Grandparents, trail nirvana, and the Disney store.

You know that feeling when you finally become one with the trail? When your breathing stops being uneven, and you don't even have to look down to sense where the rocks and roots are, and you just kind of glide...? I had almost forgotten it. My nerdy neuroscience-obsessed husband would call it reaching "flow." I call it "trail nirvana." And I haven't experienced it in a long, long time.

This week, thanks to both sets of parents, I got to experience it twice. And it was divine. 

Ana and Ata left. It was very sad. We didn't even have time to grieve before Grandma and Grandpa blessedly showed up. Thanks to them, we got to have a date night to see George W. Bush receive the Thayer Award

and have a few extra sets of hands to tackle kids at the football game, an excellent one in which Army beat Temple in overtime. 

The kids, naturally, acted terrible.

Seth held the plaque and spent a couple quarters on the field. Making time for his cutest fans, of course.

We also made it to a prep school game Sunday, which was awesome and fun. Very low key.

Finley got to terrorize the sidelines.

Afetwrards we even tackled the mall, for an epic early birthday trip to the Disney store with grandparents- of which I regretfully (?) got no pictures, and carousel fun was had by all. 

Plus we had a killer early birthday dinner at the Yardhouse. Preceded by Ford's dance moves at the bar.

Finley's early birthday fabulousness continued with a trip to rabblerousers practice, the highlight of her young life.

And now we're back to this, after weeks of having good times with grandparents. We miss them all, already. Clearly.

Although my favorite photo of the week- admittedly, I didn't take as many with J&T as I should have- is this one, of Ford with his favorite thing ever. He drills everything these days, appropriate and otherwise.

And I have a soft spot for this game photo, with the creepy mascot.

Mom & Dad & Elmo & Stolen Cigars

I've given up on keeping track of things like lateness, or cleanliness, or how many times one of my kids has snuck into my bed and I've been too tired to do anything but fight them for a corner of the blanket. I can't remember the last time I blogged, or frankly the last time I washed my hair, cleaned my microwave, returned a phone call, or mandated the consumption of vegetables. We. Are. Beat.

Luckily before scurvy descended upon us all, Mom and Dad showed up. And took over all the chores and all the cooking and most of the "go sit on the potty"s. We could not be more grateful. 

They have really saved the day on bedtime stories 

 and cramped car rides

and rainy day entertaining

 

and getting picky Ford to eat.

They also navigated post on a game day  with tired kids in tow so I could make a quick trip up the coast for Rebecca's Rhode Island baby shower, which was lovely and meaningful. (And it's amazing that 7 hours of driving time, when you haven't had any time to yourself in months, can repurpose itself as a real treat.) 

Not to mention the fact that I am going home to a from-scratch chicken pot pie tonight. You never, it seems, stop needing Mom when things are rough.

Because they're here, we're even able to do a little kicking back. Since we knew reinforcements were coming, last weekend we eschewed laundry for Sesame Place.

And it was terrible. Hot, crowded, full of people from new Jersey... we totally wished we were doing laundry. The kids loved it.

We also hit Seth's work Oktoberfest for sausages and beer (and terrible hats and dangerous sibling fun)

and Tommy Ryan's batman birthday party,

We threw a party last night and completely wrecked the house in our Elsa finery while Mom & Dad were out enjoying a much-deserved hike.

And Seth gave this amazing speech at last week's Spirit Luncheon.

Somehow, thanks to family and adorable kids and pumpkin beer, as crazy as things are we're enjoying fall.

Ford, with cigars and cadet regalia

and Finley with sleepless nights and early morning workouts.

Life is nutty but good.

Thank God for Our Village.

Well, I'm officially an entire week behind. On blog updates, obviously, but also on life: on post-trial (the absolute worst part of my job), on groceries, on vacuuming, on remembering to pay our childcare bill which for some reason cannot be placed on auto-pay like freaking everything else, and most likely on making kids brush their teeth and eat vegetables. My CSA vegetables are rotting and- I'm convinced- staring at me accusingly. I'm way more than a month behind on personal correspondence, thank you notes, and decent workouts. And forget about remembering a birthday or anniversary.

We're holding it together, but just barely. Counting down until Mom and Dad arrive this weekend, and not even a little bit embarrassed to admit that I'm pushing forty and sometimes just need my parents.

But until then, we are just swimming in gratitude for the contributions of our village. (They say it takes one, and ours has experienced some urban sprawl of late.) We have the best neighbor on the planet, who regularly feeds and watches our kids, and who had a vehicle ready in seconds when my car battery died on an 8am meeting day. I don't know how any dual-income family gets by without a Sally. (Neither, apparently, does Ford.)

We have a neighborhood in which our kids can and do ride bikes in the street like some kind of Fisher Price- sponsored street gang, subject to the parenting of whomever happens to be standing closest.

We have lifelong friends with whom we may fall in and out of touch but who come out of the woodwork with boxes of "keep them busy" presents for the kids and a subscription to a cocktail delivery club, upon receipt of the wheelchair news. All of which is appreciated beyond measure, even if Finley's new dressup kit sometimes results in her looking like a miniature Disney-themed drag queen.

We have new friends (new to me, anyway) it feels like we've known for decades, who just pitch in with extra hands and mimosas in nalgenes and look the other way on stick fighting. (This was family day on Constitution Island, which was a total blast, but which required the wrestling of small children in context of boats, nature, period actors, and a live snake. Cue the village.)

We belong to a community that understands that one person cannot contain two toddlers at ballet class,

and makes almost all events kid-friendly. Including Oktoberfest.

And we have best friends who understand that things are currently chaos and are willing to dive in for the weekend anyway, shrugging it off when the maid cancelled, the boss's tailgate was the worst party ever, the Niemans couldn't join them in the football stands, the weather took a major turn for the "no one dressed for this," and dinner got delivered hours after bedtime. 

And then did our laundry.

Even so, by Sunday afternoon we were done. Plus we needed some downtime at home to just get stuff done. We drank beer and put the kids to work and Seth fixed my car. (Check out Finley "helping" him with her hammer.)

And now we're up to our eyebrows in Monday. Couple favorites from the week(s) were this one, which was not an awesome photo but a completely awesome moment, when I got to run through the Battery Tunnel with the Corps of Cadets for the Tunnel to Towers 5k.

And this documentation of the complete shitshow that was my brilliant idea to entertain kids on a rainy day: Halloween costume shopping.  

And hilarious Ford, marching around a donor event at the football game, with his goldfish. He can't get enough of himself- or of illicit snack food.