The hamper is never going to happen. And that's OK.

My husband is good at many things. He was a standout football player and a widely respected special forces officer. He's a terrific athlete, coach, father and husband, and a wildly successful grad student. He is tough, loyal, thoughtful, and smart. He helps out around the house, sends flowers, remembers birthdays, and inspires lots of people- including me- every day.  

There are actually very few things he's bad at (unless you happen to be a fan of safe driving.) He's not terrific with money- a kid in a candy store has nothing on Seth Nieman and Cabela's. He owns a kegerator, a full-sized deer target, a never-used pool table, and the other day I came home to find- no joke- a set of throwing knives he had ordered.

He's also bad at saying no: the offer of a bear hunt in Manitoba has been under discussion for weeks, as it stands to obliterate Memorial Day weekend AND our anniversary. Not to mention prime thesis-writing time. But I know it's killing him to consider passing it up.

And he is awful at getting up with the baby at night.

This didn't used to be a huge thing, since I had to get up to pump or nurse anyway. But now she's up at all hours teething, and I'm starting to walk around like a zombie. Last night Seth offered to take a turn. I dumped Finley next to him and went to go warm a bottle, and when I got back he was dead asleep, his arm around her while she squirmed and wailed and gnashed her toothless gums. I tried again. I woke him up and handed him the bottle. Within 30 seconds he was fast asleep with the bottle in hand but not Finley's mouth, a steady stream of milk running down her face.

At the end of the day, sometimes you just have to pick your battles. Seth is never going to hear the baby monitor, or give the 3am bottle, and it's not because he doesn't want to. It's just not in the cards. On the other hand, when he walks into the room, Finley lights up like the fourth of July. He does daycare dropoff and most of the pickups, and he and Finley have an adorable morning routine that involves him building her a baby recliner so she can watch "Sheriff Callie" while he gets ready. He even knows the theme song. And he gives her the most adorable baths that leave our bathroom looking like Noah should send the ark.

Men think that women, when we get together, spend the time complaining about our husbands and how their socks never wind up in the hamper. They're mostly wrong. Michelle and I went for our annual jog along the parkway this Sunday (the George Washington Parkway Ten Miler), and talk- as always- quickly turned from the elusive hamper to the necessity of letting go of the things you can't change and loving and admiring our husbands for the millions of really terrific things they do, and the incredible husbands and fathers and partners they are.

And mine's really something else. On top of Dad duty and school demands, he's been working hard at throwing the shotput as an amputee. Friday, he competed in his first meet- the Texas Regional Games- and had a couple of phenomenal throws. Finley and I were bummed we couldn't make it to see him in person, but we had our hands full back at the ranch (I honestly do not know how single parents do it.) And it looks like Seth will make it to the Paralympic World Championships this year, so we plan to go cheer him on in Toronto.

As for our girls' day Saturday, out of sheer desperation I took Finley to Tyson's Corner to try to distract her from her teething misery. It turned out to be perfect. Loud enough to drown out a cranky baby, and chaotic enough to keep her interested.

Plus she made her first trip to lululemon! A momentous occasion if there ever was one.

I love this photo. We were hanging out Friday night, and Finley kept looking over at her basket of toys (my attempt to keep the living room from looking like Toys 'R Us) to see what else was in it. Finally, she grabbed the rope handle, pulled it toward her, and peered inside. Miraculously, I caught the moment. 

Oh. Also, she loves avocado applesauce, suddenly. (I've started making her baby food and experimenting with flavors. She was skeptical up until the end of last week. We're so excited for her to eat real food!) Sometimes it even gets in her mouth.

TDY and Turkey Hunting

The ring fingers in the studio could put a Cartier display case to shame, and I was the only person in the room who hadn’t had major (and recent) “work done,” as we used to say in LA. I had found the trophy wife hangout (a barre3 studio down the street) and I was relieved I had packed some lululemon yoga pants. I maintain that workouts like this one- a combination of ballet, yoga, and pilates- are only for skinny people who want a bit of a toning and an excuse to purchase expensive workout gear (as opposed to those of us who actually need to sweat off the extra beer and cheesecake calories), but a barre3 class at 9am on a work day is a sure way to feel like you’re on vacation.

I wasn’t, technically. I was in Madison, WI for an outreach argument at the UW law school. And we did do some heavy lifting, prepping for the argument and putting on recruitment and outreach events. But I made the most of my baby-less couple of days in beautiful Madison, and squeezed in some much-needed (and appreciated!) “Amy Time.” I went for long runs around the lake, drank Leinenkugel’s and ate cheese curds, found time to get a long-overdue haircut, and got a couple decent nights’ sleep. It was terrific.

Seth held things down at home, although- because of his Tuesday and Wednesday night classes- we couldn’t have pulled it off without my parents, for whom Finley was allegedly an angel. 

She resumed her routine of waking up starving an hour before my alarm as soon as she got home, however. Luckily, she redeemed herself on Friday, when she and Seth met me at the Crystal City Friday Night 5k for her first jogging stroller run (of course we picked a crowded and rainy race to try it out.) I was a little worried that she’d hate it and scream a mile or so in, envisioning myself carrying her back to the start line while pushing an empty stroller. Instead, she spent most of the race trying to stick both of her feet in her mouth, pausing only to crack up hysterically when we ran into the idiots who stopped right in front of us, or giggle and point when we passed someone.

That’s right, our kid is an asshole. Still, I was ecstatic, proud, and more than a little relieved that she had made it the whole way. 

We took her out for dinner afterwards, where she charmed Ted’s Montana Grill and even sampled the sweet potatoes. All in all, my perfect Friday night.

Our weekends have had a “divide and conquer” theme lately, as Seth wastes away in the library working on a couple of big papers he has due while I drag Finley outside to enjoy the spring weather. We’re still figuring out the juggling act, but I was glad we could make an opening day turkey hunt happen for him on Saturday. Especially since he got his first one in a couple of years, and was thrilled about having made the tough shot (and, presumably, finally killing something I'll eat!) The feathered victim also happened to be a “bearded hen,” which is apparently weird and rare. (Sounds to me like a transvestite turkey, which made me laugh. I’m not sure he appreciated it, as it earned me a stern zoology lecture. Love my big nerd.)

Finley and I made the annual trip out to Algonkian Regional Park for the North Face Endurance races. I had bailed on the 50k for which I had registered- since pumping mid-run is really not worth the hassle- but we hung out at the finish and cheered for Josh, who was doing his first ultra. I wasn’t sure if not having run would bother me, but I love the low-key event, and spectating was kind of nice for a change.

Sunday our sweet girl got hit with a growth spurt and what seems to be teething all at once, and spent most of the day either eating, sleeping, or screaming. We still managed a walk on the canal and a reasonably pleasant lunch at Fish Taco before Seth fled for the library. Finley didn’t let me get much done, but we did work out together (pictured here doing supermans, her favorite), which makes her laugh uproariously. I'm not sure whether I should be delighted by this, or insulted.

 Two photos of the week: too cool for school on a walk with my Mom, and

playing with her new alphabet toy. It has batteries and makes animal noises and will likely get old fast, but she does look like a smarty pants playing with it.

Oh, and one more, because we're beyond stoked for the New Mexico Walters. They got their next assignment, and they're going to Misawa, Japan!!

Back on our bikes!

I had to reach for the pedals with my tiptoes, making me sit artificially straight in the seat with my shoulders squared and my chest high. For a minute I wondered what on earth had happened to my bike, until I remembered that the last time I had ridden it I was 39 weeks pregnant with Finley, and I had had to have Seth to adjust the seat to accommodate my burgeoning belly.

It was crazy to think that it had been months. And then, that it had been only five months. Having a baby sends you into a weird kind of time warp. 

I looked over my shoulder at Seth pedaling slowly (carefully!) behind me, our precious cargo strapped into the trailer behind his bike. She was bouncing around alarmingly but seemed fine, busily chewing on the straps and taking in the late evening shadows with wide blue eyes. What a difference a couple months makes!

We were ecstatic that Finley was getting big enough for the bike trailer and the jogging stroller in time for weather nice enough to enjoy family outside time.

Less ecstatic that this seemed to coincide with a decline in the enjoyability of weekend family snuggle time. (Finley no longer contentedly drifts off to sleep after a morning bottle in the big bed on weekend mornings. Instead she thrashes around, flails her limbs, pulls our hair, and makes increasingly loud baby chirps as we try to go back to sleep, drifting off again only after it's been long enough for Mom to have given up and downed two cups of coffee, foreclosing the possibility of more sleep. Then she and Seth snuggle while I do dishes. Evil genius.)

In an effort to exhaust the little beast, and enjoy the finally-springlike weather, we spent as much of our weekend as possible outside. It was cherry blossom season in DC, but Finley and I braved the traffic Saturday for a walk along the river with Steph (and a play date with Tessie, which went surprisingly well.) We couldn't quite bring ourselves to deal with the tourist crush on the mall, so we retreated to Bethesda's own cherry blossoms, which are almost as nice.

And, of course, we have cherry blossoms right in our front yard! Spring in DC really is lovely.

 It's not quite warm enough for swimming weather, though. We've been dying to take Finley for her first swim, but the water at the Walter Reed pool is really, really cold. Finley kicked like a champ, but screamed like a banshee. We'll have to try again when it warms up a bit. We're convinced she's going to love it.

Seth indulged me Sunday morning before barricading himself in the library, and we all went to brunch at the Bethesda Farmer's Market. There's a food truck there that I've been stalking called the Culinary Nomad, and it was even better than advertised (deep fried cheese grits? Yes, please.) Besides, I think that a sunny Sunday brunch picnic is pretty much heaven on earth. 

Now it's Monday and I'm stuck in airport number two, headed to Madison, WI for a couple days for an outreach argument. I hate leaving Seth and Finley, but I have to admit that I'm excited about the sleep.

And, OK, the cheese curds.

But it would be impossible not to miss this crazy baby, who is as happy eating her feet...

...as she was determined to steal my breakfast potatoes. (Seriously. She snatched a handful while I wasn't watching. This isn't a great photo, but it's evidence!) 

Well-timed flowers, and lots of new stuff.

Seth "and Finley" sent me "just because" flowers Friday, reminding me just how lucky I am. It made my long, exhausting week.

Turned out DJ was in town for the weekend, so I spent the next several days reminding Seth how lucky he is- to have accidentally sent flowers at an extremely opportune time, and to have a very, very patient and understanding wife.

This is what my living room looked like at 4am Saturday. Sunday we won't even talk about, except to admit that it was with great satisfaction that I ordered Seth into the shower on only a couple hours of sleep so he could take his daughter to her first Easter service. If I could've guaranteed ice cold water, I would have. He smelled like a distillery but we made it, and he was a champ in church with the Very Squirmy Finley (who eventually landed us in the crybaby room of shame, banished behind soundproof glass.)

Finley had had quite a week, kicking it off with a pediatric radiology ultrasound for a worrisome bump Mom and Dad had noticed on her head. She's fine- official diagnosis: weird shaped head (which will look fine when it's finished fusing)- but the radiology department will probably never recover from her epic meltdown. Nor will we. This is the "before" shot.

She also got her four month shots (just in time for her five month birthday, we're the worst), which threw her off her game a little. But she recovered and was up to no good in no time.

We started her on (a tiny bit of) baby cereal. Jury's out on texture, and she tries to eat the bowl. So that one's a work in progress.

And she's finally allmoosssttt big enough for the jogging stroller Seth bought me, which is unbelievably awesome. The shocks on that contraption are better than the ones on my car. I can't wait to have jogging adventures with the Finster...

 

... which will be just in time for the warm weather that's recently started to fight its way through what was a gray, chilly, snowy winter. Although yardwork looms, we're stoked to be able to play outside with Finley. (Who loves everything about the outdoors except the sun. Which she hates. Little vampire.)

And yesterday Seth finally got his birthday present, the new TV I had promised him but which he ended up having to pick up and assemble by himself. I was going to take care of it, but we got rid of the old one Sunday and Seth informed me that Finley absolutely had to have a living room TV that night so she could watch "her hoops" (the women's Final Four.) So this happened.

They're such cute partners in crime (see photo of the week below), all I can do is laugh. And give in. So that pretty much spells disaster. And a giant, 4k- whatever that is- new TV it is.