Fireballs and Ai Weiwei

Don't be jealous, but this morning my daughter dropped three Atomic Fireball candies into my bath effectively dying the water pink in a matter of seconds. And then demanded to get in with me. We were like a couple of pink Easter eggs when we got out. I'm glad she didn't get her hair wet. That wispy, dye-prone stuff probably would've taken to the Red 40 more permanently.

Moon boxes

view through the Moon boxes

Like one of our favorite storybook pigs, Olivia, on rainy days, we like to go to the museum. Today we visited the Hirshhorn. The Ai Weiwei exhibit is almost over and I would have felt seriously amiss had I not seen it while it was in town. There were enough odd-ball things to keep Ada interested (i.e. a giant snake made out of backpacks that wound around on the ceiling).

Ai Weiwei's "Cube Light"

The moon boxes were basically the best thing to happen to her since her birthday (I was just telling a friend that the post-birthday adjustment has been a difficult one. She's constantly asking for presents and balloons and cupcakes...oh my). We spent a lot of time looking through them from one end and the other. Security guards got a kick out of her. She reminds me so much of my little sister who would greet people with sticking her tongue out, or a raspberry, or some other charming salutation while a preschooler.

Ada greets people with a short grouchy squawk or a, "Noooo." What happened to my social girl? (To be fair, people are so weird. They ask questions like, "Oh my goodness I like your shoes, can I have them?" I might feel constantly violated/on guard too if I were a two year old and people felt the need to get right up in my business to have a conversation).

The simple color block paintings provided lots of color-naming practice. And shhh, don't tell, but one of the security guards told me it was okay for her to rub her hands all over them?? Sorry Ellsworth Kelly . . . Maybe they're reinforced against toddler hands because they know there's nothing so alluring as a giant green triangle within arms reach. That maybe have been her favorite things of the day. Besides the light cube. We circled that puppy a dozen times while Ada dutifully repeated, "No touching. Just look with mine eyes." It's becoming a sort of mantra at our house.

The visit wouldn't have been complete without singing the alphabet song while looking at the GIANT LETTERS downstairs

Inauguration Day

The days leading up to the inauguration were crowded in DC. We went out to dinner for my birthday the Saturday before, and called half a dozen restaurants the Wednesday before that to get a reservation at a regular dinner hour. ("Hi, would you like a 4:00 or 9:30 reservation? Everything else is booked." "Um..." We ate at Tabard's Inn and it was an excellent—even romantic!—meal at a normal 6:00 hour.)

I got all sorts of emails about road closures and extra security measures to take (like, write your and your child's personal information on a note card and fix it to their person if you plan on taking them Downtown. Yikes).

The day of the inauguration, Capitol hill was eerily quiet. Either people were all already on the Mall by mid-morning or they were smart enough to sleep in, have brunch and take the day off. We were neither.

We opted to not leave the house at an ungodly hour and wait in the cold with our toddler just for a good seat, so at 10—and calling upon the strength of our pioneer stock—we left the house for the day with a tin of peanuts, a package of licorice, a PB&J and a few water bottles.

"We don't always agree with the President, but we always pray for him (1 Tim 2:1-4)"

I sort of regret not buying an "Official Inauguration" something. I'm so not a souvenir person, but it would have been fun to wave a flag or something. Right?

The walk down was a cultural slice of life. Being a non-ticketed attendee meant walking, and walking, and shuffling past vendors and closed streets and innumerable police men. The entrance at 7th Street (above) was close by the time we got there—minutes before the speech began. The group dynamic of being collectively rerouted was interesting to say the least. There was a collective sigh as people regrouped and figured out where to go. It was like being in a river of people. When a we came upon a roadblock, we trickled out in a dozen different directions and white capped on occasion. There were numerous frustrating moments when I questioned the authority of nearly every cop who said, "Sorry. This road is closed. Walk two blocks to the south and then over 5 blocks and up two more blocks and you'll be where you want to be." "Grrrr..."

Vendors lined the streets and back roads that snaked through the maze-like city. At one point Mike commented that maybe all this extra rerouting and walking was some secret part of Michelle Obama's Let's Move! campaign. I think he may be right . . .

Our view. I know. High quality photo.

We walked over 25 blocks down to the Washington Monument where we caught the tail-end of the inaugural address. It was actually nice to not be pressed up on by a thousand people like I heard the view a few blocks closer was. We heard enough, ate our peanuts and licorice, ran around a bit, took a few pictures and then started the mass exodus back east (when I swear even more roads were closed...) towards our house.

Hooray we made it!

Awesome mothering tip: give your kid licorice constantly and they'll be happy as a clown in their stroller all day.

 People have asked me, "Are you glad you went?" I answer, "Totally. It was a great experience...to do once." I don't think I'll ever have to make the trek again (unless I had awesome tickets and handwarmers).

There were moments that I don't think I'll ever forget, like watching the pride on a black woman's face as she glaced over a row of Obama Calendars, fixed her eyes on a picture of the First Lady and exclaimed over and over, "Michelle is gorgeous! Just gorgeous!!" I agree. She is. And I like her haircut.

Or the guy selling Romney and Obama condoms. Or the vendor who used the back of an old Romney/Ryan campaign sign as the backing to his sign advertising Obama inauguration gear. How resourceful.

Or Ada watching the horses before they took off for the parade. Or how sweetly she would ask for "More licorice, please." After getting reminded to use her manners 20 times first and "Ask nicely."

It was a 6 hour outing. Needless to say we stopped for a pizza on the way home.

So much trash every where. The can on the left is long before the ceremony actually began.

Inauguration porta-potties anyone?

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.

In every heart, there is a room

Most of the trees are bare, acting has home to more squirrels than leaves, but there are still a good bunch holding on to their shaky leaves and keeping things feeling more like Fall and less like Winter here on Capitol Hill.

Ada and I spent a crisp morning at the park. It was deserted but for the leaf blowers and riding lawn mowers making more noise than clean spaces. We wandered around a bit, trying to find dogs to pet and tunnels to hide under while sharing crackers and kicking leaves. We ran for nearly a block, all the way to 11th street and then balanced on the edge of the sidewalk back towards 13th.

Having an empty playground meant that I got to chase Ada all over it. Up the stairs, down the slide. Up the ladder, down the ramp. We rode the springy bikes together and crawled under the slide.

I remember being pregnant with Ada and thinking, "Geez, I love this little human!" I had no idea just how completely she'd win me over. My friends have adorable kids, I've got World's Best nieces and nephews and cousins who are darling and charming and smart. But none of them are my Ada. My stubborn and feisty, independent but fiercely needy, assertive, curious, and endlessly entertaining Louise. I guess it's good we're hard-wired to adore our own. Otherwise the seemingly semi-hourly tantrums would probably push me to auction her off to the highest bidder. Not.

Becoming a mother made me realize that our hearts know so little of how much room there is inside. I didn't feel like room was made when I had Ada, but rather room I didn't know existed was filled.

I want to be a Swede

November also played host to DC's Kids Euro Festival. Delegations from each of the 27 European Union Member States hosted free plays, musical performances, workshops, screenings and other events for kids in the area. There were only two that specified ages 1-3 as a good fit for their event, so we were sure to make the most of the few performances we went to.

The first was at House of Sweden, the building that houses the Swedish embassy. It's a beautiful, modern, clean, Scandinavian structure right on the Potomac that made me want to march up and apply for Swedish Citizenship right then and there. The performance and activities they provided for the kids was equally as impressive and cool. Several Swedish families were there (and Ada was mistaken for a Swede—she has enough of it in her ancestry, maybe 'mistaken' is the wrong word).

The performance was really simple but I was amazed at how entranced even the busiest of bodies became when it began. Ada and I had front row seats and it helped to be right up in the action.



I think the performance served as a lesson in sharing to the kids and a lesson in the simplicity of play for the adults. I know it helped me realize how focused simplicity trumps many other kids of play. I came away happy to live in a place so rich with opportunity and creativity. I love that I can share in these experiences with my daughter and help cultivate a spirit of adventure and learning and creativity as we take on new things together.

The second performance was at the Kennedy Center on the Millenium Stage. It was an evening performance so we got to bring Dad along with us. This performance was by a troupe from Bologna, which made us extra excited to check it out. A link of the performance can be found HERE.

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.

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?