Summer Kickoff

Like most people, I'm a little torn about Memorial Day weekend. It's a somber holiday that causes a lot of introspection for us, and serves as the backdrop for heartbreaking photos like this one (of Michelle's kids and her brother Paul's kids, at his grave in Arlington.)

It also marks the start of summer, and (roughly) our wedding anniversary. So we generally choose to celebrate big, and remember to raise a toast to those who can't. Last year we made the trek back to Maine to commemorate our up-north nuptials, where we scarfed lobster mac and cheese and blueberry everything and I eyed Seth's craft beers jealously since I was pregnant with Finley.

This year I was determined to drag her along to the beach, the fact that the entire East Coast does the same thing notwithstanding. Maine is a bridge too far with a tiny tyrant, so we settled on quiet Sandbridge, just south of Virginia Beach. Luckily, we beat the rush and headed down on a rainy Thursday (after my annual office picnic, which was a little soggy.)

There was still enough traffic to make for a slow slog down 95, though, so we stopped to let Finley stretch her legs halfway. Why not at a (kid-friendly, randomly) biker bar?

 It was definitely a long trip down, but well worth it to wake up Friday to a stunning rental house complete with pool, beach view, and kayak dock.

The trip was much-needed R&R. Seth had just finished finals and was still unwinding, I was a tad scarred from Finley duty while Seth traveled weekends for track & field meets and studied nights, and the little beast was battling yet another vicious daycare cold. So it took us a little bit to let vacation mode set in. Once it did, we had a blast. We couldn't have had a more idyllic setting for our summer kickoff.

Seth got to fish from a boat, a private dock, and a kayak, and caught a flounder that he immediately fried up and devoured. He even got me to try it, and I have to admit it wasn't bad. (Then again, is anything bad when battered and fried?)

Finley, our little water baby, was beyond thrilled about having her own pool, even though the weather was unseasonably chilly. She kicked her little feet furiously in her new pool float, and had to be dragged out literally kicking and screaming when she started to look bluish and chatter her still-nonexistent teeth.

We were thrilled to take her out kayaking for the first time too, which she at minimum tolerated and may even have enjoyed. (Our dock fed right into Back Bay National Wildlife Refuge, which is beautiful and- importantly for our baby boating experiment- extremely shallow.) Finley was more interested in chewing my life jacket than checking out wildlife, but at least both kayaks stayed rightside-up.

As for me- to my great disappointment, neither Seth nor Finley cares much for the actual beach, which I adore. They magnanimously both indulged what I deemed a significant milestone: Finley's first "toes in the ocean." There are about a billion photos of the big moment here.

Dozens of towels, more than a few teething wakeups, and about a gallon of SPF 8000 sunblock later, we were sad to go home (but mentally congratulating ourselves for realizing that a rental house is the way to vacation with a six month old.) We beat traffic back and spent a lovely Memorial Day at home. Finley and I did the Memorial Day Murph at a park with the Taylors (she's a great workout buddy!) and we spent the afternoon at their house barbecuing and having epic water gun battles at the pool. (Seth totally won.) All in all, our long weekend was a perfect way to kick off the summer.

In "photo of the week" news, this picture- of Seth and Finley in our pool in Sandbridge- is one of my favorites ever.

And this is from last Tuesday with Ana & Ata. I just think it's adorable. Our November baby couldn't be happier about the arrival of tank top weather!

Guilt. And Cake.

Finley used to eat like a depraved woodland creature. Exhibit A: look at that concentration.

But as my self-imposed "six months of breastmilk only" deadline has come and gone, I am at least cutting back on pumping. Which means that Finley has started to get some formula mixed in to her bottles... and all hell has broken loose. She doesn't hate it, per se, but I do. It smells funny and makes her burp. And this is probably a coincidence, but the introduction of formula occurred at roughly the same time we said goodbye to a baby who sleeps all night.

I have heard- often and unsolicited- that just as soon as you get used to a new routine, babies like to change it up, and maybe that's all the new "up until all hours followed by emotional meltdown out of sheer starvation at 3am" routine is. But I still feel terrible.

All this even though we bought her an insanely expensive Berkey water filter for said formula, and order the stuff itself (import taxes and all) from Europe because I can't bring myself to give her the high fructose corn syrup and other miscellaneous crap the FDA overlooks in American formula. As a matter of fact, it's probably a good thing our desire to give Finley a sibling outweighs our desire to feed her only the best. It's probably preventing me from sending frozen breastmilk with her to college.

That all sounds a little holier-than-thou, and certainly I don't think that formula is going to make Finley's nonexistent teeth rot out and her tiny brain cease to develop, or whatever nonsense you read on helicopter-parenting blogs. Frankly, Finley's tough and healthy enough that she could probably survive on a steady diet of dirt and potato chips by now (and likely will, once she's old enough to fish in the couch cushions). It's just that Mom guilt is strong. And inexplicable.

At any rate, the deep freezer full of organic homemade baby food helps assuage it a tiny bit. As does the fact that my Mom can get her worked up into a legitimate feeding frenzy for sweet potatoes.

Speaking of my parents, I took this awesome picture of them birdwatching last Tuesday.

And this was Finley while they were at it, looking like a tiny tyrant. Tuesdays are the best.

Between formula guilt and the newly-sleepless Finley (not to mention the fact that I hadn't gotten any birthday cake!) it was a terrible week to kick off a long stint of solo Finley-duty, but Seth had papers due and finals looming and was putting in all-nighters left and right. On top of that, he was headed to Arizona to throw at the Desert Challenge Games.

Which he totally won!!! and bested his previous throw by four feet. And although I probably avail myself of too many opportunities to remind him that juggling  one demanding job, one school schedule, two commutes, one sleepless infant, and a career as a paralympian is an awful lot (and more often than not dependent on my pulling a lot of single parent time)... I couldn't be more proud of him for managing his end of the juggling act. Which includes being SuperDad and finding time in an already-packed schedule to work out, and is definitely not easy.

Finley and I survived on our own, at least partly because one of my Captains made me a birthday cake and brought it to work. And also because I had organization day Friday (read: got to go home after a seriously boring picnic) and shoved aside working-parent guilt long enough to get a few chores done blissfully uninterrupted and make a Bethesda Row stop to use my fabulous lululemon gift card (a birthday gift from Tony & Jayne). And, OK, I made a Georgetown Cupcakes run while I was there.

She forgave me for the extra hour in daycare, and let me sleep until almost 5 Saturday morning before behaving like an angel on an early morning run along the canal in the jogging stroller. Lulled into complacency, I decided to push my luck and took her to brunch at the farmer's market afterwards, which resulted in an epic meltdown when I wouldn't let her eat my deep fried cheese grits. In the course of which she somehow wound up with sriracha in her hair. Needless to say, there were a hundred people watching as she writhed and jabbed hot sauce- covered fists at her own eyes, and I felt like the parent of the year as I wrestled her into the car, dropping my half-eaten breakfast in the process.

Don't worry. I picked it right up.

We both recovered in time for her to charm the crowd at Steph's wedding shower, although it was difficult to tell which of us was more excited to see Seth at 3am.

It may actually have been Finley. (I probably have a million of these photos, but they never get old.)

Sunday was beautiful out, and before Seth hit the library we took her for her first carousel ride at Glen Echo Park. I remembered the good camera for once. There are some terrific pictures here.

And a couple of photos of the week, which capture the little terrorist perfectly. This was our first try at blueberry millet porridge, which she loved. We're still working on our spoon skills.

Good thing, however, that she's adorable. I sent Seth this picture at 2am.

Double holiday fun (AKA Finley's favorite weekend ever.)

Ever since I discovered that there was a stunningly beautiful resort on the Chesapeake Bay right in the middle of prime Eastern Shore hunting grounds, that's where we've headed for special occasions, quick weekend getaways, and "Seth wants to sit in a treestand all weekend but not at the expense of his marriage" compromises. The last time we went I was pregnant with Finley, and decidedly unenthused about having to skip the hot tub, mimosas, and massage (since let's be honest: on-your-side prenatal massages are not worth lumbering onto the table for). This time I was determined to enjoy all three, and was fervently hoping Finley would let me sleep past 0600 in honor of the double birthday- Mother's Day holiday.

I enjoyed the mimosas and the massage immensely, and swapping the hot tub for the kiddie pool was not a hardship since it was 85 degrees on the Eastern Shore. Our little water baby splashed around like a champ, and we chalked up yet another Important Parenting Lesson: you apparently have more fun when your kids are also having fun. (Don't worry, Mom. We put a sun hat and six layers of sunblock on our translucent little Scandinavian princess.)

We also learned that kiddie pools with bars that serve mai tais are a win for everybody. 

Unfortunately, although we celebrated the double holiday with a couple of cocktails, Finley did not. She was wide awake and enjoying her luxurious hotel digs at 4am. This is what my birthday/ Mother's Day morning looked like. It was not what I had in mind. A few minutes later, mid-diaper change, she peed all over our bed. It was hard not to laugh at the rapid deterioration of our romantic weekend getaway.

Later, Finley caught up on the news...

...and enjoyed breakfast in bed...

...before a delicious brunch (although she was mad that we refused to share our mimosas)...

...and more pool time.

Which, combined with her early morning wakeup, completely wore her out.

Finley basically had the best Mother's Day ever.

And I did too. It was incredibly special to get away with my little family, early wakeups notwithstanding. It's incredible how much has changed in the last year, and how absurdly happy we find ourselves these days. 35 was unbelievably good to me. We're totally enthralled with our new roles as supporting cast in the "All-Finley Show." But we're also proud of ourselves for surviving the transition, for still making time for each other, and for learning how to take turns supporting one another. (Not to mention for figuring out how to take the baby away for the weekend!) Seth went out of his way to make the double holiday special, just as he has always done. I'm definitely lucky. 36 has big shoes to fill.

In keeping with this week's theme, the photo of the week: Finley hijacked yet another of my presents. (My picnic blanket is covered in applesauce and baby snot, she wears my sunglasses, and it's just a matter of time before she knows how to use the new iPad Seth gave me.) This hammock was a present to myself, and we both love it. Although the huge grin is at least partially because she was looking at her Dad.

As far as Mother's Day goes, it's just one of many days of the year on which I have occasion to think how lucky I am to have been raised by my Mom, and to have gotten from her my love of fresh air, of reading, of adventure, of nature, of good music and turkey barbecue (not to mention my hatred of bad grammar)-- all things I hope to pass on to my own kid.

Missy dug up this picture of Mom and I in Hawaii, and it's one of my favorites.

I am grateful, too, for the lessons I've learned from Jayne, a shining example of positivity and selflessness and unwavering support for her kids; and from my sisters Sara and Lisa, both exceptionally cool Moms who have taught me much about the dirty business of raising kids (and living to laugh about it.)

And I'm grateful for my partner in crime. Of all the lessons we've learned since November 5th, the one that stands out the most is that this is most definitely a two person job. I'd be lost without the Dad of the Year.

The absolute best thing that happened this week: this sound. (Finley discovered banging together spoons the other night in the kitchen, and went nuts.)

Here's to love, laughter, and another great year!

Of backyards and belly laughs.

Our backyard is easily twice the size of most inner-city parks. It's both fenced and ringed by privacy hedges. In the spring, it bursts with blooms I can't identify and the sweet smell of cherry blossoms and (on a good week) freshly mown grass. There is no trash, no sirens, no hum of traffic, and not a single unsavory character lurking about. This week especially, as we are inundated with images of riots in Baltimore just up the road, I am reminded of the thousands of kids in America who will never see such a backyard, who never eat breakfast listening to the sounds of birds chirping, who don't have a safe place to play. I know there are other, more basic and crucial, needs that aren't being met for those kids, but the lack of access to a safe green space tugs at my heartstrings, a metaphor for the loss of childhood itself.

I am determined that Finley will know and appreciate how lucky she is, which means dragging her outside to listen to the damn birds even though she (embarrassingly and hopefully temporarily) abhors sunlight. There's a bonus in it for me too, though, since kids have a way of turning lessons around on their purveyors. Yesterday afternoon, as I tried to get a little bit of work done on my iPad while Finley rolled around on my (her) new picnic blanket in the backyard, this demanding little face kept peering over the screen. So away went the distraction, and we laid side by side on the blanket and looked up at the treetops. I haven't done that in years. I vow to do it more often.

Speaking of the picnic blanket, it was my early birthday present from Mom & Dad, and it's my new favorite possession. By which I mean it's Finley's, and she loves it. Everyone should have one of these.

Finley and I have had lots of "Mommy and Me" time lately, since Seth is hard at work on his thesis proposal. We did take a break for the big JAG Regimental Ball Saturday night, though. As far as "obligatory events requiring expensive and uncomfortable uniforms" go, we couldn't have gotten luckier. This one was at the O'Club right down the street from Mom & Dad's house. So they let us completely destroy their weekend plans and crash at their house, and they hung out with Finley while we braved multiple wardrobe malfunctions, an incredibly long receiving line, and the world's hottest ballroom. We got this family picture out of the deal anyway, and woke up to cinnamon rolls. Mom & Dad's full service bed and breakfast rocks.

We took Finley to the Belvoir pool Sunday, which is way warmer than the one at Walter Reed. This time she lasted almost 20 minutes, and kicked and splashed until her lips turned blue. She still has the bradycardic response, which is awesome. She put her face in the water like a trooper and didn't even cry. We were beyond proud.

As a reward, we took ourselves to the new Buffalo Wild Wings on our way home (and Seth's way to the library.) Finley handled the menu like a pro

and wouldn't keep her hands off my beer. (At some point we realize this will stop being funny. But it hasn't yet.)

It was a busy week, but it did come with some belly laughs. Two of my favorites were the hand soap Seth picked up at the grocery store (Finley really does call the shots in the Nieman household, apparently):

and the view on the baby monitor Tuesday night. She slept like this for hours:

Oh, and last night, she learned how to do this. She was incredibly proud of herself.