All In The Family

Tonight, I got out my Kitchen-Aide, buttermilk, softened butter, eggs, German chocolate...yes, it's birthday cake time again. This weekend, I'm headed to the family abode to celebrate my mom and oldest sister's birthdays. I have been making the birthday cakes for the last few celebrations because I love to bake. This time, my sister requested the cupcakes I made for H's party (Billy's Bakery Vanilla Vanilla), and my mom said she would love a German Chocolate cake.

The weekend we celebrated my dad and niece #2's birthday, I'm sorry to say I punked out and made cakes from a mix. Not this weekend, said I. So, right now my kitchen smells divine as the first round of cakes is baking.

It has been busy, busy, busy over the past month. I have been at H's school for everything from random check-ins at recess to collecting money for a fundraiser and punching cards for a fun physical fitness program that a parent created for kids to participate in during recess a couple days a week.

Now that the play room couldn't be mistaken for a Chernobyl fall-out zone, I hosted the very fist play-date at our house this week that was just for Charlie. I have been having so much fun with him, as H is in school, and have to admit that even though I have a large soft spot for him; he's going to be 'the one'. He is stubborn. I know. My child? Stubborn? Get out!

On to the next. J completed his third half-marathon two weeks ago, and last week I went to Boise to visit my college room-mates and ran in the Barber to Boise 10k with one of them. Before I left, I finished the Serenity blanket, and have scheduled a post for November 7th (after it's given to its intended) so stay tuned. I'm so happy with how it turned out. It's definitely the most complicated pattern I've completed thus far, while being so simple at the same time.

Recent reads include Ape House by Sarah Gruen, Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese (highly recommend it), and am in the middle of Run Like a Mother (love, love, love and follow them on facebook and their blog) and The Graveyard Book, which is aimed at children 10 and up, but so was Twilight, so hold your comments.

I have discovered how much I love having a dog. He is essentially me in dog form; afraid of the dark, needs to be with people, and has gastric issues that he's not afraid to share with the crowd. Getting crop-dusted by him has become a regular part of my morning coffee routine. Mmm. Good to the last drop.

I'm smack in the middle of a pair of socks (my first with a pattern other than ribbing) for that same patient friend, and next up is the Josie Newsboy, an uber-cute child's version of the Hannah newsboy hat. Both of which I need to complete before I head out to visit my besties in Woouhstuh the first week of November.

I am SO excited to run with my group again, I can't even stand myself. It's been very bittersweet to watch them train for the Cape Cod Marathon for the last four months, being so proud of them, but also knowing I'd be right there with them if I were still in Massachusetts to be swept up in the whirl of comraderie and suspended disbelief. Alas, I am where I am, and happy to be here; time to organize my own Walla-Mamas running group. If Moses won't come to the mountain, right?

Halloween is right around the corner and, of course, I volunteered to head up the party for H's class. I've got visions of sugar cookies and cupcakes dancing in my head. Yes, each child will have little pumpkin cookies to decorate with their own little portioned out ziploc bags of frosting. I. Am. Out. Of. Control. I know.

And, la piece de resistance: Charlie peed in the potty for the first time tonight! M&M's for everyone! (except me, who's smack in the middle of a round of the Game On! diet with my sistahs and best friend)

Whoops, the timer's dinging so that's all the time I have!

Photo of the Josie Newsboy is by Heidi Hennesy of Pepperberry Knits, designer of said pattern who hails from Boise, Idaho. (yay for local artists!)

Somewhere In Middle America

I'm writing this post from Iowa, which means that we are checked out from our apartment, the Skybox has been loaded back on the car and packed to the gills. As always, my spatially-challenged self mis-judged the amount of room we'd have in order to include my little sister in the trip.

After about twenty hours of riding in the back seat with my kids in stereo on either side of her, she decided that she would rather pay the extra money to fly home and see her own children, rather than have mine being loud and boisterous in her ears. Overall, they've done great in the car, but by the time we were about ten miles out of Iowa City H was in tears asking if we were ever going to get there?! He said he'd 'rather go to Tyler's house' because it was closer...little did he know we were over 20 hours from Tyler's house.

We ordered the last of our appliances last night, and they're scheduled to be delivered the same day we get there (along with our walk-through and cable/internet installation...I sure hope we're not running late!)

Leaving was a lot harder than I expected. Three years is a long time to put down roots, make connections and create a life for yourself and your family. J didn't struggle as much as I because while he worked in Worcester, I lived there. My friends are all staying, and will be meeting for coffee club, beach playdates and mom's night outs, minus one Sally HP. J is within a cohort of people that are all moving to the next step.

And as we pulled out of town, tears pricking my eyelids, and feelings of gratitude washing over me for all the friends and support I'd had during my time of being a functionally single mother (thanks, M for coining that term) J pronounced; 'You're welcome, Worcester!'

Next stop, Fargo!

Pish Posh

Yesterday, I finally started to feel like this whole residency thing would eventually come to a close. While J spent some time with the big wigs at his first hospital tour, I got to look at homes with a realtor and start to envision H and Charlie playing in the large, fenced back yards with our potential dog, sleeping in bunk-beds in a bedroom overlooking said yard and slurping cereal in the breakfast nook.

We were treated to a fantastic dinner at a beautiful winery filled with laughter and ease, then drove to a gorgeous restored historic hotel; where I’m currently sitting on a plush King-sized bed in the hotel’s cushy robe while J sweats away another morning of interviews.  And if that wasn’t enough, there was a huge wine and cheese basket filled with local decadence and a personal touch.

I think this is something to which I’d like to become accustomed…

Grandiose Ridiculosity

Recently I went to Newport to tour the mansions with some girlfriends. I had been to Newport once before, and admired the homes in the passing blur of the driver's seat, but this time, I was going to get up close and personal.

When we were sitting in the car on the drive up, someone made the comment that the amazing thing about them was that they were summer homes. I heard the scratch of a record screeching to a halt. WHAT?! These giant estates were constructed with the knowledge that they would only be used eight to ten weeks a year?!

I'm glad I understood that from the get-go, because it made me see the homes in a whole new light. While you can't help but be sucked in by their splendor and all the minute detail, it's hard to not have in the back of your mind "This is an utterly disgusting display of wealth and frivolity!"

From the wall panels that were not silver leaf but platinum, yes platinum, to the service entrance circular drive that is invisible from upper floors due to a massive wisteria, viewing these homes was an exercise in vascillating between utter awe and mild indigestion when thinking of all the work and money that went into maintaining them.

Some of the families spent as much as $300,000 in order to entertain for a single 'season'.

I was disappointed that we weren't able to look at the servant's quarters, but the self-led audio tour was great, full of fun facts and optional detours. We only got through two of the homes and plan to return to see three more with our tickets.

I also learned the fun fact that Mark Twain coined the phrase the gilded age in reference to these grand estates and their budgetless summer fun; and he did not intend it as a compliment.

The Great (Es)Cape

The fam and I decided to head to The Cape after waking up on one of the first really gorgeous days of the summer. Wait, did I forget to say that the day was also a Saturday, and we didn't get our butts in gear until about 9:30-10?

Well, for all you locals, you're sniggering into your hands thinking about a) the traffic and b) the fact that they CLOSE beaches after a certain number of cars are allowed in.

Oh, can you tell where this story is going? Yep, you guessed it; After subjecting the kiddos to the drive (which really was fine until the last 5 miles before the Bourne Bridge) and ourselves to a terse meal at a classic Cape eatery with Classic New England customer service (read: mean people who you are paying to be mean to you) we arrived at Sandyneck Beach in Sandwich (the oldest town on Cape Cod) only to be turned away.

I looked at the late teens-early twenties employee, and said "What?! Are you kidding?" (silent shake of the head) "What do I do now?" (laissez faire shrug of the shoulders) "Where should we go?!" (Finally, a verbal response: "Um, away. From here.")

So, we decided to head to the next beach Lonely Planet told us to, and halfway there H started crying about swimming in the pool "at my apartment" and wanting ice cream. Since we'd passed the Sandwich Ice Cream shop (that makes their own Ice Cream Sandwiches...yum!) on our way in, we headed back that way. Of course, when we pulled in the lot, H was asleep but we got him a treat just in case he woke up, and arrived home to unload the car and walk the .1 mile to our complex's pool.

Ahhhh...so glad we drove for 3+ hours when we could have stayed home to swim then hit Beezer's for cones afterward. But where's the adventure in that?

Toe Up, From the Flo' Up

Today, I'm casting on again for the two at once, toe up socks. I attempted them once before, but I didn't have the patience or the mad skillz. Now I've made several pairs of socks in a row, and I feel like I'm ready to try a more difficult, or advanced, method. Sorry I have no pictures, my camera is kaput. The picture provided is from annejeneer's project of the same pattern on ravelry.

On another note, J has been on vacation since the beginning of June, and doesn't have to be back to work until the 17th. I've felt so luxe having help with the bedtime routine every night, loading and unloading the dishwasher and general wrangling of the kids. It's also a big reason why I've had so much time to knit over the last week, but haven't been posting very often.

In the grand new tradition of the staycation, we've been relaxing and enjoying New England while sleeping in our own little beds each night. We made the trek to New Hampshire to visit Storyland on the day that Curious George, Arthur and Wyatt (from Super Why) were there as part of New Hampshire Public Television day, and we went to The Cape on Monday.

Storyland was really fun, and I recommend it for families with little kids. Charlie was probably technically able to ride some of the "toddler" rides as the requirement is that you can walk, but neither of us felt comfortable with it, so a lot of the day was spent with Charlie and I waiting while Daddy and H rode rides.

I had the brief pity-party when I'd asked H to join me on the third of the three rides that I'd be able to (a notorious nausea girl, I'm fairly limited at theme parks) only to be turned down. I looked at J, and pouted "I better get used to it, being the solo gargoyle, I'll have lots of things I want to do that nobody will do with me." Taking it in stride, he assured me H would ride the rides I wanted to, but was just fixated on the pictures of rides he'd seen on the map earlier.

Sure enough, by the end of the day, I'd ridden the Polar Coaster and Bamboo Shoots with a squealing H.

The Cape was great, we went to Surf Drive beach in Falmouth, which I'd been to once before. It was fairly empty, and the parking lot is right on the beach so it's great for trekking to and from the car. H and I flew his kite, while J walked around with Charlie. After Charlie ingested his portion of sand and seaweed, I put him in the jogger and laid on the blanket reading Fourth Comings while H gathered rocks and sand in his bucket, staying a safe distance from the water.

I had been really worried about taking both kids to the beach, but H has mellowed so much since his last beach trip it made me realize it will be fine, and actually enjoyable to repeat the trip to beaches throughout Mass all summer long. We'll be heading back on Sunday, to a more sandy beach, as Surf Drive beach is fairly rocky. We may even take the ferry on over to Mahtha's Vineyard.

After playing at the beach, we headed over to Seafood Sam's to get some dinner before the quick trip back to Central Mass (really, it's just over an hour...why am I not at the Cape more?!). J got a beer, so I was inspired to try a glass of their wine. Yeah, I don't recommend it. Barefoot Wines is one I would not buy again...it was a hop, sip and a spit away from Two Buck Chuck. They served me my mini bottle of wine with the screw top already removed and a plastic cup balanced on top. I should have known then that it was not going to end well.

As H played race car on the table with the lobster shaped paging device that would let us know when our food was ready I repeatedly admonished him to keep it away from my glass because I just knew that he'd knock it over.

Turns out, that honor would be all my own as I bumped it with my elbow while trying to cut Charlie's grilled cheese. Sweet. A lap-ful of crappy Merlot. I couldn't wait to get pulled over and try to explain the offending odor to the officer. I was secretly relieved that I wouldn't have to finish the wine (it's rare that I don't want to), only to have to plaster on a smile when the waitress brought me a replacement. It was genuinely nice of her to do so, because it wasn't the fault of the restaurant that I spilled it (although it is their fault that it tasted like battery acid). My calamari was very bland and the wine was, well, gross. J had a beautiful platter of baked seafood, and the kids' dinners were great, so I took a deep breath and wiped the pout off my face so that I didn't ruin a perfectly nice day. (If I had it to do over, I'd have taken Jared up on his offer to get the baked seafood platter for two, instead of for one.)

As we drove off into the sunset I took one last deep breath of salty sea air, and then it was over the Bourne bridge we went.

In case you're wondering the big factor in deciding to forgo a hotel in favor of returning home each night...Have you tried to have relations with your spouse while your kids slumber in a pack-n-play by the bed? Me too. And it doesn't work.

After about four years of pouring over (obsessing is a touch strong) the lives of Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha I had my first chance to visit the Homeland. That's right, SallyHP Goes to NY-ington. There were a couple hitches in my I'm-going-to-NYC-to-be-glam-and-have-glam-times fantasy, and their names are H and Charlie.

Yep, I ventured into the city for my first time, and decided to do it solo with both kids. I wish I could say that hilarity ensued and there were so many misadventures I have to break it into multiple posts but sadly, for a city with such a reputation for crazies and congestion, my day-trip went off without a hitch. I was frankly far more impressed by the purple mowhawk-sporting punk rocker that was walking a rooster on a leash in Eugene, OR when I was 12, but that's just me. This could have a lot to do with the fact that we were on the Upper East Side, too, though.

I was helped greatly by Alex's husband who basically created a tailored list of directions for me to drive to Yonkers and then take the train to Grand Central Station; complete with a list of terms that would 'immediately and irrevocably alienate me from all New Yorkers', and a brief but concise explanation of the street/avenue orientation of Manhattan that came in handy more than once.

I was meeting my sister-in-law LuLu, who was visiting "the city" (should that be spelled like a proper name, as in discussing Him?) from Oregon and had joked that I should get in the car with the kids and meet her for lunch. "Umm...okay." I think she thought I'd just laugh it off, but people don't quite get the level of my unrequited "NYC as seen on SATC" obsession.

The utter lack of freaky people, wall-to-wall noisy pedestrians and situations in which I felt uncomfortable was a little disappointing, but I got over it. H was a trouper as we walked for almost four hours, which is really about twenty-four in pre-schooler time. I borrowed an Ergo carrier (definitely going to invest in one now!) from a friend and had H on the red-neck backpack leash, so we were footloose and stroller-free.

We ate lunch outside near Grand Central, then got on the subway and explored Central Park, capping off our stay with Tasti D-Lite which I have to say, as a soft-serve fan, was mighty tasty indeed.

Seriously, the biggest people watching shocker I have to report was when I deduced that the lovely girl sitting across from us on the train back to Yonkers was quite possibly a "dancer/entertainer"...and I don't mean at the Met.

What first appeared to be dewy, glowing skin under the harsh lights of the tunnel was revealed in the sunlight of Harlem to be body glitter over a fake-n-bake tan. The phone conversation in which she proclaimed to a friend to have "went in, made some money, and bounced" and that her plans for the rest of the day were "Heading to Westchester...but don't worry, I'm bringing us back some 'presents'...you'll see tomorrow..." as she smiled coyly and sipped from the pink straw in her clear plastic cup. The cup she'd filled with wine from a small bottle in her purse after wryly proclaiming to me while flouncing in the seat "Long day!" further served to prove my suspicion. But she was nice to, and tolerant of, my kids and I really don't ask for much more than that.

Saving the best for last, I debated about this one's retelling but in the spirit of fairness here goes...I didn't want Charlie to feel left out in later tales of humiliation, so I decided to get uncontrollable diarrhea about an hour and a half into the trip(what?! I'm an anxious driver when the destination is unfamiliar, so I can't have breakfast and consume lots of caffeine!), during which he had to be on my lap in the bathroom, as I was without aforementioned stroller. (note to self; okay to still bring stroller in the car).

Yep, same thing that happened with H when he Charlie's age...only that time, I was at the sketchville rest area at Dead Man's Pass, not a clean and comfy gas station in Connecticut. But, Potayto Potahto.

Now that I've got my first city-bound trip under my belt, I'm thirsty for more. Going with a 'non-tourist attraction' agenda probably helped in the stress-level, as there were no rushes or deadlines (other than just leaving the city by mid-afternoon, which turned into early evening; read: rush-hour). Also, a trip sans kids and into Greenwich Village may up the SJP sighting quotient, no? And they really do strut around the city in those fabulous shoes!

Trail Blazers

Today, we went for a hike at my new favorite walkin' spot, Trout Brook in Holden. I had been there once before and H had a great time so I figured it would be a great outing to celebrate J's birthday since he didn't have to go to work until later in the afternoon vs. the schedule on his actual bday.

We were trucking along, he with H closely chasing and I with C on my back. I had called dibs on the C-monster so I could burn the extra calories and skip the gym in the afternoon. It was a great afternoon, and J commented on the fact that the blazes were new, pointing out to me the faded paint stripes on the trees where the old blazes were. Seriously, I'd never have noticed them, which further confirms my suspicion that I'd be in a world of hurt were I ever dropped in the woods alone.

We got to the last split in the trail, and I told J that I remembered the other mom I'd been with suggesting we turn around at that point as they had ended up at another end of the park instead of looping back. However, we decided that it would be 'fun' to see if maybe it was just a mistake they made, as we had been under the impression that the trails were just big loops. Okay, fine. I kind of presented to J that I'd seen maps and that they made big loops. Seriously, he should know better. At one point I commented that it didn't feel like we were doubling back...but then the trail circled around and we crossed the water again.

Well, an hour later, we broke out into a wide open space and then hit the end of the trail just through the clearing...only to realize we had indeed ended up on the other side of the park.

J kindly offered to take C from me, but I declined so he slung H up on his shoulders saying that I needn't apologize because he could have (read: Should have) just as easily looked at the map himself; "Well, we need to get moving because it's already after 1...he had to leave for work in 2.5 hours, with the hope of getting a nap, shower and meal first. Oh yeah, and we live a half-hour from the trail.

My stomach clenched as the Ranger came out in J and he started tromping forward, his stride lengthening and I bustled up to keep time with him. Thank Jesus that I've been working out, because at the end I felt like I'd just had a great 'brisk walk' instead of the actuality of the fact that I'd scrambled over some rocky and brush covered terrain with my not-small baby in a pack on my back. We made it back to the car in 25 minutes when the walk out had taken over an hour.

On the plus side, I got to see Poison Oak for the first time, so now I'll know what to obsessively shriek at Henry to stay away from.

Take a Hike, Mister!

Today, I headed out for another first. My first woodsy/trail hike with both kids and no Mr. J to help out. H is a go, go, go kid. He loves to run, he's independant and, as he told me several times today, he's "the leader."

I've said before that I joined a meet-up for outdoorsy families with a little trepidation. I have to say, though, that I've enjoyed all the excursions so far as most of the battle in getting out is just having a destination and a time to be there. My debate over stroller vs. backpack was futile as this was definitely a backpack hike. I had planned to take the Kelty frame pack we have, but then decided that I didn't really want to make room for it in our over-stuffed car, so I had the brilliant idea to use the Snugli in it's back-pack capacity; which I've never done before.

I've had the Snugli through both kids and can count the number of times I've used it on both hands. It's just a lot of buckles and fasteners but today, I was glad I had it. I tried it on at home to make sure I wasn't delusional and that it really did have the capability of being worn as a back-pack. It fastened easily and securely across my chest and hips so I figured we were in business.

When I got the trail and was the first to arrive, I started condensing our lunch down by feeding C's to his while he was still in the carseat, and scarfing my salad lettuce tossed in vinaigrette (not just any, mind you...it's Cindy's Kitchen Wild Maine Blueberry Vinaigrette...so good!)

I then started to realize that I didn't really know how I would get Charlie in the pack while it was on my back. Then it dawned on me that I'd load him in it, and then use his carseat as a 'safety zone' to hover over as I carefully, ever so carefully, put on the pack without dumping him on his head. All to the soundtrack of Henry screaming in a falsetto that would put a dog whistle to shame that he wanted 'to go on a walk.'

Baby on board, I started to fasten the chest strap...wait...how does this go together again? I don't understand...It fit just fine at home. It took a little humiliation and the beginnings of the beads of sweat to realize that Charlie's weight had just shifted the straps and I needed to do a little adjustment to get the mess of mesh and cloth straightened out but it still fit just fine.

Boy, did it fit! I think I should have tried on the pack with the shirt I planned to wear because I had cleavage that would rival Pam Anderson. Wow, boob-tastic was the first word that popped into my head. Is this a Snugli or a Wonderbra? Maybe I could wear him on my back everyday, because the girls can use all the help they can get!

The hike itself was great. Trout Brook Reservation in Holden has water throughout the first little part of the trail, so there are bridge crossings, and the trails have spots that still have evidence of ice storm damage and other debris across, but it just added to the challenge and fun. The more than 8 plus miles of trail are clearly marked, and definitely don't bring a stroller, because you won't get more than 50 feet on the trail without having to turn around. Once we were a little further from the water, I was able to comfortably let H run ahead, and he was blissfully exhausted by the time we headed back.

The one warning (well, besides the dog-owners who ignored the "please clean up your own poo" signs) is that it is a sanctioned hunting area, so wear bright colors during the various seasons and don't let the kiddos stray too far ahead. For today, it was fantanstic, and a great choice for a mom of more than one kid who wants more than a paved path with no scenery.

There is nothing better than the smell of the woods when a fresh, clean breeze blows through!

(The pic is J and H on our first outing to Purgatory Chasm...before we realized that Henry is too tall for the frame pack without propping his feet on the frame...oops!)

Magic Solution

After years of watching infomercials, making strict restrictions on myself and struggling to find the answer, I finally stumbled across a way to end all late-night snacking!

I have fallen asleep for more nights than I haven't over the last week between 8 and 8:30pm. Going to the gym again has made it so that I feel even more narcoleptic than usual at night. Tonight, I let H stay up after C went to bed and we read stories in my bed. I told him he could fall asleep there, and that I'd read my book next to him until he did. Yeah, I won't be doing that again. I'm posting just shy of 3am, because C just woke up for the first time (YAY, getting further and further out) and so did I.

My book isn't even boring, but I was down for the count. Well, all the better for my kids because mean mommy has a harder time coming out to play when I've had a decent night's sleep. Also J is working our favorite 26-hour shift, so he'll be alive by mid-afternoon, and it'll be nice to not feel compelled to take a nap when he wakes up. What?! We'll actually be able to stay up together and talk?! Unheard of!

This weekend, we went over to the Seuss Garden in Springfield that I posted about before, and it was a great day. Well worth the trip, as they also have a dinosaur exhibit at the science museum right now. J and I took the kids and packed a lunch for them. On the way home, I realized that I hadn't eaten since breakfast with the kids at 5:30...and it was 2pm! We landed at Texas Roadhouse (honestly the consistently best ribs) and had ribs, sweet potato and green beans. I didn't eat any of the potato, but c sure loved it, and as I packed it in the to-go box I realized it will make about five meals for him; oh to be a baby again.

That night as J and I sat down to watch the love-fest that is Mystic River, I noticed all of a sudden that there were words clipped out of the conversation here and there, and then they just stopped talking all together. Or, I just fell asleep before 8pm. Like I said, that night, I certainly didn't feel the urge to pop popcorn or eat some tortilla chips or ice cream. It's 1,2,3 magic.

Sally's Sense of Snow

In honor of J, I decided to join a new meet-up that is for 'outdoorsy families'. People that know me would most likely not ever choose 'outdoorsy' as one of my descriptors, but I finally gave into the fact that family fun with J and two boys would most likely involved camping, hiking and the like. While I'll be content to be left behind when they're older and want to hike the Pacific Crest Trail as J did the summer before we started dating, or go ultralight camping, I'd like to join the fun while they still want me around.

One of the first outings that appealed to me was snowshoeing. I've never done it before, and actually haven't participated in any winter sports since taking skiing lessons in sixth grade and never really figuring out how to slow down, resulting in the running over of my instructor at a high speed...more than once.

I RSVP'd yes to snow-shoeing at Weston Ski Track, pre-paid for two Pulks so that J and I could pull the kids in a relatively warm and comfy way and then anxiously awaited the big day. As the time drew near I realized a few things.

1. I don't really own any snow gear. I have a winter coat, but no ski pants, gloves, boots...

2. I'm really out of shape. What if it's super strenuous?

3. The fact that I don't own any gear for winter activity, and haven't since high school, is further demonstrative of my un-'outdoorsy' nature.

I started to get anxious.

I posted to the talk loop for my mom's group to see if anyone had ski pants I could use for the day and learned from a thrifty mama that Dick's had them on sale for less than $30. Whew! I arrived at the store and started flipping through the large rack of clearance ski pants and bibs. The bibs were only available up to size L...yeah, no. I took the XL pants to the dressing room and quickly stripped down. Because I'm currently built like Miss Piggy, my old problem of things fitting fine in the waist but being too tight in the thighs reared its ugly head.

The sale pants did not come in XXL, so I did a couple quick tugs at the knees and little bends to see if I could at least partially function and determined that if I didn't stride too large, bend over or fall down, I'd be golden. A little Tommy Boy "fat guy in a little coat" but I had my black Nike dry-fits I could wear underneath for cover in the event of a mortifying rear blow-out. Sweet. Coupled with my running shoes that I was wearing with two pairs of wool socks, I looked like a freakin' PRO.

On the morning of, we got bundled and arrived at our destination which turned out to be a huge golf course that they convert to cross-country ski/snow-shoeing trails in the winter. Perfect! Nothing too strenuous. To make it even easier, there have been several warm/freeze/warm/freeze cycles, so the crusty ice over the top of the snow would be much easier to navigate than powder that didn't offer resistance.

We had to park on a side road and they had shuttles taking us to the site, as it was a free trail use day and the place was packed. I saw my first obstacle when I realized I'd have to climb up into the van...without ripping my snow pants. Shit.

I vividly remember in Junior High when skin-tight wranglers were all the rage and I stepped into the stirrup from the ground for a long ride at one of my friend's houses only to hear the sickening rip of denim along my inner thigh...that was an interesting ride, let me tell you.

I was so relieved as we were driving up and I saw people walking around in snowshoes that were only about a foot longer than regular shoes, and were a metal frame. Because I'd never done it, I was still imagining the wooden framed monstrosities of the type that my college boyfriend had hanging on his wall in the dorms...now I have a feeling they were all for show and he never really used them. Knowing him, this is not surprising.

We weathered the rental lines, filled out the forms, strapped our kids into the pulks and away we went. As we were descending our first real 'hill' I felt the gentle pressure of the trailer in the small of my back, and started laughing as the mental image of me falling down the hill with the trailer attached to me filled my mind. Since it's attached by a metal frame, I wouldn't have been run over by it, but still. What would have happened? As I posed this question to J, his answer was that I would never have been able to stop laughing.

He's right about that. The only thing funnier than watching someone else fall, is when it happens to you in a humiliating public display; the fat girl who decides to be athletic for the weekend in her too-tight ski pants goes tumbling down the hill with her child attached, ripping her pants, overturning the trailer and falling in a heap at the bottom, in uncontrollable fits of laughter. He's right, I would never have recovered.

Alas, that did not happen and we had a wonderful time. Now, we're discussing a camping trip to The Cape this summer. Yeah, because I do so well in the heat.

Something Fishy...

Yesterday, I took H to the New England Aquarium in Boston with Alex and her boys. Initially I was going to take both kids, but then realized that J would be home from work long enough that I could take just H and have a little one-on-one time. I feel like I've been pretty disconnected from him lately. Our personalities, I'm learning, are fairly similar so now that he's coming into his own, we're really butting heads.

From the Jellyfish in the bottom to the Octopus in the top, H behaved like a dream and I felt the closeness to him I've been craving. We got to watch the vet do a little surgery on a new sea turtle that had been hit by a boat, and the scuba diver (or 'screwdriver' as H kept calling her) was feeding all the fish in the big center tube...lots of fun to watch!

He used the potty twice at the aquarium, and Thomas (the Train, not John Thomas a la Trey) stayed dry the whole visit.

After the requisite hour and a half at the aquarium, it was across the street to Legal Seafood to have a nice lunch. I know, I know. It's a little weird to feel a hankering for crab cakes after spending the morning looking at ocean life, but what can I say? It's some of the best seafood in the city. We had planned to walk to Mike's Pastry for cannoli (sing. cannolo, but who ever eats just one?) afterward, but ran out of time so "had" to settle for some Boston Cream Pie at Legal.

I could tell immediately that our server had kids, as she brought crackers out right away, and when only one child ordered a Shirley Temple, she brought cherries for all three. The food was great, the service was better, and the kids sat in a booth, sans boosters or high chairs without threat of being shoved into one for bad behavior.

After lunch we took turns shuffling the kids to the bathroom before making the trek home. I don't know if I've mentioned before, but H is a little sensitive to loud noises like the vacuum cleaner and now, I've found, public toilets flushing. Luckily he was sitting on a toilet with a sensor and he's the world's wiggliest kid. Each time he'd relax enough to go potty, he'd move to the side just enough to set off the sensor and the toilet with flush with roaring water, making him tense enough to make a diamond...awesome. After happening three times, he decided he just didn't need to go, so I took my turn and gave him one last shot. No dice.

At least he liked the automatic sink and paper dispenser...we'll have to work on the toilets.