Winner Winner Chicken Dinner!!!! And the chicken goes to...

First off, let me take a beat again to thank the Mercer family for providing the prize for this week's giveaway.  What a blessing.  Secondly, I want to thank everyone who donated.

I went into this giveaway thinking we would raise $500 or so.  Secretly hoping for about $900 (approximately the cost of one child's one way plane ticket home).  But God had other plans.

I was worried that no one would donate and it would be awash in just folks sharing.  Nope.  I think maybe three people shared who didn't also donate?  And most people donated above the minimum donation of $10.  And it wasn't all just my close buddies donating.  Old friends came out of the woodwork.

At one point, Sloan saw me writing a name on a big stack of tickets.
He said, "Who is that?"
"Oh, just a guy I made out with in high school after Young Life..."  
"Just how many people that you've kissed donated?"
"In this contest?  (Pause) Two."

Husbands love that kind of generosity. Whatever. That was awesome.

Strangers also donated.  I used to make fun of Sloan for his obsession with the Jay Mohr Sports show  (like he gets on air and talks and has his tweets read on air so much that he is in some type of club and we've won gift cards).  No more.  Some of his fellow "Twitter Hat Trick Club" members donated. And donated big time.

All in all there were 493 entries.  We raised $1787.50. Which is basically 10 days of our hotel stay.  Or both kids plane tickets.

So who won?  Without further ado, I give you the video whose working title is "Maybe not get on video in your pajamas..."

So in case you're too lazy or the threat of seeing me half asleep is just too much for you to bear...

THE WINNER IS ELIZABETH STEVENS!!!!

I could not be happier for my college roomie and sorority sister, ET.  (Yes, we were ET and EJ.  People loved us.)  Lest you feel bad for not winning, know these free chicken dinners are going to a family who serves our country.  ET's husband is a Marine pilot.  And when I want to pout because my husband travels, I remember ET and I shut my mouth.  In my memory, they've lived in San Diego, Texas, back to San Diego, and are now in Virginia and her husband has done several tours overseas.  And never have I heard her complain.  Mainly I just see her loving her three young kids, serving in her church, and kicking butt at CrossFit.  But it just makes me so happy to give it to a family that serves our country.  Because not only do our service men and women deserve our gratitude, so do the wives, husbands, and kids who share them with us.  Who pray and wait for them to return home.  I wish I had nuggets to give to them all.

So Elizabeth Stevens, you're our winner!  Congrats!  I'll get these in the mail to you this week.  xoxo

Zeta Is Forever

One of the gifts of fundraising for our adoption (aside from God using folks to help us raise the necessary money to fetch our kids) has been the unexpected love and generosity we have felt from friends and loved ones.  Most particularly, right now I want to thank my sorority sisters.  Women with whom I shared my college years are stepping into the gap for us.  And not just the ones I keep in contact with on a regular basis.  Yes, the handful of girls whom I see and chat with have helped.  Of course.  But so have women I haven't seen in 15 years.  Women I wasn't even really all that close to to begin with.

I'll say it.  I was pretty popular in my sorority.  I had friends in lots of circles because, well, (and Sloan rolls his eyes whenever I say this) I am a Ferris Bueller type.  I get along well with churchy types, artsy types, preppies, hipsters, debutantes, immigrants, athletes, nerds, and lushes.  Mainly because I'm a little bit of all of them.  I'm fairly certain I was one of the few sorority girls to work in Student Television.  I mean, I was a debutante who wore sneakers under my ball gown.  I can blend pretty much anywhere.  I tend to be genuine and turns out, most people find that they can let their hair down with me because my hair is always unkempt.  (Ok, so maybe I'm not humble...)  But sometimes these hodge podge affiliations can leave me feeling like maybe I'm just on the outskirts of everything, never really "in" with anyone. 

But my Zeta sisters are proving me wrong.  You guys are donating money, items for the auction, prayers and kind words.  And I am undone.  You are proving all of those haters who say the Greek system is a waste of time and a distraction wrong.  Yes, maybe we did party too much and all wear the same black pants and carry the same Kate Spade purse.  But we care.  You are showing me that we are sisters after all.  That Zeta really is forever.  And for that I am ever thankful. 

Our creed still holds true:

To realize that within our grasp, in Zeta Tau Alpha, lies the opportunity
to learn those things which will ever enrich and ennoble our lives; to be true
to ourselves, and to those within and without our circle; to think in terms
of all mankind and our service to the world; to be steadfast, strong, and clean
of heart and mind, remembering that since the thought is father to the deed,
only that which we would have manifested in our experience should be entertained
in thought; to find satisfaction in being, rather than seeming, thus strengthening
in us the higher qualities of the spirit; to prepare for service and learn the
nobility of serving, thereby earning the right to be served; to seek understanding
that we might gain true wisdom; to look for the good in everyone; to see
beauty, with its enriching influence; to be humble in success, and without bitterness
in defeat; to have the welfare and harmony of the Fraternity at heart, striving
ever to make our lives a symphony of high ideals, devotion to the right, the good,
and the true, without a discordant note; remembering always that the
foundation precept of Zeta Tau Alpha was love, "the greatest of all things".

Change of the Tide

While on our honeymoon in Bermuda, Sloan bought me a silver and gold necklace.  It looks a bit like a horseshoe.  It is hands down my favorite piece of jewelry and if Gracie hadn't ripped it off my neck and broke last fall, I'd be wearing it now.  (Note to self:  remember that it is in your coin purse and take it to the jewelers to get fixed.  Stat.)

I love it because it hits my chest just between my collar bones.  I picked it because I loved its shape and simplicity. And today, as I reflect on the past 72 hours, it means even more.    Because inscribed on the back of it is the following quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson, "The lowest ebb is the change of the tide."

The dust is settling.  Slowly.  I spent today researching countries and agencies we qualify for.  We have an approved homestudy that can be adapted for other programs.  And I'd like to say that if we follow the path that I believe God is setting before us, we will be switching agencies but it is NOT because we've been displeased with our current agency.  They were as shocked as we were by Chin@'s decision.  Their hearts are broken too.  I spoke with our local case worker today and we grieved together.  And she is eager to see what God has for us.

Moreover, God did something unexpected.  At the beginning of the month, we filed our i800a immigration paperwork for China.  The fee attached to this was just shy of 1k.  I was fully expecting to hear that we would just have to eat that.  The kids were settled and I called USCIS.  The gentleman on the line was less than helpful.  Apparently, I would need to write a letter to repeal our application and then write another letter requesting a refund which he had never heard of anyone being granted.  As he was about to give me the specifics of what I needed to do, Gracie had a full on meltdown.  Like beating her brother with a giant light saber because she needed a refill of milk in her sippy cup and then just a few extra minutes of screaming at the top of her lungs.  I told the gentleman, "I'm sorry, I have to go.  My two year old is driving me insane."  Click.  I hung up and then snapped at Gracie, "NO MILK FOR YOU.  I'm done."  And then I proceeded to leave my house and collapse in tears on our front porch.

After I finished my little pity party, I came in and put on the TV for the kids then headed upstairs to call USCIS back.  This time I got a woman.  When I told her our situation, she took a deep breath and said, "Oh, I am so so sorry."  I told her how we might switch to another convention country or perhaps a more likely scenario was a non-Hague country which would require another immigration form entirely. 

Enter screaming Gracie.  The woman on the line lamented that a mom on the phone was always a magnet to misbehaving children.  I found a lollipop, threw into the hallway and promptly shut the door after Grace.  (Yes, I know.  You are marveling in my awesome parenting skills.) 

When I came back to the line, the woman told me she had just found our file.  It had not even been processed.  She had spoken with her supervisor and it was fine with him if she just kept it on her desk until we made a decision as to what to do.  She could hold the file until Tuesday of next week.  And if we needed to switch countries, all they would need is an ammended homestudy (which our case worker is prepared to do for us).  THERE WOULD BE NO FEE TO CHANGE.  EVEN TO CHANGE IMMIGRATION FORMS!

Y'all.  This is huge.  For once, I'm thankful for Grace's temper.  So we have the weekend to decide.  Yes, that's a short turn around.  But we've had to narrow our countries based upon eligibility requirements, numbers of waiting children that meet our parameters, and length of required travel time  and number of trips and we are pretty much left with one country. 

And wouldn't ya know I'd receive in the mail today a shower invite to celebrate the upcoming adoption of a little girl from this very same country?!?  So if my buddy Sarah's daughter could keep an eye out for Charlie, that'd be great.  And if she could save a snuggle for him too, that would just be peachy keen.

Old friends are the best friends

This past weekend was girls weekend for me and eight of my sorority sisters from college.  We all lived in the house our senior year and became life long friends.  Approximately once a year since we graduated we have gotten together--for weddings, baby showers, opportunities to see the Sex and the City movies, but this was the first time we ever had a "destination" girls weekend.  Which means, basically, this is the first time that husbands and kids have been left behind completely. 

Now let me say that those of us who are married with kids love our families.  And our husbands all get along famously and have mancrushes on one another.  And our kids get along.  It's just when we all get together with our husbands and our kids, it is loud.  And not so welcoming to the girls who don't have husbands and instant birth control for those without kids.  9 kids under the age of 5 is really freakin' loud.  Particularly when they are mainly girls.  And, as I've noted before, little girls when they get together click clack around in plastic princess high heels and shriek. 
So when C suggested a destination weekend, we all jumped at the chance.  I offered up my parents' 2 beach condos in Litchfield, SC and all but two of the group signed on for the weekend.  At first, I was a little sad to be leaving my crew.  I'm not one of those women who jumps at the chance to get away with the girls.  Sloan is my best friend.  I like him better than anyone else on the planet by a long shot.  (No offense, friends.)

But....there's just something different about a weekend with the girls with no husbands and no kids.  Skinny girl margaritas can flow in the afternoon.  You can watch the royal wedding in its entirety.  You can totally make fun of that hat Posh Spice wore on her forehead with the same girls you used to shake your groove thing with in Cancun to the Spice Girls' "If You Wanna Be My Lover."  A zigga zigga aaaahhhh.  You can loll about in your pjs, eat cheetos for lunch, and just chat and drink and eat.  And laugh until you pee in your pants.  More than once.  We had two pregnant girls with us, so there really was no hope for them.

In some ways, it was just like old times--we packed up a cooler and headed for the beach.  Just this time, we filled the cooler with fruit and bottled water and dug holes for the pregnant ladies bellies rather than to hold our beers.  We hit a great resteraunt for happy hour, appetizers, and dinner.  We just arrived at 4:45 and the waitress asked us if we were wanting to order lunch.  (Um, no.  We're just wired to have lunch at 11:30 so dinner HAS to come around 5:30).  And of course, there was a raging after dinner party.  It just ended around 11. 

Laughing until you snort and pee is just good for the soul.  It reminds you that you are fun.  That you don't always have to eat your vegetables.  That 3pm isn't too early for a peach daiquiri with fresh slices of strawberries stirred in.  That you have another name besides Mommy.  And that old friends are just the best.  The remember when you ran down North street naked and love you anyways.  They knew you when you were your skinniest and think you are more lovely now. 

For Justice

I’m taking a break from telling y’all about our trip to DC because I just need to encourage a friend.  And I need for her to see in a very public way how much she is loved.  My dear friend is staring down brokenness in a sad way and I want so much to have just the right words to take all of her pain away.
 

But I just can’t. 

I have no idea what she is feeling or going through.  And, unfortunately, my own experiences with brokenness tell me that much of life’s adversity is like the children’s book Going on a Bear Hunt—you can’t go over it, you can’t go under it, you just have to go through it.  At some point in all of our lives, if we’re lucky enough to love to the point we risk our hearts being shattered, we all must take our turn walking through the valley of the shadow of death. 

And so I offer to her, and to you, my dear reader, the only thing I know to be true:  there can be no resurrection without a crucifixion.  There is no way to get to the glory of Easter morning without first stopping in the bloody pain of Good Friday.

When I first entered the hospital with Henry, there were many doubts.  We didn’t know whether I would live to see the next day, whether Henry would make it, or would events unfold that left Sloan and I making difficult decisions when we were just emotionally raw and grasping at the faith we were struggling to maintain. 

For some reason, every time I tried to pray I found myself speechless.  Words simply could not come.  Instead, when I shut my eyes, I could hear a little voice inside me, randomly, asking me the first question of the Heidelberg Catechism-- Christian, what is your only comfort in life and in death?  That I am not my own, but belong—body and soul, in life and in death—to my faithful Savior Jesus Christ.  He has fully ­­­ paid for all my sins with his precious blood, and has set me free from the tyranny of the devil.  He also watches over me in such a way that not a hair can fall from my head without the will of my Father in heaven: in fact, all things must work together for my salvation.  Because I belong to him, Christ, by his Holy Spirit, assures me of eternal life and makes me wholeheartedly willing and ready from now on to live for him. 

The simple fact that I could remember it verbatim was certainly not because I once memorized it in Seminary but Divine intervention.  (Seeing as I could NOT remember all of it on the day of my final exam.  Nor could I remember all of it now.   Thank you, Google.)  So instead of praying, I just over and over reminded myself that I belonged.  That I’d been set free.  That I was being watched over and that my and Henry’s seemingly being at death’s door was not because God had taken a nap or was too busy fretting over events in the Middle East. 

The next day, our Pastor came to visit us.  He asked me how he could specifically be praying for our family.  He didn’t seem to be saying, “How can I and the staff be praying for you,” rather he was just my spiritual leader gently asking what I thought I needed.  Sloan asked for wisdom, for healing, to make it through the weekend alive.  I asked that I’d be able to stay in the hospital for a good long while.  He confessed that was the first time he’d ever heard that request.  And then, quietly, almost as an afterthought, I asked him to pray that I wouldn’t believe the lies that were loitering about my heart and mind.

Right then and there, he took my hand and began to pray aloud.  He prayed that I would know that Jesus was for me.  That Jesus adored me.  That Henry and I were precious to God.  He prayed for God to give me the faith to trust in Him and the strength to not believe every lie coming at me.  He prayed for me to have a soft heart, a heart that would not become brittle or bitter from having suffered.  He prayed for me to believe that God was good despite all present evidence to the contrary.

So this, my darling friend, is what I pray for you.  For you to not believe the lies.  I trust that somewhere deep down you know what is true about yourself—that you are lovely, and strong, and smart, and funny, and a great friend, a great Mom, and a great writer.  But I also want you, as we enter into Easter, to believe what is true about God—He is for you and you are not facing this brokenness alone.

God is not foreign to being let down.  Just tonight Henry and I were talking about how when Jesus asked his best friends to pray for him and be with him because he was grieving and they took a nap.  (To which, Henry said, “They slept in a garden.  That’s so silly.”)  Jesus knows what it is like to be betrayed.  He knows the cost of a broken heart, of unrequited love.   It is for this very thing that Jesus died. 

You are loved.  You are cherished.  Your name is written on his hand.  

BIG Love (Spoiler alert: SATC2)

Yeah.  I know.  It has been awhile since I've posted.  Life's been hectic.  I suppose it always is...

This past weekend I went to Charlotte for a girls weekend with some college friends.  For some reason, we took no pictures.  We spent large amounts of time simply sitting around, drinking wine, and trying not to talk about our children.  I say trying not to because we always ended up talking about them only to every fifteen minutes or so to say, "Hey, wait a minute, aren't we trying to be away from them?" 

The main reason we all got together, or at least the excuse we used, was to go see the new Sex and the City movie.  I am probably the only person on the planet who liked it better than the first one.  Let me explain why.  It seems that, finally, the group has grown up.  This is why I loved the movie.  (Okay, not the entire group--Samantha has just gotten OLD.  As in lady, you should not be wearing red lipstick and holy cow, you really look horrible with extensions.  The only time she looked young was when her face was smeared with yams.)  Charlotte is finally vulnerable.  Miranda softened a bit and is caring.  Carrie has suddenly realized that perhaps all of her relationships aren't about her.  And the big leap is that BIG is finally compassionate. As in, the ruggedly handsome Chris Noth is a Knight among men at the end of this movie--an example of extravagant love, rescuing forgiveness--and shows us what it looks like to place a relationship before one's right to be right.  He discards his pride for his bride. If you were ever an Aiden fan before, Big will knock your socks off.  Me?  Well, I don't do hipster, wooden bead necklace wearing types, so I took my socks off for Big the first time he rolled up in his town car.

And perhaps I love Big so much because he reminds me of another guy with salt and pepper hair that looks so damn good in a suit...

HAPPY HENRY EVE!!!

When Sloan was a kid, he used to call people on the day before his birthday to wish them a "Happy Sloan Eve!" 

In honor of this, we have started the Birthday Eve tradition.  We went to Kabuto for lunch where Henry attempted to catch egg in his mouth.  Failed twice but thought egg bouncing off of his face was hilarious.  Went to the Book Exchange and got a Dinosaur book.  And after nap time, we had one of Henry's favorite people--Auntie Ann--over for dinner.  And yes, we let Auntie Ann bring Mr. D and their daughter, Baby Emily who Henry just calls Baby!  We had burgers, beloved corn on the cob, and a giant Funfetti Dinaco blue cupcake.  And we began the tradition of being able to open one present on your birthday eve--the gift from your sibling.  Gracie gave Henry a Handy Manny Matchbox car kit and a Mator Pez.  Henry ate all three sleeves of Pez candy after his giant slice of cupcake and eating all of the hard sugar Lightning McQueens from the cupcake.  Needless to say, we are thankful that his allergies require a nightly dose of Benedryl.  But in true birthday eve style, we called each of the grandparents to wish them a Happy Henry Eve. 

Because really, can you celebrate God blessing you with life enough?  (It sounds less like me spoiling my child when I couch it in spiritual terms...)

Auntie Ann and Gracie look down on Baby Emily in the ball pit.

While nobody puts baby in the corner, feel free to put baby in the ball pit

And let it be known that just to make sure the icing had enough sugar, I colored the homeade buttercream not with food coloring, but with blue sprinkles.  And then put a gumdrop on top.  When it was time to place the candles, Sloan asked, "Where do you want the candles?  The areola of the cake?"  Thanks for keeping it PG on Henry Eve, Sloan.

I blame Ann

I would like to say that I am the hostess with the mostess.  And maybe that is true if by "mostess" you mean gastrointestinal problems...

Friday, I watched my dear friend Ann's daughter Emily for the day.  Ann picked her up a bit early because Ann got sick at work.  Thus begins the story of the dozens of texts between my house and Ann's describing our sickness. 

Our beloved friends Jackie and Cary drove down from Baltimore with their two kids, Natalie (2 1/2) and Jackson (8 months).  We had planned a weekend of girl time, Wii time, and serious pajama wearing time.  I made yummy salmon for dinner on Friday night.  And then, promptly, around 9pm on Friday, I felt yucky.  By 10 pm I was in the bathroom, where I would spend most of Friday night.  And to be clear, having eaten salmon does NOT make one's vomit smell any better.  It does, however, make it pink. 

I stopped counting the times I puked after 16. 

On Saturday, I stayed in bed, not wanting to spead the funk.  I was very lonely, with no one to talk to save the texts from Ann.  Jackie and Cary took Natalie and Henry to the playground down the street, while Sloan stayed home with Gracie and Jackson.  Henry refused to eat his lunch and fell asleep while playing around 12:30.  This is NOT typical behavior for him.  Sloan started feeling queesy around 4.  Jackie and Cary decided to go home around 5.  Which is about the time I started feeling human again.  (If you don't count the fact that my neck and back are killing me and I'm almost positive I have a bruised if not broken rib.)  By the time I was out of the shower, it was 6 pm, my house guests had left, and the other three Phillips' were asleep in their beds.  Knowing Henry would be afraid if he did get sick, I bunked in with him and enjoyed some cuddles.  I am ever so glad he has a queen size bed.

Henry puked on me around 9 pm.  It was BRIGHT green.  And I was correct, it did frighten him.  But unlike my husband (and Ann's husband), Henry is a trooper.  A sick person extraordinaire.  As soon as I put him in the bath tub and brushed his teeth, he was all smiles again.  Puny and  cuddly, but all smiles.  And even happier when I let him watch Curious George while I changed his sheets.  Happier still when I brought the portable DVD player to bed and he got to watch Cars at midnight.  (Because he had spent most of the day in bed). He was such a great sicko that he earned a new Lego train. 

But now we are all fine.  Henry is napping, having spent the morning playing with his Lego trains and watching movies he picked out.  (It was a rodent themed morning--Over the Hedge, Alvin and the Chipmunks, and he fell asleep on the couch while watching G-Force.)

Sloan is feeling better and has gone on the road for work.

But Sloan did call me to say on his way out of town he saw a minivan pulled over on 288.  A mother was helping her 2 children puke on the side of the road. 

You may not want to come to Richmond.  Ann has gotten everybody sick.

4th Annual Carolina Girls New Year's Bash

Jenna Cowley (3) holds sweet baby Grace. 

Can you tell she is a professional big sister?  Look at the way she is holding Grace's head.

Every year some of my sorority sisters get together in Huntersville, NC for New Year's.  We didn't last year because, apparently, being 38 weeks pregnant meant Janell couldn't host.  Boo.  If it weren't for the fact that she once hosted us 2 days post emergency gall bladder removal surgery, she'd be dead to me.  For my college friends who read this, in attendance were Janell (Swindler) Cowley, Margaret (Gilbert) Harkness, Adrianne (Helms) Morris, Lori Beth (Bohannon) Sanbourn, and me.  That's ten adults, one dog, and nine kids 3 and under.  Unanimously, Gracie earned the best behaved child award as she was the only child who did not have a meltdown at some point in the weekend.  Of course, the fact that she stayed in the swing pretty much the entire time helped.  Caroline Harkness (18 months) almost won it, but she tried to pull off Noah Sanbourn's (14 months) manhood.  It did not help Noah feel better about the situation when everyone started laughing at him.  Caroline's daddy Jarron wasn't too happy about the laughing, either.

Thankfully all of our husbands get along.  I'd even go so far as to say that Sloan has a bit of a man crush on my friend Margaret's husband, Jarron. 

In the past, before everyone had multiple kids, we used to line them up in Carolina garb and take photos.  Well, a photo of the mayhem while the kiddos watched Tinkerbell and the Lost Treasure while we all regretted staying up past midnight is as good as it gets these days. 

Pictured (from bottom left to right):  Lori Beth with daughter Bennet (3).  Peyton (11 months) eating the remote.  Jarron holding Caroline (18 mos).  Margaret (who is going to KILL me for posting this photo).  Henry (2 1/2), Jenna (3), Ava (3), Maddy (18 mos), and Noah (14 mos).  And that's Adrianne walking in the background.

The Host with the Most (and the future Mrs. Henry M. Phillips)

This weekend our good friends the Bizzells came down from Baltimore for a visit. Jackie is a sorority sister of mine and I'm hoping that maybe one day she'll be Henry's mother-in-law. Her 18 month old, Natalie, certainly brings out the best in Henry.

Normally, when playing with other children, Henry is quiet, a bit passive, and tends to just wander off on his own. But not with Natalie. He was very excited to show her all of his toys. And yes, he has now mastered the word "MINE!" but not in a way that seemed bratty or selfish, but as if to say, "Yeah, you can play with it. Just know that it is mine and it is not leaving this house."

He never once complained that he was relegated to the booster seat and she got his high chair. I think he was just so excited to wake up and find a friend. It upset his eating schedule a bit, which Natalie, in turn, took as a sign that she needed to eat for the both of them.

Miss Natalie strikes a pose. (Seriously, I had the camera, looked at her, and said, "Work it girl. Show me sexy." This is what I got. Watch out Cary, your daughter may be a handful. Thank goodness little Jackson will only be 20 months younger so he can protect her.)

Playing with the "wee". This is what Henry calls his indoor slide. It was built for his Daddy and Uncle Marshall by Grandpa Phillips over 35 years ago. We are very thankful for it and our Florida room because it gave the kids "outside" time despite the yuck-ola weather.

Even Sloan enjoys playing with the 'wee,' although we look forward to the day when we can rationalize buying a real Wii for our son.

At the start of the day, Natalie was a bit leery of the mechanics of safe 'wee'-ing. But by the afternoon, she was rocking it out without even a spotter.



Just chilling in Daddy's chair, eating goldfish, watching Thomas with my lady. Could there be anything better?

Yep. Taking my lady out for a spin.

Henry pushed Natalie around and around our house on his truck.

I'm Tarheel Born...

According to the photo transfer, we took 197 pictures this weekend. Remember the days of film? When you were hopeful that your roll of 24 (or 36 for those big trips) delivered something good. I am thinking of getting Sloan his own film camera. Or maybe putting together all of the random pictures he took at the race of just mobs of people into a video montage entitled "123 reasons my wife usually takes the pictures".

But here are a few of the keepers.

Henry runs around on the quad. This is the beginning of the photo series I like to call "Praise God I'm out of my car seat!"

Just chillin' at the Davie Poplar. (Note the blue tongue. A big thanks to the lady at Shrunken Head Boutique who gave Henry a blue blow pop.)

Henry is all prepped for the race. Sippy cup of water? Check. Cheerios? Check. The book Snuggle Puppy? Check. Fluffy blanket because it is 40 degrees outside? Check.

We may have to buy some property in NC, because it looks like Henry has found a fast friend in Ramses. He may not be Tarheel born, but you'd better believe he'll be Tarheel bred. (Rah! Rah! Carolina-lina! Rah! Rah! Carolina-lina!)

One of the many random shots that Sloan took of the day. I'm torn as to what to call it as it could fall into either of the following photo series--"Henry eats 8 Nutrigrain Bars in one day" or (my personal favorite) "Mommy wonders why no one told her how big and stupid these sunglasses look."

The race. Pictured (and I can't remember any of their new surnames)--Katie Mackie, Heather Hudson (my gransis), Diane Johnson, me, Carol Chalk, Amy Shey, Dana Harris.

Way to go! We finished the race! And Henry just loves this dog! (And it actually is a dog. Henry calls anything furry a dog.) Also, a big shout out to Ashley Dozier, Darcy Webber, and ET Stevens for doing the "sorority girl squat". The reunion weekend wouldn't have been complete without that squat.

And even though we are home, and playing non-stop with our newly acquired train table (and the Oscar goes to Craigslist!), you can see that in his mind, Henry has gone to Carolina.

Hark the Sound

Where to begin?
We arrived in Chapel Thrill Thursday night. We got there early so we could enjoy the free food at the hotel. But there was a mix up with our room. Not only were the cleaning crew in the room as we lugged our stuff in, but we also were put in a handicap room. Basically, the bathroom was a bit like a youth hostel. Just a shower head and a curtain around it. I get the point, but still it was a bit strange and so we just resolved that Henry would be dirty all weekend as trying to corral him in a shower with no walls seemed an impossible task. It was all we could do to not have him rip the mirrored closet door from its track(and why did the closet only have one door when it clearly needed 2?). And it is a miracle that we weren't charged for all of the calls he tried to make on the phone.
Henry loved the Penne in a Pink Basil Sauce from Franklin Street Pizza and Pasta. (Like mother like son.) He also enjoyed running about the quad and climbing up on the bench at the Davie Poplar (I'll add pics when we get home--I'm once again blogging on the road.). What he really loved was meeting "vacation" parents. These are the parents that basically always have Fruit Loops and Lollipops in their pockets, because, hey, we can have more fun if the Pickle is all jacked up. (Mainly also because I realized as I ate my fourth slice of bacon at the hotel breakfast, that if I was going to splurge on vacation that it was cool if H did too.) But we've decided that we're going to head down this summer so it won't be 40 degrees outside. (Get ready Jen and Dana.)
I decided to walk the 5k rather than run it because the Jog stroller we have doesn't fold up and also, I could catch up with friends while walking and I can't talk while running. Note to self--it is worth it to bring the non-folding Jog stroller because trying to get a regular stroller up and down curbs while in a moving mob in a timely manner is near impossible. I'm pretty sure the stroller added at least 4 minutes to my time. And Sloan opted out of the 5k because he spent Thursday night at Duke's Emergency Room having a little impromptu blood clot removal surgery and got himself a doctor's note. (He's fine. Still in pain from the incision, but doing well and such a trooper.)
The main thing that was odd about the trip was how much Chapel Hill and the 15-501 corridor have changed. Some good, some bad. Chapel Hill now boasts a Trader Joe's (down by the Loop), a chicken restaurant called Cluck U and a children's museum (both on Franklin Street). And Pepper's Pizza has now taken over the Miami Subs and appears to be clean (er). Airport Rd is now MLK Blvd. But there were also some things missing that I thought would never leave--Hechtor's (I mean can you really end a night of drinking without a Greek Grilled Cheese and fries with a side of taziki sauce) and the Rathskeller (seriously, where else can you eat a vat of cheese in a cave?). Sloan reminded me that it has been a decade, so of course it has changed. But for me, Hechtor's and The Rat were as much a part of Chapel Hill as the Old Well and the Bell Tower. They'd been around for decades.
But some things don't change. It still looks like North Face threw up on Chapel Hill. Girls still wear too tight and too short dresses and then throw a fleece on top. (Why does that even make sense?) Top of the Hill still has overpriced fancy beer. You can still catch a game of darts at Goodfellas. Player's still has a line out front. The bathroom doors at Four Corners still don't close. And the Blue Cups still hold 32 ounces at He's Not Here. (It's just this time there were several orders of Blue Cups of water because, let's face it, there is just no way I can drink 32 ounces of beer fast enough for it not to be piss warm by the end of the cup. I'm already in a bar at midnight, what more do you want from me?)
But it was a blast to be with old friends, meet husbands and kids, and just laugh about what idiots we were in college. Several times I almost peed in my pants. I think the mood can be aptly summed up with the following anecdote---
So we're standing at the crosswalk waiting to cross Airport (I mean MLK), heading back to the parking garage at Nationsbank (I mean B of A) plaza. The light is still flashing the big red hand and someone (I think it was Amy) starts prattling off the words from PD Eastman's Go Dog! Go! Red means stop. Stop dogs! Stop! And then I say, "Do you like my hat?" And then ET said, "No, I do not like your hat." And then the light changed, and suddenly, we all yelled "WHITE MAN. WALK. WHITE MAN. WALK!"

Sex in the Suburbs

This past weekend I headed down to the Queen city of Charlotte, NC for a girls weekend and to see my friend M's new baby, Caroline. It was a weekend of no husbands, no children, no cracked out puppies. It was awesome.

We spent much of the time discussing our men and our boobs (a la nursing); so really it wasn't that different than when we were in college. We lolled about in our pjs, drank wine, watched 'Sex in the City', ordered pizza, got pedicures. We even went out for ice cream.

But some things do change. Saturday night we had to make a mad dash to the grocery store. In college, it would've been for beer or cigarettes. This was for more batteries for a breast pump. So things have changed. And dressing up for going out simply meant you had to wear clothing that didn't have breast milk, formula, or poo on it. All in all, I think it is a pretty good idea to wear clothing sans bodily fluids. And when we used to not be caught dead going out before 11pm, we all felt odd heading to PF Chang's after seeing the 'Sex in the City' movie. We sat down for dinner at 9:30pm. We felt like New Yorkers and even ordered champagne. I even purposely wore bra straps you could see in honor of Carrie Bradshaw. (Can anyone tell me why we thought she looked so cool? After re watching the series in an effort to prepare for the movie, many a time I have asked, "What is she wearing?" Who wears a black bra with a white tank top. Or And was that really a bird on her head? Honey, the song lyrics are "Mr. Bluebird on my shoulder").

Oh, and did you know that everyone has a chandelier in their nursery? I was not aware of this. But according to M., it is a fact. Henry has a ceiling fan, which I am figuring is the male equivalent to the chandelier.

Also, does it make me shallow to comment on how all of my friends are good looking? Do I do this on purpose, or are they beautiful because I love them? No. No. Objectively, they are some fine looking ladies. So if you are my friend, be of good cheer. I don't have ugly friends.

Congratulations, you made the cut.

Memorable Memorial Day Weekend

My friends Jackie and Cary came down from Baltimore with their 8 month old daughter, Natalie, and we had a great time hanging with kids, grilling, and watching a bit of Sex and the City. I also got them hooked on Deadliest Catch as there was a marathon on this past weekend. SCORE!!!

Hey Mom! There's a chick in my exersaucer! Cool beans!

Henry taught Natalie that trucks and tractors are the tastiest!

Sloan tests drives having a little girl only to find out that a baby's love of its feet knows no gender.

Jackie and I cuddle our bambinos after a dip in the baby pool.

Dad, why you gotta get everything on film? I'm trying to take a bath with my lady friend and I'm not down with all of the paparazzi.

I'll share my tractor with her but this chick is CRAZY if she thinks she can even touch my Scuba Steve.

I used to have chubby cheeks just like these, Natalie.

You keep saying that word gentle, Mommy. Can't you see by now I have no idea what you're talking about?

I call this my "McDreamy" pose. I have no idea what Natalie is doing.

Dad ROCKS!!! (Yes, Henry. He does.)

Baltimore, Delaware, Philly, Oh My!

So, we've had a busy week. First we went to Baltimore and stayed with my college friends, Jackie and Cary Bizzell, and their 8 week old, Natalie. Henry was excited to finally see someone smaller than him and even christened their carpet with an Excorcist style spit up. This was not fun for mommy as she had just put on the PJs she had to go to Target for. That's right. I spent so much time making sure that Henry had enough clothes for whether it was cold or hot that I forgot to pack correctly for myself. No pajamas. I also discovered that I must've packed for the person I want to be rather than the person I am as I also packed five dresses and two pairs of high heeled shoes. We're talkin' 4 inch heels. What was I thinking? So over the course of our trip I had to make a Target run for PJs and then an Old Navy run in Delaware for a sweater and some long sleeve shirts. It didn't help that when I was packing it was 85 degrees in our condo and I couldn't imagine it ever being cool again. Needless to say, being in Delaware and Philadelphia at the end of October required more than my rainbow flip flops, sundresses, and red stiletto heels. Geesh! So after lolling about with Jackie and Cary, watching TV, and eating Dunkin Donuts Munchkins it was off to Wilmington, DE in the rain for Sloan's 15th high school reunion at The Tower Hill School.

In Wilmington, we stayed with Deb and Gary Yavonovich and their 2 year old son, Jack. Deb was a reader in our wedding and Sloan's best high school friend. Their son Jack loved playing with Henry and mimicking him. It was very sweet. Friday night we spent eating with high school friends casually--one of whom just got engaged--Congrats to Norri and Melissa and then also with another couple that got engaged just after our dinner--Congrats to Jaimie and Michael. Saturday we dragged Henry out in the deluge to tour the school and then left him with Deb's parents, the Colbourns, so we could tear it up at the reunion. And tear it up, I did. I will not go into details as it is far too embarrassing for me. Let's just say that I took full advantage of my D.D. husband and the free babysitter. I was, without a doubt, that girl.

After a much needed night of passing out, er, sleep we were then off to New Jersey for Sloan's work meetings. We were in Mt. Laurel, NJ, which is just over the Delaware River from Philly. And what would a trip to Philly be without eating a cheesesteak? So we ate at Pat's King of Steaks. Yum. And the cheese fries rocked too. Soooo goood.

After spending his first night in a hotel, we headed into Philly on Monday. PRAISE GOD FOR OUR NEW MAGELLAN GPS DIRECTION SYSTEM!!! It is fantastic and it is so fabulous to hear that smooth voice tell you, "You have arrived." Unfortunately, when you make a wrong turn she says, "Recalculating Route." Yeah, heard that a couple of times too. But when made it into the city and visited Independence Hall, The Liberty Bell, Constitution Hall, the Bourse building, Ben Franklin's grave at Christ Church Burial Ground, the Betsy Ross house, and Signers Park. We had a blast. I've learned that travelling with a baby presents some challenges and some pleasures. For starters, you begin to rank places based upon their diaper changing facilities. Five stars to the Independence Visitors Center for having a family toilet room with a changing table. I also got lots of doors opened for me and smiles as Henry cooed and giggled and flirted with Park Rangers. And you have to buy the souvenir photos taken in front of green screens if you go alone with your baby. Or you can just abandon the stroller by the Liberty Bell to take your kids' photo. Yeah, that's some good parenting. At the Liberty Bell Center I had to inform them that the Tupperware full of white powder was indeed formula. I was also struck with sadness as we visited the Christ Church Burial Ground. There were lots of headstones for children. Ben Franklin had a son, Frances, who died at age 4. And one family that had a children die at 4 months, 8 months, 10 months, and then another at 11. I am very grateful for the advances in pediatrics and medicine. And since he was such a good boy, strapped in the stroller all day long, we lolled about for awhile in Signers Park next to Independence Hall and just practiced rolling.

The next day we slept in late and then went to Reading Terminal Market to eat the Mac and Cheese from Delilah's Southern Cuisine that Oprah named the Best Macaroni and Cheese in America. We also saw Delilah on the Food Network on Bobby Flay's Showdown. It was definitely some good mac and cheese. We got back to Richmond last night around 10 and I can definitely say that I am glad to be home and in my own bed. Even Henry missed the comfort of his crib, being stuck all week in his Pac N Play. But look how sweet and cute he is in his size 12 month sock monkey pajamas.

We are Those People

A lot has happened in the past few weeks. Sloan has a new job with American Furniture Rentals and will begin on October 29th. In the interim, we have decided to make the most of his hiatus and do a little traveling. We are trying to plan little activities for everyday as we have discovered that several weeks of Sloan at home being bored drives the both of us crazy.

For starters, we went down to Greensboro to visit my family. My dad was in South Dakota hunting pheasant with Biff and my two eldest nephews and we went to keep Gigi company. We also had the opportunity to spend some quality time with my brother and his four kids while my sister-in-law Pam was out of town. At the end of that day, I was saying to Sloan, "I think we should have four kids." and Sloan was saying, "Are you crazy, woman? I'm exhausted." That Saturday we saw Caroline (5) play a soccer game. Bill is the coach and has the patience of Job. Then we went to his house and cooked out, planned their haunted trail they are doing in their neighborhood, and played with their Wii. The only thing funnier than a 3 year old playing Tony Hawk is watching my niece Sarah Grace (9) box. Man that thing is fun! It was great to hang out for the day with Bill and his family with little to do but have fun. It is common for families to fall into old routines when they get together, but the truth is few of us are the same people we were when we were kids. It was neat to experience my brother as a father. He is the perfect blend of silly and strict and you can tell that he genuinely enjoys the company of his kids. And who wouldn't. They kind and hilarious. Natalie (3) brought Henry her blankie, named Maitee, every time he fussed. He loved it and she enjoyed being able to make him giggle. Also, I have learned that I ROCK AT TONY HAWK SKATEBOARDING!!!

Henry is also beginning to master rice cereal. We're still figuring out how much formula he can take after eating a bowl of cereal and I've been spit up on frequently. We laugh that our son is bulimic. He binges and purges. Seriously, if I were like him and simply vomited up food once I began overeating, I'd be skinny as a rail! He also said his first word. Sort of. The other afternoon, plain as day, he looked at Sloan and said, "Hi!" Now granted, he babbles a lot these days and he didn't mean to say it, but it happened. Henry is quite advanced. Now if only he would learn to turn left. We'd love for him to be an ambiturner.

Then we went down to Chapel Thrill where we had a whirlwind visit with lots of my old college friends. We stayed with Jen and Paul O'Sullivan in Cary. Jen was my big sis in Zeta and has two boys--Cameron (3) and Parker (10 months). They are a funny family. We arrived at Jen's around three on Friday and had a couple of beers. Jen decided we had to have more than one because otherwise we'd just get tired or a headache. Also, at one point, while Sloan, Jen and I were chatting Cameron kept whining, "Mommy. Mommy. Mommy." Jen answered quickly, "What Cameron?" "Why aren't you talking to me?" We laughed. But still, didn't really talk to him. But he was very sweet with Henry and protected him from the poking fingers of Parker. We also went to dinner with my senior year roommate, Lori Beth, and her husband, Rob, their 18 month old, Bennet, and our friend, Alyssa, and her boyfriend, Joe.

On Saturday, it was off to Chapel Hill for the Carolina Carolina game. That's right--the UNC Tarheels played the USC Gamecocks in football to find out who is the REAL Carolina. Obviously, the Gamecocks won and so Sloan was happy, despite being haggled about wearing a gamecock jersey in Chapel Hill. We weren't able to find tickets that weren't outrageously expensive, but it worked out well with Henry. We were hanging out with some friends of mine from Zeta and their husbands--Margaret and Jarron Harkness, who are expecting their first baby next Spring, and Joy and Jason (I have no idea what their last name is) who live in Atlanta. It was great seeing them again. We had a blast and Henry was definitely the life of the party. But we definitely we those people. Those people with the baby in the bar. Ugh. We started out tailgating and Henry got to hang out in the sling while Mommy and Daddy helped float a keg of Bud Light. Then we were off to the deck at Pantana Bob's where we watched the game, ate lunch, and Daddy got to drink more beers. Once again, Henry flirted with every college coed who was there. Most of them were wearing short skirts and cowboy boots. When did this become a fad? (Gosh, I'm old...) Henry was a perfect angel. He barely slept the whole day and was passed around from person to person, and yet never fussed. The only time he cried the whole day was when the jets flew over us before the game. And they were loud. Towards the end of the game, we decided to take advantage of the beautiful weather and strolled over to He's Not Here, an outdoor beer garden. Once again, Henry was the baby in the bar. But in our defense, we were always outside with him so he was never cooped up in a smoky bar.

But we are now reaping what we sowed as Henry has a cold. He is sleeping a lot. So it is now nose drops, aspirators, and humidifiers for us. Oh well. He is still a very happy baby. And just so darned cute!!!

Watermelon Festival and Matthew McConaughey

My good friend Carol Chalk was in town this weekend and we got to do some crafting. I showed her how to make French memo boards and she showed me how to make those fleece knot blankets.

We also took Henry to his first Richmond Watermelon Festival in Carytown. We discovered that pushing a stroller actually makes things easier as people get out of the way for you. Henry was a little angel even at lunch, probably because Auntie Carol cuddled him and let him watch the ceiling fan.

In addition to ceiling fans, he also loves taking baths. We spray the wand and he just laughs and coos. You would think that the water in his face would make him unhappy, but he just loves it. He also enjoys watching television. He was fussing a bit this morning and so I put him in his Bumbo seat while I made him a bottle and turned on the TV. It was the movie Sahara and immediately he calmed down and smiled. I tried changing the channel so I could watch something else and he whimpered. So, like his father, the boy loves the movie Sahara. Which is good as it seems like it is always on TV.