Medical mayhem and gratitude for friends and Grandmas.





It turns out that skipping ski trips was the least of our worries. Although we did get a snow day in there somehow, and the new snow tube (the kids' first, thanks to Ana & Ata!) almost made up for it.

The following Friday we had planned to have the Ryans over and I had to work late. Seth was supposed to order pizza and hold down the fort. When I got home, though, he was nowhere to be found and there was definitely no pizza. I finally found him shivering under the covers in bed with the lights off. Not a great sign. 

I was committed to taking Finley to the Women's March in NYC, though, and against my better judgment I deserted Ford the next morning, banking on the healing powers of sleep for purposes of toddler supervision, so Finley and I could make the world a better place. Or at least make a colorable effort. Seeing her and her friends with their signs was priceless.

To my dismay, Seth was still down and out when we got home (Tommy had helpfully swung by to make sure Ford wasn't smoking cigars and drinking whiskey when given the unsupervised opportunity, a very real possibility), and it was all downhill from there.

(Minus the eventual reminder that kids are resilient and mine sure know their way around hospital corridors and nurses' break rooms.)

Prior to that hilarious moment, Seth spent the weekend in bed coming up with reasons not to go to the emergency room while I wrestled the savages while running errands.

By the time I finally got Seth to the hospital it was  clear he had a terrible infection and a sure thing that they'd keep him, and by Monday when Keller still couldn't figure out a way to get him to Walter Reed I had no choice but to wait until his evening IV antibiotics were over, abandon kids to the kindness of friends, and get in the car wearing whatever I found in the bottom of my gym bag to fight turnpike traffic and beat the six hour antibiotic window to the 4th floor of WRNMMC.

We made it, and I was back at work Tuesday, thankfully the day Jayne was already scheduled to fly in to help out with my weeklong TDY- cancelled due to the government shutdown- and thus began a week of absolute mayhem. Seth, nearly septic, gutted out three surgeries. (This picture is before he went to Walter Reed obviously, but is adorable.)

Grandma Jayne, as per usual, saved the day. There were cupcakes (to celebrate the LTC list, which came out- and I was on it!- a big relief that was kind of overcome by events this week) and wrestling matches and playground trips and remarkably unaffected kids.

Prior to her arrival our village picked up kids, fed them, bathed them, brought us dinner, and generally kept us sane. "Grateful" doesn't even begin to describe it.

Pete saved the day and took Finley to the three year old social event of the year, the Father Daughter Dance.

While Jayne and I took Ford to a hockey game.

A few short hours later, we made a crazy early Saturday trip down to Walter Reed (complete with pajama-clad visit to Chick-fil-a)

thinking we could spring Seth, and wound up getting an impromptu hotel room; a much, much-needed GNO with Michelle; and a last minute plane ticket for the world's most flexible, generous, and understanding grandma.

And somehow, Sunday night, after an extraordinary amount of traveling for all involved,  Jayne landed in Grand Forks and a slightly druggy Seth and two remarkable trooper kids and I made it back home. We're kind of... recalculating... now. Trying to figure out the next couple months. Juggling all the irons in the fire, to mix metaphors.

This week+ has been wild, but there have been lots and lots of "carpe diem" moments that have reminded us to be grateful. From the sweet surprise champagne toast at the Ryans' (and flowers from a just-out-of-surgery Seth) when it seemed that the LTC news would be lost in the chaos

to the joy of these two at having finally sprung Dad from "Walter Weed"

to their rainy day celebration of that fact, gleefully running around the park barefoot

and dancing in puddles in new dresses.

We may be a little nonplussed right now, but we are wildly fortunate indeed, and we never forget it.

NOT a Ski Weekend.



I mean, it's probably not the most woke way to celebrate the remarkable contributions of a black civil rights crusader. But due to seasonal considerations, participation in the whitest sport imaginable (fine, with the exception of curling) has always seemed like the way to celebrate the MLK long weekend.

Until we had kids. Who are so. much. fun. but real downers in subzero temps. Last week when I dragged them outside with me to shovel the driveway and they fled shrieking inside in approximately 2.4 seconds, I decided that skiing should maybe wait another year.

So my sacred ski weekend involved way more fish than one usually finds on the menu at après happy hours. But Ford was thrilled at the trip to the (heated) Norwalk Aquarium.

Finley wore her finest princess outfit and loved that there were real dragons.

And we were all reminded of the magic of jellyfish. Which is not quite the same as fresh powder magic, but we adapted.

Even though Seth and I were a little miffed that the kids' favorite part of the aquarium turned out to be the bathroom hand dryer. Jerks.

Because the weekend highs were in the teens, we hit up all the indoor attractions, including our reliable winter standby, the Mid-Hudson Children's Museum

and a new brewery up the street. Which, it turns out, has ice cream sundaes. So even terrible eater Ford was happy.

We did a lot of laundry, a necessary evil of long weekends at home, and finally found time to move around furniture. The kids now share a room and have a fabulous new playroom. Jury's still out on whether they'll actually stay in their new beds but they seem to like them.

We got to catch up with old friends (who have hoverboards, which are real craziness and should probably be illegal)

and attend impromptu birthday parties.

I shared my longstanding solo tradition of risotto night with the kids,

and was rewarded with this incredible dance party.

And the kids got long-overdue haircuts

and Ford got a new basketball. Which he sleeps with, he loves it so much.

All in all, it was a lovely weekend at home, and I only got a little itchy for snowy weekends away. Although I did look up Adirondack cross country ski resorts after my friend Kelly swore her two year old loved the pull-behind kid sled, and that's officially on the weekend menu one of these arctic days.

The photos of the week make the small sacrifices worth it. These three:

 and the discovery of a hot dog restaurant. Which, gag me, but F+F were in heaven.

2018, Missy, and an Arctic Blast.

This was the dashboard scene on Friday morning on the way to work. The Arctic blast is still upon us,

and this is how F+F feel about it.

Last week Seth was at Walter Reed getting prosthetic work done (in bonus news, that means he's on his feet again!) and we got hit with the "bomb cyclone." Which means that- naturally- post closed, I had to go to work anyway, the C-max got stuck on the daycare hill, the kids and I hiked home in the blizzard (accompanied by the wailed sound of "I hate snowwwww!"), and once the kids were in bed after an incredibly long afternoon stuck inside due to 60 mph winds (which included the taste-testing of mini apple pies

and Ford's version of a polar plunge)

I burned off at least half of my New Year's Eve calories shoveling the driveway. (After the ever-chivalrous Seth had Pete and Chris drag my poor, warm weather, city car home.)

So basically, so far, 2018 can suck it. Luckily, we're still basking in the glow of the end of 2017, which went out with a bang of grandparents and Missy's visit and the Rockettes and the Polar Express and a cold, snowy trip to Mystic, CT, which is as magical as it sounds even if we spent an afternoon at a random Urgent Care in Connecticut confirming that Missy had strep. (And the rest of us were- thanks to a sick and miserable December- immune, minus Seth who doesn't have tonsils so handles strep like most of us handle a hangnail.) Missy was a trooper, though, and we crammed a ton of fun into a couple days. As per usual. The highlight reel is here, although photos (as always) don't do it justice:

Miss left on New Year's Eve, and we were left to cope with our post-Christmas blues the best way we knew how: with Vikings game day fun at the Schnacks' (complete with sword fighting in front of the fire)

and an indescribably epic NYE sleepover at the Ryans'. Ford made tamales, the dogs wore new year's hats, the dance parties were even more enthusiastic than usual...

and the confetti cannons turned out to be the best investment ever. 

New Year's recovery involved, typical Nieman-style, the postponing of our resolutions, the skipping of workouts, and a kid-friendly day of beer, football, pizza making, and riding bikes in the house. 

2018 is obviously off to quite a start, and the holidays will be sorely missed. Tuesday morning on the way to daycare Finley shrieked "I want another vacaaaation!!!!" the whole way there.

Me too, kiddo. Me too.

But at least we have horrifying/ hilarious vacation videos like this to remember it by. 

And as if there weren't enough epic photos, our faves of the week include this sweet sword fighting shot

and this completely random one of Finley, just living better than the rest of us. As per usual.

Prost! and best of the new year to all. May we all find the joie de vivre of toddlers (high heels and crowns optional).