Lots of football and an apple-less trip to the Catskills.

It’s pouring in New York City this morning, which means an accident on the GW Bridge, traffic snarls everywhere, and a miserable slog across town with (for me, anyway) a broken umbrella. Add to today’s fun this and this, as well as this and a protest surrounding the building when I finally arrived because somebody or other is speaking who is allegedly a huge international human rights violator, and it has already been a particularly fun Monday.

But they caught the terror suspect while I was in class and at least Finley reminded me to wear galoshes this morning (largely because she wanted to wear hers.) So that’s something.

We had another lovely weekend at home (USMA had an away game, so it was quiet on the Hudson), even if my meticulously-planned apple picking adventure was a little bit of a fail. It was uncharacteristically hot and muggy in the Catskills, 

Finley turns out to be a little bit terrified of (if simultaneously delighted by) farm animals, 

and the beautiful farm I had picked out to kick off our fall apple picking tradition had no apples. Like, none. Well, minus these tiny two, and you can see how Finley felt about that.

But it did have a bounce pillow.

And the world’s largest garden gnome. Oddly.

Then we got rained out at Lake Minnewaska (although it was still beautiful, and Seth for one didn’t look too disappointed that our double stroller hike was cut short.)

And the “kid friendly” brewery we had carefully selected for dinner turned out to hate kids. Or at least ours. (So I only felt a little bit bad that Finley broke a beer glass and spilled milk all over the floor. Largely because they served her milk in a beer glass. What could go wrong?)

Seth was ecstatic about big wins for all of his football teams (as well as about the fact that he got to watch all the games), and I fled ESPN and took the kids to the nature playground where Ford rolled around in the grass like a boss and the almost-two Finley did too. Finley's rolls, however, more closely resembled writing, and were accompanied by shrieking. Outside is a good place for toddler meltdowns to occur, so a reasonably decent time was still had by all. And the mud puddles were obviously a hit.

Oh, and we braved the outlet mall since Ford has outgrown all of his clothes. Finley is the only member of the family who enjoys shopping, so she did all the work. (I intervened only a little, to prevent Ford from acquiring glitter pants.)

The photos of the week reflect the fact that we're settling into a routine, although it's anything but monotonous. Seth and I even had time for a lunch date Thursday (at the Officers' Club- very West Point), we actually got- briefly- caught up on laundry (the parents out there know what a red letter occasion that is), and Finley now has the run of the block, regularly disappearing to the neighbors' houses unannounced. We're grateful to live somewhere that this is not cause for concern. 

Still, just when we feel like we have a handle on things, something like this happens:

and our evenings, more often than not, look like this. Exhausting, maybe. But never dull.