Snow Aventure

Hey remember that time we got stranded in a sudden snow and had to abandon the car and WALK to try to get home, with ALL THREE KIDS?

Yeah.

The sun is shining now and spring feels dangerously close, which means I finally, a month later, can tell this story without panic rising back up into my throat and tears hovering behind my eyes.

I have no idea where to start. Okay. I will start at noon. (All these times are approximate, obviously, based on texts and my phone log.)

11:45 - All three kids are home since we have a snow day off school, so we decide to pick up Another Nathan at church for lunch before the snow starts (predicted about noonish) (the last snow day, we waited til 7pm for what was predicted at noon. #context).

12:13 - I sit in the van and let the big kids run up to the sanctuary to pull Another Nathan away from practicing (gently! with walking feet! and whisper voices!) (I remind them every time, but HA) and it has juuuust started snowing. I take a picture in my snow! day! excitement! to text to Liz in Utah and show her our second NC snow of the year. This is that picture:

Adorable, right? YOU CANNOT EVEN SEE THE SNOW.

12:20 - We arrive at Zaxby's, we eat chicken and grilled cheese and, with some mounting concern, we watch the parking lot turn pretty white pretty fast. We order a milkshake to share on the way home, and decide to leave. In a fit of smarts, seeing how slowly traffic is moving outside, I take the big kids to go potty before we get back in the car. Anneliese says she only has to poop but not pee. Who does that??? No one goes poop and not pee! No one! (Stay tuned, this will be relevant later.) (You can already see it coming, right?)

1pm - There is enough snow we have to legit scrape off the van before we can drive away. Uh-oh. That was... fast.

1:05 - The roads are very freaking slippery. I wish to not be driving on them. Why is there no salt? Is this snow or ice? It is very slick. It takes me only several hundred yards to haaaaaate it, and start worrying. We go several blocks and get to the top of a hill, on a main busy road, that no one is going down, because they can't get back up. Suddenly there is snow everywhere and no one can get where they want and we get very wide eyes. This doesn't happen in Raleigh! We turn around, FOR THE FIRST TIME.

1:10 - Another Nathan gets out and pushes the van over an incline, FOR THE FIRST TIME.

1:15 - Back on less-gridlocked residential streets, a car in front of us makes it over a slight slope only to careen directly into a ditch on the decline.

1:16 - We panic, FOR THE FIRST TIME.

1:17 - Mark texts from work (where he is in panic mode himself, ice on power lines is no joke) to say that traffic throughout the city is gridlocking, and checking to make sure we are safe at home. Ummm.

1:20 - We are in the hilliest neighborhood in Raleigh. (I HAVE NEVER NOTICED ALL THESE HILLS BEFORE) and no matter which way we try to go, we are caught either behind someone who is stuck, or at the bottom of a hill we can't get up ourselves. We turn on a movie in the back of the van and Another Nathan and I try to breathe deeply and talk to each other in low soothing voices about how we can not freak out, because then the kids will freak out (we have ALL! THREE! KIDS! omg).

The hour of misery: We are in a blur of icy street after icy street, snow piling up faster than it ever does around here, and no one knows how to drive in it, and basically everyone in the city is just stuck. This happened nine years ago and it took like eight hours to get home, and I hit a school bus in the process, and had to walk a few miles. This cannot be happening again. With kids. No no no no.

We are arguing about which way to try next, weighing which roads would take us back closer to church or to our house, which ones are too hilly to try, which ones are flat but would make us backtrack. We try many turns, most of which fail us and we need to turn around, which almost always involves more pushing. Another Nathan and I are crying at different intervals (never at the same time, thank goodness), giving up on one road after another after another, meanwhile more and more cars are stuck and hard to get around, and the snow is falling faster, and the roads are slicker and slicker, and we are basically driving in circles around several small blocks. The kids have gotten very quiet in the back of the van.

1:55 - I call my Montreat friend Amy who lives somewhat nearby, halfway knowing we might need to walk to her house, and halfway hoping she will have some smart ideas for a route to try. She knows the neighborhood well, and tells us the least hilly streets that will get us closest to church. Another Nathan hates it because it involves some backtracking, but I am panicky-insistent that we have to try something, and now, so we decide to take her advice. Several times, Another Nathan (sometimes alone, sometimes with the help of strangers) has to get out and push, but mostly the route works. (Until later when it doesn't.)

2:10 - The movie we put on in the back of the van is just playing an endless loop of previews, and the kids are officially now more aware of us than the stuck dvd player. They are scared. Nathan is weepy. Anneliese is whiny. Charlotte is wide-eyed. We are still trying, slowly, block by block, to make progress towards home.

2:15 - We are in an intersection of two tiny streets in a residential neighborhood, and every direction goes up. But the van will not go up. With all the other cars waiting to cross when we got to this cross street, we couldn't get enough momentum to get down the hill and back up, so now we are stuck. I shed a few tears. Other cars are making it! Why can't we make it? I am furious at the other people who deigned to be on the road in the same intersection at the same time as me and my own snow problems, who made it impossible for me to careen on through, and now I am stuck and I HATE ALL OF HUMANITY AND EVERYTHING IS TERRIBLE.

2:15 - A nice man helps push for a while and then convinces Another Nathan (who convinces me) that we are definitely not getting up the hill, so we should pull to the side of the road and stop trying. We sit for a moment and stare at each other, and he talks to Mark on the phone about what to do, and my head is spinning and I am only vaguely aware of what they were talking about, only vaguely aware of where we even are. I do not want to walk but I do not want to stay in the car with all the kids.

2:20 - I stop panicking and crying for the moment, and Another Nathan starts. He does not want to stay but he does not want to walk with all the kids.

2:21 - But if we are going to try to make it somewhere on foot (WHERE???) we need go. Now.

2:22 - I check google maps and tell a careful white lie about exactly how far we are from church. (I tell him it is just under a mile. It is... about twice that. Fine for just us, miserable with three poorly-attired young children.) But I convince Another Nathan if we can just make it to church, we'd have food and heat and diapers and bathrooms, and we could camp there for the night if we had to. He has keys. We would be warm. We would be safe. We just have to make it to church. We make the decision to walk.

2:23 - But before we can set out on foot, Anneliese says she has to pee. (BECAUSE SHE DIDN'T GO WHEN SHE POOPED REMEMBER?) So I do what I have no choice but to do, pick a random house, and ring the doorbell.

And Y'ALL. This could be a blog post all its own. The owners of the house have clearly been enjoying some sexaaay playtime, in the living room (one answered the door in a waist towel, the other was on the couch under a blanket, both seemingly otherwise naked), everything smelled like weed, and they were all chatty about how beeeeeautiful the snow day was.

Okay so I try not to see anything around me (so! dirty! messy! I can't even!) and we beeline for the bathroom where Anneliese pees and I looked all around and I am surrounded by... wait for it, this is the weirdest part of the day... FINGERS. Wax fingers. (Another Nathan has since corrected me, saying they weren't likely wax but maybe... latex? rubber? Something. Anyway, they looked like wax.) Here are the ones in the soap dish:

(That is the only picture I got of the whole adventure. That's it. Those fingers. Enjoy.) (That soap dish cleanliness is indicative of the whole house.) (I am saying this in a kind voice. Thank you, kind sirs who let my kid pee when we were stranded!)

2:27 - We traipse back to the parked van but of course I left my phone in The House, so I have to go back and knock on their door again, (and then again! when I can't find it the first time I go back), until I finally find it on the towel bar in the bathroom (it was the only place to set it down, since everywhere else in there was full of fingers!) (Another Nathan: "dammit why did you even take it out of your pocket??" WELL, TO TAKE A PICTURE OF THE FINGERS, NATHAN.)

2:30 - Back outside at the van, Nathan and Charlotte have been fortified with milkshake sips (yep, Zaxby's milkshake, still in the car) and assured that no, buddy, it isn't that all the people are mean and no one wants to help us, it is the snow, not mean people (haaaaaaa poor boy) and I insist on trying one more time to drive us up out of that crossroads.

2:34 - Attempt is tear-filled and futile. We are officially abandoning the van and walking. It has come to this.

2:35 - We lock up the non-essentials (including my purse, and Hattie) (!!) and take only what we need: the kids, a few diapers stuffed in jackets, our phones (Nathan's is basically dead by now), keys and a credit card, and we start walking. With three kids. In blinding white wind-in-our-face snow OH MY GEEEESH.

2:35 to 3:45 - The second hour of misery: walking in a winter wonderland MY ASS. The kids are in tennis shoes, no gloves, no hats. The wind is blowing snow into our faces. We take turns carrying Charlotte, whom we cannot convince to turn her face against the wind, and as a result her coat hood will not stay on, and it only takes a few minutes for her wispy hair to freeze into icicles around her face (in hindsight I cannot believe I have no picture of this, but it was the hardest part of our day, so).

Another Nathan has the big kids put their hands in their sleeves and look at the ground and walk as fast and carefully as they can. We make jokes about the Von Trapps. ("If they can climb over that mountain to Switzerland, we can make it to Oberlin Road!" "Wait wasn't that in summer though?" "Snowflakes that stay on my noses and eyelashes THAT IS NO ONE'S FAVORITE THING.") (Snowflakes were totally frozen to both Anneliese and Another Nathan's eyelashes.) (No pictures, GAH.) We sing songs. We talk about things people should invent to make snow better. We are freaking the eff out inside, but we are chatty and smiling underneath making Worried Eyes at each other, and it mostly keeps the kids in good spirits. Mostly. It is cold and it is wet and it feels like forever. It takes us about an hour to go the first mile.

3:45 - We make it to a shopping center with a restaurant that for some reason seems to be open. We go inside to pee and thaw out for a minute, and then we continue our trek. There is already enough snow on the ground that we can't tell road, from sidewalks, from green areas. Very weird for us.

3:55 - Since this road is busier and every car is basically heading right for our church, I get hopeful we can flag someone down to drive us the rest of the way. And we do: a nice man who works for the post office and suddenly whoa wait OMG we are hitchiking! with no car seats! Another Nathan in the backseat with both girls in his lap, me in the front with Nathan and the driver. Wuuuuut is our day turning into.

4:00 - The nice man brought us the last (long) few blocks to church, which has saved us. I have never been so glad to see our church parking lot, ever.

4:05 - Another Nathan goes all business on us, all Iowa, all midwestern snow survivor. Okay! Everybody inside, take off your coats! Wet coats inside feel colder than no coats! Here kids, stay right here, don't move, read these board books about communion! Erin please go upstairs and find my phone charger! I am going to get a shovel to dig my car out etc etc etc! and OH MAN I am glad he is taking charge because at this point I am DONE.

4:25 - I have procured kid-sized backup socks, sweatshirts and hats from the lost and found. I cannot find the phone charger. I also cannot find Another Nathan's boss, whose car is still buried in the parking lot but doesn't seem to have gone home with anyone else. I make lots of phone calls to track him down, leave a marker note for him on the whiteboard in the choir room because we are making a break for our house, we don't want to leave him stranded. Being stuck in a snowstorm makes everyone feel VERY CARING AND TEAM TOGETHERY, YO. True story. (It turns out he had brought good winter gear, and walked like four miles home on his own, tired and cold but perfectly safe.) So I am just finishing all of that when Another Nathan bursts in and says his car is cleared, and up on the road, and he is brisk-clapping us to get bundled and get going again.

4:30 - The kids are buckled in a row across the backseat of Another Nathan's little civic (we have car seats for the girls this time; *praise hands* for never remembering to take them out of his car) and they all three look wide-eyed and shellshocked. Finally I am not driving, finally home seems attainable, I am starting to feel okay, yet still I do not think to take a picture.

4:35 - We make it through the only trecherous intersection between church and my house, and we breathe a sigh of relief. We can walk from here if we need to. Home is within reach! We know we will make it! Nathan and I both have giddy-relief tears right behind our eyes.

4:37 - Some dumb van is stopped in the middle of the road (for no reason, waiting for another car to go?) and is blocking any good path for other cars to get through. I have to get out and navigate Another Nathan through it. I exchange Words with the driver of the van. He is not nice. (Very Caring Team Togethery FAIL, dude.) I do not need to push the car while I am out there, which strikes little Nathan as patently unfair, and when he recounts the story later, he consistently tells the part where I didn't push Another Nathan's car but Another Nathan pushed our van and mommy didn't even help him. So.

4:45 - We can see our house! We make one attempt to get into the driveway, fail miserably, and gladly just park across the street. We fairly jump up and down cheering as we muck through the snowy yard, our exhausted wet cold victory lap. HOME.

HOOOOOOOOOOOOME.


*********
(Those are snowflakes, not asterisks. Just go with it.)

And then we spent the next five hours trying to unwind, which was not easy. We felt anxious basically all night. We hung our socks by the fireplace to dry, I made dinner, no one played outside in the snow like last time, and Another Nathan spent the night in the guest house before making it home safely the next day -- after almost getting run over by a snowplow while scraping his car on our street (he had to jump inside for cover) (it broke his side mirror) (I had never seen one before; I had no idea how fast they go!) (in related news I am officially now terrified of snowplows).

And then the day after THAT things were finally melted enough to go back for the van, which was right where we left it. A tree had fallen right behind it (!!!!) but not on it, thank goodness. And even on the third day, it was hard to wrestle the van up that incline and dislodge it from the ice.

(Scraping ice off the car you recently abandoned, while wearing shorts? On Valentine's day? You might live in North Carolina.)

Oh, and then, AND THEN, I couldn't find my keys. HAHAHA OF COURSE. (A certain oddly observant friend had a flash memory of them on the desk at church two days before, and indeed there they were.)

Oh y'all. I know many people had it  much, much worse in this icy traffic fiasco, but for us with the kids, THIS WAS TERRIBLE. Like, legit stressful, probably will never forget it, terrible. And I don't know what much more to say about it besides thank goodness it is over, thank goodness that despite how scared we felt in the moment, it was not as bad as it could have been, and thank goodness spring is looming.

And that's the story of why we never did finish our Zaxby's milkshake.

High on Montreat

You know how sometimes after something great happens, I race off to twitter or the blogosphere, about to burst from readiness to tell about it, knowing that yelling my joy from the internet mountaintop is not only good because I get to share something monumental, but also because writing it helps me process my own feelings? That works out pretty okay.

And then you know how there are other times when I delay writing about awesome things, or posting pictures, because I know that any memories I capture will be only imperfect snippets of how it lives in my mind? That's also okay. And it's why I haven't written this blog post about Montreat yet, even though I've been home for weeks. 

But my new friend Liz reminded me of a me-thing this week (in particular a nostalgic-scrapbooky-bloggity-me-thing) about how pictures and videos and words help give us something tangible to hold onto, so we know it really happened, that the awesomeness of our memories isn't just in our heads. And that's smart too. 

And I don't want this experience to live only in my memory, so even though I'm not sure how to articulate my feelings about it very well, I'm sure going to try.

So, short story background -- I have wanted to go with our church to the youth conference at Montreat for several years. Everyone comes back full of feelings about it, loves it, raves about it, but I had never been there myself. Another Nathan had been asked to lead music for several weeks of the conference this summer (which is a huge honor) (and also a ton of work) and one of the weeks overlapped with when our own church youth group was going, so yeah. This was the year to finally make it happen.

And I am so glad I did. It was an amazing, life-giving, spirit-filled week. Almost a month later, I am still high on it.

So. Highs and highlights, the Montreat list:

1.) Mommy-Nathan time. I decided to apply to be a small group leader (nothing like my first conference experience being elbow-deep in the work of the conference, whoa) (Erin full throttle?) (anyway) and it turns out that for volunteers in that capacity, the conference provides "childcare" in the form of letting our kids come to Montreat's clubs/camps for free. Um, yes please. So Nathan got to be my roomie all week! And he had a ball.

He came out of his shell like nothing I could have even expected. Meeting new kids, talking more easily with adults, and eating almost anything we put in front of him (the first night he ate a burrito. A BURRITO. My kid doesn't eat burritos. And then later in the week he ate zucchini tacos and deviled crabs and stuffed shells with ricotta and baked fish. That bears repeating: HE ATE MONTREAT FISH). We went on ice cream dates to the Huckleberry. We shopped for the perfect Montreat t-shirt (for him, not me) (obvs) and a new button for his backpack. He stayed up late and sang loud next to me in worship.

He raced in circles outside. He climbed a million steps. He swam in a freezing cold pool up on that mountain. He bravely paddle-boated with his camp friends. Twice! He went creek hopping and fell in and was glad to be sopping wet in his clothes. Montreat does odd (and wonderful) things to a kid, y'all.

with Daddy, on our sneak peek visit the week before

I loved having so much special time with him. I mean, don't get me wrong, I was crazy busy. He was too. But having all my meals and worship evenings and nights together was so lovely. Wearing our backpacks walking all around together every day was slow and fun and sweet. The morning trips down from the inn to our first days' events were the best walks, when it was almost cool out, and the lake was still and clear, and we could stop and talk and look at the ducks or fish or whatever.

It was the exact perfect thing for my mommy heart before he starts school this fall. Basically all my Montreat memories, for as many years as I keep going, will always be tied up in this first week there with him.

2.) My small group. I was assigned a group of 25ish kids and a few adults, and we spent lots of each day together -- several hours each morning and afternoon -- to learn and pray and talk through the topics and scriptures covered in the keynote talks each morning, and worship each evening. I was nervous because I had never done anything like that, but they trained us up and gave us a superb manual full of activities, and it ended up being great.

My kids were quieter than I was expecting (I had braced myself for rowdy and had the opposite problem) but we did all manner of serious and funny things -- scripture skits and trust runs (yes, trust runs are a thing, and way more fun than trust falls) and games and listening to music and talking about hard stuff. In some cases, really hard stuff. And they were all thoughtful and smart and funny.

 And on the last day the boys talked us into climbing into the creek for a group picture.

There is a cool and beautiful thing that happens in these small groups. They don't know each other at all, but by the end of the week they are supportive and affirming and honest in relational ways that would take months to cultivate at home. One of the conference co-directors described it like this, remembering herself as a youth: "It was healing to be in a place with one thousand other teenagers where I could be fully known by God, yet anonymous enough to wrestle with faith and doubt in a safe, Spirit-filled smaller group of 30 strangers who quickly became confidants and friends." Yes, yes, yes. This. Totally how it felt.

And you know what I learned, that I have always kind of known, but was glad to be reminded of? Teenagers are so much better, just as people, than most adults give them credit for. I really believe that.

3.) Dorm life. As a small group leader, I stayed on the top floor of the inn at Montreat, with all the other volunteers and staff for the conference. It was a breeding ground for the exact lifestyle you'd imagine -- lots of sitting around laughing together, helping each other plan small group sessions, wandering in and out of each other's rooms in PJs and sock feet, and staying awake way later than we should, to laugh so hard we cried, not because anything was even that funny but because those situations make you feel close to people so quickly and also make you punchy-tired and that combination never doesn't end in laughing so hard you cry. You know. It's nice to know those moments don't go away when you're a grownup.

my fellow small group leaders. what an incredibly fun team to be part of.

4.) Color run. One of our rec events was a a color run around Montreat -- you know, where everyone wears white and people throw powdered color and by the end it's all a hot colorful mess? Yeah. We did that.

Nathan had seen pictures from an earlier week and was so excited for it than I pulled him out of his camp early that afternoon to come "help" me throw color. He and Another Nathan and I were the first station, we threw pink and blue, and it was hilarious.

Mary, Olivia, Mary Catherine -- some of my favorite wmpc youth!

Nathan ended up covered in blue by the end, and he didn't care one bit. He even liked it. (I am telling you, I do not know who this child was at Montreat.)

Then he ate popsicles and a hundred people took his picture. And my scalp was pink for two more weeks. But whatevs. It was a win.

5.) Utah Liz. I knew I would meet awesome people at Montreat, but I really truly did not know they would be as awesome as they were. So many great new friends, more than I can ever tell about here, but this lovely lady Liz is right at the top of the list. We bonded over our matching meyers-briggs types and both being praise junkies (like, not in a churchy way but in a please-compliment-me-with-gold-stars way) (although we both like church too) (hence going to church camp as grownups). We prowled around the grounds together in reflective vests for covenant patrol, using flashlights to search for kids making out in shrubs and being secretly sad we didn't find any, except not really, because we cared more about taking a walk at midnight and jabbering and laughing together anyway. It seems she's the kind of friend who after only a few days can hear your honest insecurities, awkward lactation problems, sort through scripture, help you cry over hurt teenagers, and then help you tailgate a dude with a supah-cray license plate because you both NEED to see what kind of person was driving.

Also she's really pretty. And I'm not just saying that because NC humidity gives her good hair (or because she's a praise junkie). She really totally is a beautiful person. She gets me in a way that you don't often find in a friend that quickly, and we decided we have to be more than camp besties, but real life friends. And we will be. We are.

6.) Another Nathan's voice. Oh man this one is hard for me to articulate. Our theme for the week was "Here and Be Heard" and we talked a lot about being present and aware and listening, so I was maybe hyper-attuned to it. And of course I hear him all the time -- he is my choir director and best friend, and between the two of us, we are not un-chatty. But him laughing with my kids or nonsense singing to the radio, or even our earnest friend-talks, are a far cry from hearing him sing and pray over hundreds of people far from home, and it got me at my core.

photo: Taylor Miller

Not that any song or prayer or laugh was for me specifically, but the familiarity of his voice over an auditorium packed with strangers, it just made me feel known somehow -- like those strangers were also friends, and in the company of God. An odd juxtapostition I won't forget. I have to believe many others felt it too.

In fact, I know they did. On the last night, when everyone takes candles out around the lake for our final worship, I found myself hugging and crying our girls from youth choir here at home, who were so taken with Another Nathan's (to them, our Nathan's) voice on a speaker across the lake, praying for them, the graduated seniors, in the final moments of the conference.

photo: Mike Erdelyi, via Ashley-Anne Masters

Yeah, so seeing him up there, helping make that happen, the mysterious awesome Thing he loves to talk about that happens when people sing together -- doing what he is called to do, at a level I have never seen before -- well, I have never been prouder of him. Or more touched by his ministry.

(If you want to hear, there are couple of videos from worship during the week on his YouTube feed here and here and something for Simon and Garfunkel fans here. You probably definitely want to watch.)

7.) Energizers. Do other people do energizers? Like, pop music with nonsense choreography to wake us up and make us silly? Is this just a Presbyterian youth thing? Google is telling me some version of this happens in other situations, but it doesn't look quite like what was going on at Montreat. You really cannot imagine it unless you see it.

photo: Taylor Miller

Anyway this was super fun to do with the youth kids from our home church every morning, especially my favorite youth choir girls, who were pretty much my personal energizer coaches. (I still barely know how to do them all. But it was fun!) (Like more fun than I even want to admit.)

8.) This list could go forever but it won't. I didn't even write about how weird-then-suddenly-awesome it was to shed my purse and be a Backpack Person again for a week. Or Nathan doing an outer space sticker-by-number birthday gift to decorate our room. Or how he answered our door when I was awkwardly bathrooming five feet from the entry and "took a message" from a pastor wanting to talk to me. Or how he covered the sidewalk outside the auditorium with chalk drawings of dinosaurs. Or about waiting in a hot muggy line for ice cream one night while it poured rain outside. Or staying up crazy late exchanging soul-bearing stories with Mr. David who is not just about orange shoelaces around here anymore. Or the little display about Mister Rogers in the Presbyterian Heritage Center, which Nathan was (un)shockingly enthralled with. Or how attached I became to bottled Starbucks frappucinos over crushed ice in my favorite Furman tervis, and how that will now and forever taste like Montreat to me.

friends! at Montreat!
(he forgot his nametag that day and someone told me he didn't need one --
"his smile is his nametag" haaaaaaa yep pretty much.)

I could ramble on and on about how being something besides wife-Erin and mommy-Erin for a week (yes, technically I was still a mommy there, but Nathan was fairly separate from my work with the youth themselves) was so so good for me. Like, balanced and stimulating and perspective-ing, because I also couldn't wait to see Mark and the girls again afterward. And I could ramble even more about what a happy healthy reminder it was that I need to feed my sometimes-starving inner extrovert. I love meeting new people. Really love it. And life doesn't hand me that opportunity as often these days as it once did, so it was brilliantly fun and soul-fueling.

Basically that sums up the week itself, so I should stop there: brilliantly fun and soul-fueling.

A week away of talking and singing and praying and laughing with teenagers and people who love them? RECOMMEND. (Marky already can't wait to come next year also.)

I officially *heart* Montreat.

(Even more pics if you click here.)

Strollerless Walk

The capital area greenway runs about a block from our new house, so Mark and I took the kids out for a walk a few nights ago, on one of these gorgeous warm evenings we've been having recently.  In a way, this particular walk felt like it belonged in bizzaro world. Want to know why?

We didn't bring a stroller.

Um, whaaaa?  Who are we?? 

Are we the parents of children old enough to take walks, like... themselves?  Without being pushed?  I can't even remember the last time I'd been on a walk without pushing a stroller.

(While it was super sweet to see Nathan and Anneliese walking together, my arms did feel strangely empty and I had a pang where I realized I am really really ready to have Sprout riding in a stroller in front of me, and it made me smile to be reassured I'm not done with the baby years just yet.)

Walking with Anneliese was funny.  First she wanted to push Nathan on his bike (which was surprisingly helpful, seeing as he doesn't so much buy into the notion of pedaling and riding himself **sigh**). 

Then when we abandoned the bike, we kept her moving forward by throwing a tennis ball for her to toddle after and pick up.  Lather, rinse, repeat.

Yes, we basically made Anneliese play fetch.  Like a puppy.

What?  It worked.  She loved it.

Mark and Nathan got some energy out by running for a while.  Amazing, the stamina a three-year-old can have when he's trying to keep up with Daddy's run.

Such a fun way to spend an evening together.  :)

Washington Part 3: The One Where Nathan Looks at Airplanes Instead of the Camera

I've decided that the whole no-fly zone over DC is a total myth. Because no matter where we go in this city, there are airplanes overhead. Seems like everywhere in the city (as opposed to nowhere, like you'd think) is directly in the flight path for Reagan National, so we can constantly see planes taking off. Approximately every minute and a half. Or more. Oh, the things you don't notice until you travel with a things-that-go-obsessed toddler.

Last night we took advantage of a gorgeous evening to take a walk around the Tidal Basin over to the Jefferson Memorial, which is Mark's favorite second-favorite monument here (he just corrected me) after the WWII Memorial. And I can see his point -- what's not to love? A big dome, gorgeous views of the city over the water, a tree-lined walkway, and yes -- paddleboats rowing and airplanes overhead [insert Nathan grin here]. Here are the three of us on the far side of the Tidal Basin, just starting our walk. Nathan is most definitely not looking at the memorial, but at the airplane overhead. Yes, this is really the best picture we could get of the three of us. :)

Once we got to the memorial, Nathan insisted on climbing all the "big steps" himself. I don't know how his calves aren't killing him (or maybe they are) because he has only spent about half this trip in the stroller -- the rest has been walking on his own, and climbing steps. He's putting a lot of grownups to shame, I'll say that. Washington has a lot of steps.

And his reaction once we got in the memorial? "It's a man! It's a big man! It's a very big man!" I think our explanations that it was a statue of Thomas Jefferson just confused him. He now thinks Thomas Jefferson is a "big man" named Statue, who might or might not have something to do with Thomas the Train. [sigh]

After our walk we went over to the Pentagon to see the memorial for the victims of the 9/11 attacks. It's a little gravel garden area with a bench for each victim, and it seems like everything meant something. Lots and lots of symbolism built into that little yard. I think when the trees get bigger it will be a really nice place for reflection. We were actually sort of nervous to be at the Pentagon -- seems like access should be a little more restricted. We made more than one nervous joke about "getting sniped" for taking pictures in the wrong place or something, but -- no problems. We got back safely to our hotel, free of any and all snipings.

This morning we took another long walk, exploring the monuments just west of the mall. And if you can believe this, Nathan climbed every single step to get to the top of the Lincoln Memorial -- AND back down. That kid is kind of amazing. (And clearly the grandson of an IronMarmie.)

When we got to the bottom again, and he got close to the reflection pool, his first reaction was "get naked?"... Yep, he's a Bumgarner all right. (We didn't let him, in case you were curious.)

And yes, the bottom of the memorial proved prime opportunity for more airplane viewing, despite the fact that Mark and I wanted pictures instead. Seriously, what is the deal with these planes???
We stopped at the WWII Memorial and thought about my recently-passed Grandpa Schnack. He and my mom came to DC in 2004 for the memorial's dedication, and I know it was a highlight of the last few years for him. The memorial is absolutely gorgeous, and I think it would be my favorite even if I didn't have two grandfathers who served in the war. But especially because of that.


But the real flyover excitement of the day came when we were just in front of the White House and President Obama's helicopter (and entourage -- not sure what else to call it; what's the air equivalent of a motorcade?) flew overhead to drop him off. They landed right on the lawn of the White House and we had a great view, as you can see. Talk about being in exactly the right place on our walk, at the right time! Tons of people were yelling and cheering and running that way, it was crazy! And Nathan was just absolutely in his happy place. Choppers circling around, coming and going. It was kind of a spectacle, I'll be honest. But it was really neat and I'm glad we got to see it.


After another picnic lunch on the mall (can't seem to get enough of those -- I think if I lived here I would do it every weekend!), and some running around, and yes, even more photo attempts distracted by airplanes, we're now back at the hotel for one last DC afternoon nap. Nathan was a little fussy this morning (despite all the planes! I think he was just up too late last night) so I'm hoping this will be another long one. Mark, of course, is napping too.

Assuming they wake up in time, we're going with a friend to church in downtown DC, and then dinner afterwards. Which should be a very pleasant way to spend our last night here!

One Decent Thing About Cold Weather: Foot Muff

So.... I don't love winter. I should just say that up front. I really don't like being cold. Winter is dreary, it's dark, it just... blah. I am grateful to live in North Carolina where winters are mild and usually less than two months long. [Insert reader jealousy here.]

And actually, I don't even really like snow. Some of you will question my sanity in not appreciating a warm cup of cocoa, sitting curled up under a blanket with a picturesque view of our snowy street. Well, I can't appreciate it. Because I probably have to go out in it. And it will be wet. And gray. And all the stores and businesses will be closed. If they're open, they won't have bread or milk (which is what I would be there for, because like a true Carolinian I freak out at the hint of snow and feel the need to stock the pantry). And the whole snow day will be way more headache than fun. (There are no snow days when you work from home, by the way, especially when your company's headquarters is like ten states away.)

It's been colder around here yesterday and today than it has been in years. Someone said decades, but I don't know if I believe that and I don't feel like doing the research. Our high yesterday was 28. Stop laughing, Minnesota, that's cold for us and we generally don't own good winter coats or remember to wear them.

So anyway this week has been hard for me. Hard to get motivated to be outside and exercise, hard for me to get out from under my blanket on the couch, you know. But there has been a silver lining:

I am loving Nathan's new foot muff. I didn't even know what it was (well, what it was called anyway) until a short while ago, when I started coveting my neighbor's newborn version (with sleeves)... it's like a sturdy zip-up blanket for a kid in a stroller. You know, you see them in big cities when those trendy moms take their kids on the subway. Basically like a regular muff, but for legs and feet instead of hands.

Threads easily into my stroller!

So when I found this one online, I jumped on it. It's awesome. It connects easily into the stroller, either snapping onto the frame, or threading through a lap or shoulder belt. It's tall enough for even a toddler. And it doubles as a sleeping bag. (Or so they say... I can't really see how that would manifest, though.) First, it's really well made. And who doesn't love seeing a precious baby all bundled up in cute wintry gear? (This picture proves my point.)

The best part about the new foot muff? I got it -- with a diaper bag that I don't really need but whatever it came as a package -- for less than $17, including shipping.

So anyway I am loving it. And Nathan is, too, even though this picture doesn't so much show his wintry snuggly joy. It's there, I promise.

Want one? It's by Valco Baby, and it's too expensive to buy full-price. Email the nice people at Shnoop.com (where I got mind) and they'll tell you when they expect to have them in stock again for cheap.