More Xmas 2009 Pictures

A hectic few weeks. Started with a monstrous snowstorm in DC before we left. We then drove up to the CT grandparents, dumped the kids with them, and spent a few days in NYC. Sublime. Returned for Christmas Eve and had a crazy time on Christmas morning. Both of the kids were understandably overwhelmed by the event. They either opened random presents, regardless of the intended recipient, or got sidetracked by something that they had just unwrapped. Teddy, for example, alternatively walked around with his guitar, his Wiggles DVD, or his drum. Margaret got lots of girly presents, including two purses and two princess dresses. She was in heaven. Not much else to say, but a bunch of pictures:

Xmas Photos 2009

We're trying to work out the photo to include with our annual Xmas card. This involves two issues. First, actually getting a picture taken. This is harder than one might think. At least one, if not both, of the kids invariably objects to having a picture taken. Then, when we get them both in place, it's almost impossible to get both of them to sit still, much less to look at the camera. And a smile - impossible! The result is that we all - kids and parents - get very frustrated. I ended up snapping about 50 pictures during our recent session, and the best - in fact, the only remotely acceptable ones - are reproduced below:



























































I think that I'm leaning towards the first (or maybe the third), but any specific votes would be appreciated. In any event, most of the dedicated (sic) readers of this blog will get the ultimate selection anyway, so you at least get to see some of the others.

You know what? My Grandmother is probably right.

Tonight, Teddy ate four pierogies during dinner. I'll explain the relevance of that fact later. But first, a lengthy digression.

We spent the recent Thanksgiving holiday with my Dad's family in Ohio. It's always a big event that draws our increasingly dispersed clan to the same place every year. One of the people that we all come to see is my paternal Grandmother. Grandma M is a bit north of 90 years old and has lived in northern Ohio for her entire life. Despite some recent medical hiccups, she's doing really well. She finishes the crossword in the time that it takes me to puzzle through the first few clues. And last year, she subtly berated me for the shotgun marriage that my employer brokered between a prominent Cleveland bank and its acquirer from Cleveland's arch rival city, Pittsburgh. While one could quibble about the details surrounding that complaint, my colleagues all nodded ruefully when I told them about my Grandma's admonishments. In short, she's one of the most remarkable people I've ever known.

However, it's taken me years to realize that fact. Most prominently, it's taken me years to realize that my Grandmother tends to be right about many things that I pooh-pooh'ed in my early years. Some examples.

Football is a stupid sport. I can remember watching college football games at my Grandmother's house during past Thanksgiving visits. As the broadcast showed pictures of the offensive linemen, my Grandmother would always say, often with a dismissive glance at the TV, "No neck, no neck, no neck" for each picture. At the time, I basically ignored these seemingly irrelevant comments, but now I realize that my Grandmother was taking a subtle, and quite justified, dig at football. Basically, football - specifically, the American version - involves a bunch of really fat guys who crouch down for a few seconds before they all suddenly run into each other and fall down. Then, they all get up and, after a minute or so, do it again. The clearest evidence that football is a stupid sport is that no one else in the world plays football. Unlike baseball, basketball or other American exports, no one (except for Canada which doesn't really count) has latched onto football, regardless of their level of development or links to us. Think about it a bit and find me another major sport that is so unique to a single major country (and I'm not talking about hurling or other minor sports that are practiced in only one country).

To be honest, I do still watch football games. And my Grandmother probably didn't intend to besmirch football to the same extent that I just did. Nevertheless, I've realized that her overall skepticism of the sport is certainly warranted.

Second, interstate highways. When driving around northern Ohio, my Grandma would often take secondary roads rather than highways. I recall being irked by this behavior. Why take the secondary highway when the interstate would get you there much faster? Now, however, I hate driving on the interstate. Even if I'm driving fast, there are too many other people driving fast or not paying attention to what they're doing. As a result, when we head up to Philly, we take an awesome back route up the eastern shore of the Chesapeake Bay in Maryland. Sure, it takes a bit longer, but it's an immensely more pleasant trip than the hectic drive up I-95 through Baltimore. On a recent trip, the traffic on Hwy 301 was so light that we were able to slow down to watch a bald eagle that was circling just above us. Do that on I-95, and you'll get rear-ended by a big truck.

Next, the length of the Christmas season. I can recall my Grandmother commenting on how the Christmas season starts too soon. At the time, this involved Christmas ads starting just before Thanksgiving. Way too early, my Grandmother would suggest. Now, I see Christmas ads shortly after Halloween. And I hear Christmas music in stores in early November. Completely nuts, especially for the poor folks working in the stores who now have to listen to these hokey songs for an additional full month.

(A separate digression reflecting some words of wisdom from Mark. I often tell my research assistants that every young person should work three jobs. First, fast food. After you see how fast food is produced, you'll never want to eat it again. Which is probably for the best. Second, a warehouse job or other job involving manual labor. After a few weeks of complete tedium, you'll realize that you're going to school so that you don't end up doing such stuff for the rest of you're life. Finally, retail. So that you can see how badly others treat people working in retail, and you'll treat those people with a bit more decency.)

And, at last, pierogies. My Grandmother used to get pierogies from a nearby church where they were made in the basement by immigrant ladies from Eastern Europe. I recall being very suspicious of the whole deal. Potato pierogies? Sauerkraut pierogies?? And, god forbid, prune pierogies???? It wasn't clear that such exotic items were actually edible.

Of course, I now love 'em. Bought six boxes of frozen pierogies from the grocery store when they were on sale this week. The frozen ones are a poor substitute, I'm sure, for those made by the immigrant ladies in the church basement, but Teddy definitely loves them too. He started out with two on his plate, but ended up plowing through four by the end of dinner.

In the end, the lesson is twofold. First, Teddy is a trooper when it comes to food. Not only is he pretty adventurous - in addition to pierogies, he'll eat Indian food or pretty much anything else we put in front of him - but he's got a good appetite. When he puts his mind to it. As in everything, he can be stubborn, but that doesn't usually reflect an objection to a particular dish. Instead, it's just Teddy being his stubborn little self. Once we get something in his mouth, he'll typically eat it and will ask for more.

Second, as I get older, I recognize the wisdom possessed by people older than me. Certainly, I recognize the wisdom of my Grandmother. (Also, my maternal Grandfather who was right when I argued with him about the merits of Broadway musicals vs. Bob Dylan. Dylan certainly is ok, but he's not really that much better than South Pacific or other Rodgers and Hammerstein-type musicals, despite my stubborn insistence to the contrary when I was convinced of Dylan's genius in high school.)

And, I suppose, this second lesson also applies to the wisdom possessed by my parents. Of course, I had far more battles with them when I was young, so it may take a bit more time to acknowledge that they might have, just might have, on occasion, been right about something. (We won't even touch the potential wisdom of the in-laws.)

After all of that blather, some pictures of the last month and a half:

Exciting few days

The last few days have been pretty darn exciting. (I'm not even going to describe our trip on Tuesday to get an H1N1 flu vaccine that involved the kids and me waiting two and a half hours at a local middle school. All I'll say is that we were lucky that we were able to wait by a little grassy area where Teddy could run around with his soccer ball.)

To begin with, we saw the Wiggles live at the Verizon Center on Thursday night with some friends. If you're familiar with the Wiggles, you don't need any more information. If you aren't familiar with them, the Wiggles are four guys from Australia who sing catchy songs that really appeal to the toddler set. My introduction to the Wiggles came from the cousins in Philly who were big fans in their younger days, so much so that I actually recognize some of the songs when they pop up on our stereo. In the past year or so, we've acquired some Wiggles DVDs and CDs, so Margaret and Teddy have become fans as well. And the recent concert took it up a notch. At this point, whenever I put a CD in the stereo, Teddy requests that it be a Wiggles CD. And Margaret keeps asking to watch their "Top of the Tots" video. So we may be stuck with them for a while, at least until the kids outgrow them when they are around, ummmm, five years old?

(An extended aside: I have a number of questions about the Wiggles and their show. For example, given that they were big when the Philly cousins were young, how much longer can they keep this up? They must be in their mid-forties. Will they be able to do this, and will the kids notice and still love them, when they're in their fifties? And as for their act, how much of it is an act? That is, do they switch off immediately after walking off stage? What happens when they run into some little kid and his parents in the loo? Do they immediately have to go into Wiggles mode, regardless of the situation? Do they have bad shows and what does that look like? Would anyone in their audience know that a show was "bad"? Given that our show went on for over an hour, at which point most of their audience seemed to be losing attention, do they ever "lose" an audience? What does that entail? Despite the pre-show admonishments to avoid having the kids rush the stage, do the kids ever get out of control? And do they have groupies? Not the among the toddler set, of course, but the tots' moms, perhaps? Such are the thoughts that one has when watching a bunch of silly guys dancing around in front of a bunch of adoring kids and their parents.)

In any case, here's a video from the show. Don't worry if you can't understand much of the vocals - because of their accents and a tendency to mumble, I couldn't understand much of what they said. While Margaret danced around a bit, Teddy mainly sat there with a stunned expression on his face. Afterward, he was so overstimulated that he kept saying "I like the Wiggles. I like the dog. I like the dinosaur. I like the Wiggles" until we got him home and put him in bed.


Then yesterday, I took the day off from work and spent the day wandering the Mall with the kids. We thought about going to the zoo but, because it was a bit chilly, decided to go to the Museum of Natural History instead. Teddy fell asleep shortly after we got off the Metro, so Margaret and I decided to go to the National Gallery of Art. We wandered around the museum, talking about various paintings. In each room, Margaret would pick one painting, and we would stop to contemplate it. Even though she usually liked paintings that involved "girls in dresses," one of our favorite paintings was a George Bellows painting entitled "New York", a fitting choice given that Aunt Eleanor and Uncle Steve both live in New York City and that I'm a big Bellows fan (see this or this or this). I would ask her various questions: What does she see in the painting? What does she think the people in the painting are doing? What does she think the girl's name is? What does she like best in the painting?

Sometimes, she would beg off answering my questions, but she was generally pretty good at coming up with answers. I suspect that she's at an age where she has started to recognize that there are "right" answers to certain questions - such as how many (whatever) do you see - but she isn't completely convinced that she has to give that answer. I tried to encourage her to say whatever popped into her head, and it was fun to see what she would come up with.

We stopped to have a gelato in the museum cafe - which we managed to finish just as Teddy woke up - before heading out to ride on the carousel in front of the old Smithsonian building. Then we went to fly a kite by the Washington Monument. Ironically, the wind, which had been gusting all day, died just as we started to fly our kite. I managed to get it up a few times, with Teddy and Margaret chasing each other around beneath it. But as soon as I'd pass it to Margaret, the wind would die and the kite would plummet to the ground.

Finally, an episode of strong winds allowed us to get the kite up for both of the kids to fly. Naturally, at just that moment, a bicycle cop came by and asked us to take it down for thirty minutes or so. He didn't say why, but it probably had something to do with the helicopters that often swoop across the Mall. Rather than waiting, we packed up our kite and headed home.

Today, we had to pick up a FedEx package in Maryland (a long story that I won't go into), so we decided to make a day of it by going to the kids museum in Baltimore. Margaret and Teddy had a blast. On the way home, we stopped by Ikea, figuring that we might as well if we were in the 'burbs. Our main purchase was a little lamp that we can attach to Margaret's bed. Lately, she either wants us to sit with her or wants to "read books" while going to bed. Since we don't want to sit with her for hours on end, we've let her read books, but the light situation hasn't been ideal. Now, she has a little light that clamps on to her bed that allows us to turn off the other lights so that she can "read" her books, which mainly involves her talking to herself, while Teddy doesn't get disturbed.

The reason the light in notable is because it follows a general pattern in both of our families. My sister was notorious for reading books by flashlight when she was younger. And her daughter, Margaret's cousin, has frequently done the same. I'm not sure if Abby snuck books into bed at a young age, but I suspect that she did. Hence, we're maintaining a longstanding family tradition by allowing our daughter to ruin her eyes in order to read books in bed. Perhaps, however, her little Ikea light will help avoid the "ruin eyes" part. Still, it may create tension when Margaret actually starts to "read" and we need her to go to sleep. Stay tuned.

Halloween 2009

Well, another Halloween has come and gone. And Margaret is definitely starting to grasp the gestalt of the event. First, she's becoming a real afficianado of the costume shtick. This year, she was a cowgirl, something that she quickly latched onto after I suggested it as an alternative to "princess" which was her initial preference. (My other suggestion - "astronaut" - was quickly shot down.) The cowgirl outfit, and Margaret's determined insistence on it, was almost a disaster when we had problems finding the necessary gear, but I think that everything worked out fine in the end.

Second, she definitely understands the candy aspect of the event. In earlier years, she understood that she was getting "stuff," but didn't really understand exactly what she was getting. But now she knows - candy. And she asks for it a lot. We severely ration her intake, but also managed to recycle a lot of the candy that she received by giving it out to our own visitors. Still, between trick-or-treating at both school and home, she got quite a haul. (By the way, if it sounds "cheap" or "shady" to give out Margaret's candy to kids who come to our house, you have to understand the volume of trick-or-treaters that we get. Even if it was raining and our street was pretty lame this year, both of which kept the crowds down a bit, we still went through five big bags of candy.)

Teddy, on the other hand, was his usual grumpy self. He's definitely in the "no, I don't like that" stage. Given that he complains about just about everything, it's not surprising that he wasn't too keen on his costume. "I don't like it," he would whine. "I want to take it off, Papa." We managed to keep his costume on for a while at school and also got him to wear it while he headed around the neighborhood. He spent some time on the front stoop with me and Maddie where he was quite happy to wear his costume and hand out candy. Of course, he sucked on a couple of lollipops while we sat there, so it's not surprising that he was a happy little camper.

Oh yeah, Teddy was the same dinosaur/dragon thing that Margaret was last year. So my "hand me down" strategy has worked for at least one more year. And although an astronaut would have been ideal for the boy next year, some of the cowgirl stuff should be easily translated into a cowboy outfit. So look forward to "Cowboy Teddy" pictures next year. Unless, of course, Teddy decides that he wants to be something else. And is really as stubborn as he appears to be.

Of course, the high point of the weekend was the visit of Grandma Mary and Grandpa Dave from Illinois. Halloween is always lots of fun, but both of the kids were so happy to have their grandparents around. As were their parents - the kids are amazingly easy to deal with when there's someone else around to watch them.

Busy weekends

One of the reasons I haven't been posting much lately is because we've recently become a very active family on the weekends. I'm not quite sure why, but we seem to have hit a period in which we're busy busy busy, so that I don't really have time to think any deep thoughts about the kids, much less to write about them.

Today, for example, started with a trip to the main drag through Georgetown to watch the Marine Corps Marathon. We've recently become fans of marathons after Mama ran the first leg of a relay at the Baltimore Marathon a couple of weeks ago. At the marathons we've seen, the kids gape at the crowds, both those running and those lining the route, and occasionally yell "Go, go, go." Their yelps were much much more effective at Baltimore where the crowds on the route were more sparse yielding a bigger response from the runners. (I tend to yell at people wearing interesting gear, such as the guy with the "I love beer" shirt - which warranted a bellow of "BEER" - or folks wearing Cubs gear - who get a rousing "GO CUBBIES!!!") But the Marine Corps Marathon is a bigger event, and we got to watch a band that was set up at the corner of M St and Wisconsin Ave.

After an hour or so watching the band and the runners, we ate lunch and headed up for a swim at the city's new Wilson Aquatic Center. The Wilson Center is a real jewel - the type of place typically found in the 'burbs rather than the city. We've been going there almost every weekend since it opened. One of us takes the kids to the kiddie pool, where Margaret and Teddie cavort, splash, and generally work on their water skills, while the other swims (exhausting - for me, at least) laps in the 100M lap pool. It's a great activity as both we and the kids get completely worn out. (By the way, we suspect that Teddy may start actually swimming before Margaret. As in many situations, he tends to be more daring in the pool and seems to have a better grasp of kicking and paddling. Even if he still thrashes around and sinks like a rock when he gets disoriented.)

Then, once we got home, we loaded the kids in the stroller and trekked around the city. It was a beautiful fall day in DC, and we wandered around, hitting all sorts of interesting stores, while the kids snoozed.

After the kids woke up and we got home, I put Margaret in the back of the bike and went for a ride. We bought a kid bike seat some time ago, but I found that we didn't use it unless I really made an effort. As a result, just as we've gone for a swim almost every weekend, Margaret and I try to take a bike ride each weekend. We often bike down to the Jefferson Memorial, where, when the weather was warm, we would grab a rocket pop from our favorite vendor and would eat it while sitting on the side of the tidal basin, watching the paddle boats and tourists. Then we head around Hains Point before circling the Lincoln Memorial on the way home. Other times, we've biked down the Potomac River to Old Town Alexandria to meet Mama. Today, we headed up the Capital Crescent Trail which follows the Potomac before cutting up into Maryland. In general, our bike trips are a great time as I get a workout while Margaret gets to see interesting things. She often sits in the back talking or singing to herself.

So we all end up pretty exhausted by the end of a weekend day. The account of today's activities doesn't even cover the plays that we've seen (Go Dog Go!), the tennis and soccer episodes (we often play tennis early in the morning because it allows us to do something while the kids are confined in the court with their rackets and soccer balls), trips to local farmers' and flea markets, and our other events with friends. Still, it should provide some (weak) justification for why I haven't written much lately. Here, though, are some pictures for those who have missed them. Including some pictures from Teddy's second birthday. Good grief, did I miss writing a post about that?

I love the kids, but c'mon

So we had a bad day today. It was bad in so many dimensions that it's difficult to know where to start. Let's see...

First, Teddy was up a lot last night and ended up spending most of the night in our bed. This reflects a more general problem - the kids, especially Margaret who is now about to get out of her bed and can stagger into our room in the middle of the night, often get up during the night. Rather than trying to get them back to sleep in their own beds, we often let them sleep with us. This arrangement works ok in some instances, but in others, it disrupts our sleep too much, especially when we're all crammed in the bed together. Nevertheless, rather than fighting the kid-in-our-bed syndrome and spending hours trying to get them back to sleep in their own beds, we've generally allowed them to crash in our bed once they wake up. Maybe (probably?) a mistake, and something that we've been trying to figure out how to fix, but that's the current status quo.

Still, last night was a particularly bad night with the boy. When I came up to bed, Teddy was already in our bed. I tried to move him back to his bed, but at some point, shortly after I fell asleep, he woke up and started howling. I tried to lay on the floor next to his bed - a really lovely situation - but eventually decided to bring him back to our bed rather than risking him waking Margaret. He spent the next few hours tossing and turning, constantly hitting me in the back. Teddy tends to grope around in our bed, grabbing us in various ways that prevent us from falling asleep, even when he's asleep. So I didn't get much rest. Thanks, Teddy.

Then, sometime during the night, he managed to overwhelm his diaper and left a wet spot on our bed. Lovely.

Margaret and he then had their usual battles in the morning over books and such. And Teddy howled, as he invariably does, about his sweater when I put it on him. Great.

After I picked them up from school, Teddy again howled about his sweater. Margaret then howled about her inability to use a particular "balance beam" (i.e., a wall near a sidewalk that she likes to walk on) because some other random toddler was using it. On average, I think, our life is pretty pleasant. The problem is that the average masks the wild variation that arises from one kid screaming while the other is beaming followed by the reverse of that situation. In this case, Teddy was a cheerful fellow in the front of the stroller as he informed me of the distress experienced by his sister in the back.

Then we went to the grocery store where Margaret had a major meltdown because I wouldn't buy her some cheese. This lasted for about 30 minutes during the entire visit to the grocery store and a good chunk of time afterwards. It got to the point where she was basically hyperventilating, and despite my irritation with her, I had to spend some time calming her down.

We then got home where Teddy and Margaret proceeded to pummel each other for a while. Margaret tends to use more sophisticated "psychological" warfare - such as teasing Teddy by holding a book out of his reach - while Teddy tends to use more physical methods - such as climbing all over his sister while she tries to read a book. I try to separate them, but they seem to be inevitably attracted to one another, such that they invariably end up in a conflict that makes one or both scream. Of course, during all of this, I'm trying to make dinner. Which wasn't helped tonight when Margaret managed to send water from the sink all over the kitchen. And both of the kids were badgering me, as they always do, for some sort of "special treat" to eat before dinner. The path of least resistance is to give them something, but then they don't eat any dinner. Such are the dilemmas that I face.

Eventually, Mom came home and we managed to eat dinner. A lovely dinner, I might add, of pork vindaloo. After which I was done - I handed the kids off for their baths and headed down to send some emails and watch TV. Just as well, I think, as Teddy managed, for the first time, to poop in the bathtub. Just perfect.

Belated post

So I haven't posted anything in quite a while. The lack of posts is partly due to other demands on my time, but it also reflects that blog posts involve a certain momentum that dissipates without activity. That is, I can't remember exactly what I was writing about or what was going on in my last posts. As a result, the whole process loses a sense of momentum and continuity.

The result is that I have some stuff - pictures and movies - to post. But I have no idea what to write about. Let's see.....

Well, Margaret is interesting, as always. But Teddy is the one who is really interesting at this point. His verbals skills have progressed to the point that he's actually a functioning member of the family. At this point, he rarely babbles. Instead, almost everything that he says - and he has a lot to say - actually means something. We may be the only people who can interpret his gibberish, but it's rarely complete nonsense. While Margaret tends to say more interesting things (such as, "We don't like taxi drivers because they don't know our city!" during our taxi ride home from the airport), Teddy occasionally tosses in interesting thoughts and opinions of his own. Although such opinions are noted but rarely honored, it's still fun to see what he'll say.

Physically, Teddy is also making progress. He rarely makes clearly clumsy moves at this point. For example, he is much better on the stairs, so much so that we have considered taking down the many gates. And he loves to run. He pumps his little arms and churns his body, as if such actions will make him go faster. In the end, he may fall, but such events are less systematic than they once were. An associated development is his interest in sports - he loves soccer/futbol, basketball, baseball, and tennis. He doesn't always correctly identify the sport on TV, with confusion often arising for basketball, baseball, and football, but he's drawn to and loves to play them all. Of course, Margaret likes sports and sporting events as well, especially soccer and events associated with our hometown team, DC United, but Teddy takes his interest to another level. As with many other differences between the kids, we're not sure if this reflects a gender difference or something else.

Hmmm, what else? Can't think of much, but perhaps the following pictures and video will suffice.

Pink princess slippers

(For folks looking for pictures, we're heading up to Philly for Labor Day weekend, so we should have plenty of pictures when we return.)

After a nasty, putrid August, the weather in DC has become much cooler and less humid in the last week. In fact, it got so cool that Margaret asked for a sweater after breakfast on Tuesday. I ran upstairs and grabbed the gray fleece sweater that I'd bought for her in a sale at some point over the summer. "I don't like that sweater. I want my pink sweater," she said, after I brought it downstairs. "But your pink sweater doesn't fit you anymore," I said, "Just wear this one." "No, I want a pink sweater." We went back and forth for a while until I finally convinced Margaret to wear the gray sweater "just this once." After we pointed out, in the car on our way to school, that both Mama and Grandma Nancy have gray fleece sweaters, she seemed to tentatively accept that the gray sweater was actually acceptable. But she didn't seem terribly happy about it.

This exchange reflects a battle that I've been expecting for some time. Apparently, kids can become very obstinate about their clothes. This behavior has been evident in our family for some time - Margaret often puts up a fight over her clothes, for no apparent reason except to reject the proposed outfit. I've also heard many stories about girls who want to wear "pink princess" outfits. (Abby tells a story about how she wore a particular cowgirl outfit for an extended period when she was a kid.) To the extent that this behavior reflects random attempts to exert control, I have little sympathy for it. After all, Teddy will say "not that one" we pull out a shirt, even if he has no real rationale for refusing the shirt, other than the fact that we proposed it. (He has no clue, but likes to use the phrases that he knows in an appropriate context. Bravo, I say, but that still doesn't make me want to honor his "requests.") But if Margaret's behavior reflects an actual shift in her clothing preferences, it's more problematic as it runs counter to a strategy that I've been using for some time. Let me explain.

Most people that I know find out the gender of their children before they are born. We didn't. Certain friends of mine found this baffling. "Why would you refuse free information?," one friend asked me (as gender determination is trivial given all of the prenatal ultrasounds). In the case of Margaret, my rationale for not learning her gender was quite simple. If we don't know the gender of the kid, then we'll receive lots of "gender neutral" stuff, including apparel and other baby items. Not pink or blue, but green, yellow or some other gender neutral color. If we were then to have a second kid, which we planned to do so on some level, then all of that stuff for the first kid would be usable for the second, regardless of the second's gender. In contrast, if we had known that Margaret was a girl, all of her pink clothes would have been useless for Teddy. As it turned out, baby Teddy ended up wearing a lot of the stuff that we received prior to Margaret's birth.

This only works for infant clothes, as once Margaret was born, the girl clothes flooded in. (It also doesn't explain why we didn't learn Teddy's gender. I actually can't explain that one.) But I've tried to keep up the basic "gender neutral" theme. Get a green shirt or plain tan shorts or simple blue jeans - Margaret can wear it now, and Teddy can wear it later. This hasn't worked perfectly as many kids clothes are too geared towards one gender or the other, but for certain items, say a red winter coat or maybe a gray fleece sweater, it has worked pretty well.

Until now, it would appear. Margaret has apparently reached the "pink princess" phase where she can recognize the difference between styles of clothes and, moveover, has clear opinions about the clothes that she actually likes. Hence, in addition to the protests over the gray sweater, we had the following exchange earlier tonight.

"Where are my slippers?," she asked.

"Your dragon slippers?," I replied.

"Yes, where are they?"

"Well, I think that they're in your shoe bin."

After digging around for them, Margaret pulled them out, compared them to her Converse hi-tops, and asked, "Are they size 7? Will they still fit me?"

"I don't know. They may be too small for you, in which case Teddy can have them. We may have to get you some new slippers."

"Can we get pink princess slippers?"

"No, I think that we'll look for more dragon slippers."

"But I want pink princess slippers!"

"But dragon slippers are really cool! Don't you want more dragon slippers?"

"No, I want pink princess slippers!"

As Abby noted regarding the gray sweater, I'm probably fighting a losing battle.

My goodness

Has it really been almost a month since I last posted on this blog? If so, where are the cries of outrage from my many fans? Even if you don't appreciate my always insightful commentary, you must want pics of the kids. Right?

I don't currently have much to report on the kids. Teddy is becoming a "big boy" in many ways. He's not only physically big, but he's starting to "talk" in the broadest sense of the word. He says lots of stuff, often involving actual words which occasionally reflect complex sentences with nouns, pronouns and verbs. Still, only the teachers at daycare, Abby and I can generally decipher what he's saying.

As for Margaret, she continues to become more and more interesting. Lots of interesting thoughts and opinions. She's become a serious fan of books without pictures, especially those written by Beverly Cleary. She spied a shelf of Ramona books in Barnes and Noble the other day which led us to buy a book from the Henry Huggins series. When we read them at night, she sits there on the edge of her bed, while Teddy drifts off to sleep, waiting for the next exciting episode. And for a three year old, she has an amazing ability to not only absorb the stories but also to recall them. It's a lot of fun, especially when I'm recounting stories about Henry and Ribsy that make me chuckle.

Here's a mish-mash of pics from the last month:

Why?

Everyone out there with (older) kids will smile and sagely nod his or her head in response to this post. Because Margaret has reached the point where one of her favorite words is. . . Why?

Margaret is a pretty vocal little kid. (By the way, although this post isn't about him, so is Teddy. He just isn't terribly articulate or comprehensible at this point.) She loves to talk and talk about all sorts of things in a very piercing voice that cuts through everything else. That voice is very effective at waking you up in the middle of the night. Or, as the case may be, in the morning. As I think I wrote about before, Margaret talked the entire time during a flight from Chicago to DC. On the one hand, I was happy that she wasn't fussing, given that it was a late flight. But I also felt bad for everyone near us who had to listen to the incessant chirpy voice from a nearby seat. The upshot is that Margaret is very difficult to ignore.

Margaret also has interesting things to say. On our recent drive to Connecticut, we started trying to distract her with "stories" about her and Teddy. These stories, told by Abby, chronicle the first few days of one kid or the other. Margaret has found these stories to be fascinating and keeps requesting them. To the point that I'm pretty fed up with the whole "birth story" genre. After it became apparent that her requests for "my story" or "Teddy's story" wouldn't be met, she has started telling those stories on her own. It's fascinating to hear her take on our pre-kid life and the subsequent disruption caused by the arrival of the kids.

On our walk home, we have always had interesting conversations. But lately, she has started asking "why." It really doesn't matter what we're talking about - she just asks "why." "Why is the fire truck not in the fire station?" "Why did that person ask you for directions?" "Why do we have to cross the street?" "Why are you yelling at that taxi cab?" And so on.

The "why" sequences fall in two general classes. In the first, variations of the same question are repeated over and over.

For example, Gypsy, the cat belonging to a former neighbor, went AWOL a few months ago (and has not returned).

"Why did Gypsy leave?," Margaret will ask, during our walk home.

"I'm not sure. Gypsy didn't tell us," I'll reply.

"Why did Gypsy go away?"

"We should ask Marissa." (Gypsy's owner.)

A pause. "Why doesn't Marissa have Gypsy anymore?"

"I don't know."

"Why didn't Gypsy tell us when she left?"

"I don't know. We really don't know where she went."

"Why didn't Gypsy tell us where she went?"

"I don't know."

And so on, and so on. The general theme is that I don't know the answer and give a vague response, but Margaret won't let the issue go.

The second, and more sophisticated, form of "why" questioning involves questions that are distinct, but logically follow one another. For example, after running into Marissa while walking home:

"Where is Marissa going?"

"She's probably going home to walk Boone." (Her dog.)

"Why is she going to walk Boone?"

"Because he has been inside all day."

"Why has he been inside all day?"

"Because Marissa has been at work."

"Why has Marissa been at work?"

"Because that's what adults do, they go to work."

"Why do adults go to work?"

"Because that's what adults do."

"Why do adults do that?"

"Because they need to buy groceries and stuff."

"Why do they need to buy groceries?"

"Because people need to eat food."

And so on. Occasionally, Margaret will catch me in a tautology, because I rarely pay much attention to my responses. Such logical problems rarely seem to bother her. Instead, she's focused on getting answers to the series of questions that pop into her head.

Why, why, why?

Eventually, I get tired of the whole routine and try to distract her with another line of conversation. Currently, I often succeed. However, I suspect that she will eventually figure out when I'm stonewalling her or, alternatively, just bullshitting. That's when the "why" will really have bite.

Embarassing the brother

While I posted a version of this some time ago on YouTube, I recently learned (while posting the video of Teddy in the fountain) that I could upload better quality videos directly from my camera. Hence, I shall embarass my brother by posting this (higher quality) video from his wedding reception.

I can only say three things.

First, I think that he's playing my dad's old guitar which, if I recall correctly, became my guitar at some point. Not sure when ownership was transferred, but I've been looking for a guitar to entertain the kids. I've been thinking about getting a Martin, but an old, beat up Gibson that tears up your fingers would probably work just as well (and after using this one, you'll surely agree Steve, you can play any guitar).

Second, the song is actually pretty catchy.

Third, I have three regrets from my own wedding. First, and perhaps superficially, my tux didn't fit well which made me unhappy during the reception. Second, Abby was unable to follow my lead during our dance. Hell, it wasn't a very complicated song. As one of my friend said at the time, "Mark's trying to fox trot, but Abby won't let him lead." Finally, and relevant for this post, I didn't "toast" Abby. I know exactly what I would've said. When we met, what I thought about her, when I knew that she was "the one," where we'd been, what we'd done together, and so on - no need to rehash it here. Still, I didn't get off my ass to do it.

In contrast, Steve pulled this off like a champ. And I hope that this video serves as a memorial of sorts to his wedding.


As a complete aside, for those who are interested, here's a version of our song from my wedding. Who couldn't fox trot to this? (And, for the sake of completeness, here's a poem that Joe read during our ceremony. I just like it, that's why I'm linking to it.)

A fine weekend

We had a pretty good weekend. (After taking the above photo, I said, "Teddy, this is Teddy. High five?" And our little Teddy gave big Teddy a big high five. Margaret kept saying, "Who is Teddy Roosevelt?")

Again, we had a pretty good weekend. But it didn't start that way, as little Teddy was a real crank yesterday morning. He just fussed and fussed and fussed, especially whenever his mama put him down. When we went shopping at Target, Teddy would give a heart wrenching rendition of what is currently his most complex sentence - "Don't leave me!!" - every time Abby walked away, despite the fact that I was right there pushing him in the shopping cart, smiling and nodding at all of the people who scowled at me for my obvious negligence. It got to the point that we thought he might be sick, with an ear infection or something like that. By noon yesterday, I was thinking about what a bad weekend it could be and how nice it would be to send the boy back to daycare on Monday. He was just being almost indescribably petulant.

However, his fussiness quickly dissipated once we got to a birthday party at a public water park in northern Virginia. Where he had a great time and where we also were able to observe some notable differences between Margaret and the boy. (BTW, the next few paragraphs are all of the profound parenting ruminations that I'll be writing today.)

As I said, the birthday party was at a nearby public water park. These parks are scattered throughout Arlington and involve a small area with jets of water that periodically shoot up in the air. They aren't terribly fancy, although DC would never be able to put together something like them. We've visited this type of park in the past with Margaret, and although she likes them, she has never been very active in them. Instead, she sort of loiters around the edges, giggling and jumping when she gets sprayed with water, but never really exposing herself to the jets.

In contrast, after an initial period of hesitation, Teddy dove right in. As you can see in the pics below, he would put his hands, feet and even his face in the stream. He ran all over the place and, for better or worse, learned various tricks, like drinking the water, from the "big boys." At some point, he figured out that he could stand over a jet so that it would shoot up into his pants. He seemed to enjoy this sensation.



The behavioral difference between Margaret and Teddy at the water park illustrates a more fundamental difference between the two: the boy tends to be much less cautious than Margaret. He'll throw himself around in ways that Margaret would have avoided at the same age. For example, to the extent that he can, given his still limited mobility, he'll launch himself down slides. Such as the circular slides found at many parks and a big, old-school slide (roughly 20 feet high) that he insisted on using (with me close behind) at a park last weekend.

As another (non-physical) example, Margaret tends to be pretty reserved around people in costumes like the big Teddy Roosevelt in the photo at the top of this post. Frankly, I can understand her concern - a clown or big guy like Teddy R. can be a bit frightening, especially if you're a little person. In situations like those with big sports mascots, Teddy doesn't necessarily throw himself at the guy in the costume, but he certainly doesn't show the same apprehension that Margaret does.

Is this a gender thing? I don't know, although I have heard many stories from other parents about how their sons are much more reckless than their daughters. And I think that I've read somewhere about how male traders tend to take bigger risks, and are correspondingly more likely to blow up, in financial markets. Do I have any deep insights or thoughts about this? No. All I know is that Teddy is much more active at places like the water park than Margaret. He gets the high of feeling water shoot up his shorts, but he's also more likely to slip and bonk his head. On some level, that's just, I suppose, the risk-return trade off that also drives those male traders.

The other reason that we had a good weekend was that the Cubs were in town for a four game series against the Nationals. I managed to attend games on Friday night (with a friend from Chicago), Saturday night (with Abby), and today (with the entire family) - all without paying for a single ticket (whoo-hoo!!) due to various connections (I'm very proud of that accomplishment, especially as our tickets for every game were primo - on Friday, we actually had waitresses serving our section). Despite the fact that it was really, really sunny and warm in our seats today, and despite some difficulties with the Metro - a stroller on a train full of baseball fans isn't very easy to maneuver, even without the delays due to the recent Metro accident - we ended up having a fun time. The kids ate pop corn and Cracker Jacks, in addition to a couple of cups of ice that a nice vendor gave us. I kept putting chunks of ice under Teddy's hat to cool him down, but that didn't seem to staunch his enthusiasm. Instead, he had fun watching "baseball" or "tennis" or "basketball" or whatever he felt like calling it. And he really enjoyed grooving to the music.

Best of all, the Cubs ended up sweeping the Nats. Nothing like a trip to DC to make a team look like a real winner.

I'm sure that neither of the kids comprehend the game at all. And they don't really seem to have a clear sense of a "rooting interest," as both kids would clap, for either team, whenever other people clapped. Still, they both seem to enjoy the crowd and the whole spectacle. And Teddy would point at people in Cubs gear that we passed - and we saw lots and lots of people in Cubs regalia - and would say "Go Cubs!"

Faces of the kids

Bedtime battles

Life with a three year old involves many battles. Getting dressed, using the potty, eating dinner - each may or may not involve its own little power struggle between us and our little sweetheart. (As an aside, I think that Margaret randomizes, perhaps strategically, over whether she'll put up a battle for a given task. Will she get dressed tomorrow without yelling about it? Who knows.)

Lately, the most prominent battles have occurred at bedtime. For the past month or so, as soon as the light has been turned out, Margaret has declared, "I can't sleep." There's no lag at all, just an immediate declaration: "I can't sleep." We've tried all sorts of tricks to encourage her to sleep. I've made the "Grandma Mary" argument - your body is tired, so just close your eyes and try to rest your body - that was used on me as a child (and, hell, I still use that approach as an adult). For a while that worked as Margaret would rest and eventually fall asleep. We've tried bribery: If you sleep tonight, you can go for a walk with Mama and Maddie tomorrow. And we've tried moral suasion: The teachers at daycare (and the Berenstain Bears) say that you should avoid bedtime battles and should instead listen to your parents.

Lately, however, none of that has worked, and she's been much more difficult at bedtime. If we leave, she gets more and more agitated to the point that she ends up yelling for us (really Mama) at the top of her lungs. In the worst case scenario, such behavior ends up waking the boy, so we end up with not one, but two kids who are awake at 10:00.

In the past week or so, disruptions to Margaret's sleep schedule have exacerbated the problem. She stayed up until 11:00 after the fireworks on July 4th. Then after we had people over the next night, she was too wound up to fall asleep again until around the same time.

In the past, she would settle down after a few books. Even though we've started reading her "big girl" books without pictures (e.g., Beezus and Ramona), she doesn't calm down in the same way. (As another aside, it's very exciting that Margaret shows such enthusiasm for big girl books. But that's a subject for another, more positive post.) And none of our previous tricks, such as the "Grandma Mary" argument, are working either. Even if, in desperation, we give her a nuk, defying every parenting bone in my body, she still won't go to sleep. Instead, Abby or I (more commonly, Abby) end up sitting with her until she finally nods off, which takes way longer than we would like.

Good grief, what a lame post. I'm complaining about a normal toddler "phase." At least I hope that it's just a phase. But even if it is, we're reaching the end of our rope with her. (Any advice from current or former parents would be greatly appreciated.)

4th of July

One perk of living in DC is the great parades. While I remember going to parades at various points in my childhood, living a 20 minute walk from the usual parade route down Constitution Avenue in the nation's capital, a place which ends up having lots of parades as a matter of course, means that we end up seeing lots of parades. And again because we live in the capital, the parades tend to be top notch.

The standard parade in DC involves a combination of floats and big balloon characters, celebrities (Hey, isn't that Alex Trebek? Or, hey, that's apparently a guy from American Idol!), high school marching bands, people on miscellaneous modes of transportation such as motorcycles, old cars, unicycles, or old fashioned bikes with big front wheels, community groups such as clowns, boy scout troops, or veterans, and representatives of various ethnic groups doing whatever dances and music are typical for them.

Now, I recall high school marching bands in the parades that I attended as a child, but the number and quality of bands in DC parades beat anything from my childhood. After a few parades in DC, one becomes quite the connoisseur of high school bands. The best are those that toss some fancy footwork into their marching when the drums are playing their boom-boom boom-chicka-boom bits. Although I remember not liking when the drums and not the horns were playing when I was a child, Teddy and I like to groove along to the beat when only the drummers are playing. There's nothing more fun in a parade, I've concluded, than a good high school band. Although the music isn't always that good. And their outfits are invariably terrible. And they always look so damn hot in those terrible outfits, especially because our standard vantage point is at the end of the route when they're almost falling over. Still, you have to give them credit for the effort, and the whole event of a passing marching band makes us (especially Teddy) perk up and pay attention.

I suppose that the old cars and such were present in the parades of my youth along with the community groups, but what really distinguishes a parade in DC are the contingents from various ethnic groups. Today, we saw marchers from Mexico, Bolivia, Peru, Vietnam, and China. On one level, I suppose that's not different from the Irish or Polish groups who march in the parades in Chicago, but the groups in DC really put on a show. Not to get too philosophical, but at the end of the day, these groups really makes me think about how heterogeneous the U.S. really is and how we're fundamentally a nation comprised of immigrants from all over the place. For all of the tension that immigration creates, we ultimately end up assimilating immigrant groups while also, to varying degrees, keeping their idiosyncratic traditions (for example, think Italian food, St. Patrick's Day, Cinco de Mayo).

In any case, below are some pictures and a video of our trip to this year's 4th of July parade. One observation: As readers might notice, this set of pictures involves more pictures of Teddy than pictures of Margaret. To some extent, that reflects the fact that Margaret was being a bit petulant during the parade while Teddy was being a jovial little guy. But on a broader level, the focus on Teddy is indicative of the fact that he's becoming a much more interesting little person. Not only is he talking more, but he has interesting things to say and interesting ways of saying those things. Of course, much of what he says is garbled nonsense, but part of the fun is trying to decipher what he's trying to communicate. And he can be very charming as he tries to communicate with us. Or infuriating depending on the situation. Which makes it even more fun.

Pics and more pics

I don't have any deep thoughts about kids at this point. Frankly, I suspect that no one wants to hear my deep thoughts anyway, rather they want to see pics of the kids. Thus, here are a bunch of pics, most from our recent trip to the Great White North:

A funny thing happened while we were sitting in the Minneapolis airport...

At the outset of this post, I have to apologize to two sets of (potential) readers of this blog. The first are those who we saw during our recent travels around the country. Those readers likely expect a post in which they play a more central role and may be disappointed that such a post isn't currently forthcoming. The second set of readers to whom an apology is due are those with rooting interests that diverge from those of yours truly (you know who you are). Not much that I can really say to those readers except to note that they have to grant us poor U.S. futbol fans some leniency to celebrate. And perhaps even to gloat a little bit.

On Wednesday during our trip back from Minneapolis, Teddy and I shared another one of those sublime father-child moments, like the one that I wrote about a month or so ago. A long background:

We were heading from Minneapolis back to D.C. on a flight that left at 5:00 PM with a 36 minute layover in Chicago. Based on our experience during the trip to Minneapolis, the short layover in O'Hare seemed problematic, to say the least. On the trip out, our early morning flight had a layover closer to one hour, but a delayed departure from National left us with only 30 minutes to make our connecting flight, so Abby took the kids to the next gate, while I waited (and waited, along with other frustrated people trying to make connecting flights in Chicago) for the stroller that we had gate checked. I ended up running through the American terminal with a car seat, stroller, and a couple of carry-on bags and just made the connecting flight to Minneapolis. Good thing too, because otherwise we may have missed a very important event in Minneapolis. But that's not the subject of this post.

To avoid an unpleasant experience on the way back to D.C., we called on Tuesday and were able to rebook our outgoing flight from Minneapolis for 3:50 PM. Beyond averting the stress of a short layover in Chicago (we kept the Chicago-D.C. leg the same), that rescheduling had two effects. First, it compelled us to return our rental car at the appropriate time, thereby avoiding late fees (geez, I'm so cheap). Second, it introduced the possibility that we'd be able find someplace in the airport to watch the U.S. play Spain in the Confederations Cup.

For those of you who aren't big futbol fans or haven't been following recent events, the Confederations Cup is a tournament that serves as an operational dress rehearsal for the next host of the World Cup, in this case South Africa. It pits the winners of a series of regional tournaments against one another in a competition that is a bit more prestigious and intense than a "friendly," but doesn't approach big tournaments like the World Cup or Euro Cup. The U.S. qualified based on its victory in the CONCACAF Gold Cup tournament, due to a great win over Mexico in Soldier Field two summers ago.

Unfortunately, the U.S. wasn't making a good showing in the group stage of the tournament. A 3-1 loss to Italy followed by a pathetic 3-0 loss to Brazil made it look like the U.S. would head home embarrassed, just as in the last World Cup where, I believe, we scored the fewest goals of any team. By the last game of the group stage, the U.S was technically still alive, but would have to beat Egypt by 3 goals while having Brazil beat Italy by 3. Unlikely.

I had pretty much written off the U.S., but while Abby and I were walking around the Gaslamp District in San Diego, where we had attended our second wedding in less than a week, I started to see clips on TVs in bars that we were passing that indicated that the U.S. may have pulled off an impressive victory over Egypt. As we weren't barhopping, despite being sans kids, we had to stop a few times to peer at the TVs, but I still couldn't make out the results. When we got back to our hotel, ESPN verified (after interminable baseball highlights - who cares about baseball anyway?!?!) that the U.S. had indeed beaten Egypt 3-0. And, even more amazing, Italy had lost 3-0 to Brazil! So, astonishingly, the U.S. had moved on to the semifinals.

Now, these things don't happen in American futbol. Other than the freak episode in which the U.S. advanced to the quarterfinals of the 2002 World Cup (and almost beat Germany to go to the semis), U.S. fans are accustomed to beating up weak CONCACAF teams like Trinidad & Tobago, but losing, often in pathetic fashion, anytime the U.S. plays a decent team. So this was a remarkable development. However, by advancing out of the group stage, the U.S. had the misfortune of facing Spain, the number one team in the world which had won Euro 2008, hadn't lost in 35 matches, and had won 15 straight. As I told Abby on Tuesday night, "It's great that they got there, but there's no way the U.S. beats Spain. No way. Absolutely no way."

Thus, the stage was set. The U.S. had beaten the odds to get a match-up with the best team in the world, while Abby, the kids, and I were arriving at the Minneapolis airport to return our car just as the game started. Of course, we still had to check in for our flight. After we checked our baggage, there were two security lines. As I eyed the more daunting of the two, I noticed that the Applebees near that security checkpoint was showing the game. Perhaps I'd be able to watch some of the game as we waited. After checking our bags, I pointed Abby and Teddy towards that line while I took Margaret to check on the score. Miraculously, the U.S. was up 1-0 with the first half winding down. I traipsed back to Abby with a big grin on my face and said, "The U.S. is up!" A guy behind us said, "Who's playing?" When I told him that the U.S. was beating Spain, he said, "Wow, that would be a pretty big upset, wouldn't it?" I just bobbed up and down.

As we wound our way through the line (completely missing the "family" line with no one in it that we could've used), the first half ended, and I figured that I'd be able to watch the second half somewhere near our gate. Once we got through security, I immediately took off towards our gate with Teddy in the stroller. The first place with TVs was a silly French-themed restaurant showing Wimbledon (not silly for being French-themed, but silly in its attempt to be French). Moving on, I found a "sports bar" right near our gate. Unfortunately, when I asked someone at the bar what they were showing, he said "CNN." "Are you looking for the game?," he asked, "Because I've asked them to change it, and they won't. I'm following the score on my cellphone." That wasn't quite what I was looking for, so Teddy and I ran back towards the security checkpoint where I'd noticed a Rock Bottom Brewery. We shot past Abby and Margaret, who were making their way towards the gate. As we passed them, I said, "We're going to find someplace to watch the game." It wasn't until we got to the bar that I noticed that I'd left my cellphone with Abby and that it might be a bit close to our departure time when the game ended.

But at least the bar had a few TVs tuned to the game. I grabbed a stool at the bar with a TV right in front of us, plopped Teddy on my lap, and ordered french fries for the boy and a Diet Coke for me (I figured that I had to order something, but couldn't order a beer without receiving even more glares for bringing my toddler into a bar.)

So there we were, in a Minneapolis airport bar, Teddy on my lap eating french fries and watching the U.S. defend a 1-0 lead against the best team in the world. A few other people in the bar were watching the game, but most were pretty clueless. Recognizing that I was a fan of sorts, they asked me silly questions like, "What is this, the World Cup?" Teddy just sat there eating his french fries while I bounced him around on my lap, full of nervous energy given the precarious lead. "Go go go," I'd yell as the U.S. moved the ball around. "Go go go," Teddy would parrot, leading people in the bar to grin at him. "Get it! Stop him!," I'd say. "Dop him!," Teddy would cry. Every once in a while, he would point at the TV and yell, "Baseball!" (baseball and basketball being his two favorite sports).

"No way they can keep this lead," I thought, especially as Spain started pressing. But then, BAM, Clint Dempsey scored a garbage goal to put the U.S. up 2-0. I yelled, started clapping, banged on the bar a few times, startling the bartender and the barflys around me, and started tossing Teddy up in the air. "Your dad is pretty excited," the fellow next to us said to Teddy. "That goal was huge! Huge!," I said to him. "Is it a big deal if the U.S. beats Spain?" he asked. I just jumped around while Teddy tried to grab his french fries.

Teddy and I spent the next 20 minutes at the bar bouncing around, hoping that the U.S. could hold its lead (especially after going a man down), and keeping an eye on the clock to ensure that we made our flight. When the game finally ended, we jumped up and down some more and hooted a bit (or at least I did) before running down the terminal to board our flight at which point we informed a disgruntled Abby about the outcome of the game.

Overdue post

So after a spurt of blog posts, I haven't written much lately. I'm sure that my dedicated readers want an update. Or at least some kid pictures.

Below are pics that reflect the following events:

• We have turned Margaret's bed into a "big girl" bed by removing the side of her crib (it's designed to work this way). Although she occasionally gets out of bed in the morning, she doesn't do so at night. Despite a newly developed pattern of sleep problems. Immediately after being put in bed, she complains, "I can't sleep." We reason with her, cajole her, and try tricks. The only trick that consistently works is one that we've stolen from Grandma Mary - "Even if you're tired, just close your eyes and rest your body, because your body is tired." But usually I have to lie to her ("I'll be back to check on you soon") and she finally falls asleep
• We went to the Memorial Day parade here in DC and had fun waving flags. Teddy especially likes the drum sections in the marching bands.
• We took a trip to Philly where we had fun with the cousins while their parents took off to NYC for the weekend. Among the highlights of the trip was the opportunity to watch Andrew play baseball. Teddy likes baseball. And basketball and tennis.
  
• Teddy has started working on stairs and is becoming quite vocal. As various people have noted, he doesn't engage in conversation, unlike his sister, but he is quite opinionated.
  
• We went to a Nationals baseball game for the first time this season with Katie, one of Margaret's friends from school. No one paid much attention to the game, but everyone enjoyed the spectacle.
  
• Margaret took part in a "Power Tots" performance at school.
• We went to a futbol/soccer game for the first time this year. Again, Teddy really liked the drums that they beat. Boom - boom - boom boom boom - DC United. Margaret started to chant along at times, when she wasn't busy stuffing her face with popcorn. Again, no one paid much attention to the game, but we all had a reasonably good time (qualified because the kids got pretty tired by the end).
  
• We went to the zoo today and flew a flag out in front of our house for Flag Day.

Such excitement. It's hard to convey how exciting each of the above events really were. Perhaps the pictures will help:

Haircut

For those who wish to follow every moderately significant event in the kids' life, here is a video of Teddy's second haircut and Margaret's first. He was a stoic little champ, just as he was for his first haircut. Margaret was a bit nervous heading in, but ended up sitting slack-jawed through the whole process.

Pictures

No one really wants to hear the random musings in my last few posts. Instead, they want kid pictures.

And here they are.

DuPont Circle, 4:00 PM

Daycare was closed today, so Margaret and Teddy spent the day with Rodah, our cleaning lady, babysitter extraordinaire, and family friend who moved to DC from Pittsburgh around the same time that we did. Although Margaret screamed when we left this morning, both of the kids ended up having a great time hanging out with Rodah.

Because she had to get home, I left work early and met Rodah and the kids at 4:00 at DuPont Circle. Rather than heading home, Margaret, Teddy, and I spent an hour or so lying in shady grass on the circle while enjoying the unbelievably lovely day. The kids kicked off their shoes and climbed all over me as I sat in the grass, with Teddy occasionally calling my attention to a passing garbage or fire truck (or sometimes a bus, which he would misidentify as a "gabage tuck"). We listened to some guy sing and play his guitar - he was pretty good, so Margaret tossed in a dollar - and watched all of the people walking through the circle.

In my pre-kid life, I certainly would have enjoyed hanging out in the shade, listening to a busker, and watching the world go by. But there was something truly sublime about sitting there, absorbing the music and the noise and activity of the city, looking at all of the people passing us, while Margaret and Teddy grinned, giggled, laughed, and poked me and each other as they climbed all over my back and lap.

An excellent event

We got Margaret and Teddy's class pictures back today. As one would expect, Margaret looks great in all of her pictures. She has that smile with fantastic eyes that she inherited from Grandma Mary and her great-grandmother through her Papa. Her eyes scrunch up and just twinkle when she smiles. In contrast, Teddy is cute in some of his pictures, but also often looks, well, a bit dull. His whole look isn't helped by the big welt on his head that he got from tumbling down the stairs just before picture day. All of the teachers at school laughed and laughed when they saw his solemn pictures with the big bump on his forehead.

Of course, I have to be careful here with my direct comparison of Margaret to Teddy. Don't want to give either kid a complex, much less initiate a competition between them. Regardless, the non-linear pricing of the class pics (each complete set that we buy yields a much lower per set price so that we always end up buying all of them) implies that we'll have tons of extra photos to send around. While I may not be able to scan and post them on the blog, certain dedicated readers can rest assured that they'll get copies of pictures of Margaret looking cute and Teddy looking like, as they call him at school, a little oompa loompa.

However, that's not the excellent event.

Today happens to be my birthday. I am now officially 37. As my 90-year-old grandmother said in her birthday card, "How does it feel to be 37? Not so bad, is it?"

Actually, that's not the excellent event either.

I also officially moved to a new position at work today. The move has been in the works for some time, but it officially took effect today, which is nice because I'll be doing stuff that's much more in line with the issues that really interest me.

That is also not the excellent event.

Instead, the excellent event involved an amalgamation of the previous two events. While being introduced to my new co-workers, one of them, an early 20's research assistant, said, "Oh, are you a new intern?" The person with me and I looked at each other and said, "Umm, no." "But you look so young," the RA sheepishly responded. "Actually," I said, "Today is my birthday, and I'm 37. But let me tell you, being mistaken for an intern is probably the best birthday present I could get at this point."

Dragon Boat Racing

Not much to report on the kids, but Papa had a pretty eventful weekend.

We put together a dragon boat team at work to participate in the annual Washington DC Dragon Boat Festival. The best analogy to a dragon boat that I can come up with is a slave galley - two rows of ten paddlers, side by side, with a drummer in the front and a oarsman in the back. The paddling (not rowing!) motion is unlike anything else I've ever done in a boat. Certainly nothing like rowing crew, which I've done on an erg machine, but not in an actual boat. And not like a row boat or paddling a canoe, both of which I've done a fair amount. Instead, you bend at the hip, put your paddle in the water, and paddle by pulling while leaning back at the waist. Quickly. And, ideally, the whole boat is perfectly synchronized.

Our boat was full of novices so, needless to say, we weren't very good. In fact, we were pretty bad. In our first heat yesterday, we got creamed by some management consultants from Accenture and some government contractors from Northrup Grumman. In our second race, we completely collapsed and ended up losing to another team of management consultants from Accenture and some team called TECRO. We were all pretty frustrated, and some people were searching for the key strategic approach that would speed us up (if only we were management consultants, this would probably be easy). Those of us with some perspective recognized that our boat was going to suck no matter what, so the only way we could speed up would be to toss out the bad paddlers - very difficult to do given that it was all voluntary and, more importantly, was for fun - or to slow down and try to get synchronized. Today, we tried the second approach, and although we still got clobbered in our first heat (to a well trained team - as with any fringe sport, there are some hardcore afficiandos of dragon boat racing), we stayed together and managed to not embarass ourselves. (In contrast, Abby said, "You guys didn't look very good" after our second race on the first day.) Then in our second race today, we managed to pull out a third place finish in a race of four teams. A moral victory of sorts. Even if we did beat a bunch of kids.

I'm not quite sure why I signed up to participate. I think that I wanted a structured diversion, especially one that didn't involve the kids. But the whole process involved a bigger time committment than I anticipated - three practices (I missed one) during April and two days of races this weekend. Abby and the kids did come to the race both today and yesterday, and I think that the kids enjoyed the whole spectacle. But due to the unpredictable race schedule, they only saw me in the second race yesterday and the first race today. (Yesterday, they had to leave in the middle of the races to attend a birthday party, where both kids had a grand time playing in a moonbounce. Apparently, Teddy didn't really get the jumping part, but he could trundle around and fall over without hurting himself, which is all that he needs to have a good time.) Not sure if I'll do it next year, but it was fun, and I have that pleasant sore feeling that one gets after doing something strenuous. Albeit in very odd muscles, because dragon boat racing is one very odd sport. (We raced near Georgetown Harbor where people sat in the bars along the shore and sipped their drinks while gaping at the odd people in their odd boats on the water.)

A funny thought

Not to steal the thunder from the CT grandparent's post, but I figure I'll write this post before its subject matter fades into oblivion.

At the wedding this past weekend, the bride's father gave a toast in which he drew some contrasts between his daughter and his two sons. This was done in a very lighthanded way with the basic point being that the bride was practically perfect, while the boys were, well, not. Regardless of whether this reflected wedding day bias, the basic theme of the toast got me thinking a bit and apparently did the same for Abby because we had an interesting conversation on the New Jersey Turnpike while driving home.

The topic of that conversation? Well, when you think about having two kids, everything involves a very binary comparison. Kid 1 vs. kid 2. Is Teddy as smart as Margaret? Are his verbal skills as good as hers at a similar age? Is Margaret a bigger pain than Teddy? And so on. Were I to give the same toast as the bride's father at this wedding, it would involve a direct comparison of Margaret (practically perfect?) and Teddy (not?).

A third kid, however, would break this quandary - you could always refer to kid A's achievements/intelligence/good looks/etc. without directly (and either explicitly or implicitly) besmirching kid B or kid C. But with only two kids, that's not possible.

So there we were, enjoying a gray day on the Jersey Turnpike and thinking about the potential advantages of having a third kid. It didn't last long, though, because I quickly thought about the logistics (our house is too small - we'd need to move - and a minivan is basically required for three kids - we'd need a new car) and cost (three college educations?). Still, it was a funny train of thought. And when I mentioned it to our neighbor, who has three young kids, one of whom has recently become Margaret's best bud as they've both become more social, she flashed me a big smile and said, "Go for it!"

Then again, after second thought, I don't think so.

Teddy and Margaret Came to Dinner

As promised, here is the guest post by Grandma Nancy and Grandpa Peter. I haven't read it yet and certainly haven't edited it, so I cannot guarantee that the content or style are up to the extraordinarily high (sic) standards of this blog. However, I do like the "gang of 4" reference in the first line. Given the general political sympathies of the CT grandparents, I suspect that reference was intentional.

We met the DC gang of 4+dog on Friday, May 1st, at 2 PM at the Marriott Courtyard in Rye, NY, for the hand-off to the CT grandparents. We got our instructions on the care and feeding of our charges, switched cars, and headed back across the State line to CT. The 2 hour trip was uneventful as the kids slept most of the way.

The kids had a great time at our little pond and the waterfall and stream that flow into it. We searched and searched for the frogs that have been around for the the past several weeks, but they failed to appear. We had better luck finding the two koi, goldie and sparky, who live in the pond. They are a little hard to see right now because I had recently cleaned the pond and stirred up lots of tiny particles. I trust that the outrageously expensive filter that I installed late last year and recently re-installed will clear this up before too long. The best way to see the fish is to feed them and the kids had fun over-feeding them. Teddy was a real threat to tumble into the pond as he is not cautious and the rocks were wet and slippery due to the misty rainy conditions. Despite his best efforts to swim with the fish, we managed to keep him out of the murky pond water. He had a great time throwing all the rocks back into the pond that I had just recently cleaned out of the pond. He loved the plop and splash. He also enjoyed sticking the rake into the pond and scraping it back and forth, counteracting my best efforts improve the clarity of the water. Margaret had a little less impact on the pond although she was much more interested in the fish than her brother was. She spent considerable time trying to catch them in a fishnet, but without success despite going perilously near the water in her netting efforts. She succeeded in moving some of the little statuary (frogs, turtles, etc.) around, at risk to both herself and the statuary.

The highlight of Saturday was the appearance of Aunt Eleanor who arrived by train from her studies at Columbia U. where she will get her masters in Environmental Policy on May 18th. She contorted and squeezed herself into the back middle seat between M&T in the two bulky child seats (it pays to be slim and agile). Her pitiful complaints were ignored by those in the front seat.

Speaking of squeezes, we were joined at dinner by Eleanor's very close friend, Rafael, who brought a fine bottle of red wine to donate to the occasion. He was able to deal with the mass confusion in getting the food prepared and served. He is also quite a hit with the kids- Teddy even attempted to say both Eleanor and Rafael (we think). At this stage, his understanding seems far superior to his ability to express himself verbally. He is very good at pointing, at least I think that is what he is doing when he is waving the finger around. On the other hand, it could be a poorly done Italian salute aimed at interfering adults.

Margaret was very taken with a book about Stewie the Duck's swimming lesson. We read it many times, and Margaret talked quite a bit about her own swimming experiences. For one thing, she goes to swimming "lessons" (or is it "class"?) while Stewie goes to swimming "school." She also explained that, unlike Stewie, she goes down somestairs into the pool.

Well, all good things have to come to an end. On Sunday, we were pleased to be able to deliver two intact children and Maddie back to their anxious parents, no doubt exhausted after weekend duties as wedding guests.

A quick update

First, Abby wanted me to note that the pictures of Margaret at the end of the last post do not reflect a look that we chose, rather the bouffont hair was done by the teachers at daycare, while the outfit was chosen by Margaret herself. Whether it's better that she chose the outfit rather than us is an open question.

Second, for those who want a recap of the weekend, we all survived. Most importantly, Abby and I managed to sleep until around 10:00 AM on both Saturday and Sunday. I did wake up both days at 6:00 AM as I predicted that I would, but I rolled over and went back to sleep. No kids! Whoopee!!

Finally, we're going to get a guest post from the CT grandparents sometime soon, as promised in the last entry. Stay tuned.

At least we'll have fun...

We have an exciting weekend coming up. A housemate of mine from college is finally getting married outside of NYC to his longtime girlfriend. (An irrelevant sidebar, but we're reaching the point where all of our friends are either married or have no prospects. So after a spurt of weddings, they are becoming very rare for us. The next round will arise when we're much older, as our kids and their peers get married. Sigh. More evidence of how I'm getting old.) I suppose that we could take the kids, but the wedding invitation didn't offer that option, and we didn't ask. Instead, we're going to dump the kids (and the dog) with the CT grandparents for the weekend. While we'll probably have a grand time at the wedding, it should be an interesting weekend for everyone else.

I've been thinking that it might be fun to solicit a "guest post" from one (or both) of the grandparents documenting the weekend with the kids. Not that I really need the info for my own benefit, but it could liven up what has lately been an otherwise uninspired blog. And I would be a bit curious to hear about how the kids behave with other people. Even if those other people happen to hold the esteemed position of "grandparent," so that the kids' behavior with them is nowhere near representative. If nothing else, this could be a trial run to see how the kids and grandparents hold up to extended time with each other, in preparation for a potential trip by us to Europe (or some other interesting place) sans kids. (I usually envision ditching the kids during a layover in Chicago en route to somewhere more interesting. So don't worry Grandpa P and Grandma N, a longer trip sans kids wouldn't necessarily involve the CT grandparents.)

Now, it could be that the CT grandparents would feel daunted by the prospect of pinch hitting for your faithful blogger. If so, I'll end up writing my thoughts about the weekend, which will probably involve something along the lines of "Wow, it was great to be without the kids for a couple days, but dammit, I still couldn't sleep past 6:00 AM." Alternatively, we may actually get a guest post. Which could, at one extreme, provide a touching insight into the relationship between a grandparent and grandchild. Or, at the other extreme, could involve bitching about the kids as is typical on this blog.

For those of you who are just here for the kid pics, not for the inane blather (which may or may not also apply to a "guest post" by the CT grandparents), here are some recent ones. Including some from our trip to the Udvar-Hazy Annex of the Air and Space Museum (a space shuttle, a Concorde, the Enola Gay - very cool! - it was especially cool because Teddy could run amok without causing any actual damage) out by Dulles Airport. And some of Margaret looking like quite the tart. The latter make me a bit queasy when I think about the inevitable teenage years.

Updated stats

Not only did Teddy get his bump immortalized in his class picture today, but we also went for a check-up where both the doctor and the nurse quizzed us about it a bit, as I suspected they would. I suppose that it's their duty to do so, and they weren't pushy about it, but one still wonders whether they've scribbled a note in our file: "Keep an eye on these people." (A friend in Chicago once told me about how an intern called in DFS after seeing all the bruises on his shins during a check-up when he was a toddler. The source of those bruises? Apparently, he wasn't very good at using the pedals on his tricycle, so they constantly banged him in the shins as he scooted around on it.)

For those hardcore afficianados keeping score at home, Margaret's three year stats are:

• Height: 38.5" (75th-90th percentile)
• Weight: 34 pounds (75th-90th)

As for Teddy's 18 month stats:

• Height: 34.25" (90th-95th)
• Weight: 28 pds 3 oz (75th-90th)
• Head size: 51 cm (>97th)

Oh, by the way...

. . . Teddy and Margaret are having their class pictures taken on Wednesday (see previous post).

The Ice Pack and Teddy's Head

Once the kids are able to pick up habits at daycare (and are able to communicate those things to us), they bring home all sorts of interesting ideas. For example, I was quite surprised the first time that Margaret voiced her opposition to some perceived affront by saying, "Walk away, Papa! Walk away! Make another choice!"

For a while, one item from daycare that was central to Margaret's life was the Ice Pack. While the teachers at daycare use it to deal with the little bumps and bruises that inevitably occur in a toddler's life, the Ice Pack became the cure-all for every injury, no matter how minor, in Margaret's life. Take a little tumble to the floor - run to the freezer to grab an Ice Pack. Bump into the table - ditto.

Now that Margaret is coordinated enough to avoid these types of minor injuries, the Ice Pack has receded from its prominent place in her world. But although he doesn't recognize it yet, the Ice Pack will (and apparently should) play an important role in the boy's world. Because he's very prone to getting bumps and bruises. Not only is he still a bit clumsy, but he also appears to lack a sense of self-preservation that leads most reasonable people to avoid dangerous situations. Not that he has the opportunity (or skill) to hurt himself in any serious way, but he is willing to take risks that his sister seemed to avoid at the same age. A slide at the park? He'll toss himself down it, no problem. Stairs? An inconvenient obstacle to be surmounted as quickly as possible. Some people blame this on a gender effect, arguing that boys tend to be more "adventurous" than girls. Personally, I think that Teddy is just a little foolish. A prime example is his chipped tooth, but I'll provide a few more:

Example 1: When I picked Teddy up from school last week, Ms. Mary asked, "Did Teddy have a bump on his head when you dropped him off this morning?" Looking at the purple spot on the right side of his forehead, I said, "No, I don't think so." It turns out that this is a fairly common occurrence for Teddy at school. There was a time where I'd get an "occurrence report" every few days associated with some bump that Teddy had experienced (usually on his noggin). Now, the teachers at day care aren't lax in their attention. Instead, Teddy just exhibits a tendency to run into things (like the wall) or to fall down.

Example 2: Today, we were at a playground, and Margaret was climbing all over the place (not risky behavior, I think, because she can now handle it). Teddy decided to climb some offset stairs and, once he got almost to the top, tumbled off and fell to the ground below. In the process, he managed to give himself a nice bump on his right forehead on top of the bump that he got at daycare.

Example 3: While I was making dinner, Margaret and Abby had to run upstairs for a bathroom emergency. Teddy, who had been left behind (unbeknownst to me), decided that he wanted to climb the stairs. He probably didn't get very far before I heard: thump-thump, yahhhhhh! I ran out of the kitchen to find him sprawled at the bottom of the stairs with a big purple lump on the left side of his forehead. So now he has a nice symmetry between the bumps on his head (you won't actually notice the right side bump in the pics below, but that's because the left side one is so pronounced). We got an Ice Pack to keep down the swelling, but Teddy wasn't keen on it. Given his track record, however, he probably should get used to it.