "It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia" and "Bones" and "Psych" and now, "Ponyo". An oddly named movie with a curious image and an all-star cast, "Ponyo" kept floating to the top of that list which has, to this point, only produced wonderful things (see list above). I have come to trust the Netflix recommended list blindly, it hasn't failed me yet.
So we start watching Ponyo one afternoon and instantly Hen is hooked. He's gotten to the age where he can follow a plot line well enough to stick with a movie for the full eighty minutes or so. I remember a year ago being asked "What is Henry's favorite movie?? Cars? Toy Story? Monsters Inc.?" At the time I was so surprised by the question that I had no answer at all--he could barely sit still for 10 minutes of Fireman Sam (different post altogether--terrifying kids program), how was he going to watch, relate to, and communicate interest in a movie?
At three years old, however, Hen is a true film aficionado. Opinionated and unapologetic, he will tell you immediately if he likes or dislikes something. Ponyo certainly falls into the "like" pile.
Ponyo is a refreshing shift from Pixar-mania--which, I love, don't get me wrong, but after a while you end up with John Ratzenberger's voice lodged in your brain. This film is also kind of trippy. Ponyo is a fish-girl (but not a mermaid) with a human father who protects the ocean and a mother who is the goddess of the sea (or maybe is the sea herself? that part is pretty vague). She breaks free from her strict father's sunken ship/bubble/home under the sea and makes her way to the surface. Souske (pronounced "So-skay") is a curious little boy who finds Ponyo when she washes up to shore and keeps her as his pet. Within the first two minutes of the main characters meeting, Ponyo licks blood from a cut on Souske's finger and the cut heals instantly. That's when you know that the business is about to get ca-raaazy. And it does. It gets super crazy. I won't say anything further, but do recommend checking this movie out. We are kind of in love with it, especially in love with its weirdness, also appreciating the relevance of its message in our world today.
Now, the thing about the three-year-old movie-goer is that the movie can never just happen on the screen. You have to experience it in real life as well. Mimicking the actions of the characters, or adopting their signature phrases and repeating them ad nauseum for the next two days, even requesting to eat or drink the same things that the characters do--for a three-year-old, watching a movie requires active participation. One of the cutest scenes in "Ponyo" is the scene that finds Ponyo and Souske eat ramen cooked by Souske's mother (note: at this point Ponyo has turned into a girl, and NO ONE seems to question it...from fish one moment to girl the next...nope, not weird, totally acceptable). Ponyo and Souske dine on noodles, ham, green onions, hard boiled eggs--this ramen is the real deal. Now, as I've probably mentioned before, one of our most favorite spots in Carlisle (or, in the whole world) is Issei Noodle. Ohhh Issei, you fill our bellies with Vermicelli Noodle Salad, Yaki Udon, Chaushu Ramen and you fill our hearts with love. Thanks to Issei, Hen has had his fair share of Miso Udon and when he asked for "Ponyo Noodles" last night, we knew he wouldn't just eat them, he would LOVE them. Instead of hitting up our fav noodle shop for the regular, we decided to make our version of the Ponyo recipe at home.
The noodles were delicious and the experience of eating exactly what Ponyo and Souske ate made the movie even more magical for Hen.
If you're in the mood for a good, light, slightly odd children's movie, you should really watch "Ponyo", and if you want to take it to the max, dine on some Ponyo ramen and sip hot tea and be just like the characters you see in the movie. Ahh. A three-year-old's heaven.
So we start watching Ponyo one afternoon and instantly Hen is hooked. He's gotten to the age where he can follow a plot line well enough to stick with a movie for the full eighty minutes or so. I remember a year ago being asked "What is Henry's favorite movie?? Cars? Toy Story? Monsters Inc.?" At the time I was so surprised by the question that I had no answer at all--he could barely sit still for 10 minutes of Fireman Sam (different post altogether--terrifying kids program), how was he going to watch, relate to, and communicate interest in a movie?
At three years old, however, Hen is a true film aficionado. Opinionated and unapologetic, he will tell you immediately if he likes or dislikes something. Ponyo certainly falls into the "like" pile.
Ponyo is a refreshing shift from Pixar-mania--which, I love, don't get me wrong, but after a while you end up with John Ratzenberger's voice lodged in your brain. This film is also kind of trippy. Ponyo is a fish-girl (but not a mermaid) with a human father who protects the ocean and a mother who is the goddess of the sea (or maybe is the sea herself? that part is pretty vague). She breaks free from her strict father's sunken ship/bubble/home under the sea and makes her way to the surface. Souske (pronounced "So-skay") is a curious little boy who finds Ponyo when she washes up to shore and keeps her as his pet. Within the first two minutes of the main characters meeting, Ponyo licks blood from a cut on Souske's finger and the cut heals instantly. That's when you know that the business is about to get ca-raaazy. And it does. It gets super crazy. I won't say anything further, but do recommend checking this movie out. We are kind of in love with it, especially in love with its weirdness, also appreciating the relevance of its message in our world today.
Now, the thing about the three-year-old movie-goer is that the movie can never just happen on the screen. You have to experience it in real life as well. Mimicking the actions of the characters, or adopting their signature phrases and repeating them ad nauseum for the next two days, even requesting to eat or drink the same things that the characters do--for a three-year-old, watching a movie requires active participation. One of the cutest scenes in "Ponyo" is the scene that finds Ponyo and Souske eat ramen cooked by Souske's mother (note: at this point Ponyo has turned into a girl, and NO ONE seems to question it...from fish one moment to girl the next...nope, not weird, totally acceptable). Ponyo and Souske dine on noodles, ham, green onions, hard boiled eggs--this ramen is the real deal. Now, as I've probably mentioned before, one of our most favorite spots in Carlisle (or, in the whole world) is Issei Noodle. Ohhh Issei, you fill our bellies with Vermicelli Noodle Salad, Yaki Udon, Chaushu Ramen and you fill our hearts with love. Thanks to Issei, Hen has had his fair share of Miso Udon and when he asked for "Ponyo Noodles" last night, we knew he wouldn't just eat them, he would LOVE them. Instead of hitting up our fav noodle shop for the regular, we decided to make our version of the Ponyo recipe at home.
 |
| Ramen, ham, zucchini, mushrooms, hard-boiled egg in broth |
 |
| Ponyo and Souske faah-reaking out over their ramen. What? Have they never seen food before? Oh, wait, that's right, Ponyo was a fish five minutes ago... |
 | ||
| Ramen for everyone! (except for Alice...who is in the background chewing on a bath towel) |
 |
| Ponyo ramen without the mushrooms (for me) |
If you're in the mood for a good, light, slightly odd children's movie, you should really watch "Ponyo", and if you want to take it to the max, dine on some Ponyo ramen and sip hot tea and be just like the characters you see in the movie. Ahh. A three-year-old's heaven.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Who Wore it Better? Wedding Edition
Seersucker suits with pink/peach hued ties and tan bucks? I'd say that when it comes to this confident summer look, it's a dead tie between Henry and his favorite "big boy" Robert. Hen said "I didn't feel like smiling, because I wasn't happy, but I was." when he saw this photo and his scowling mug. Other thoughts he has had today:
"I didn't like you dancing at the wedding because I wanted you to be my mommy and not to dance."
and
"I will take your iPad to school with me tomorrow so that I can do my plans on it."
and
"Daddy and I are doing work. We are doing the hedges outside. You can't do it because you aren't a big boy. Girls don't do hedges, they only drink soda." (this invited a lengthy conversation on how girls and boys are equals and if mommy wanted to trim the hedge outside, she could certainly do just that.)
Oh the things that come out of a three-year-old's mouth. Precious.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
Overtiredness, I loathe thee
What a weekend. Filled with wedding wonderfulness, family pride and only a touch of drama. We are all exhausted and looking forward to hitting the hay early tonight. I'll post wedding photos as I get them, but will keep it short and say that Mary and Brian's wedding was absolutely, hands-down, one of the best weddings I have even been to, and with such a huge family, I've been to quite a few. Mary and Brian were perfect, the ceremony was personal and touching, the reception was beyond fun. All in all, the best way to celebrate my baby sister and new brother-in-law. Hen & Kitty did very well and, again with the super big family and wealth of friends had plenty of eyes watching them and arms to hold them. They were surrounded by love and attention, which is something that fills Mike and I with joy (and appreciation, given that we were both a part of the wedding party).
The day after "the big day" is also quite important. It is the time to power down. Post-wedding exhaustion sets in differently for everyone. Some get cranky and snappy, others become giddy and punchy, many just disconnect and retreat to the couch. In the last sixty minutes, Henry has circled through all of these versions of overtiredness at least once.
First he was pleasant and low-key, playing "cut the rope" with me as we laid on the couch. Quickly, however, he moved on to giddy and punchy, as he forced me into a game of hide-and-go-seek by aggressively throwing blankets and pillows on top of me. As I ducked and took cover, politely explaining that I couldn't play "at this moment" but would in a bit, he ventured into cranky and snappy. Cranky and snappy is absolutely the worst phase of all. Hen had a freak-out, hitting-fest melt-down, I was on the receiving end. Dramatic screams, sweaty red face, flailing arms/fists/legs/feet, I had to be on my a-game to make sure that I didn't get a blow to the stomach as I quickly wrestled him into time-out.
This is absolutely NOT the ideal when it comes to discipline. I know this. There should be conversation, there should be plenty of warning before the time out, there should be multiple attempts to de-escalate, in short, there should be calmness and thought put into discipline. In overtired mode, however, there is none of this. There is only frustration, disorientation and the near-impossible task of suppressing the scream that is building up inside of you. In that moment, the most important thing to remember is also the most difficult: You are the adult, so act like it.
Thirty minutes later, after a time-out/meltdown/time-out/meltdown/time-out/meltdown series, Henry finally calmed down and listened. He stopped hitting/kicking us and through conversation, we came to a place of understanding. That is not an easy place to occupy with a three-year-old boy. To acknowledge that peaceful, rare moment, I allowed Hen to do something that he has been asking to do for quite some time, something that I have never had the patience or confidence in him to allow.
He did my eye makeup.
He obviously really took advantage of this moment and didn't limit himself to my eyes, but included my forehead, cheeks and chin. I've always felt that eye makeup is underutilized--too fun to be limited to ONE part of your face--and I have such a great appreciation for that fashion-forward avant-garde look, so of course I loved the end result.
Luckily, there are not too many of those exaggerated, emotional discipline "battles", but when they do occur, Mike and I do manage to remember one parenting "must do". We always take time, after the lesson has been learned, to connect in a positive, nurturing way with our independent little boy. To reassure him of the fact that while we may feel unhappy with some of the choices he makes, we could not possibly love anything more than we love him, his sister, each other--our little family.
The day after "the big day" is also quite important. It is the time to power down. Post-wedding exhaustion sets in differently for everyone. Some get cranky and snappy, others become giddy and punchy, many just disconnect and retreat to the couch. In the last sixty minutes, Henry has circled through all of these versions of overtiredness at least once.
First he was pleasant and low-key, playing "cut the rope" with me as we laid on the couch. Quickly, however, he moved on to giddy and punchy, as he forced me into a game of hide-and-go-seek by aggressively throwing blankets and pillows on top of me. As I ducked and took cover, politely explaining that I couldn't play "at this moment" but would in a bit, he ventured into cranky and snappy. Cranky and snappy is absolutely the worst phase of all. Hen had a freak-out, hitting-fest melt-down, I was on the receiving end. Dramatic screams, sweaty red face, flailing arms/fists/legs/feet, I had to be on my a-game to make sure that I didn't get a blow to the stomach as I quickly wrestled him into time-out.
This is absolutely NOT the ideal when it comes to discipline. I know this. There should be conversation, there should be plenty of warning before the time out, there should be multiple attempts to de-escalate, in short, there should be calmness and thought put into discipline. In overtired mode, however, there is none of this. There is only frustration, disorientation and the near-impossible task of suppressing the scream that is building up inside of you. In that moment, the most important thing to remember is also the most difficult: You are the adult, so act like it.
Thirty minutes later, after a time-out/meltdown/time-out/meltdown/time-out/meltdown series, Henry finally calmed down and listened. He stopped hitting/kicking us and through conversation, we came to a place of understanding. That is not an easy place to occupy with a three-year-old boy. To acknowledge that peaceful, rare moment, I allowed Hen to do something that he has been asking to do for quite some time, something that I have never had the patience or confidence in him to allow.
He did my eye makeup.
 |
| Giddy/punchy |
 |
| 2 seconds later: disconnect & retreat |
Luckily, there are not too many of those exaggerated, emotional discipline "battles", but when they do occur, Mike and I do manage to remember one parenting "must do". We always take time, after the lesson has been learned, to connect in a positive, nurturing way with our independent little boy. To reassure him of the fact that while we may feel unhappy with some of the choices he makes, we could not possibly love anything more than we love him, his sister, each other--our little family.
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