Christmas kink

The day after Christmas we packed up and headed to Heber for two nights at a cabin with Mike's family. The cabin was beautiful and spacious. We rented snowmobiles that everyone was anxious to try the next day. We packed sleds and dufflebags full of gloves, scarves, hats, thermals, coats, snow pants and boots. It was to be 3 days of snow play, cozy fires, hot cider, games, and family bonding.

We arrived around 4 and had pizzas for dinner. After, the family all headed downstairs to play air hockey, watch the grandkids wrestle and play. Soon the kids were ready to watch a movie (or a moomie, as Ada calls them, though she's never sat through more than 10 minutes of one so I'm not sure what her fascination is...) I headed upstairs to make popcorn and before the microwave dinged Mike was carrying a crying Ada up the stairs.

She had climbed up to the second rung on the bunk bed ladder (only about the height of a kitchen chair), slipped, and taken the full impact of her fall onto the tile floor with her right arm.

(L) waiting at the Instacare, in the middle of saying, "It huuuurts." (R) Didn't hurt bad enough to keep her from using that arm to color with. She the bend in it? Her other arm looks totally straight by comparison.

It was readily apparent to me that something was more wrong that just a routine bump on the head. I noticed what I initially thought was swelling in her right arm right away as I held her, but had a gut feeling it was worse. I went to the couch, pulled up her sleeve and knew immediately her arm was broken. Her arm was very bowed and after comparing it to her left arm, I knew we needed to suit up, brave the snow and head to the hospital.

On the drive there was sang a few primary songs which calmed her down almost immediately. We drove 10 minutes the wrong way on Highway 40, too flustered to follow a map, before turning around and getting to the hospital.

Too happy to have a broken arm, right? Or just loopy because it was after 10 pm at this point.

The wait was more miserable for us than her. The x-ray confirmed it was a greenstick break in both bones so they paged the orthopedic surgeon to come and set her arm. We opted for sedation so we wouldn't have to listen to our screaming baby as they bent her bones back into place. She fell asleep, with her pants down, ready for her shot just minutes before the anesthesiologist came in.

Still coloring with her broken arm (after pushing the ER doc away with it...my little toughy).

They gave her a dissociative anesthetic that caused a temporary disconnect between what she felt and what she remembered. She tried so hard to talk through the whole thing.

Gradually as the drug too affect her speech became slower, more slurred, her eyes started ticking back and forth like she was in the car watching telephone polls zoom by out the window. Eventually she was catatonic and the orthopedic surgeon came in to set her arm.

I was at her side, watching the whole thing up close. Mike said he was surprised that the guys just grabbed her arm and with his hands straightened it all out. I found that particularly comforting, actually. Sometimes I feel like medicine is too removed from our bodies. Everything is done with machines and not much is left to intuition and personal care and trusting our hands.

As the doctor set her bones she let out the saddest, slowest moan I've ever heard, "Ooooooooooooooouuuuch-eeeee." I felt my heart break a little further every second she sustained her slow-motion-cry. As she came out of the affects of the drug, he began hallucinating. The anesthesiologist said adults who are put under this way often talk about strange hallucinations. Ada hallucinated about bubbles. She raised her arm and began popping the imaginary things. Minutes passed and she recognized me, wanted to talk about mommy and her cousins and daddy.

All was right. Except for her purple fingers. Oh, and her broken arm.

We went back a week later for the hard cast. Hot pink. She began crying the second we stepped foot in the hospital. "Gee-na car!" (Get in the car!") "Bye bye! Gee-na car!"

She basically screamed the whole time we were there. But she got a stale sucker and a teddy bear out of the experience so it couldn't have been THAT bad. Plus, now she examines her cast with pride every time she undresses and says, "Ada's cool cast. It's pink."

I asked her last night if she wanted to take it off on Friday. She immediately cradled her arm and said, "No take it off! No take it off! Ada's cool cast! It's pink!"

(With any luck cast comes of tomorrow!!)

Featuring an ugly red coat

The last few days in Washington were spent cleaning and packing and organizing so coming home from our holiday in Utah would be a pleasant, relaxing experience. Everybody knows you need rehab after a vacation. Somehow they often leave you feeling hung over from all the happy memories made.

We left fairly cold weather in Washington (with those mums still holding on for dear, numby life!) and arrived in mounds of snow in the frozen Utah tundra. Ada couldn't have been happier. I couldn't have been colder.

A few days after arriving she somehow got us all out of the house before 10 and on a sub-arctic walk around the neighborhood. There's a spot from one of our home videos growing up that has my sisters and I playing in the snow on the deck of my parents' Grandview home. My mom is playing commentator while we chase each other and catch snowflakes in our mouths. She says something like, "There's some sort of golden rule where the amount of time it takes to get ready to play in the snow must be twice as long as the time the kids actually play in it." I thought about it every time we got suited up to head outside. Did I mention that Utah is like an arctic subcontinent?

Ada walked off the plane wearing a sign announcing our big news around her neck. It was fun to wait and announce my pregnancy until we were there with our families in person. At nearly 14 weeks I felt super proud of our secret-keeping skills. It took everyone a little bit to realize what Ada was wearing. Seeing their faces was priceless.

I've been feeling relatively good, but more sick and tired than I did during my pregnancy with Ada. I'm sure half the fatigue comes from tearing after my toddler day in and day out and not having the luxury of sleeping in any more (oh the days of sleeping in!!)

We've drilled the phrase "Ada's going to be a big sister because Mommy's having a baby!" into Ada's head. I've heard her say it to her toys (and while she leaves out half the words it still never gets old). We're excited and hoping to build up how great babies are so Ada doesn't get too jealous when the little bundle arrives at the end of June.

National Colonial Farm

The day before Thanksgiving we wanted to do something as a family but it had to fit a few criteria: cheap (or free), close, and Ada-friendly. We thought about Mt. Vernon but at 15 bucks a head we nixed that idea (for now). While looking nearby Mike saw the National Colonial Farm which is just across the Potomac River from Mt. Vernon.

The farm as part of the Piscataway Park which was "founded in 1957 to protect the view from George Washington’s Mount Vernon across the Potomac River." I found it a little bit funny that this huge park's primary purpose is to protect the view from the hot-shot tourist attraction accross the river, but I'm grateful nonetheless that it's there. We loved spending the morning at what they call a "living history museum" which is actually a big working farm. The Accokeek Foundation (who manages the park and the farm) describe it as, "a Maryland middling family farm on the eve of the American Revolution. Through heritage breed livestock and seed saving programs, nearly extinct heirloom crops and animals are preserved for future generations."

Enough history.

I spy my two favorite people and a tiny Mt. Vernon in the clearing across the river.

All you need to know is that the animals were beautiful (you know those portrait-worthy white speckled hens? and brightly colored roosters with the green iridescent tails? and huge cows with long horns? and a wavy-hair amber colored oxen? like that), the view across the Potomac unreal, and the company top notch. Did I mention we were the only ones there? Perhaps aside from Yellow Fever and Smallpox, Colonial Farm life seems so dreamy.

The weather was bright and clear. We wore sweaters and roamed the farm like we owned the place. We poked around the little log structures but spent a majority of our time chasing chickens, catching Daddy, mooing at cows and sharing half an apple pie that we brought for lunch.

It was a nearly picture-perfect morning. The image of Mike and Ada chasing a flock of Canadian geese, forcing them into flight will probably stick with me forever.

 

See? Chickens, chickens, and more chickens make for one extremely happy baby. Maybe we should take a hint from Ada and move to a farm. Wendell Barry makes it sound great enough. And if I can have sheep with wool as soft as the wool I sunk my fingers into and buried the tops of my hands in, I'll be a happy woman. They were amazing (and so friendly!). The cows, however could have cared less that we were there, trying to communicate.

 

 Maybe it's because I'm a "city girl" (as Ada's pediatrician called me today, though I tried to protest insisting that I grew up with half a dozen horse pastures in my neighborhood and spending loads of time outdoors) but I have never known how tobacco was cut and dried—at least during Colonial times. I'm betting the process looks a bit more industrial now. . . regardless the process looks beautiful, almost like an art installation.

The structures on the farm were made of original wood and reconstructed with a more sound frame. The wood was so beautiful and weathered with bits of pants growing on it and signs of time on the surface. The Tobacco house was quite impressive to me. And so was seeing rows and rows of tobacco hanging nearly floor to ceiling inside.

Everyone should go. It's not touristy, it's not difficult to find, it's not tiring. It's just beautiful, impressive, historical and free. We loved it. Especially Ada who found a big pile of leaves and planted herself firmly, not wanting to leave.

A horse is a horse, of course

Last night as Ada was in the tub, she pointed out animals in her bath book. She came to one and Mike said, "Do you know what that is? A Horsefish!—"

I cut him off, "No it's not. It's called a Sea Horse."

This is maybe one of the reasons a two-parent household is preferable.

We laughed until we were teary. Because that's just how long of an evening it had been.

Shout Hooray!

Before the month is out I've made a goal to catch up on our November happenings.

To kick off the month Mikey had a birthday (on Guy Fawkes day, or, as I like to think of it, My Foxy Guy's day). The celebration (rightfully) lasted for what seemed like a week. The Friday before his birthday we went on an afternoon lunch date and one of my good friends took Ada for several hours so we could have some much needed time on our own.

We met up downtown on our bikes and rode to our lunch spot. After we headed to the National Gallery of Art and stayed there for hours and hours. We quickly glanced over the early Italian altar pieces and stopped by the DaVinci before hitting up some Dutch work and then the Modern gallery in the East building. Seeing the gilded altar pieces with the embossed crowns and faces kept simple with crude features, I was instantly transported to our time Bologna where we saw so many things that looked so similar. We, once again, tossed around the, "I can't believe we lived there" ideas and reminisced a bit about what a year it has been. Then our minds raced forward, trying to see where we'll be a year from now: graduated, some place where Mikey is working and we're setting up more of a permanent home. It feels like we've been nomads for so long.

After a few hours our feet were achy and our eyes were tired. We walked to our bikes and pedaled up Capitol Hill, passed the pond, the Capitol, the Library of Congress and onto Lincoln Park, then home.

Tuesday was his actual birthday. Wanting to do something of a surprise for him, I had two plans in mind: making the dinner he has talked about since we got married, a dinner of appetizer-type dips and a variety of things to dip in them, and, knowing he wouldn't get to see Ada because of the 12-hours worth of make-up classes he had (Happy Birthday, Love, Sandy) making a short, simple video of Ada saying, "Happy Birthday Daddy." What should have taken 20 seconds took all day, and I didn't even finish. Between my time in the kitchen and chasing the little one around, it sadly didn't make the cut. But making its debut below: Our worst-ever happy birthday tribute video to Dad. 

By the time he finally got home, Ada was asleep and the dinner was set with dips and dipees and his requested birthday "cake" of homemade snickers. Oh this boy of mine...

I'm so grateful for my Michael Neal.

Halloween

Picking up where I left off, here's a bit of Halloween-ing (three weeks late).  To be fair, Ada still wears her "La-ba-ba" around the house, so we're kind of still celebrating over here.

Saturday before the holiday we had an impromptu ward primary/nursery party at the National Arboretum that was loads of fun. I admittedly scoffed at the idea of bringing non-sweet treats for the "trick-or-treating." I quickly learned, however, that they are way more awesome to a nearly-two-year old.

Ada had more fun with stickers, little toys, play doh, etc. and after actual trick-or-treating and seeing what a couple of fun-size Milky Ways did to the kid, I was grateful for wise parents who encouraged us to bring popcorn, dried fruit (yogurt covered raisins have for toddler-nirvana), clementines . . .

A reference photo, for those of you who need it.

Mike and I were invited to a Halloween bash with several couples in the ward. Everyone's costumes were amazing and I have never eaten such tasty creepy-looking food. You know the whole peeled grapes routine? It was like that but about 10 times better looking and 100 times more delicious. Mike was a little unsure about our costumes, but soon a girl walked in and said, "FRIDA!" and I felt totally justified for wanting to pull off a silly art costume.

On Halloween we had a particularly festive meal of left-over-clean-out-the-fridge stuff and then went to Eastern Market for the annual Hilloween bash. There were hay-rides pulled by big Clydesdale horses, bounce houses, face painting, balloons, and magicians. It was a bit of a mob scene, but fun to feel a part of the community. Ada got the only thing she wanted: A bright red balloon. It made me realize why parents wait in line 20 minutes for a free balloon—watching your kids light up is magic every time.

The red balloon and sharing her Halloween spoils with Lamby, Giraffey, and Sisi, her most loyal friends.

She trick-or-treated ("Kih-kee-keet!") at about a dozen houses before and after our stop by the festivities. We ended the night at a friend's house where we put kids down and had a little murder mystery dinner with the adults.

It seemed like Halloween lasted forever (oh wait, it's the middle of November and I'm reliving it again) but it was such a fun week of dressing up and watching Ada's stuffed ladybug-bum waddle around the house.

Sandy

Ada, gearing up for Sandy

Hurricane (I mean, ahem, Super Storm or what? Tropical Storm) Sandy didn't do much here aside from make us rather stir-crazy. Mike was supposed to take a test Monday that was turned into a take-home exam. Ha. Taking an exam with Ada and I around? Not a chance. Luckily our neighbors upstairs let him crash their kitchen exam-style and take it upstairs on Tuesday.

The same Tuesday where it was raining lightly and cloudy all day and everything was still shut down. I know, I know, better safe than sorry. But it was hard not to feel a bit silly when I flipped on NPR and opened my computer to see the devastation up north of us.

We had prepared well with water and food (in fact, I didn't go grocery shopping again until Saturday, as in, two days ago). I decided that other things that should go in hurricane-prep kits are distractions for toddlers (and mothers alike). Stickers! Fun treats! Silly string! New toys!

By the end of day two my creativity was spent.

Much of our time was spent playing and reading. We played with play-doh and paints and crayons. We took bath (two in one day!) and wore lots of fancy things likes gloves and necklaces and bows.

Ada got in a new habit of wanting to show Mike everything and anything she put on.

One necklace, "Daddy! See me! Daddy! See!" and she charges right up to him, plants herself inches away, sticks out her chin and grins. I get where she's coming from, like a true Anderson, Michael gives really great reactions and always makes you feel like a million bucks.

(Speaking of, Happy Birthday, Love!!)

It's now habitual. We change her diaper, "Daddy see me!" She puts a flower behind her ear (and even though it falls out before she gets to him), "Daddy see me!"

I'm not sure why it took us so long to venture out of the house. I guess it's probably because I hate being wet and cold, but when we finally did we found a few fallen trees and lots of leaves on the ground. It felt so good to breathe air than hadn't been recirculated in our 700 square foot apartment for nearly 48 hours.

Needless to say we spent nearly all our waking hours Wednesday out doors. There were way too many leaves that had yet to be crunched, dogs that had yet to be bothered, and slides that had yet to be slid on.

It felt so good to be back on the bike after nearly a week of not riding.

Wednesday felt like waking up and kicking into gear after a holiday weekend. I feel really fortunate to consider Sandy a holiday when so many others consider it their ruin.

Bursting

We carved pumpkins last night while listening to Kate Nash's Pumpkin Soup (I know the lyrics have nothing to do with Halloween, but I listen to it every October nonetheless), and Ben Gibbard's Thriller cover.

I took over the small pumpkin, while Ada and Mike tackled the big guy. With a Sharpie.

Yikes. It was so ugly. And to make it even uglier, I added glasses.

We all laughed. Me at the pumpkin, Mike at me, and Ada at the two of us.

We had hearty bread, with jam and spreads, chili and squash. While I was washing up Ada and getting her ready for bed, I came into the kitchen to see Mikey separating out the pumpkin seeds. He left them in the big stainless colander and I assumed I'd put them in after running to the grocery store. When I got back the house smelled like roasting seeds. That Mikey. What a keeper. He seasoned them with a few spicy spices (of course) but they're addictive. Like, I'm contemplating buying another pumpkin just for the seeds.

Today Ada and I biked to the National Mall and went to the Museum of Natural History. It's probably our favorite. There's lots of space to roam and wonder. On Tuesdays the Butterfly Pavilion is free. We got our complimentary ticket and hoped in line before taking a walk through the greenhouse-like tunnel absolutely brimming with butterflies.

Have I mentioned how magical Capitol Hill is in the fall? Every time we go out I can feel my heart filling with grateful thoughts. By the time we get home it's nearly bursting. The ride home together was perfect. The leaves in the District are just beginning to change and fall. We pedaled up Jefferson Drive, along the Mall, and had the street nearly to ourselves. We passed the pool in front of the Capitol Building and watched dozens of seagulls land and take flight again. We rode up the hill on the grounds of the Capitol, and finally ended up at the top where a hundred tourists had their cameras out.

East Capitol may be the most pleasant street to bike down in the whole District. We stopped at a traffic light and waved to the police man parked on his motorcycle. We cut through Lincoln park on the way home and all the while I kept thinking, "Man I have it so good. How do I always find so much to complain about?"

Today was one of those days that are so calm and reassuring that you're sure something crazy is about it hit. I hope the craziness is just more calm perfect crisp Autumn days. Wouldn't that be wild?

Plaid and Pumpkins

Clad in plaid, we headed out Saturday morning for some pre-conference pumpkin picking. Shagel Farms was only a short drive away and while I didn't think Ada would get a grand snooze in the car I was hoping for a few minutes of shut-eye. No such luck.

But the farm. . . the farm! Picture perfect and tons of fun. Ada had a blast in the corn bin. We looked at the animals and gave the horses nose a good pat (and who knew turkeys were so terrifying!) She did a bit of the hay bale maze, took several plunges down the slide and spent so much time swinging she nearly missed the tractor ride out to the pumpkin patch.

It was one of those we-really-are-our-own-little-family type mornings and as we packed our pumpkins—two of the orange variety and one of the baby variety—in the backseat I couldn't help but fill with gratitude.

Then we got to listen to conference and eat for a solid weekend.

What could be better?