Jiggety-jig, baby
We're back! Norah has had many grand adventures, including hunting the mighty pigeon at Faneuil Hall in Boston, attempting to hurl herself overboard from a ship in Mystic Seaport, Connecticut, chasing "Jojoey" around Rob's parents' house in Philadelphia. Sharpen your brains on some travel math: if a child is in the backseat of a car traveling nine miles an hour through bumper-to-bumper traffic and driving, blinding snow, that child will say "Out! Out! OUTOUTOUTOUTOUT! Pweeze?" how many times over the course of 215 miles?
One thing we did not get to do - and I mention this because there are people in B'more who will read this blog and immediately get hurt feelings and try to firebomb my house or something - is stop in, guess where, B'more. We hauled ass up to Philly because of a planned family party, and we hauled it back down because of a scary and threatening snowstorm, and we didn't have a spare second to stop and give you guys the attention you so righteously deserve. So consider this a threat - I mean, a promise: we'll be back in a little while, and will spend much time with you and your loveliness. End apologetic paragraph.
It was a good trip, even if it did end badly - we got home and realized that someone who shall remain nameless turned the heat down to FORTY DEGREES before we left, making the inside of the house only slightly warmer than the crisper drawer in our aging, crippled refrigerator. Norah slept with us, in a decision that at first made me feel all bad-ass and pioneery - we're saving our child's life with our own body heat! go us! - but as the hours wore on, more like a complete and total idiot. Kids kick and squirm when they sleep, did you know? I KNOW NOW.
The last two days have been spent trying to fit 84,000 more toys into our tiny house, and putting away what seems like the fifth or sixth suitcase full of clothes (where did we even get this stuff? Did I leave here with ten pairs of underwear? Do I even HAVE ten pairs of underwear? Whose underwear IS this?). It's messy, it's disorganized, but it's home... and I am so glad to be back.
Here is a big internet smooch to Adrienne, who minded Astrid while we were away - she's already pining away for you, buddyo.
One thing we did not get to do - and I mention this because there are people in B'more who will read this blog and immediately get hurt feelings and try to firebomb my house or something - is stop in, guess where, B'more. We hauled ass up to Philly because of a planned family party, and we hauled it back down because of a scary and threatening snowstorm, and we didn't have a spare second to stop and give you guys the attention you so righteously deserve. So consider this a threat - I mean, a promise: we'll be back in a little while, and will spend much time with you and your loveliness. End apologetic paragraph.
It was a good trip, even if it did end badly - we got home and realized that someone who shall remain nameless turned the heat down to FORTY DEGREES before we left, making the inside of the house only slightly warmer than the crisper drawer in our aging, crippled refrigerator. Norah slept with us, in a decision that at first made me feel all bad-ass and pioneery - we're saving our child's life with our own body heat! go us! - but as the hours wore on, more like a complete and total idiot. Kids kick and squirm when they sleep, did you know? I KNOW NOW.
The last two days have been spent trying to fit 84,000 more toys into our tiny house, and putting away what seems like the fifth or sixth suitcase full of clothes (where did we even get this stuff? Did I leave here with ten pairs of underwear? Do I even HAVE ten pairs of underwear? Whose underwear IS this?). It's messy, it's disorganized, but it's home... and I am so glad to be back.
Here is a big internet smooch to Adrienne, who minded Astrid while we were away - she's already pining away for you, buddyo.
Posted in: out and about, secret messages, Sister Kate on 1/23/2007 at at 2:35 PM
Yeah, I was wondering about how driving through the snow worked out for you guys. I myself learned that when driving on the highway that has not been plowed that Mustangs tend to fishtail a bit across that bit a snow between the lanes.
And Astrid probably only misses sleeping in a bed and wrestling with Jake, which her hips always regretted later in the evening.
I am kidnapping you the next time you come, so all appointments will have to be scheduled through ME! MWHA HAH HAH!
you're lucky, miss photographer-mom-pants person. i was just thinking today that i totally missed you, and i should really put more effort into stalking you, so i was looking at your squishy redhead pictures and thinking to myself, "self, i bet she has a blog." and you were the 3rd search down when i googled.
i have little to do at work. can you tell?
anyway, you loom skinny and i don't and that's a bummer (for me, not you, you look awesomes).
that's it from me!
Patty