It’s been a thin year for monarchs in these parts. Today we released our last butterfly, sending it off to Mexico. This time it was one we raised at home.
Want to know what lies ahead for this little guy? Watch the Nova special, The Incredible Journey of the Butterflies.
It’s clearly been a while, and we’re way out practice. I won’t even tell you what happened behind the scenes to make these photos happen.
Remember the math genius from yesterday? Today that math genius threw a massive tantrum at the school pick-up line because I managed to forget his Nintendo DS, and he absolutely needed it to make it through Ellery’s gymnastics lesson, because, clearly, without it he would die.
(This is where I confess I kind of forgot we had gymnastics entirely, and had to call Tom to throw gymnastics clothes into Ellery’s bag before he brought her to school.)
Then Shep screamed, at the top of his lungs, “I hate you!” In front of the Head of School, where I now teach. In front of the parents of the preschoolers, whom I teach. It was mortifying.
Then at gymnastics, Neko and Shep ran around like wild monkeys for an entire hour, and even when I asked them to stop playing with that big rolling thing for the fifth time, I looked over, and Neko was steamrolling Shep with that same big rolling thing.
And after we returned home, and I was at the end of my rope, and sort of wishing someone had been just a little bit hurt with the big rolling thing, because at least then my point would have been proven, I rounded the corner and found myself face-to-face this Playmobil scene.
And then I had to love my kids again. Like bunches and bunches.
But they still exhaust me. And they better not touch that big rolling thing next week.
http://player.vimeo.com/video/28275361
I’ve been tracking Irene on the news, thinking of all our friends on the east coast and hoping for the best. Although the hurricane seems to be less destructive than anticipated, we’ve been thinking of strangers who are sitting directly in the path. The inevitable gathering of scattered pieces when it is all over.
Today Tom was outside with Ellery, moving an old tarp. It’s gorgeous and sunny today, albeit a bit windy—our little piece of Irene, perhaps. And then something magical happened with that old tarp and the wind, and lumped together with all the unrest in the world, it reminded me to be thankful for all my good fortune all over again.
(I’m also wishing a very happy birthday to my amazing sister, Bonnie!)
A few weeks back we told the kids we were going to the Wizarding World of Harry Potter while we were in Florida. And I’m not kidding when I say, it was like Christmas in our house. The kids went wild.
So first thing this morning, we made our way to Universal, and people, it did not disappoint. I was amazed at all the details and how much it looked like stepping in the movie. The kids picked out wands and shopped for chocolate frogs and Bertie Bott’s beans.
We rode the hippogriff roller coaster (Ellery declared it WAY too scary, but Neko and Shep loved it).
Selfishly, I wanted to spend hours there, exploring all the details of the stores. I also wanted to ride the supposedly amazing ride, where you zoom around Hogwarts, but none of the kids were tall enough.
I suspect I’ll go back one of these days, and spend all the time in the world on the finer details. But in the meantime, I can’t stop smiling as the kids play Hogwarts in our hotel room with their wands (thank you Barb!), brooms (thank you R+D!), and a few other finds.
Truly magical.
A much better last day, thank you very much.
A special thank you to Goldy, our borrowed goldfish at the hotel, for her patience and entertainment.
So here’s a funny thing about parenting—you never quite get it down.
I used to say this a lot when the kids were little. You’d nail down a whole routine around their nap and then they’d stop napping. That sort of thing.
Turns out this phenomenon holds true when they’re eight.
I had a whole plan for our trip to D.C. We’d go see some historical places—but not too many. For Neko, we’d go to the Natural History Museum, since that sort of thing is really right up her alley. We’d walk and talk. How could this possibly go wrong?
Except it did.
We took our trolley to our first stop without a hitch. When it reappeared, a huge family swarmed in front of us, taking all the free seats, despite our waiting for 30 minutes before them. Without many other choices, we then walked from the White House to the Lincoln Memorial in 90° heat.
There was a lot of eight-year-old complaining. There were several stern talks from a weary mother which included several heated mentions of the phrase, “This is SUPPOSED TO BE FUN.”
Finally, Neko turned to me, and mumbled, “It just seems like we’re doing everything YOU want to do.”
And then I realized I was having one of those parenting moments. We have graduated from the time where I set the agenda for vacation. These little people, whom I used to run around in a stroller, carefully scheduling around naps and bedtime, have their own ideas these days.
So under a tree, in the middle of Washington D.C., I asked Neko what she would like to do. Her answer? She would like to get a souvenir at the gift shop, ride on the Metro, and go swimming.
It was time to reevaluate my list.
We agreed we would finish seeing the sights, and then go swimming. I would get to have take-out from the nice Mexican restaurant down the street. Tomorrow we would go on a duck tour, hit the gift shop and pick up souvenirs. But I also wanted to see Julia Child’s kitchen at the American History Museum.
We shook on our new plan.
That evening, I found myself on the Metro, riding home from a swimming pool across town, with my daughter, both of us smiling and content.
Today brought:
1. Much sightseeing.
2. The realization that we purchased tickets for the slow trolley.
3. Because of our trolley choice, a lot of walking in 90° heat.
4. Lots of feeding squirrels and birds.
5. The chance to recreate a photo from when Neko was just a few months old (the first is in 2003, the second in 2011).
6. A comparison between the Lincoln Memorial and the Lincoln on the penny.
7. The knowledge that the reflecting pool, which I told Neko was one of the most beautiful things in D.C. is, in fact, under construction and not even close to beautiful.
8. The thought that I need to smile more in photos.
9. A new-found love for the Metro by a certain eight-year-old.
I decided to take Neko to Washington D.C. for a long weekend—part educational, part mother-daughter time. We navigated our two hour flight delay and the Metro without any trouble.
One hour in the city, and she thinks she owns the place.
