My bella Ella,

Your entire life has been chock-full of big changes. I’m hoping that things settle down now for awhile, but this last year was no different than the past two. We moved in to a house, and you got a shiny new Baby Sister. The house was no big deal for you. You loved the process of looking and once we made the final decision, you couldn’t wait to move in and explore. Compared to our apartment, this was a palace, and the novelty of having our own yard again was a natural high.

We made sure your new room was YOUR room. You were kind enough to approve all my choices regarding paint and decor, including your own little flock of birds, to keep you company. And when we decided to switch you into a twin-size bed, in order to move the crib into the nursery? No problem! Bring on the change! You slept in that bed the very first night and haven’t looked back since.

We were really hoping that attitude would prevail with the addition of your new baby sister. That you’d accept the changes and roll with the punches. All in all, I think you’ve been more than accommodating. After all, this new person did demand lots of time from not just Mommy, but Daddy as well. You did ask several times when Sophie was going back to the hospital – mostly when Daddy was holding her, but you finally accepted that she was here to stay. And you’ve taken your duties as Big Sister very seriously. You’re vigilant in showing her new signs for words like “more” and “all done.” You’re a pro at rolling-over-instruction, dance lessons, and even help with feedings.

Your love for your little sister really gets me. The way you play with her, just to get her to giggle, could melt even the Grinch’s heart. I get all veklempt when I see you put your arm around her and say, “love you, Soph.” I know, as a sister myself, that those days will most likely disappear for awhile when she attempts to borrow your favorite shirt or throws an ice skate at you – and sometimes I wonder if you’re trying to be sneaky and smother her with your intense hugs – so I’m enjoying this time for as long as it lasts.

Some days I wish I could see in to your brain. It must be working constantly, at a million miles a minute. There are times when you tell me something that I know we haven’t talked about in over a month, but you repeat it like it was yesterday. Despite the fact that 99% of your time-outs are for NOT LISTENING, you have an increasingly freakish memory. This has really manifested itself in your love of music. You are very quiet when we introduce a new song, absorbing it all until you can repeat it back. Sometimes I wonder if you just zone out, thinking about Dora this and Diego that, and then you’ll start singing the words to Sound of Silence – in key, of course.

And speaking of Dora and Diego – you LOVE LOVE LOVE those shows. I wasn’t all too happy about this (I much prefer Yo Gabba Gabba or Sesame Street) but then one day you turned to us at dinner time and counted to 10, IN SPANISH. Dad and I just sat there in stunned silence until you repeated it again, holding up your fingers as if to say – duh! – I was COUNTING, people – pay attention! You’ve also started watching Ni Hao Kai Lan, and who am I to stand in the way of you speaking English, Spanish AND Mandarin? We do still limit your TV-time but I’ve stopped complaining about your choices – if hearing that inane backpack over and over again helps you become multilingual, than so be it.

I enrolled you in a class at our local rec center this year, in an attempt for both of us to hopefully find friends. Luckily, it worked. You have now had a handful of successful play-dates with your new BFF and I have a fellow mom to commiserate with on the ups and downs of Life With a Toddler. I’m hoping that this continues because it’s made our new home feel more like, well – home.

Tonight I tucked you in and told you the story of your birth. 3 years ago today, you were handed to me and instantly turned my life upside down. As I gave you your final goodnight hug, I started to cry, and trying to hold it in, made a pathetic, whimpering sound. You gently patted my back and said, “Excuse you Momma. Excuse you.” Then you smiled that bewitching smile, gave me a kiss on the cheek, and asked if I could please leave the door open on my way out. I walked out of your room, where you lay, tucked in to your big-girl-bed (safety rail down and all) with your flashlight and books. As I sat down on the living room couch, I let the last 3 years wash over me, and I cried – something that I’m certain I’ll do again and will also, in the future, certainly embarrass you. But I promise that if you are privileged enough to have children of your own, you’ll understand and maybe even forgive me for that time I wept in front of your prom date, while taking a million holographic (because that’s totally the next new thing) pictures of my “birdie girl.”

Love,

Momma

(Sophie really needs to pump up the participation level-although, those cheeks do take a lot of effort to maintain…)

There are things in life that just have never occurred to me – like the idea of not trick-or-treating on Halloween. Of course, in Utah, if it falls on a Sunday, they celebrate it on Saturday – which is strange enough – I don’t really think passing out candy is going to offend the Lord, but whatever. Anyway, that’s the only exception. Tom told me that growing up they ONLY trick-or-treated on Sunday (the Sunday before the holiday) and that seemed even more strange. Turns out Harrisburg does the same thing. Except it’s the Thursday before. And no one has been able to give me a real reason as to why they do it that way, or why it’s not even consistent around the state.

So my point is – we went trick-or-treating last night. I volunteered to take the kids so that I’d have a good excuse to dress up (and I was the only parent dressed up – but they were all lame party poopers) and I had a great time. This was Ella’s first real trick-or-treating experience and even though we only went around one block, she was dragging her pumpkin home, filled to the brim with treats. This was mostly due to people handing her 5 pieces at a time. It was a slow night, so everyone was generous, and they also included some extras for her baby “brother.” (Yeah. I’d really put a boy in a tutu. Come on, people.)

I let Ella decide what she wanted to be this year and she immediately chose a penguin. Sophie was destined to be a ladybug, so we didn’t ask her. I had a jailbird costume for Porter that I’d scored for 50 cents last year so he didn’t really get a choice either (I think he mumbled something about wanting to be a cowboy – I’m not sure.) And I recycled my favorite costume – a gypsy outfit that Kari made for me 6 years ago.

The original plan was to make both of the girls’ costumes. I scoured websites and fabric stores for a good penguin pattern but in the end was only able to find one in a size 4T and up. I figured I could try to make it work, but I was nervous about the adjustments and how it would look in the end. And then I ended up finding the most adorable Macaroni Penguin costume at Gymboree. And it was on sale for $10. So I sucked up my “I’m super crafty” pride and bought it. I was thrilled to find out they have pink feet because I’d also just purchased a pair of Converse sneakers in the right shade, for Birdie’s birthday. And I think I redeemed myself in the crafty area by researching the correct food for that particular penguin and then making a stuffed krill, instead of opting for the easier- to- make- fish.

Sophie’s costume was relatively easy since I’d made something similar for Ella’s first Halloween. A tutu and stuffed wings that tie on with ribbon. The extra addition came in the form of antenna. I made a headband and then attached some poofs I cut out of felt, with pipe cleaners. Wha-la! A princess ladybug is born!

I’d say the night was a hit, considering Ella has asked me several times when we are going again, and she’s already talking about next year’s costume. (A peacock, or a princess, apparently.) Sophie was pretty disappointed that she couldn’t eat the candy, but settled for a nibble of krill. Porter is still claiming his innocence, and I’m feeling very restless all of a sudden…like maybe we should put all our belongings in a wagon and wander around, playing the tambourine and buying spare children…

(Lots of pictures on flickr)

This was passed on to me by my friend Bethany. She found it while looking for recipes with ginger (if you didn’t know, ginger is a good sick-season-food – boosts your immune system). I loved the taste I had at her house, and then when I made it tonight, I loved it even more. Not only is it super-fast, easy, and delicious – it’s ridiculously low in Weight Watchers points. 2 per serving, to be exact. TWO! So I served it with a nice big salad and some toasted whole-grain bread with a touch of olive oil and garlic. Even with 2 pieces of bread, my points for the night were 5. This is the first time in what feels like months, that I have left-over points after dinner.

It says this yields 6, 1 cup servings. I found that it made closer to 8 cups, so we based our WW points on 4 servings of approx. 2 cups each

Finally got ourselves over to the public library after a several-month hiatus. Here are Birdie’s reviews of the favorites:

Momma: Ella, which was your favorite story in this book?

Ella: The Pants Story (What Was I Afraid Of) is a good book. He was afraid of the pants but he says “hi pants!” now.

Momma: We liked this book, didn’t we? It shows you what you are supposed to do, and what things you aren’t supposed to do. What are your favorite No No’s?

Ella: Drawing on the puppy, and putting toys in the potty.

Momma: What are your favorite Yes Yes’?

Ella: Wearing Daddy’s hat.

Momma: You said this was your favorite book, what did you like so much about it?

Ella: He eats lots of food and he gots a stomach ache.

Momma: His tummy didn’t feel good, huh?

Ella: No, Momma. He gots a STOMACH-ACHE!

Momma: Okay….what’s your favorite picture?

Ella: The cocoon.

Momma: Why?

Ella: Cuz it gots stripes.

Momma: Sounds like a good reason to me. Thanks for your book review. We’ll do it again next time.

Ella: But Momma!

Momma: What?

Ella: Porter’s favorite book was Personal Penguin.

Momma: Okay. Thanks, Birdie.

(Porter had no comments as to why he preferred the penguin book.)

Tom: What are you doing?

Britta: I’m painting over this lame Halloween sign I got at the dollar store to make it look awesome.

Tom: What are you going to write on it?

Britta: BEWARE – much scarier than “Bat Hotel.”

Tom: How are you going to do it? Are you going to use a stencil?

Britta: ……… Tom. Evil doesn’t stencil.

• Off to the Spy Museum to hone Justice Girl’s skills.
• The museum was awesome, but they’ve got nothing on JG.
• Founding Farmers for lunch. I can get on board with a policy of knowing where your food comes from, and supporting family-run farms. Tom orders the bacon lollies – I’m not so sure I will enjoy a stick-o-bacon.
• Turns out, I do. I didn’t want to love them, but oh, how I did. My mushroom risotto was fantastic as well, but I was pleased to know that my own risotto compares equally.
• We walk in the rain, to our tour destination. Our “three hour tour.” Which indeed, does turn out to be on Segways.
• I’m once again not sure that this is going to be all that great. I haven’t ever really had the desire to look like a software billionaire with too much money, traveling on a “vehicle” that is only slightly faster than walking. At least the rain has stopped.
• I decide to rock the pink helmet, even though all the other women opt for white. It’s Breast Cancer Awareness month, people! Plus, it matches my cami.
• The Segways each have labels with names. Once I’m handed mine, I check it out. Gilligan. No joke. I find this hilarious. Tom rolls his eyes.
• After practicing for about 5 minutes, I get the hang of it, and once again, am proved wrong. This thing is fun. FUN. Fantastically fun. If I had an extra $5000, I’d totally buy one, despite there being absolutely no practical use for it in my life.
• We tour DC, and even though my legs are killing me after an hour, I’m loving it. Our group has had only minor accidents – no one has fallen off yet, or been run over by a bus – that has to be a good sign.
• My second viewing of the White House is as disappointing as the first. No President Obama=no hug. I did see a presidential squirrel though – that was pretty awesome.
• One of the teenage boys on our tour tries to strike up a conversation with us due to the Beatles shirt Tom is wearing, which goes nicely with the John Lennon shirt he is trying to rock. Here’s a hint though – don’t say you are a HUGE Beatles fan and then ask, “what’s Abbey Road?” It kindof negates your credibility.
• And if you’re begging for money on the street corner, it might be wise to call me a white honkey AFTER you ask for the cash, not before.
• We head back to the hotel to freshen up and rid ourselves of helmet-hair, and then it’s back out on the streets of D.C., for a self-tour of the memorials.
• After a long walk, I find myself at the bottom of the Washington memorial. I touch the marble and marvel at its existence.
• Moving on to WWII – I think about my grandpa and how many times he’s made me laugh with his stories. I also think of Tom’s grandpa and the sadness in his. We take a picture by each home state’s pillar and then walk towards the looming Lincoln palace.
• We read the enormous inscriptions – it’s impossible to not feel the impact he had on our nation, and I’m emotional as we descend the steps.
• As we head back in the direction of our dinner reservations, we walk past the wall of names from Vietnam. My limit is reached and I can’t control the tears that escape.
• I try to focus on something else and realize my legs are. killing. me.  I am desperate to sit down, but as we try to cross the street to the restaurant, we are stopped by a very irritated police officer who yells at us to GET BACK ON THE CURB!
• After much speculation (and no explanation from the cop) our suspicions are finally confirmed and we watch as the presidential motorcade heads home to the White House. And yet I’m still lacking a presidential hug.
• At least we can sit down now. Well, once our table at the Old Ebbitt Grill is available. I’m assuming the popularity is a good sign, as I get squished in to a corner by the crowd.
• We sit down and order appetizers. I get the empanadas. Tom gets the grilled oysters.
• Apparently he and the waiter have formed a conspiracy to get me to try said oysters. I am weak and cave.
• I do not like oysters.
• I make sure Tom knows that through this act, I have professed my undying love for him and that we should be good for at least another 5 years.
• I make up for the appetizer trauma with dessert. Finally, after months of yearning, I have the perfect brownie. Satisfaction at last.

***********************************

• Our last day in D.C. is completely dedicated to food. A Southern brunch seems like the perfect way to spend a Sunday morning. We walk the 6 blocks to Georgia Brown’s, in “appropriate” attire.
• After 4 blocks, I decide that high heels, while appropriate for Sunday brunch, are not so appropriate for city walking.
• We pass through a large gathering of people – a gay rights rally, apparently. I would have worn something more rainbow-y if I’d known.
• Stepping in to Georgia Brown’s, smelling the air, I’m immediately sure that there are no Weight Watchers in the South.
• The live Jazz band reminds me of our anniversary in Seattle when Ella was head-banging to the drum beat and literally banged her tiny forehead on the table.
• I miss my kids. But not enough to leave early. There is food to be eaten first.
• I take tiny portions so that I can try everything. It is all fantastic, including my main course of black-eyed pea cakes, drizzled with roasted red pepper sauce.
• I’m pretty sure I’ve gained 5 lbs as we leave the restaurant, for a leisurely walk back to the hotel.
• Turns out the rally is a lot bigger than we thought. We have to push our way through hoards of people just to cross the street. Such is life in D.C., I imagine.
• We stop at Trader Joe’s on our way home. Trader Joe’s=happiness.
• As we pass the Mighty Susquehanna, I select Social Distortion’s Ball & Chain for our listening pleasure. I look at Tom and laugh. I don’t mind being attached to him at all. In fact, I think it’s pretty awesome.

• All is revealed. We are headed to D.C. for our Fifth Anniversary Extravaganza while the kids are at home, being spoiled rotten by Grandma S.
• I suggest we get some breakfast. McDonald’s? Tom says no. He doesn’t want “We went to McDonald’s for breakfast” to live in infamy on his wife’s blog.
• We go to Starbucks to avoid the wife’s-blog-anxiety. I get two coupons and a voucher for a free beverage. The trip is starting out very nicely – thank heavens we didn’t go You Know Where.
• As we enter Maryland, I am struck by the fantastic colonial homes on Connecticut Ave. Beautiful.
• Chevy Chase, MD, seems like a  nice place – but not exactly “funny” by any means. I’m disappointed.
• Tom can not stop mentioning the lack of traffic. I think it’s another good sign. No D.C. traffic=good times ahead.
• We make our first stop at Ben’s Chili Bowl. I’m not sure who I’d be more excited to run in to. Bill Cosby, or Pres. Obama? It’s a toss up.
• I mention to Tom that my goal, if we do see the President, is to get a hug. He laughs. I’m serious. I want my hug.
• The line is long, the place is packed, and we are most definitely the whitest, and most confused people there. But determined.
• Tom has a half-smoke (chili dog) and I have a plain dog. I taste the chili and am grateful I chickened out. It’s excellent, but incredibly potent. One taste is just fine, thanks.
• As I’m looking at the pictures on the wall, I notice Pres. Obama, Bill Cosby, James Brown, and…Bono? Ugh. Bono is everywhere. Time to go?
• I make a pit stop at the bathroom and discover the walls are a giant chalkboard that has been recently erased. I search the entire room for a piece of chalk – no luck. Who knew it would be beneficial to carry that in your purse? I really wanted to write “Bono Stinks” on the wall of Ben’s Chili Bowl. Next time.
• As we continue on towards D.C., I find myself wishing I hung out at places called The Bohemian Cavern, and not The Target Food Court.
• Once we’ve parked at our hotel and unpack, I can’t escape the reminder that I’m a mom – Tom says he’s going to grab the backpack and I immediately start singing that inane song from Dora.
• We head down to the art museum and I contemplate the one remaining secret. A 3-hour tour of D.C. that Tom says will require standing. I have no idea, but I can’t help replacing the backpack song with Gilligan’s Island. “A three hour tour”…Tom asks me to please stop.
• A block later we spot some people on Segways. What!? We are going on a Segway tour? Tom changes the subject.
• During our much shorter tour of the National Gallery of Art East Building (the modern art exhibits) I find myself wishing I was rich enough to have an Alexander Calder mobile to hang over Sophie’s crib. Beats the broken Winnie The Pooh one currently residing there.
• I am in love with the Jackson Pollock, but am again reminded I’m a mom, because I can’t get Olivia out of my head (I could do that in about 5 minutes!)
• Back at the hotel, I proceed to get all fancied-up. The last 3 times we went out (which spans about 5 months) were to Cracker Barrel. I am more than ecstatic. I put on high heels AND line my eyes. This is big.
• We take a cab to Georgetown and I am reminded that cab drivers are insane as he almost hits 20 different cars/people.
• We are early for our reservation at Filomena’s, so I do something uncharacteristic – I strike up a conversation with the couple next to us, who just finished their meal.
• Turns out they are not only very nice, but the woman works for McDonald’s and gives me approx. $40 worth of vouchers. She is now Ella’s new best friend.
• As we walk down the steps to the underground-restaurant, we wave to the Pasta Mammas – two, adorably old, Italian ladies making the night’s pasta in a small room, looking out on the street.
• The restaurant is completely decked out for Halloween. And it’s not sweet, smiling jack-o-lanterns – this is crazy, knife-wielding-clown decor. I’m more than a little disturbed, but the amount of handmade doilies seems to even it all out.
• We both choose dishes with Pasta Mamma pasta – they are both out-of-this-world-fantastic. I never want to leave. But we do – bursting after a full meal, two desserts, and a taste of the complimentary liquors. (The licorice flavor was sinus-clearing-intense.)
• We leave smiling. Mine has to do with the food, The Husband, and the fact that the waiter verified I was 21 before he dropped off the liquor. A blatant attempt at a large tip, but it worked. Compliments are a good way to end the day. I tell my husband he’s handsome and we head back, through a sea of young, we-think-we’re-hip-college-students to the hotel. I’ve got what they are looking for, and I’m feeling very happy as I climb in to a cab and disappear.

It’s interesting how some people can be totally content with the middle of the road, and how other people are flabbergasted that that is even an option, because they are always striving to be better. I’m not sure what made me the former type of person – probably just personality, my parents certainly didn’t teach me that – but Tom is definitely the opposite. And you might think that that would cause conflicts. It does. But it has also made me grow – realizing a fuller potential, wanting and accepting more challenges. He….wait for it….Hallmark, eat your heart out…

He makes me a better person.

And if that wasn’t enough of a reason to be thrilled about celebrating our 5th anniversary – ladies and gentlemen – he also DOES THE DISHES!

I love you babe. Happy Anniversary.

Sophie and I spent the weekend in Pittsburgh. I was co-hosting a baby shower for my cousin Ruth, at her mom’s house, in her home town (she currently lives in NYC). Ella stayed home with Daddy – her idea of a perfect vacation – so it was just me and The Princess, trekking out to celebrate my aunt’s first grand baby.

I had spent a week or so completing several crafty projects for the event. We were decorating onesies as our shower-activity, so I made a few samples to lay out on the table. They turned out adorable and I really wish I had heard of the idea back when my niece and nephew were born. Everyone got involved – we even convinced the guys to do some the next day.

I also made a blanket for Baby H. This is the third blanket I’ve made in this style and I was really happy with how smoothly the process went. No cursing, or anything. I love, love, love the fabric I found for it. Alexander Henry is one of my favorite fabric designers and occasionally they’ll stock a bolt or two of his stuff at JoAnn’s. I actually let out a little happy squeal when I saw it, and immediately knew it had to be for Ruth.

My last project did involve some cursing, but what’s a week of sewing without at least one damnitjim!? I’d been wanting to make a fabric banner ever since I saw this one on Sweet Juniper. I figured the baby shower was the perfect opportunity since I was helping with the decor.  My biggest mistake, and the cause for most of the cursing, was deciding to cut the triangles while watching a movie I actually wanted to see, instead of putting on something I could mostly ignore but enjoy as background noise. So the triangles came out about 2 inches smaller than I wanted, but in the end, I think it was worth the growling and constantly furrowed brow. Much better than a store-bought paper banner, and it’s reusable – I made sure the letters weren’t permanently attached.

Driving out to Pittsburgh, and then back, a 3+ hour ordeal (each way) was not fun. I’m not a fan of driving more than 10 minutes at a time, and I really don’t like twisty-turny roads or tunnels, which perfectly describes the drive to Pitt. On the upside, the leaves have started to turn in the higher elevations and the views were beautiful. If I had been in a more leisurely mood, I would have stopped and taken some pictures, but I was trying to avoid a screaming-baby-incident by making the trip as short as possible. The shower itself was a lot of fun. I was so glad that I could be a part of it – I feel incredibly grateful that I have family on the East coast and only wish we lived closer. Ruth’s sister was flown out, as a surprise, from Utah, and my cousin Christine and her family were there as well (they recently moved to State College) – times like these make me feel much more at home here and I’m looking forward to many more.