(My) Mama Knows Best

 

Naps are for losers, yo!

My mom is here visiting.  This is awesome for all kinds of reasons, not the least of which is that she can offer parenting advice every other minute.  Now, normally I'd say this would be mildly to somewhat annoying, but right now we are in the thick of a naptime regression and I am losing my mind.  Does my son not realize that his naptime is for my ever important internet perusing?  I've already given up trying to use my phone for anything besides capturing his antics.  Please honey child, spare me the one vestige of sanity I have all day!  Fun times around these parts lately.

It started about a week ago when his nap shrank down from about 100-140 minutes to about 60-70 minutes.  Ouch.  That was miserable, though I had no idea what was to come.  Now, I'd be happy with an hour, considering it's been 30, 40 minutes in between shrieks and howls.  I have no idea what's causing this issue.  He's still sleeping 12 hours at night and doesn't experience major bodily harm upon waking like he must during the day to produce these horrendous screams.  Are his daydreams that scary?

So at least my mom is here to comfort him, especially when I'm quaking in fear that we're all losing the nap.  That cannot happen.  It will not stand. 

But, the main tidbit that my mom offered this week is to stop asking my son so many damn questions.  It's true!  I never noticed but I give him all the authority in our relationship.  Do you want to eat?  Is the food good?  Would you like some more?  Is it time to go to sleep?  Are you ready to brush your teeth? And on and on and on.  And on. 

She pointed out that I give him more agency than I give myself.  It's such a simple concept, but I only realized the power play once my mom mentioned it.  Also, I'm not exactly helping his language skillz by encouraging him to answer y/n to everything.  By trying to engage him in conversation, I'm probably doing exactly the opposite.  Strangely, I've noticed that he always answers "no" in a whisper and "yes" in a shout.  That's a good thing?  According to the gospel of my mama, instead of always asking him what he wants/needs/thinks, I should be telling him what's happening.  Might as well pretend like I have some idea.

Ebb and flow

Dear Weekend,

Thank you for you tireless efforts to prove to me, once again, that motherhood is basically a journey of the highest highs and the lowest lows.

Friday night, I stayed home while my husband went out and got some bro time.  True to cheesy form, I somehow convinced myself to rent "The Vow."  Shut up.

Saturday, we woke up to a pile of vomit in the crib and it was all downhill from there.  Most of the day was spent hugging my sick son while tears streamed down his face.  The silent agony was far worse than his screaming, grunting and crying could ever be.  His fever was fairly high, due to a Dr. Mom-diagnosed combination of required monthly toddler sickness, teething and maybe a reaction to the live-virus in last week's MMR shot.  FYI, maybe don't go to the good Google when researching MMR reactions unless you're really prepared to open that door.  While I don't see any definite correlation between vaccinations and autism, it is rather frightening to read these posts as your kid is refusing to eat, move or even look at you because he's so miserable.

The whole day he just seemed confused and sad, like he was trying to work out why this was happening to him.  Thankfully, he fell asleep easily for the night and miraculously slept straight through me taking his temperature multiple times like a mad mama. 

Sunday, we had a new little man on our hands!  Ah sleep, is there anything you can't do?  Although our daredevil was back, we took it a little easy and abandoned our special hiking plans (sorry, Tony).  Mr. Schneed made breakfast though conveniently forgot about dish duty.  I did, however, get about 45 minutes of silence to read the NYT, which was pure Mother's Day bliss.  I also met some of my besties for ice cream during the wee one's nap. 18 months in and I'm finally beginning to realize that ice cream or wine make blessed nap time even more blessed.

We went for a family bike ride to a local park to round out the day.  Shorty managed to find every tweeked out, stoned or drunk couple to say hello to as he was roaming around.  In Dolores Park, you can really pick your poison.  Oh, and I let him run around without shoes as he conveniently lost one on the bike ride to the park.  Definitely not my proudest moment as I looked down and saw bottle caps (and worse) every six inches.  Hooray for socks! 

Eating a healthy meal of french fries and only french fries.

I'm feeling quite lucky to end this weekend laughing with my boys and all ten of their toes.

With (mostly) Love,
Elana 

P.S.-We found the missing sneaker on the street as we were biking home.  Miracles do happen.

Stuck In The Middle With You

Five and a half years later and he still wears the Urban Fetch shirt all the time

On the plane home from a rather long, difficult week in New York (aside from a very special dinner at Jean Georges) dealing with a scary (and successful!) surgery for one of my necessary people, 500 Days of Summer popped on my Virgin Red. Who can resist Zooey? Mr. Schneed hates this movie. He just doesn’t understand why she doesn’t want to be with the nice, cute guy. I remember seeing it in the theater and my cute, nice guy husband was viscerally angry at Summer. Watching it the other night while feeling wistful, I had an epiphany—I never have to date again! You would think this would have struck me earlier given that I've been with my husband for over 5 years. I've always been a slow learner. Obviously, this is assuming that I don’t go through an even more horrifying divorce. Barring that, I never have to date again. Woohoo!

No more painful breakups. No more sobbing through dinners with friends because yet another relationship is on the bridge to nowhere. No more wondering if he'll call. No more wondering if I'll ever fall in love again. No more fearing that I'll never have a family. But also: No more searching for the perfect outfit to wear on a first date. No more witty text/im/email banter. No more wondering what it would be like to wake up with him. No more trying so hard to be my best self.

I've been so focused this past year on being a mother that I fear I've ignored my wifely duties. Perhaps ignored is a little harsh. Maybe more like forgot to water for, oh, say, about a year and change. But, thankfully ours is a cactus marriage and (mostly) thrived during the drought. In yesterday's Modern Love column in the NY Times, the author writes about how she poked the bear and endeavored to make her good marriage even better. I'm starting to feel the same itch to start poking. Why wait for things to start falling apart before letting my dear, sweet boyfriend-for-life know how much he means to me?

In the spirit of fixing what ain't really broken but could use a tune up, I want to try to recapture some of the giddiness and excitement of dating. Lately, I find myself saying things to my husband in a tone I might kindly call shrewish. Where did this person come from and how can I banish her? Before snapping or snarking, I want to take a moment to think about how I would react if I were only dating this man. Would I criticize how he bites the spoon every time he eats ice cream? Would I make fun of his desire to watch The Bachelor? (Probably). Would I compliment him more?

When we first moved in together, after traveling back and forth between New York and San Francisco for over a year, we used to wake up each morning laughing at our good fortune. We knew how exciting it was to be together every day and our pillow talk reflected that. Now our pillows are dreadfully quiet as we've both passed out from exhaustion and fear that tonight might be the night that the baby doesn't sleep. This week I'm breaking the silence. I've been feeling like quite the lucky girl again--time to let my date know.

It's not just me

The other night my brother and I were treated to a fancy, schmancy dinner at Jean Georges by his extremely generous and pretty much spectacular girlfriend. The meal was all sorts of buttery and delicious. I should be not surprised that all of my clothing suddenly appears to be a wee bit tight. This morning I felt all Chris Farley as I wrestled with the buttons on my now uber fitted winter coat. The dinner, which was in celebration of my brother's birth, consisted of eating, drinking and desserting for hours. Let your eyes linger on this vision of beauty that was my chocolate dessert platter.



We consumed this, and two others like it of the caramel and orchard persuasion, along with numerous chocolates, candies, marshmallows...and my mouth just started watering.

After gorging ourselves with wine and fois gras (actually not my thing, but when at JG...), we rolled ourselves back to the apartment where we are staying for the week. The building's front door was open and we all struggled to find a working set of keys when the apartment lock flat out refused entry to all the ones we had. We went through each of the sets that we were given, laughing loudly at our dilemma. How rude! Did the locks change? Are we that drunk? Finally, as we were just starting to get the tiniest bit frustrated, I questioned whether we were even in the right building. Um, no. Turns out we were in the building right next door that conveniently looks exactly the same. It's amazing that no one came out of the apartment after we spent at least a good 5-10 minutes fiddling with the lock and cursing at 11:30 pm. Needless to say, we hauled ass up and out immediately and found our proper home. Apparently, this is a family thing.

Things I learned while vacationing with a toddler

1. Always bring more snacks than you think you'll need.

2. Don't tell a mom who is struggling to corral her wild child, "wow, he must be a handful, eh?"

3. Disposable swim diapers are your new best friend. Cleaning poop out of swimsuits, even ones with built-in diapers, is not a good look!

4. Sometimes it's ok to let your kid play with the toilet paper roll in airplane/airport bathrooms.

5. Chilling at the beach while your son takes a two-hour plus nap in his stroller is a lot less fun when you realize he's completely peed all over his stroller.

6. If your child pees through his swimsuit all over his stroller one afternoon, you shouldn't be that surprised when it happens again the very next day.

7. Watching your kid chase around cats, screaming "at, at" while trying to feed them maraschino cherries is as good as it gets.

8. Pina coladas make the world happy.

9. Don't start reading "The Hunger Games" unless you've got a spare 5-10 hours in which to be sucked into a vortex where you will unable to carry on a conversation, go to the bathroom, look up.

10. Sand, while awesome, is also seriously annoying to clean off little boys' bodies.

11. Random people are very sympathetic once your toddler throws up on you mid-flight. Your husband, on the other hand, will repeatedly tell you that you smell.

12. The food that your child adores at home for some reason becomes disgusting and inedible in another country.

13. Some people really love seeing babies walk up and down the aisle on planes. Some really don't.

14. Grandparents are magical people for both children and parents alike.

15. Watching your kid walk for the first time in front of his great-grandma, grandma and great grand uncles is better than fireworks.

16. Doing shots on new years is always a bad idea.

17. The confused look on your kid's face when he wakes up in a fourth location in two weeks is seriously adorable and maybe a little sad.

18. There is always going to be someone skinnier than you on the beach. But, the odds are pretty good that there is someone fatter too.

19. Hypochondria is contagious.

20. It's best not to argue with your 96 year-old grandma when she says your son is a "cockeyed genius" just because he can find everyone's belly button.

At the edge

Eatin' ribs at the beach. Sand gives them more flavor and crunch.

Might be nice if mommy thought to bring a blanket.

This morning Mr. Monk enjoyed his first taste of what I expect will be a lifelong love...the Carribean Sea! He face planted in the water easily 15 times and kept coming up for more. Sitting at the shore, as the tide washed in and out, he seemed to be in a state of utter bliss. I had to hold him as tight as possible to prevent him from just crawling/walking right in. Can someone please explain how are toddlers so strong? It's like I'm putting steroids in his milk. As calm as this water may be, I'm thinking he may not be ready for his first open water swim.

Last year, on this same island, I was hit by a rogue wave that knocked me completely on my ass. As I came up sputtering, I was minus one pair of fancy sunglasses. The year before, the same thing happened though that time I came up minus one bikini top, which I thankfully found before my father-in-law could see me. Eek! Still, losing the sunglasses was worse. I'm hoping they found their way to a lovely new owner with good taste.

It was such a relief to see that the little guy likes the water, after he grunted and pelvic thrusted his way through dinner last night. His tantrum included knocking over a glass of water, throwing pasta and an utter refusal to walk anywhere except up and down a set of stairs ten thousand times. After his perfect behavior with my family in Florida (including actually walking for the first time in front of his grandma and great grandma!), we were convinced my husband's family was in for the devil treatment this week. But, he's a beach boy through and through. I'll be finding sand in him for weeks after we leave. Now, if only the ocean could do something about his constipation.

Here's wishing you and yours the happiest of holidays!

Straight baller

So, apparently the trick to flying solo with a little is to go first class....

If only. We got upgraded because of a glitch that had us seated in a row with another baby, which is not allowed on Virgin. My lucky day! The other baby cried the whole flight and never slept. Poor baby and poor mama. I spent most of the flight walking up and down the aisle, so I didn't get to take full advantage of the amenities. But we did manage to fully recline for naptime. Total relaxation at 30,000 feet. Mr. Monk LOVED flying in style. He charmed all the flight attendants and only elicited slight side-eye from our neighbor to the left who drank easily a bottle and a half of white wine on our morning flight. Thankfully, the pilots didn't seem too disturbed by his banging on the cockpit door for a few minutes when I was trying to clean up a little animal cracker slaughter. That kid is like lightning speed these days. I had to grab his hoodie at least five times to prevent him from tearing off back into coach. With the plebes. Oh, man, I miss that flight.

We're now in the land of tan bodies, early bird specials and really awful drivers. Ah, Flahreedah. I've already seen three accidents in two days. Fun times. I also saw a woman jogging this morning with her little toy poodle strapped into a jogging stroller. Weeeeeee. I'm in love. I've been coming to Miami to visit my gramma since I was a kid. She's 96 now, so you do the math. 96?! Seriously, I hope I'm as active as her when I'm 56, let alone forty years later. She is one stubborn, charming, and rather amazing broad. And, spending the past couple of days with her and my wonderful (stubborn, rather amazing) mom makes me realize how alike the three of us are. How fun for my husband, eh?

This is just the beginning of two weeks of family time for the Schneeds. Good thing no one cares about anyone but the baby anymore. I could disappear for a day and Mr. Monk would be the only one to notice. As long as the blondie keeps showing off his belly button, stomping his feet (like an elephant-can you do it?) and eating his grammy's latkes, we're in business.

Happy holidays! We are going to brave the mall tomorrow am. Hope we make it out with all our limbs in tact!

I miss the office holiday party

Jealous!

One inadvertent side effect of not working right now is that there is a slight lack of excitement about the upcoming holidays. Without any daily decorations to remind me and vacation days to look forward to, I seem to be missing some holiday spirit. My boys and I are lucky enough to be going somewhere warm in a couple of weeks with some far-flung family members, but we'll be gone for the entire holiday period. Being a good Jewish girl we usually get all loud and proud with our Hannukah menorah and latke eating. Since we'll be traveling this year, we've got nothing. Add that to the 60 degree weather here and it's really hard to remember that it's December.

I keep looking for Christmas trees in people's windows. There really aren't that many-why not?? Man, I love Christmas trees. When I was a kid, I was sooooo jealous of friends that got to have them. I spent twenty minutes the other day watching a tree trimming party that was taking place about a block away from my house. It seemed like a bunch of pre-teens, hanging ornaments, placing the lights just so, drinking hot chocolate and debating the merits of team Edward vs. team Jacob. I was all caught up in my daydream about being 12 again when I noticed someone noticing me staring at the group through the window while my dog waited to continue with our walk. Awkward.

Yesterday a friend asked me what I was getting Mr. Schneed as a gift. I honestly had no idea what she was talking about for a few seconds. We've been on a little gift-giving hiatus for the past couple of Hannukahs, though last year I did present him with a (relatively) brand new baby boy. I'd like to think this was because we both feel so enriched by our daily love for each other that we don't need any additional presents, but really it's because we are lazy. Lazy and indecisive. I try to only buy my husband things (I think) he either needs or wants and always manage to miss the mark slightly. Our garage is like a bodega of failed gifts. At least he can't bring himself to throw them out, though at this point we might as well hold onto the boogie board (he once said he liked to boogie board...I didn't hear the "as a kid" part). As evidenced by the gift certificates that he's bought me for every anniversary, birthday, etc. for the past five years, my husband is clearly scared to pick anything out for me.

Lately I have been hearing so many scary stories that really make me feel grateful to be alive, healthy and loved. Maybe a little generosity for ourselves and others will be just the thing to get us feeling a bit more merry. I'm thinking a food theme would be a safe bet for all the Schneeds this year--for my old man, for his ball and chain, and for our wee one.

Ready to roll

As if I wasn't already excited about the new baby bike seat we got for Mr. Monk's birthday...now if only we could figure out how to attach it.

Secret To A Long, Healthy Life: Bike To The Store

by Nancy Shute
November 2, 2011


What would you say to a cheap, easy way to stay slim, one that would help avoid serious illness and early death? How about if it made your neighbors healthier, too? It could be as simple as biking to the store...





Hajime Ando/Flickr
Putting the shopping bags in the bike basket rather than in the car trunk could deliver big health benefits.

How is it possible?

• That I sang along, in the car at full volume, to songs by the Indigo Girls, Randy Newman and Colby Caillat? I am embarrassed for myself. Damn you, Coffee House channel.

• That I ate no less than four cupcakes today. They were minis. But still.

• That I got lost in Target today for a good ten minutes. Fluorescent lighting confuses me.

• That almost every video we take of Mr. Monk these days features at least one fall. Better get the band aids ready.

• That right when I start having second thoughts about ending my career as a milk supplier, the goods up and all but disappear on their own. The body works in (not so) mysterious ways.
  

• That doing one tiny something nice for someone else is so much more thrilling than doing nearly anything for myself.

• That despite spending at least an hour every day cleaning my house, the floor still looks (and feels) crunchy. Perhaps I should just stop going barefoot.
  

• That my 96-year-old grandmother went to her stretch and flex class today, but thinks she might be a little too tired for her silver sneakers class tomorrow. Maybe next week, Gramma!

• That one year ago today I gave birth to a beautiful, curious, eager, sweet, innovative, happy, hilarious and impossibly strong little monkey. More to come when I can fully process this information.
  

• That my big boy had a virtual birthday party with both of his grammas, one of his aunts and his baby cousin who all live 3,000 miles away. Technology is supremely awesome.

Off to the festy

This afternoon my little family and I are headed out to meet some friends at the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park. This is my fourth year attending the three-day music festival featuring bluegrass musicians and many, many others (hence the name). Years ago, I spent some time as the girlfriend of bluegrass-obsessed guitarist. When he formed an amateur band, I became the number one groupie (of two), so I'll always have a fondness for the twangy sounds of the banjo and mandolin.

2011 marks the 10th year of the festival and it only seems to be getting bigger and better. People, it's FREE!! As in, no need to pay anything at all to see amazingly talented musicians play outside in a spectacular venue all for the sake of pure fun. I can honestly think of no better way to enjoy the day. I'm most looking forward to seeing Gomez and Emylou Harris-too bad they are playing at the same time on stages across the park. Alas.

The festival was started by an investment banking billionaire as a "gift to the city." There's today's good! I wonder how I can get on the guy's Christmas list.

Getting ready for his audition with Mumford & Sons

No Goop for me

Activities I am fairly certain Gwyneth Paltrow* would not engage in if she were visiting Portland:

1. Driving.
For some reason we thought nothing of driving 600 miles through half of California and Oregon though we would probably never decide at the last-minute to cruise on down to South Carolina from NYC. It was a beautiful drive, even if I did have to climb into the backseat every ten minutes to pick up the baby's toy that he conveniently dropped into the door crevice.

2. Peeing in her friends' backyard.
We were staying at the home of friends who were out of town and just could not get the damn door open. After trying for ten minutes, I decided it would be better to intentionally pee on the grass rather than accidentally on their welcome mat. Hello Portland!

3. Feeding her baby a dirty bagel.
Mr. Monk's new favorite activity is to gnaw on a fat bagel with his two new teefs. Combine this with his old favorite activity of dropping things on the floor to see how many times mommy will go pick it up and you have yourself a party! I mean, how dirty could a city street in Portland after a farmers market really be?

4. Eating every possible free sample at said farmers market and then go back for seconds at one stand only to be told by a farmer that she "must be hungry today."
I don't care, those giant blackberries were a thing of beauty. I didn't know if I'd ever get to experience their kind again.

5. Getting yelled at by some self-righteous hippie.
When we stopped in Ashland, OR for yet another pee/smoothie break, my husband waited with the sleeping baby in the car. Sitting under the hot sun, he quickly realized that he needed the a/c running or the baby would melt. Or worse, wake up. After a few minutes, a woman came up to him and remarked that she was so disturbed by his car burning so much fuel into the air that she couldn't even eat her lunch. Well. My sweet husband kindly told her that he was conditioning the air for our son's benefit not to simply ruin her day. She wilted away and meekly apologized for not realizing he had a baby in the car. Booyah! We are all for a progressive attitude and proactive environmentalism, but this was downright obnoxious.

6. Go hiking in a dress.
Or, maybe she would? I forgot to bring any shorts but at least I had some closed toe faux sneakers. I got some strange looks but the trees in forest park were well worth the chafing!

7. Having to pull her husband's wedding band off his middle finger as he's driving 80 miles an hour.
Why he was playing with it and "just wanted to see if it would fit" as he was driving (speeding) is beyond me. His voice was creeping up in panic till he was practically screaming at me to get it off!

8. Getting her period in the middle of a party.
I felt like I was 14, having to ask around for a tampon. And not finding one. We went to a private concert by two awesome Portland bands, Ages and Ages and Portugal. The Man and I spent half the time worrying that I was about to pull a Carrie.

9. Letting her baby crawl around a pizza joint.
At first I tried to ignore the tantrum and eat my deelish pizza. Mr. Monk was not having it. I finally caved and let him loose. Thankfully, everyone in Portland is peach pie sweetness and nobody seemed to care that there was a rabid baby darting under their table.

10. Refusing to leave.
Have you been to this great city? It's so green and gorgeous. We honestly thought about checking out some open houses but then remembered that we want to move closer to our families on the east coast, not further away. Why is there no Portland equivalent back east?

*Hand-painted wallpaper? A bathtub in the middle of her bedroom? Seriously?

Albeit with more hair

Recently I was chatting with a friend who just adopted a dog. As we were discussing what's awesome and what's awful about puppyhood, I realized that raising a dog is perfect training for raising a wild baby. To wit:

You clean up their shit constantly--especially in the beginning. Now at least the dog poops outside. Tony was far easier to house train then I imagine our crazy little monkey will be. Maybe I should have done elimination communication (this one mama had her 6-month-old poop into a tupperware bin in the middle of a yoga class!)

Everything goes in the mouth--and they always want what you're eating. My husband made the mistake years ago of enticing Tony to eat his food by giving him a little "topper." So now he won't eat his boring old dog food without some chicken, cheese, bacon, cocaine on top. Mr. Monk is showing the same snobbery towards his baby food. "Puree again? Only with caviar!"

Slobbery wet kisses--unfortunately, neither the dog nor the baby can give a kiss without tongue.

You're so excited when they learn a new trick--the fact that Tony pretty much only knows how to "shake" doesn't bode well for Mr. Monk's college applications.

Food motivated--I treat Mr. Monk's puffs as if they are the juiciest bone ever. Sometimes I'll even throw some in the snack trap so it's like a kong and he's got to work them out. Puffs = food + entertainment.

Brain development--my dog at least knows not to play with knives or dive headfirst off the changing table. Though neither speak much, both are very effective at getting their demands across through barks of varying pitch, duration and volume.

Exercise--they both need to be tired out before they'll nap. Mr. Monk spends much of his day crawling back and forth across the house. And back and forth. Exactly like Tony at the dog park. Sometimes I'll even throw a ball for him to "fetch."

I'm beginning to think that Mr. Monk identifies a little too closely with Tony. His new favorite activity is to race over to the dog food, pull himself up and take the food and sprinkle it out all over the floor. Let's not forget splashing his hands in the water bowl-that's THE BEST! And, just this morning, he figured out how to follow Tony outside...right through the doggie door!

"What?"

But sleep is so nice

This article was both inspiring and terrifying to me. How driven this woman must be to spend 60 hours swimming. 60 hours! I wouldn't want to swim for 60 minutes. *Shudder* I can't stop thinking about her swimming instead of sleeping. Good for her. And, if she's middle aged at 61, then I'm basically a teenager.

I found a check in my wallet this morning from a class action suit settlement that apparently became void 90 days after it was issued. Too bad it was issued in December and it's been over 180 days since then. Awesome. Do you think if I called the law firm and told them that I gained one baby and lost one mind in October they might feel bad enough to issue another check? Nothing like discovering that you burned money. I almost wish I had never found it again. At least that way I would never have remembered that I forgot about it. But, I did manage to spend less than $100 on my trip to Whole Foods today, so score.

I've been on a big decluttering kick lately and it feels so good. Mr. Monk and I took a big trip to the post office today and mailed a big box of big boy clothes to his (smaller) baby cousin in New York. Knowing that the clothes have a definite second life in my sister's home justifies any and all clothing purchases (and makes me feel better about some of those gifts that we completely missed-babies grow fast, y'all!) It's a good thing you can't get too wild with the baby boy clothes, though I've tried. I can't wait to see my nephew in some of Mr. Monk's finest.

One of my friends who is due in October (a great month for a birthday!) came over the other day to check out some of the gear that we no longer need. She's taking most of the gaudy plastic structures, including the exersaucer and two (yes, two) swings. Hooray! She'll give 'em back when her wee one is done, but at least I get to enjoy the extra real estate until we start this crazy process all over again with the next one.

Watermelon is key

There is a major east coast summer storm raging outside right now. Thunder! Lightning! We just don't get this on the west coast. The rain we get, but not with all the fun accoutrements. Of course, if the power goes out while I'm typing this I may not be quite so appreciative. We're in upstate New York, near where I grew up. Though I lived in NYC for many years before moving to San Francisco, I am torn as to which area I miss more (at least in the summer). I guess I am just a country mouse at heart--I love walking around the general stores in these tiny towns, checking out the one fancy home goods shop and eating the local pie maker's fare. Life is slower and quieter around these parts and it's nice to just let time elapse. We're playing board games, cooking dinners and having face to face conversations instead of electronic ones. Mr. Monk is trying new fruits and crawling on grass. None of us could be happier.

We also got to introduce Mr. Monk to his adorable new baby cousin this trip. He was born the last time we were in NY, but for some reason hospitals don't allow 6-month-olds into birthing rooms. You and your rules, hospitals. It was so incredibly sweet to see my son with my sister's. Mr. Monk thought he was the greatest toy ever! He kept batting at the baby and trying to launch off of him. Thankfully, the littlest one was nonplussed though he didn't much seem to enjoy the old finger in the eye trick. I can't wait to see them together in a couple of years. Something tells me we're going to need a bigger bubble.

This is our third stop in five days, which included visiting another cutey baby boy cousin, attending a wedding and many, many car rides (and an alarming number of u-turns). Thankfully, Mr. Monk has been sleeping well on so far, though he seems a little too excited for two-nap days. I mean, who wants to sleep when there are Grammies to play with and coffee tables to climb on? Tomorrow we head to the big City to see a mighty number of friends and family. Mr. Monk takes Manhattan!