The Kiddie Cocktail

Monday random

When all the world is a hopeless jumble, and the raindrops tumble all around, it's time do do a random blog...*

Last week, all I planned to do was wallow in post-vacation depression, procrastinate a lot, and work my way slowly up to full-blown panic at the fact that my tiny little baby is going to preschool soon (PRESCHOOL!), but, well, other things intervened.

1. The Earthquake. Holy crap, we had one! I was in my office (probably procrastinating), when there was some shaking, some rumbling. The hell? I thought. The first thing that I concluded was that there had been an explosion at a nearby construction site. We are in a "redeveloping" neighborhood, and are utterly surrounded by huge construction sites. More shaking, more rumbling, the floor actually rolling, light fixtures waving away on the ceiling like perverse flowers in a breeze. Then, the second thing I thought was BOMB. We live in DC. I work on security issues. I am an obnoxious building emergency warden. This is how I think. BOMB. And then the rumbling and shaking kept going, got stronger. I almost laughed, realizing, oh, I GET IT, it's an earthquake! An earth ride, as one of my friends from San Francisco used to call them. I was honestly relieved that it wasn't a bomb, because again, this is DC, this is how we think. Of course, I shot off a Tweet, because I am a social media whore:

@DCZia Roberta

HOLY FUCKING EARTHQUAKE IN DC. Or something. For serious.

23 Aug via web

I ditched my heels for flip flops, and grabbed my handbag, making sure I had phones, wallet & keys. I donned my orange emergency warden vest (which is in serious need of some Bedazzling) and shooed my fellow employees out the stairwell and to our evacuation rally point. Once out there, of course I turned to Twitter, which had all the best info AND kept working fine, thanks for nothing AT&T. I also realized that I had a bottle of champagne in my bag, because I'd done some errands over lunch, including a wine store stop. That's right, if you evacuate with me during a natural disaster, I bring teh interwebs AND the booze.

All kidding aside, everything was fine. I left work when The Powers That Be excused us, and scooted home. I live a mile and a half from my office, so no traffic snarls for me. The worst casualties were a very tired child (earthquake disturbed her nap) who was falling asleep in her tacos at dinner, and some crooked pictures around the house. Nothing even fell off of a shelf in our 115 year old house. Unreal.

2. The Hurricane. Like the rest of the more northerly East Coast, we were in the path of Hurricane Irene. Here is what we did to prep: (a) bought propane; (b) and beer; (c) starting drinking shortly after lunch; (d) charged up all the iDevices; (e) drank too much wine, went to bed early and slept mostly soundly, waking up a few times to marvel at the howling wind and pounding rain. That about covers it. Woke up Sunday morning to gawk at all the downed trees, and felt grateful, since it's exactly six years since Hurricane Katrina. It could have been a lot different.

3. Regularly Scheduled Panic. My wee tiny baby is somehow almost three years old and starts preschool on Thursday. PRESCHOOL. I coped by applying name labels to everything in sight, getting hysterically indecisive about which after-school activities we should register for, and drinking before 5:00 pm.

4. Death, Shock, Grieving. I found out this morning that a colleague passed away on Friday night. He had chronic obstructive pulmonary disease, his health was not all that great, but it seemed he would stubbornly carry on for a long time to come. He succumbed to pneumonia. I am in shock. This man was like a foster dad to me at work; I'm around the age of his daughters. He was stubborn, and smart, and moody, and prickly, and generous and witty and knowledgeable all at once, and I got along with him well. I learned so much from him. We talked about everything from Jeeps to horses to guns to railroading to natural childbirth (you can't say that about every colleague). It is still that time where it seems impossible for this person to be gone, for the world to never hear his deep belly laugh again, for his office to be still and quiet and empty. My heart hurts for his family, who has lost a father, a grandfather, a husband.   

And so I start this Monday, in a random jumble, trying to just be grateful for what I have, here.

*With deep apologies to "Over the Rainbow" - the little known intro verses.

Nothing but bullet points

This is all I got. New year, schmew year.

• Our holidays were pretty good. There was as much lazing around as one can do without a lot of childcare, without a lot of vacation time and with a small, speedy, demanding and loud child around. For the sake of some peace and wine, I did introduce Dora the Explorer into our household, a move which I may live to terribly, terribly regret. I tried to make sure we ate well, listened to Christmas music, and that the house was full of pretty lights, decorations and booze cheer.

 

• The Olive had a really good time. She loved having us home, loved the nights we did drinks and snacks in front of the fire instead of sitting down for dinner. She got lots of great gifts, but not too many. She walked around the house saying "It's Christmas time! It's Christmas time!" She was adorable about wanting to open presents and more presents, but was sweet and accepting when we told her Christmas was over and there weren't any more presents. Sometimes, I think I couldn't ask for a better kid. Except when I want to put her in a box with airholes and ship her to China.

 

• My mom came for a week. I think we all had a good time. Except for the fateful day we all tried to do a Capitol tour. It began with Seth bailing on the tour and going home to save our $50 worth of fancy travel coffee mugs and Nalgene bottles and organic food from being thrown in the trash, because you can't bring ANYTHING into the Capitol. ANYTHING. Not EMPTY WATER BOTTLES, people. My mom and I bailed on the tour about 15 minutes in, when it was apparent that it was a dumb, dumb, dumb, dumb, DUMB idea to bring a toddler along who can't fathom why she should not be allowed to run like a rabid raccoon around the Rotunda, shouting "Look! Windows! Lights! Statues!" Our morning ended with an actual head wound on a marble step in the Vistor's Center, FTW!
• New Year's. Pffft. The thing about New Year's Day, just now? it's not a holiday. I can't stay up late. Because it's going to be just another day where someone demands my attention full throttle at 6:00 am. I was asleep by 9:30 on New Year's Eve. I did make a really awesome dinner for the Eve. Marinated steak, Pioneer Woman's shrimp, parmesan mashed potatoes, green beans with almonds, some great bread, pastries from a local bakery, and wine, beautiful wine.
• I am opposed to New Year's resolutions. People set impossible goals, never keep them, and end up disappointed and without any change in their lives. It's the false hope of New Year's which is itself an overblown, overhyped occasion. More on that...some other time.
• That said, damn it if I didn't start thinking about what I could do better. At the top of the list: be a better wife. Gonna start with actually hiring a babysitter once in awhile. I so have control and micromanaging tendencies. They are magnified about ten thousand fold when it comes to The Preshus Child. Hence, we've barely had any babysitters (other than family) for two entire years. I know. Roll your eyes at me, tell me I'm overreacting. The kid will be fine. I am. I know. You are totally right.
• And I want to write. More. Better. Faster. Pussycat! Over 2010, I discovered so many more amazing writers here on the interwebs, people who brought me to my knees with beauty, tears, and gut-busting laughs. You inspire me, all of you.
• You can see I'm off to a REALLY FUCKING GREAT start with that "more writing" thing as I am finally posting for the first time in over a month with bullet points.
• I also want to take more photos. More! Better! Faster! Yeah, you know. My 35 mm f/1.8 lens changed my life last year. It's fast, I learned about bokeh. I shot great, different stuff; just not enough of it. This year, more of that, plus trying my hand at Photoshop, which I finally sucked up and purchased.
• I so covet one of these bags. I am sure that the second I get it, my photos will dramatically improve. Fortunately, my birthday is coming up and I think I have already wheedled my way into this bag. I'm coming for you, Annie Liebowitz!
• And now I would like 4 extra hours in each day, in which I am not doing anything for anyone else or eating or sleeping, so I can actually write something coherent, and climb up the very steep learning curve of Photoshop.
• Speaking of sleep. this time of year kills me. Just kills me. Almost literally. I don't do well with the lack of light. I don't have an office with a window. I have to actually go outside to see the sun, and brrr. I'm taking vitamin D and getting exercise to try to combat this, but I'm not sure it's working. Yesterday, an amount of coffee that should have had a Clydesdale tap-dancing still left me ready to crawl in bed at 5:00 or sooner. I used to like winter. I think I used to get outside more. I also used to have the freedom to lie on the sofa all day, wrapped in a blanket, alternately dozing and watching movies. Hibernating. Small children are not conducive to the hibernation state. Goddamn, she really wears me out, but I guess I love her anyway. Anyone with winter coping advice or crack or coke or uppers will be welcomed with open arms and more booze.
• In other news, only 59 days until we get Daylight Savings Time again. Fo' serious. March 13, y'all. I'll see you when the sun comes back.

Reunited, and it felt so good

The last month has been a crazy whirl of travel, reunions, visiting and visitors, and the ride has about stopped so that I can get off and try to write about it. It's been such a fun month, and I'd really like to (a) go back on vacation, please, where I'm not worried about my laundry or the groceries or work the next day; or (b) just be at home *not* working so I can catch up on the laundry, groceries, work, etc. Or I will take winning Powerball, thanks.

Seth and I both went to small, uppity, elite northeastern liberal arts colleges, and graduated the same year. So our fifteen-year college reunions were two weeks apart, separated by Memorial Day weekend. We were OF COURSE going to both, because anything that makes you feel like you're in college again is a good thing when you reach our advanced age.

Seth's reunion was a raging success. We hooked up with his friend Rose, her husband Will, and her daughter Athena, who is only six weeks older than Helene. With the chillun in tow, we all knew we'd be hanging with people with similar needs (e.g., animal crackers, naps, wine - what, you thought I meant the little ones?). College campuses, as it turns out, are fantastic places to turn toddlers loose. Huge expanses of lawn, no cars, lots of steps. The Olive was in paradise. We let her be a bad influence over the more mild-mannered Athena, as Helene ran up and down wheelchair access ramps, tried to uproot memorial plaques, jumped off of retaining walls, climbed every set of stairs she could find at least six times each, ran amuck in coffee shops, and attempted to steal a catering trolley, Athena's stroller and a college golf cart. 

We skipped the formal class dinner on Saturday night in favor of a picnic in the grassy quad outside the building where the dinner was held, so Rose and Seth could pop in if they wanted to, while Will and I chased children and held down the picnic blanket. We had booze in red plastic cups, bare feet, plenty of cheese for even the Olive (who will eat her body weight in the stuff), and some really tasty cannoli and cheesecake. There were photos, visits by large dogs being walked, and a reading of "Brown Bear." The height of the evening was the spontaneous cooler-top dancing, which makes me think the Olive's college years are going to be pretty interesting:

I also learned things about the Olive (other than her mad picnic dance moves). I learned that she withstands nap schedule changes and staying up way past her bedtime just fine. I learned that she can now gnaw on a whole apple (and that she doesn't want any help, thankyouvery much). I learned that she recognized the real moon instantly, seeing it in the twilight sky for the first time. I learned that she might be just a tad high energy, after meeting Athena, who actually will sit still for astonishingly long periods of time, like you know, longer than ten continuous minutes.

We left Seth's reunion not nearly as hungover as at the 10-year (whew!), and replete with sun-filled good times with old friends. We got on our plane back to DC, ready to do it all over again in two weeks.

But first, we had some Vermont visiting to do. I went to college in the fair Green Mountain State, which is one of those places that people end up staying. One of my best friends from college, Janine, is one of them. She and her husband Foster have withstood more employment roller coasters than anyone I know in order to stay in Vermont, which isn't really known for its excess of well paying professional jobs. I never get to see Janine, so we flew to Vermont on Memorial Day weekend, planning to stay at Janine's house in Bennington for a few days before heading north to my college reunion the following weekend.

The lovely and amazing Janine.  

See again, e.g., success, raging. Janine has three boisterous and sweet boys, who were amazing big brothers to the Olive for the week. My little peanut girl (not even twenty pounds) held her own in the sandbox and the playroom, loving the TRUCKS! and TRAINS! and train tracks and Matchbox cars and bikes and skateboards and the rest of the plethora of boy toys that oozes out of Janine and Foster's house and into the garage and onto the lawn. The only thing that was not the most raging of successes was the running-through-the-sprinkler portion of our summer play. The Olive isn't quite convinced that pools and sprays of cold water in the hot outdoors actually feel good. She was having a tentatively good time with biggest brother James in the sprinkler, and riiiiight as she was starting to enjoy herself, littlest brother "I'm Going To Steal The Show" Gavin snatched up the sprinkler and got the Olive right square in the kisser. And that was the end of that. We got some dry clothes and retired to the sandbox.

About a second before the fun ended.

Our time in Vermont is a wonderful blur of green, green farmland, lots of amazing local food, sprawling, verdant lawns, and mountain views that make me homesick for my one-time college home. As someone once told me, there's a reason they call college your alma mater - it means "nourishing mother," such an earthy translation of this high-minded sounding Latin phrase. It seems particularly apt in Vermont, with the earth and the fruits of the earth literally at every turn in the winding road.   

The Olive stayed up well past her bedtime every night, frolicking in the lasting lightness of northern summer. We let her streak campus in her diaper, seeing how far she would wander, while we sat in Adirondack chairs and had more liquor in red plastic cups, because we are a high-class outfit. She napped in the car, giving us an excuse to just drive, wandering the rural roads and discussing how we were going to spend our lottery winnings (Powerball was up to $260 million, so we had to play). We would definitely stay in Vermont for the season.

I reunited with old friends, put old differences behind me for good. I had so much less emotional baggage at this college reunion than at the ten year. I embraced (literally) and had wonderful conversations with people that I didn't much like in college. Amazingly, they have grown up. We all have, in the right ways.

Then, there are these ladies, or womyn or strumpets or whatever, who are to me perpetually 21, perpetually my best friends and co-conspirators. We've weathered fair weather and foul, wondrous births, terrible deaths, falling outs, and making ups. We live too far away from each other. We don't talk enough. We are trouble, and we like it that way.

 

The weekend was of course too short, my conversations were too truncated by me chasing a baby, I misplaced an obscene number of drinks, and there was never enough time to do all that we wanted. But it was one of the few trips where neither Seth nor I wanted to go home. We felt so inexplicably relaxed. For possibly the first time ever after a trip, I actually felt recharged the next week at work, more focused, happier. Nourishing mother, nourishing friends. I can't get enough.