Snacks for Jesus

Thursday night I was jealous of Sloan.  He got to take his buddy E to the airport at Dulles.

Normally, you'd think driving a guy two hours to the airport and back again on a random Thursday night isn't enviable.  But Sloan was driving E to pick up his wife and two kids.  Whom he hasn't seen in close to a year since he immigrated from Egypt.  His wife and kids were finally able to come over safely.

Can you imagine what that was like?  To get to stand on the sidelines and watch God bring a family together after so much longing.  I get teary eyed just thinking about it.

I decided to pack some snacks.  After all, this mom has been traveling with two toddlers by herself!  (Can you imagine?  I'm sure her excitement over seeing her husband counteracted the sheer exhaustion that comes from traveling internationally with a 1 year old and a 3 year old.)  I planned on getting each of the kids some goldfish, a squeezy applesauce, and some milk.  But while I was at the store I also saw a cute doggy toy, and some matchbox cars, and some Colorwonder books, and...and....and...

Yeah, I may have gone overboard.  But I figured that my kids require 47 different snack options and a backpack full of toys just to cross the James river, so maybe Egyptian kids are the same?

Perhaps it was too much.  But I wanted these folks to see how they are loved.  By strangers.  By Jesus.  By God's people who were blessed enough to be given the opportunity to just show up and see Him do His thing.

I just couldn't help myself.  I get this from my mother.*    I got gender nuetral toys, board books, books and toys from drive-thru meals, chips, hummus, carrot sticks, strawberries, apples, grapes, baby food, fruit snacks, Nutrigrain bars, Peanut Butter crackers, Captain's wafers, Pretzel sticks, goldfish, animal crackers, pita chips, and babybel cheese.  We are blessed beyond measure.  Our cups runneth over.  So how could we not give them our extra umbrella stroller and buy a bunch of fruit and carbs and toys for these brothers and sisters of ours? 

Sloan said that the family reunion was a thing to behold.  E stood up everytime the doors from customs opened up no matter that Sloan told him the signs said their flight wasn't through baggage yet.  And when the doors opened up and E's family came through, he was off like a shot running into his bride's arms.  I'd post the pics Sloan took, but they aren't my family pics to share with you.

Sloan did tell me that the mom was beyond done having traveled with a 3 year old and a 1 year old.  While riding back to Richmond, the youngest child was fussing.  She and her husband were chatting away in Arabic when all of a sudden Sloan heard from the back seat, "Baby.  Shut. Up.  Baby, stop your crying."  Priceless.  I speak this Momma's language.  Perhaps I should've packed her a bottle of wine.


*If you were to come to our house at Thanksgiving, you would see that my Mom has prepped the favorite meal of each of her grandkids.  She has 16 grandkids.  We have potatoes mashed, roasted, baked white sweet potatoes, and sweet potato casserole, all because various kids at some time or another have professed a love for some type of tuber.  It is both hilarious and precious at the same time.

Upgrade

*This is the first in a series of posts chronicling our recent Family trip to Washington, DC. 

When we first decided to take a mini-Spring Break trip to Washington, DC, we decided to cash in some of Sloan’s hotel points from all his hard working time on the road so that we’d have a free hotel stay.  There were some parameters we would have to follow to use the points.  And we had some requirements as well—it had to be an interior room hotel, within walking (with a double stroller) distance to a Metro station, and a two room suite (so we didn’t have to go to bed at 7:30).  Sloan explained all of this to the points person on the phone who set up our reservation about a month ago, and Sloan had called earlier in the week (at my request) to see if the suite included a refrigerator.  We seemed good to go staying at a hotel in College Park, MD.  When I asked last week if the hotel had an indoor pool, Sloan seemed like I was not appreciating the free hotel he had booked for us and may or may not have accused me of being a snob while simultaneously giving me a lecture about the grossness of business hotel indoor pools.

We bullied our way through DC traffic and rolled into College Park around 4:30.  As we pulled into the hotel’s parking lot, we both filled with dread.  Sloan also received an urgent call from work at the same time.  And when I say urgent, I mean the entire reason he got a promotion was to woo a certain client to increase their business.  This call, at a 4:30 on a Friday, was the client saying they wanted to increase their business by an insane amount by the next day.  A joyous logistical nightmare. 

But nothing compared to the nightmare I was living through in the passenger side of the car.  Let me describe to you our motel.  That’s right—motel. Picture the motel from Momento but in the parking lot place several men in wife beaters and jhorts just milling around.  I can only assume they were either dealing drugs or protecting their investments in the various hotel rooms between Johns.  And then envision a high school lacrosse team from New Jersey getting out of their school vans and hear them complaining about the dump they are having to stay in.

My internal monologue went something like this—OK, Elizabeth.  Don’t say anything.  Just pray Sloan can see that there is no way in hell we are staying here.  It’s okay, Elizabeth, it’s okay.  Please don’t cry.  Please don’t cry.  You’re an adult, act like it.  I swear if Sloan doesn’t pull out a can of whip ass on the points concierge I’m going to take the kids and leave him to be molested by the men in jhorts.  And, oh my gosh, are you kidding me?  The kids’ movie is over?  This is not happening to me.  Everything is ruined and it is all because my husband is an idiot.  Please, dear Lord, help me to love this idiot.

Pic of the "suite" from the hotel website. 
This looks much nicer and brighter and cleaner than what we saw.

Thankfully, I said none of those things.  I just prayed over and over for Sloan to be able to see that we weren’t staying here and that I could be a loving wife regardless.  But he was knee deep with trying to figure out the stuff for his client.  It was too much.  He asked to see a room.  We parked in front of the room and as he opened the door to our “suite”, his face fell.  It was not a suite.  I was just a room with a pull out couch, a hot plate, and a mini-fridge.  He looked at me and said, “We can’t stay here.  We’ll get murdered.  And that’s if we’re lucky.  But I don’t know what to do.”  I could tell he was on the verge of losing it.  His phone kept dinging from texts and emails while Henry was yelling to us that he was hungry and the movie was over. 

Something in me took over.  What I wanted to do was curl up in the fetal position in the back of my Suburban and feel sorry for myself.  Instead, I put on my big girl panties.  I said, “Here’s what we’re going to do.  Go inside and cancel our reservation.  We’re not staying here.  Then give me your hotel points card and I’ll figure out where we are staying.  You figure out how to help your client.  We’re on an adventure, and on adventures, things rarely go as planned.  You work, I got this.  It’s okay.” 

I swear, it was like I was suddenly possessed by a completely sane person.  It was a new feeling for me. 

I passed out snacks for the kids and put on a new movie.  I started hunting down a new hotel on my phone and then called the points people.  I explained to them our predicament.  I was kind and patient.  Very unlike me.  Very.  I think it helped that each person I spoke to was gracious, understanding, and sorry.  All women and most likely mothers, they understand our requests for a 2 room suite.  I think Sloan had spoken to a man who was just not getting how much we needed a 2 room suite, not just a larger room with a pull out couch.  We pulled out back into DC traffic at 5 o'clock headed away from certain death toward (hopefully!) another hotel in Arlington.

The living room of our studio one bedroom apartment. 
Yes, that's a conference sized dining room table. 
Henry slept in his sleeping bag on the couch
and we put G's pack n play in the corner.

Folks, I am now the master of all hotel booking for the Phillips family.  I got us the hook up!  We went from dumpo slumpo in Maryland to quite possibly the nicest hotel I’ve ever stayed in other than on my honeymoon in Arlington.  Within site of the Metro station and loads of restaurants, all of which we could be driven to by the hotel’s free shuttle.  And our suite was actually what the hotel calls “a one bedroom apartment suite”.  It’s normally not available for points people, but because I was so understanding, they felt obliged to get it for us.  And upon checking in, when I casually mentioned to the manager at the front desk that my kids had watched the entire movie The Princess and the Frog while the hotel points people got this all sorted out, she threw in daily parking for free. 

The amazing part of all of this was that I didn’t roll over and feel sorry for myself.  Or make Sloan take care of everything so I could then blame him if something went wrong.  We were a team.  I didn’t yell at him or blame him or suddenly tell him that he ALWAYS does the wrong things or NEVER does the right thing (not that I’ve ever done that before or anything).  I am so very thankful for the inconvenience.  I was able to serve my family.  God showed up and gave me patience and self-control.  Please don’t think I’m saying this tongue in cheek.  I’m really passive-aggressive.  Just the next morning I was shouting about a family who bumped us off the Metro shuttle while we were folding up our stroller and I was handing Grace to Sloan.  Literally, took our seats and we had to get Henry off the bus.  So I just began saying to Henry, “Henry, I’m sorry, but we can’t ride the shuttle now because that rude family took our seats even though we’d been waiting for over 20 minutes.  Never mind that their kids are in middle school and can walk themselves to the Metro.  It’s okay, Henry, don’t whine.  You are blessed with parents who are teaching you manners and aren’t total jerkoffs.”  Riiiiiiiiiiight.  Apparently, the lessons of God’s provision and going with the flow from the previous night didn’t stick. Ah well.

Over the weekend, we laughed about the murder motel in Maryland that we almost stayed in.  We looked it up on Yelp and laughed at the reviews that talked about cockroaches and robberies.  I am not joking.  We've now decided that we will no longer travel to places we've never been without consulting Yelp reviews beforehand.    No matter if it is free of not.  Yes, a family vacation IS an we  adventure and adventures rarely go as planned, but that is no reason to sleep on an uncomfy bed. 

He's the Cheeky One

Upon meeting new people, the first thing Henry says is not "My name is Henry", nor is it "Nice to meet you".  Rather he says "I have Thomas."  Most people respond, "Oh, is your name Thomas?"  A reasonable question.  I have to explain that he simply wants all he meets to know that he has Thomas the Tank Engine. It is the thing that best describes him, and in some sad way, his love for Thomas is what defines him.  We can be at the playground and he will suddenly declare, "I need to go home and play with Thomas."  He'll turn down chocolate milk to build with Thomas Legos.  We have Thomas crayons, stickers, coloring books, Pez dispensers, paint by number books, pillow cases, blankets, vidoes, books, bath toys, in addition to mile upon mile of wooden track, train stations, and Thomas and Friends trains.  We sing the Thomas theme song while he washes his hands and brushes his teeth.  When Henry is angry he exclaims "Cinders and Ashes!"  And to really motivate him, I simply say to him, "I need you to be a really useful engine."  He has even asked if Jesus knows Thomas.  Perhaps the better question would be does Thomas know Jesus, but it was sweet none the less. 

So it cannot be stated enough that this past Saturday Henry has his "Vote for Pedro" moment where all his dreams came true.  We headed up to Strasburg Railroad in Lancaster County, PA for the occasion with our buddy Deb and her son Jack.  (Whom Henry loves almost as much as he loves Thomas.) 

We're ready to go meet Thomas!

He had been asking if it was Saturday for two weeks.  Thank you Sloan for telling him too far in advance.

Running to meet everyone's favorite blue engine...

Seriously.  How cute are my kids? 

Riding the Cranky Cars.  Peep!  Peep!

Riding Thomas. 

The conductor came by and took tickets and placed his cap on the kids heads.  So someone could then take your picture and you could buy it.  We're cheap.  We snapped pics ourselves.  And Henry loved his special Thomas engineer cap too much to wear the Conductor hat.

 In the middle of what was supposed to be her afternoon nap, this is the face of a girl who hadn't napped all day.  She also woke up with two more teeth the next day.  I think adopting has brought into our family someone who is easy going and doesn't complain.  So we've helped our grandchildren out in a big way...

By the end of the day, Henry's nose had snotted all over his face, his lips were chapped, and he was talking like Kathleen Turner.  But this didn't stop him from telling me, "Mommy, this is my favorite day.  Thank you, thank you.  You are wonderful for bringing me to Thomas."

I'm not dead (or Gilligan's Island Three hour tour Road trip)...

I've just been on vacation.  And reprioritizing my time (as in enjoying my last weeks of playtime with Henry before school starts). 

But the following will begin my recap of my most recent vacation...I wrote it en route to the beach. 
************************************************************************************

Still full from the previous night’s 6th Anniversary dinner extraordinaire—Fried Green Tomato Beignets, Filet Mignon wrapped in Applewood smoked bacon, Grilled asparagus, and Bananas Foster, and oh, yeah, a bottle of Veauve Cliquot—this morning began wonderfully. I awoke super excited about the summer’s last hurrah—our family vacation to Litchfield. Weren’t we just at the beach, you ask? Yes. But it was a last minute vacay planned with the in-laws and so Sloan had to work the week and was gone on business for three days of it. And let’s just say it’s not really a vacation if you can’t burp in front of your fellow vacationers. (I did not blog about that trip in order to protect the guilty, err, me.) And to add to the excitement (or insanity, depending upon how you look at it), we invited 2 of my sister’s kids to join in on the fun. That’s right, we intentionally added a seven year old and another 3 year to the mix. It is either pure genius or pure lunacy…I’ll let you know in a week.


I’ve spent the last week rewashing all our bathing suits and beach towels, packing snacks, making lists and checking them twice. Seriously. Lots of lists. On post-it notes. Typed and printed. On the backs of napkins and receipts as I thought of things. We’ve got snacks, games, sticker books, toys, stuffed animals, loveys, blankets, a mattress (for the pack and play), bottles, candy, formula, baby food, pull-ups, diapers, no less than 15 trains, sand toys, pillows, and sunscreen. I even packed it neatly so that it all fit into our car with the third row in without interfering with looking out the back window.

My sister arrived with Jonathan and Isabel around 8:45. Our goal was to leave around 9 so that we’d arrive at the beach around 3. Plenty of time to hit the grocery store, unpack, and still get to the pool and lazy river. As we were putting in the kids booster seats, we learned that 2 full back boosters and one backless booster seat do not fit into the third row of a Suburban. We needed to have all three of the big kids in the back row so that we could fold down one of the captain’s chairs for stuff. And for optimal movie viewing. So Sonya and I dashed off to the Target around the corner to get Isabel a backless booster, seeing as she’ll be 4 years old in two weeks anyhow. That’s cool, officer, right? But even with the backless booster, it still takes an act of God and Congress to get all three seats in and buckled. Which makes potty stops a bear. It literally takes fifteen minutes just to wedge the three kids in the back. We will be doing some rearranging once we get to beach. Anywho….

We were finally wheels up around 9:45. No biggie, still time to have a poolside picnic dinner. We decided we’d have lunch in Rocky Mount, NC around 11:45 or so.

Well, you know what they say, right…The best laid plans of mice and men and all that jazz…

We’re barreling down I-95, making pretty good time, the kids are watching Mary Poppins (which my niece Isabel knows all the words to every song, or at least the phonetic corresponding sounds to all the songs…BONUS). Sloan and I are talking about how wonderful the past 6 years have been (because it IS our anniversary), what we want to get at the grocery store, when Sloan suddenly asks, “Hey, did you get the keys?”

“What keys?” I ask.

“The keys to the beach house.”

Oh. My. Gosh.

“Mother Effer!!!!! Are you kidding me? I remembered to pack seven different types of chips and I didn’t pack the damn keys?”

“You really didn’t grab them?”

“No. I really didn’t grab them. Did you?”

“No. I thought about asking about them this morning but got sidetracked by a poopy diaper.”

I am pretty sure by this time my blood pressure was lethal. And the worst of it was that I had no one to blame but myself. And by this time, we’d just crossed into North Carolina. “We’ve got to go back. We’ll need the keys to the owner’s closets and the golf cart.”

We pulled into the nearest rest stop, took the kids in to go to the bathroom, and then struggled to get them strapped back in (a stop that took no less than an additional twenty minutes). I may or may not have told my child to stop whining about having to hold my hand as we crossed the street or I was really going to give him something to whine about. I may or may not have told my son that I just didn’t have the patience to deal with him wanting a juice box because I was the stupidest flipping person on the planet and causing us to have to drive three (really four) hours out of our way. I may or may not have told all three of the children that the week was probably going to be horrible as I had planned it and I am an idiot.

Sloan told me to go sit down as the giant cross on my back was making it difficult to strap the kids in.

So we turned around and headed back home. As we’re driving back to Richmond, the kids start with the how long is it going to be until we get there junk. And at this point, we literally aren’t even going in the direction of the beach. I thought I was going to lose it. Sloan claims that by this point I’d already lost it. Fortunately, Jonathan had an answer to this—“Isabel, don’t ask that. When you start seeing palm trees, then you’ll know we’re near the beach.” Sweet Jon-o-fun.

As we drove home, I stewed in my self-disappointment. Sloan seemed unphased, which honestly, pissed me off. I told him, “I don’t want you to be compassionate. I screwed up. Big time. I want you to be mad at me. I remembered to pack four books for myself, but couldn’t remember to grab the daggone keys.”

“For one, we both forgot the keys. Two, would my being mad at you help? I think you’re mad enough for the both of us. And I don’t think taking it out on the kids is helping the situation, either.”

“Don’t start on me for taking it out on the kids. Does it help you to take it out on us when you have a bad day at work?” I snapped back. Because it is much easier to point out someone else’s flaws instead of dealing with my own.

“Honey, it’s fine. We’re in no rush. We’ll get the keys. We’ll go through some drive thrus. It’ll all get done. Besides, didn’t you say that we forgot to grab Henry’s night-light?”

“Screw the night lights. I made all those dang lists and not once did I write down “Pack keys.” Packing the keys didn’t cross my mind once. What the heck is my problem? I’ve single handedly ruined the first day of our vacation. AND I’m going to have to go the grocery store by myself tonight once the kids are in bed.”

“Well,” Sloan said, “it is going to be difficult to push the cart while simultaneously flogging you. But that seems to be an adequate punishment.”

And this, my friends, is why I married him six years ago. He was able to a) point out my sin in a way that didn’t crush me, and b) make me laugh. Not many people can do this. Sure. I made a mistake. Because I am human. But what really was chapping my hide was the fact that God was serving me a heaping piece of humble pie. But having Sloan for a husband at least made the humble pie a la mode.

It was one o’clock when we pulled back into our driveway. We hit the McDonald’s drive thru on the way back and I climbed back in the back to give Gracie some food and a bottle. The children had already watched the entire movie Mary Poppins before we even left Richmond the second time. We made the kids stay in the car as we did the mad dash for the keys and night-lights.

The entire trip back, I said things like “oh look, there’s the rest stop we peed at when we’d first noticed I’m incompetent,” or “Hmmm, it is the second time today we’ve crossed into North Carolina at precisely the time the Magellan said we’d be getting to the beach the first time around,” or, when passing South of the Border, “Pedro sez who leaves for vacation and forgets the keys.”

The good news of the situation is that McDonald’s has pretty good happy meal toys—Marvel comic figurines for boys and Madame Alexander dolls for girls. And did you know you can buy extra toys for a dollar so your 3 year old girl doesn’t have to share her Dolly with your 10 month old who really only wants to gnaw on it?

So a 6 hour car trip with four kids turned into a ten hour car trip with five kids (I’m including myself in this count). Sloan would probably say that having him be the responsible adult in any situation is problematic, but this time it worked. In total, the kids watched Mary Poppins, Space Chimps, The Princess and the Frog, and G-Force. I rode shotgun in a pool of self-loathing pity typing furiously on my laptop.

It took all of Sunday for me to relax about what a boob I was for forgetting the keys. I probably won’t ever forget them again.

Next time, I’ll probably forget to pack my underwear.

Best Boy Weekend Ever

This past weekend we went to a family reunion in eastern Tennessee. 

For starters, I think it is safe to say that Henry is now fully potty trained.  We made it the entire 6 hour car trip with no accidents.  I put a pull up on over his underwear and he remained dry the entire time.  Of course, it helps that we put him on the pot every time we stopped for gas.

Henry is still talking about how much fun he had at Jamie and Jon's house. (Never mind that my cousins are Jamie and Kent.)  It was boy heaven.  Jamie and Kent have a fair amount of land-- complete with an old barn, a creek, a rope swing, giant piles of dirt where they are putting in a pool, a tree house, and large unmowed portions.  Henry kept saying he loved playing in the "crick" and "da jungle".  (He also had a blast at the HO-tel, as in, the boy screams HO and then just sort of non-chalantly adds "tel" to the end of it .  He and Gracie shared the sitting room portion of our suite and from their room we kept hearing H loudly whisper, "Gwacie, we having a swumber party.  Yippee!  A swumber party!)    Oh, and did I mention that Jamie and Kent have three kids--Mara (15), Amanda(8ish), and Seth (6ish)and therefore every toy known to man.  We're talking dinosaurs, cash registers, Legos, trains, horses, barbies, balls, blocks, foozball, tricycles, and battery operated cars for the kids to drive.  Amanda drove him around in her Barbie car.  Barbie has moved up in the world.  She no longer drives a Jeep, but a pink Escalade, complete with a boomin' sound system.  And Seth took him for a ride in his little John Deere Gator.  Oh, and did I mention that my sister's brood was there as well?  So his bestest buddies, Jonathan and Isabel, were there.  When they arrived, Henry and Isabel ran toward one another with arms opened, screaming one another's name as if they were in a soap commercial.  It was hilarious.  Unfortunately, I did not get many pics from the weekend because Gracie's two toofers were coming in and she was only happy if she was attached to me.  Most of these photos are from Sloan's phone.

The reunion itself was at another cousins' farm.  It was awesome.  There was corn hole, a pool, and a stocked pond with a paddle boat.  Once again, hog heaven.  Henry loved riding in the paddle boat.  Sloan let him go out there with a bunch of kids and a teenager.  I'm really glad I didn't know this until I saw the picture on Sloan's blackberry.  I would have had a stroke. 

Henry tries fishing for the first time.

Hey Lily, Henry caught you a delicious bass.

But just in case Henry hadn't had enough fun, we took the kids to Tweetsie Railroad on Sunday.  Tweetsie is a Wild West train themed amusement park in Blowing Rock, NC.  I went when I was a kid and was scared out of my mind. There is an adventure train ride upon which a tribe of Indians hijacked it tried to scalp everybody.  Well, they've tried to make it a bit more PC.  The Indians no longer hijack the train, but save the cowboys from the evil train robbers--the Hot Sauce Bandits (aptly named Texas Pete and Tabasco).  However, the Indians' costumes and face paint was pretty ridiculous, so it was still rather lame, if not overtly offensive.  The little show the college-aged thespians put on was a bit like that play you put on for your relatives at Thanksgiving:  Poorly rehearsed, funny in parts, but overall just a bit too long.  But Henry ate it up.  He loved riding on the train, seeing the water tower, the coal tender, and sitting on one of the coaches.  The park is also great because the majority of the rides are fore the 45" and under set.  And it wasn't crowded at all.  We didn't have to wait in a single line all day. 

Gracie enjoyed riding the train too.  Despite how much Henry talked about getting an Engineer's cap, he refused to put one on.  Nor did he want a conductor hat, a cowboy hat, or an Indian headress.  Gracie is not so finicky.

Flying high!

Henry asked for a red spider face painting.  Everytime someone told him they liked his Crab face painting, it made him, well, crabby.

Riding in the bumper car--aka "Wightning Macween dat wooks wike Wamone".  (Lighting McQueen that looks like Ramone.)

Numbers (or why I haven’t blogged in a week)

1900 Miles

2 big car trips—to Philly and Jacksonville, FL. In one week. Yawn.

1 new big boy car seat (aka high back booster seat), affectionately dubbed “Henwe’s dinosaur car seat”, though it in no way resembles a dinosaur. At all. It does, however, have a cup holder. Bonus.

2 high school friends visited. (How many of you peeps can count your husband’s high school girl friend as one of your nearest and dearest. Yes, I am that mature. Hwa Hwa Hwa.)

8 parking lots in which Henry has pee-peed in his potty. (Mall lot near FedEx field in Marlboro, MD, the Philly Target, the Philly Ikea, the Philly Zoo, and various gas stations along I95 between VA and FL.)

1 time Henry pooped on the potty. At his BFF Jack’s house.

1 jar of M&M potty treats almost emptied.

6 times we’ve had to learn the lesson that pull-ups just aren’t that absorbent.

2 times Henry just had to wear wet pants.

4—the size diaper Gracie now wears. And yes, we’ve learned that in a pinch Henry can wear this size diaper too.

1 time Sloan peed in the bushes in the cemetery at his Grandmother’s funeral. I’m not kidding. My 36 year old husband peed behind a tree at Oaklawn Memorial Gardens in Jacksonville, FL.

1 time Sloan and I almost killed each other—while I was driving through DC. Both the GPS and Sloan were giving me directions and neither were aware of the new traffic patterns. I ended up taking us through a demilitarized zone straight through the city. At one point, I literally threw my hands in the air and said, “Stop yelling at me. I know I’m bad at this. I have no idea what I’m doing.” And yet, I was too stubborn to pull over and let Sloan drive. Sloan’s response, “Well, for starters, you should put your hands back on the wheel.” For the sake of our marriage, I am no longer allowed to drive on any road between Woodbridge, VA and Marlboro, MD.

4 hours Henry spent talking about jumping in the bounce house at the church community fun day.

0 times Henry actually went in the bounce house once we were at the church.

2 child sized pup tents purchased with air mattresses when we learned that Gracie is NOT a fan of the pack n play.

5, 280 times I’ve been stopped by strangers to be told I have a beautiful daughter.

1 Philly Cheesesteak eaten in Philadelphia. Let it be known that the Philly Zoo’s cheesesteak leaves a lot to be desired and if you can’t get to Pat’s or Gino’s—you might as well just pass it by. I will say, however, that this was the ONLY disappointment at the Philly Zoo. It was awesome.

1 umbrella purchased at zoo gift shop.

5 minutes it continued to rain after purchasing aforementioned umbrella.

600 times we’ve had to hear about the Lego Polar Bear, Lego Frog, and hot air balloon at the Philadelphia Zoo. We also enjoyed seeing all of the real live animals, but the fact that they have an exhibit showcasing life size Lego animals was the highlight of Henry’s day.

1 father who told a zoo worker he was full of s#4@. The zoo worker was telling a little kid that if he didn’t ride his bike to places he was going to kill the polar bears because of his large carbon footprint. This child was maybe 4. I wanted to kiss the kid’s dad.

10 McDonald’s hash browns eaten. Both yummy and yucky at the same time. One time Henry even ate the wrapper. Am now ordering drive through salads. Don’t know if that is any healthier, but I just can’t take any more grease.

101. How old sweet Grandma Vi was when she went to be with Jesus. She was born premature to Swedish immigrants—Ole and Hilda--in 1908, has always been blind in one eye, missed her connection from Sweden to take the Titanic back from the World’s Fair, travelled all over the world, took us to Idaho (where she was born) when she was a spry 98, and had Lasik surgery at 99. She was married to Sloan’s grandpa Chet for almost 70 years and if you ever were lucky enough to meet her she probably would’ve tried to teach you the Lord’s prayer in Swedish and invited you to lunch at Timaquana Country Club. She loved a gin and tonic with dinner and ate fruit at every meal. She was the oldest living alumna of University of Idaho (Go Vandals!), still wore her Kappa pin, and knew all the words to the song “The Sweetheart of Sigma Chi”. She made a mean coconut cake that I often just brought the pan to the couch with a fork to watch Larry King live with her. She taught Sloan how to love a high maintenance woman as he lived with her for the two years preceding our marriage.

2 times I have listened to the movie Cars coming from the back seat in the past 48 hours.

1 adoption conference spoken at. In light of my recent listening to Cars I will say this. Why I do it—because God has been so awesome to us that “I must shout my excitement to the world from the top of somewhere very high!” (Luigi, in response to meeting a real live race car). And the conference attendees response to my talk and Q & A time. Well, in the word’s of Lighting McQueen, “I create feelings in others that they themselves don’t understand.”

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!"

This Charmed Life

I spend a lot of time complaining...

I don't get to sleep in anymore. My kitchen floor needs mopping. I hate cooking and apparently I signed up for KP duty in sharpie. My hair is about an inch too short. The rain makes it a pain to get to the gym. I want to lose weight but I also want to eat my entire birthday cake by myself. I feel guilty that I'm half way to eating the cake by myself (it's my grandma's chocolate chip pound cake)! I wish Henry would sit down once in awhile. And maybe learn to change his own diaper. And brush his own teeth. And put himself to bed. My husband travels a lot. I want a baby. Specifically a pink one. Lots of my friends are pregnant. My 43 year old sister is pregnant. With her 8th kid and for some strange reason, she won't promise to give me the baby if it is a girl.

But then, God blesses me with reality. The weekend before Thanksgiving I went to a fabulous wedding. The wedding was so awesome it took 2 states to contain it--Pennsylvania and Delaware. While hanging out at our friend's house before the wedding, my friend's father asked me a question that I haven't been asked since my senior year in college.

Dr. C: So, Elizabeth. What are your dreams? Your long term aspirations?
EJ: Huh?
Dr. C: Where do you see yourself in 10 years?
(Long pause)
EJ: Well, I guess more of the same.
Dr. C: Really?
EJ: Yeah. I like my life. So just more of the same.
Dr. C: Hmm.
EJ: And maybe to have a maid come once a week to clean my bathrooms.

I'm very thankful for Dr. C's pointed, albeit awkward question because it made me realize, that when it comes down to it--I've got everything I need. Actually, I've got everything I want. I'm content.

It's a new feeling for me. Contentment. Maybe I'm growing up. I am 31 now. Seems like it's about time....

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.

Great Grandma Violet's 100th Birthday Bash

Henry has a snack in the hotel room. Gotta love the portable high chair.

Henry wonders why Mommy and Daddy have stuck him in the closet.

Henry checks out the plumbing in the hotel room. Despite all the toys we brought for him to play with, this proves to be his favorite thing to do while we are in Florida.

Mommy forgot to pack Daddy a tie, so we had to make a family trip to Target. And you can't go to Target without playing with the hats. We call this picture "Brokeback Pack'N Play." Eat your heart out, Jake Gyllenhaal.

My favorite. The hat is very Spike from Top Chef. It is also a little Brad Pitt. Back off Angelina, this kid is taken.
Henry and his Great Grandma, Violet Bohman Whittaker. She turns 100 on June 28, 2008. Look for her with Willard Scott. She too was born 6 weeks early. Her grandma put her in a shoebox with hot rocks to keep her warm.

Mommy wonders why the grass in her backyard isn't as lush as the grass on the greens at Timiquana County Club. (By the way, Henry was the cutest baby boy at the party.)

The boys in Madras at Clark's Fish Camp.

Henry checks out the old wooden canoe at Clark's Fish Camp. This is where he ate many firsts--fried pickles, seafood dip, blackened tilapia, scallops, and shrimp.

Henry's First Happy Meal

We had made it to 14 months being the smug parents whose child loved broccoli, egg white omelets, and shunned french fries. Well, road trips and restaurants happened. In the coarse of one weekend Henry had his first Chicken fingers, discovered that he really does love french fries, ate fried pickles, a corn dog, and we even loaded up his bib on the way back home with a McDonald's chicken nugget Happy Meal. Much to his delight. And he just loves his Master Monkey Happy Meal toy.

The many levels of Ghetto...

Okay, sorry for the long delay between posts, but it has been a whirlwind of road trips, in-laws, break ins, and VBS. (Cue Elvis song, "In the Ghetto") But our car was broken into on Saturday night at the hotel valet in Jacksonville, and here are the pics from our hilarious 10 hour turned into 12 hour trip back up I95 sans rear window.

Obligatory CSI picture of the damage. The crooks stole our GPS and the change from our change drawer. (However the left behind the power cord for the GPS.) Seeing as they did not steal Sony DVD camera or the Bugaboo stroller, it is definite that they are idiots. (Oh, and did I mention that we received the call from the valets at 2 am. Thanks.)

The hotel tried to box up our window. The cardboard didn't make it through Georgia.

So then we decided to be Scuba enthusiasts and just use a towel. It's kind of sporty don't you think? But then it started to rain...

So we stopped in Santee, SC and got that ever trusty household friend, duct tape. (I'm trying not to pee in my pants while I take this photo.)

Henry inspects the ghetto-ness of his car. He is thankful his car seat is on the other side. But sure does wish the window wasn't so danged loud.

Duct tape may hold America together, but does not work so great on windows. I tried to patch up the holes with various pieces of trash from around the car. This lasts for about 2 exits.

Then we bought a tarp and tarped off the whole door. But the tarp caught air and billowed out like a sail. It was the loudest configuration of the day, not to mention pretty dangerous as it rendered changing lanes impossible.

Our final, and least ghetto, configuration of the day, somewhere in North Carolina. And to think, between Sloan and me we've got three bachelors degrees and two master's degrees.

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.