A Tale of Two Cities

Or, more accurately, two women.

There's southern mama who is up and at 'em, meeting the day with a few activities in her back pocket (probably next to the grocery list and an extra pack of goldfish), who has a daily schedule to keep to between meal times and nap times and bath times, and who is lucky to remember to finish a thought not to mention a sentence when trying to chat with the hubby during dinner.

Then, there is me, the woman who existed before mama. After a weekend of lazy mornings, spontaneous decisions and incredible meals, I'm happy to say she's still inside the mama above.

Leaving the peanut was easier than I thought it would be. Okay, the act of leaving was not easy, I did cry when we left the house when he was more interested in helping grandma make the coffee than giving me a squeeze, but being away from him wasn't nearly as painful as I feared.

Our hotel was fabulous, in a great location. The room looked like this:



Well, more accurately, our second room looked like that. Our original room looked like this:


Or at least it smelled that way. So much for a smoke-free hotel, huh?

Maybe it was this guy sneaking a smoke break?

The weekend was full of spur of the moment decisions, punctuated by evening dinner reservations at some of our favorite spots. We hit up the National Portrait Gallery across the street from our hotel one afternoon, spent practically all of Saturday at the Newseum (which was totally awesome and I would highly recommend going...although maybe not with young kids), walked through Lafayette Square after dinner one night, had a lovely Sunday brunch, went to a movie, had tapas and sangria, read the paper in bed, had conversation after conversation with the hubby about where we have been, where we are, where we're going, joked about nothing at all. It seemed strange that when we have a date night, we have a hard time not talking about the peanut, but somehow we spent most of the weekend finding plenty of other things to talk about.

Grandma and grandpa survived the weekend (thanks again). Peanut was apparently an angel most of the time. Apparently that went out the window as soon as we dropped grandma and grandpa off at the airport this morning. He's been cranky and whiny all morning. Of course that might have something to do with the fact that he didn't nap yesterday after the hubby and I returned.

The flowers (thanks honey), champagne (thanks M&J), cocktails (thanks Ten Penh) and ability to sleep past 7:15 were just what the doctor ordered. And although I'm buried in laundry and the mundane daily tasks of my mama life, it's comforting to know that the me I thought I lost is still alive and well.

Now that I know it's possible, I better start planning trips to visit her a bit more often. She's a pretty good time. And she had some sassy shoes, if I do say so myself.

Because You Loved Me

Last night, on the way home from an impromptu shopping trip to find some kind of new semi-sexy outfit for our anniversary dinner, I came across "our" song on XM. You know, the song for our first dance at our wedding? And yes, it was the ever-cheesy Celine Dion "Because You Loved Me."

I feel like I should be embarrassed by this cliche of a choice, but to be honest, I don't regret it. And the lyrics still stand true, maybe even more so, after 10 years.

Last year, I wrote a sappy anniversary post for the hubby that pretty much sums up our married life. Not much has happened in the last year - we've got another year of parenting under our belts. We took seven trips home and one trip to the beach. We went on a few dates. We laughed a lot. I cried a bit. We've struggled with how our marriage looks so different after adding parenting to the mix. We've stood over peanut's crib watching him sleep and wondered how we could create something so absolutely perfect.

You know, same old, same old.

I feel like after a decade of marriage I should have some words of wisdom or insightful perspective to share. But I don't. I do know, for me, that as long as we can talk about it, it's okay. That our marriage doesn't look like any one thing, it adapts, shifts, molds itself to fit the current challenge. It's not always an easy road, but I still want to go to sleep with the hubby beside me. He's still the first person I want to talk to when I'm happy, sad, lonely, excited, worried, confused. And that those sappy lyrics sum up how sometimes one or the other of us has to carry the other for us both to be successful at living our best lives as individuals, a couple and a family:

You were my strength when I was weak
You were my voice when I couldn't speak
You were my eyes when I couldn't see
You saw the best there was in me
Lifted me up when I couldn't reach
You gave me faith 'coz you believed
I'm everything I am
Because you loved me

So, hubby, even though I'm totally stressing about packing and leaving our little guy behind, thank you. Thank you for loving me more than I probably deserve, caring for me with a gentle hand and making me laugh. Thank you for being a wonderful father and making the transition from couple to family such a natural progression.

And thank you for this trip to celebrate where we've been and where we are going. I can't wait to see what's next for us.

Happy 10th Anniversary (a day early), honey, I love you.

Separation Anxiety

The hubby surprised me on Mother's Day by telling me about the anniversary trip he'd planned for us. (This Friday will be our 10th anniversary! Yikes! Where does the time go?) We're headed back to the town where it all began.

Shortly after our wedding in 1998, we moved to Washington, DC. I was fresh out of college, newly married and ready to take on the world. Looking back, I have no idea what the heck we were thinking, but it was probably the best decision we could have made for us and our marriage. Funny how things work out for the best when you trust what your soul is whispering. I should try that more often.

So, since I've been not-so-subtly hinting for several months that mama needs a vacation, he put one together. Some may say, DC...in July...for a romantic anniversary trip? Sounds strange, but I think it's a perfect solution - a town we know, restaurants we love, a boutique hotel, and no peanut.

My parents are coming down Thursday to stay with the little guy while we're away. We get back Monday and they'll fly out from here on Tuesday to attend a conference for my dad's work (thanks again for totally rearranging your lives to do this for us). This will be the very first time we've left peanut alone for longer than a date since he was born and he's mere weeks away from being two.

I can't even tell you how excited I am to spend that much dedicated time with the hubby without having to parent. We are great at parenting together, if I do say so myself, but in the busyness that is parenting, we often forget the hubby and wife part of the deal. I know we aren't alone in walking that line. So I am very excited about this opportunity.

And at the same time, I'm terrified of leaving my little guy. Not because grandma and grandpa won't do a fabulous job, because they will. Not because I think we're going to have a bad time, because we won't. But I'm afraid I'm going to miss him. That I'm a little less me without him. How quickly I've become dependent on this little guy and his routines which have become the meter of my own days. Do I even know how to be spontaneous anymore? What if I don't miss him enough? What if he doesn't miss me?

Oh such petty concerns that totally have my mind racing.

Luckily, I have plenty to distract me this week in preparing for my parents to live in my house without me. You know, post-its on where the extra TP/paper towels/light bulbs are, directions to the grocery store/the zoo/the hospital (just in case), outlines on peanut's routines (cause if you don't get the tuck-tuck right at naptime, he will let you know!), instructions on how to work all these crazy remotes. I'm sure I'm going overboard. But if it makes me feel better, I'm going to do it.

I cut one cord to my child nearly two years ago. This weekend, I will cut another, much less physical, much harder to see, and somehow much stronger cord by giving the peanut and I both a little taste of independence.

Luckily I've got one heckuva a great hubby to lean on while we're gone.

And reservations at one of the best restaurants in DC the night we arrive so I can dive right into that relaxation thing one glass of champagne at a time.

Random Scenes from a Weekend

Remember when weekends were spent in bed or on the couch with coffee, the paper and 90121 reruns? Remember getting showered and dressed just in time to go out for dinner and drinks, maybe a movie, and you TiVo'd Saturday Night Live because you might not be home in time?

This weekend was full of scenes that the pre-child me would not have predicted:

• There was the Saturday morning poop detail when I realized a child left alone in his crib too long so the hubby and I could get a few more winks of pre-8am shuteye occupies himself by taking off his poop filled diaper then pointing proudly at his naked bottom half when you come in to say good morning. Ah, nothing like starting your morning with an early bath and load of laundry.
  
• There was time to myself Saturday morning while the hubby ran some errands with peanut. I did some really luxurious things like blow-dry my hair and go to the library without entering the kid's section (although I did buy myself a sassy new hand bag (at half-off) for an upcoming childless trip with the hubby).
  
• There was the Saturday evening "date" -- really more of a date for peanut since we were sitting for a friend's seven month old little girl. The hubby and peanut left around 9...and I was quite pleased to have a book and a remote all to myself for a couple of hours. And the sad realization that I haven't been out that late since the last time I babysat for a friend.
  
• There was the Sunday morning shower, and by shower I mean getting drenched in the grocery store parking lot while loading up a car full of groceries and strapping a squirmy kid into a car seat as it poured down rain the likes of which Atlanta hasn't seen in a year and a half.
  

Ah, how times change.

*******

In other news...the hubby FINALLY managed to secure himself an iPhone (happy father's day- anniversary-yearly bonus-tax incentive gift, honey!) today. We were talking about it this afternoon when the peanut entered the room with his play phone. The hubby jokingly asked, "hey, is that your iPhone?"

To which peanut responded by sticking his play phone in his eye.

Priceless.

Toddler Logic

I'm one of those sick parents who doesn't mind tantrums. Honestly, I don't. It's the whining I can't stand. Those days when nothing you do is right and there's an incessant power struggle that is just completely unwinnable by either side.

But the tantrums are actually humorous to me. They tend to be about the most ridiculous things that I can't help but laugh when peanut's laying on the floor screaming "no front door, no front door" as we're about to walk out the front door instead of the side door. Uh, sorry kid, who knew you didn't want to go out the front door, you know, the door you insist upon exiting 99.9999% of the time?

Today's lunch time was no different. Peanut was already tired from having woken at 6am and playing outside with two of his pals for an hour and a half in the heat and I could tell that we were well on the road to cranky town. I had shared a few of my pretzel sticks with him as we were eating together. He grabbed one, took a bite, looked at the remaining half in his hand and started to tear up.

"Bwoken," he looked at me.

"Mm-hmmm, because you took a bite. Yummy!"

"Pwetzel, bwoken. Fix it." He held out the pretzel to me, the tears spilling from his eyes. "Fix it."

Needless to say, the fact that I couldn't fix the pretzel since he'd eaten half of it already was unacceptable. Luckily, we were easily distracted by a banana.

And, not surprisingly, he fell asleep for his nap in about 3 seconds.

Stranger Danger

Parenting is all about walking the fine line. There's the line between concern and worry when they are sick, the fine line between happy and cranky, the fine line between cranky and tantrum. But today, I came face to face with a new moral line that kept shifting and changing forms like the shadows.

Peanut and I were at the library returning a few books and perusing the aisles for a couple of wanted titles. We were in the adult section and peanut was thrilled as always just to read the letters off the covers and use the step stools as his own personal drum set. A disheveled man, dressed strangely for 90 degree weather and carting behind him a weird metal suitcase came walking through the main hall of the library. He looked down the aisles and stopped dead when he saw me and peanut.

He said hi to peanut, so I asked peanut to say hi back. After all, you should answer when someone greets you, right? Peanut obliged and said hi.

Then this strange man plopped down in a seat at the end of the row and watched us for awhile. I started to get nervous. This guy was riveted, watching my son. My precious baby boy. I was getting a weird vibe...but why? Was this guy really threatening or was he just a strangely dressed homeless guy that was making me nervous because he was "different?"

Peanut started to act strangely, too. He started to get clingy and asked to be carried - an unusual occurrence in a place he felt comfortable. I took him by the hand and started guiding him out of the stacks and was contemplating if I needed to duck into the children's section for awhile so this guy wouldn't follow us out when he started talking.

He kept saying that this was "the most beautiful boy he'd ever seen. Such a beautiful boy. Just look at him. Wow..."

Okay. Now I think my kid is pretty cute, but this was TOO much. Even grandmotherly types at the grocery store don't fawn that much over him. Fight or flight started to pulse through my veins. But a nagging voice that sounded a lot like that fine line was taunting me, making me question if I was overreacting. This guy had not actually threatened us. He hadn't made a move. Just sat, watched and talked. Would we be rude to ignore him? I told peanut to say thank you and we kept trucking. Luckily, peanut actually did let go of my hand and ran behind a tall display in the children's area and I kept him there until I saw the guy leave.

As peanut gets older and starts asking questions, what will I ever teach him about strangers? I want him to be a trusting person. I don't want him to be scared or afraid of people. But how do you teach the difference between it being okay to talk to the grocery clerk, but not okay to talk to a strange man who comes up to you at the library? How will I ever teach my child to walk that line when I am not so sure I'm walking on the right side of it?

This parenting gig doesn't get any easier the older they get, does it?

Happy 5th of July! (Let's keep the party rolling!)

I've noticed several posts this week in the blogosphere about creating family traditions around the 4th of July. I honestly hadn't thought much about it as the 4th approached. It's been a bit of a weird week here at Chez High Heeled Mama and Independence Day somewhat snuck up on me.

But I do remember, fondly, the Fourths of my childhood. They were typically spent in one of a few locations:

• There were the years we were home as a nuclear family in NC watching the fireworks set-off from the parking deck at South Square Mall. A group from the neighborhood would gather at the KMart parking lot across the street from the launch point. There were always popsicles and I'm sure some adult beverages were involved for the parents. One of the neighborhood dads had a rule about reactions and we would follow his lead as to whether a particular pop deserved an "oh," "ah," or "ooooo."

• Other years we would be at Grandma and Grandpa's house in RI. Fourths here involved clam boils, cream puffs, Aunt F's chocolate cake, tubing on the pond, root beer, hide and seek with the cousins and later, watching my older cousin's tipsy friends paddle the row boat into the rocks to attempt to set-off fireworks in situations that I now wonder how these guys managed to keep all their digits.

• Later years we would be at "Camp Massachusetts" with Aunt P and Uncle M hosting the family gathering pool side with barbecued chicken, steak tips, the best potato salad, corn fresh from the farm stand, Aunt F's chocolate cake (because there isn't a family gathering without one), and THE apple-raspberry pie with a generous scoop of Grey's coffee ice cream. We'd watch the Boston Pops on television for our fireworks fix with our hair still damp from the pool and a second dessert in hand.
  

The last few years, I was hugely pregnant or with an 11 month old and didn't really think much of it. Last night, though, it was a bit sad to watch the Boston Pops on CBS's tape delay...but really, no other fireworks display will due. I mean, come on, "Stars and Stripes Forever"...this recovering flute player can't get enough of that piccolo solo. We did, however, a few things over the week to make the 4th our own:

• We made apple-raspberry pie with the peanut:

• We went to a cookout yesterday and watched (like a train wreck you don't want to see but can't stop staring at) the hot dog eating contest on ESPN (a five dog eat-off? Ick!).
  
• We managed to keep peanut somewhat occupied this morning so we could catch the women's Wimbledon final (a tradition the hubby and I developed together during our many 4th of Julys together). And now that we were spoiled by some good tennis and good toddler behavior this morning, we'll hedge our bets and try to watch the men's final tomorrow. Hopefully peanut will be content to color, play with his blocks and generally stay in one room for the duration. Fingers crossed.
  
• We'll grill out as a family together on Sunday afternoon to keep the festivities going.
  
• And, maybe if we're lucky, we'll dance around with just our shoes on:

Hope you all are enjoying a relaxing holiday weekend, too!