Back at home and a trip to the hoot.

When the whirlwind that is Walter Reed churns you up and spits you out, invariably it deposits you squarely on a Monday morning. Such is life, and we were destined to spend the week playing catchup- although there were sweet moments like these to remind us to smell the roses. 

Seth spent the first part of the week recovering in bed, and then on Wednesday afternoon took himself coyote hunting from his truck, logged a good night's sleep, and got up and taught class the next morning. I think he had just decided he had had enough convalescing. 

My week was indeed spent being late for everything, caught up on nothing, and grateful- as usual- for Sally, who at least made sure we had milk in the fridge. Lucky for Ford, since that and chocolate chips are about all he ingests these days.

Somewhere in there was a snow delay, and it was one of those crummy, icy snows that is neither pretty nor soft but is damn near impossible to shovel. Finley tried to help, and we eventually gave up, took a few death-defying runs on the snow tube, then headed for school and work resolving to park on the street until the ice melted instead.

By Friday we were all d-u-n, but we had promised the kids a date night. Or rather, Finley had played on Dad guilt at having missed the dance and scored herself the promise of the bookstore and a "fancy restaurant." Seth didn't take pictures, but I snapped a couple of Ford enjoying the consolation prize (Mom, plus a trip to the germ-riddled indoor playplace and dinner at Chili's.)

And then the kids proceeded to have the weekend of their "greams" while Seth caught up on sleep and work and I tried to engage in as much "life admin" (largely laundry and grocery shopping and bill paying, oh my!) as I could. These guys, on the other hand, had inner tube races while Seth put snow tires on his wheelchair

and were incredible "vestibal" buddies at the winter hoot, a Catskills music festival I had been dying to go to. They kicked off their shoes and danced the afternoon away

and LOVED the instrument petting zoo.

We made it back south in time for a beer-and-sausage date with the Biers.

Super Bowl Sunday dawned with gray skies and freezing rain, the perfect day to stay inside and test out the new instant pot (which is amazing) before spending game evening as all holidays should be spent: playing dressup

 sword fighting with cadets

 having princess dress-clad Nerf wars

 and even watching a bit of football.

It went too fast, as all good weekends do, but with an appropriate amount of buffalo sauce. A real Super Bowl win.

My favorite photos of the week were from the hoot, and this one makes me laugh. Von Trapp family, here we come!

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.