London Calling

London has a new friend

"Grandpa" came over yesterday to hang out.  We were playing in the yard when he arrived.  It was a beautiful day.  A little cool for swimming.  Cool in the shade and almost hot in the sun.  London was challenging us to push him too high on the swing and Violet just giggled swaying in her little baby swing.  Emily had found a big stick to chew on while she watched out for her family.  The day was picture perfect.

We walked to lunch at Casa Bonita, Libertyville's newest restaurant.  London was entertained by the pictures of frogs stained into the concrete patio.  He sat next to grandpa and behaved fairly well for a three year old.  Violet just enjoyed the view and her teething cookie.

After lunch, we walked home.  Barry prepped the driveway for our project of the day:  painting the blacktop.  I ran off to Menards to buy supplies.  London entertained grandpa with trains and puzzles while Violet napped.  When I returned from shopping, grandpa was ready to head home.  I think that he was a little spent from crawling on the ground looking for puzzle pieces and learning the ropes of playing Thomas with a toddler.

Later that afternoon, when London was talking to me about all of his "work" -- putting away toys and measuring just about anything with the tape measure he found -- he told me that he had a new friend.  I thought that he was going to tell me that his friend was Dora or Quincy or some other toddler TV star.  Or maybe someone from school.  When I asked who his new friend was, he said, "grandpa" with an inflection that clearly meant, duh!  Oh, that's right.  You had a play date with grandpa today. 

Baby steps

It's been a while since I blogged.  I just haven't been able to "talk" about what has been happening.  My mom died on June 1st.  She was so dear to me and I think of her every day.  I feel a little bi-polar most days.  Anything can make me cry but I still laugh a lot -- some days more than others of course.

Today is Violet's 7 month birthday.  When I looked at my calendar at the office this morning, my heart stopped.  My mom would've called me today to remind me and to talk about Violet and all of the wonderful things that she's doing.  Just two months ago, she called me to talk about Violet's 5 month birthday.  She was excited to hear about her latest accomplishments.

Just after Violet's 6 month doctor's appointment, I sat her down on my mom's hospital bed and shared all of the details:  how much she weighed, that she sings and smiles and sat up on her own.  My mom didn't respond but I could tell that she understood. 

The afternoon before my mom died, Violet and I spent the day with her.  We sat on her bed so that she could hear Violet sing her pretty baby songs and played on the floor next to her.  Every time I see Violet, I think of my mother.  Violet looks so much like her and my last memories of my mom include Violet.  I guess that it's appropriate that she's named after her grandmother:  Violet Kathryn.

W2 Addiction

I think I've said this before, but I'm a huge fan of Weight Watchers (aka w2).  Since London was born -- so for at least three years -- I've been starting w2 every Monday.  I count my points, work out, plan meals -- the whole schpeal.  Usually, I screw up by Wednesday or Thursday and then live la vida loca until I start again on Monday.  My regular w2 drop-out paired with cutting my runs by about one thousand percent is the cause of my muffin top.

With baby Violet -- who is two months old today! -- came new inspiration/motivation and quite a few more pounds.  So more like a popover than a muffin top.  Frankly, I'm surprised that I don't tip over when I walk.  This time I needed to go to a w2 meeting and so far, it's working.  I've lost seven pounds since starting going to meetings and at least 35 pounds since the evening before the baby was born.  (Maybe more, but when you hit those numbers, it's hard to even look at the scale.)  Sadly, I still have 15 pounds to loose to get to pre-Violet weight and another 10 to get to pre-London weight. 

I have no doubt that I'll reach my goal because I've just about hit that zone -- the w2 addiction zone.  It's the place where the really good food -- all of the butter and sugar and cheese -- doesn't mean as much to me.  It's easier to pass up.  It also helps that baby Violet limits date nights and forces me to keep drinking to a minimumm.  And, frankly, I'm too tired to snack at night.  I'd rather go to bed early to be "fresher" when baby Violet calls for her own late night snack.  Best of all, thanks to nursing, I get an extra 10 pts per day making everything much easier.  It will take me at least three months -- probably four -- to reach my goal, but the timing is perfect for shorts season and -- scary pause -- the community pool where all of the perfect Libertyville moms spend afternoons.  (No tattoos and no muffin tops there.) 

The Violet Hour

This is the violet hour, the hour of hush and wonder, when the affections glow again and valor is reborn, when the shadows deepen magically along the edge of the forest and we believe that, if we watch carefully, at any moment we may see the unicorn.
- Bernard DeVoto "The Hour"

It is the hour, according to TS Elliot's "The Waste Land," that brings us home.

The 2-day cake

We kept things pretty simple for the holidays this year because of baby Violet. No big crowds, no complicated meals. For Christmas Eve, my parents joined us for appetizers. Blu & Taylor went sledding and somehow came home with Guitar Hero. London entertained us and we all went to bed early to prepare for Santa's visit.  (This year we put the cookies and milk out and London started to understand the concept of Santa.)

Christmas day was filled with opening gifts and a nice dinner of beef tenderloin and roasted veggies. But the cake, that was the kicker. I started working on it Christmas Eve morning and didn't finish until it was served. Ironically, the recipe came from a book by Alfred Portale called, "Simple Pleasures." But there was nothing simple about this cake. The recipe called for 3 1/2 cups of heavy cream -- all whipped or infused -- and 14 eggs (each separated and whipped at different times). Lots of whipping and infusing and zesting and folding and glazing. It was a challenge -- not too hard, but not too easy. In the end, the cake was wonderful.

My only disappointment was that there was too much leftover. If my brother had been here for the holidays, leftovers wouldn't have been an issue. I can always count on him to enjoy the fruits of our labor. But this year, Taylor & I were the only ones picking through leftovers and I really don't think that his palate is sophisticated enough to fully appreciate the cake. (He would rather dig through leftover Halloween candy than eat the cake.) I've done my best and enjoyed at least one piece of cake each day until -- just now -- I've finished it. All of the goodies -- except the egg nog -- are gone and it's time to get back to healthy living.

My goal is to reintroduce myself to the treadmill tomorrow with a goal of running three miles (without stopping) by the end of January and somehow, with lots of planning and use of baby monitors, spending time on that treadmill at least three days a week.

Our most suburban experience yet: Sunday dinner at the Olive Garden

We started with good intentions.  After London woke from his nap, we'd have an early dinner at Trattoria Pomigliano in downtown Libertyville.  It's a family-friendly place with good homemade pasta that's just a few blocks from our house.  London would be in a good mood, we'd have dinner early enough to get him back for a bath and reasonable bed-time and we'd have a nice dinner.

When we drove past the restaurant, we realized that the place was closed on Sundays so we started thinking about alternatives.  Burgers, Thai, fast-food -- nothing sounded right.  We were in the mood for Italian.  When the hubby suggested The Olive Garden, we laughed.  But really, it was mostly what we had in mind. 

There began our most suburban adventure yet:  Sunday dinner at 5 p.m. at The Olive Garden.  The parking lot was jammed with mini vans and SUVs.  Inside, the clientele was dressed in jeans and sweatshirts and included lots of families and older couples.  No fashionistas in sight.  No bugaboo strollers or skinny mommies wearing high-healed boots.  No toddlers wearing haute couture from high-end baby boutiques.  No valet.  No line out the door for organic pizza.  This place was something we hadn't experienced in over a decade -- at the very least -- and it was all new to us.

Honestly, our experience wasn't bad -- although we did feel a little out of place, we really are the target market.  London was a little fussy at first, but once his mac & cheese arrived, he sweetly focused on the task at hand.  Our server -- Mark or Mike -- was great and gave us better service than we've ever received at 545 in Libertyville.  Dinner was good -- not great -- but was just fine for a quick casual meal.  I had a glass of the Super Tuscan which was a very nice surprise. We finished the meal with oversized desserts and the hubby had a decaf coffee.  For some reason, it was the coffee that he said made him feel more suburban than anything.

Now London has a super sugar buzz, but he's had his bath and he's relaxing before bedtime.  Our goals for the evening were met and we spent less than half of what we would on a Sunday dinner in Wicker Park.  Will we go back?  Why not.  Once we get over ourselves, it really was a nice evening.  We can save our urban (or urban-like) adventures for non-kid nights out.

Nesting or a little crazy?

The cradle is ready; baby clothes washed, folded and put away; diaper station is loaded; swing is set up (although we need to buy batteries); and the car seat is ready to put in the car; baby bottles are purchased and and breast pump is ready for action.  The hospital bag is mostly packed with the cord donation kit standing by.  We have 23 days -- or so -- and it looks like we're ready to roll.

So that's why I've decided that we need to paint the house this week.  You know, mix things up, add a little stress, and be sure that harmful fumes are gone before baby takes her first breath in our house.  And it's not like I'm looking for something to do.  I have four communication concept plans to write, lots of research to review, meetings scheduled with magazine sales reps and only about 10-13 working days to do it in.  But hiring a crew of painters to remove wallpaper and repair/paint interior walls seems like something that suddenly is important. 

I'd been sitting on the project, because I really want to change our color scheme which would include buying new rugs and slipcovering or buying new furniture.  With the economy in the tank and Taylor asking for a car -- and that won't happen -- there's no way that I can justify new furniture or even taking all of my unpaid maternity leave.  So, I gave in and decided that I couldn't live with what we have any longer.  Plus, I've been experimenting with color patches on most of the walls and it's starting to look silly.

22 days before baby ... but I guess we needed the motivation.  

Ta-Da!

London & I had fun yesterday in downtown L-ville.  London rode his big boy bike and we went to Summit for ice cream one last time before they closed.  We'll miss that place. 

Then we played in the park for a while.  Aunt Barb had just given London a new shirt that made choo-choo noises.  With that for inspiration, he "rode" along the park walls and pretended he was a train.  At every step, he'd throw one had in the air and say "ta-da!"  I guess he takes after his cheerleader cousins.

No napping at school

London, who takes nice long naps at home that can last from 2 to 4 hours, has decided that he isn't going to nap at school any more.  Now, I realize that it has to be really challenging to get a half dozen or more toddlers to take a nap together on cots in one room and I really don't know how they do it.  But they used to get him to sleep and now the teacher's magic just isn't working. 

He's so tired when we pick him up that he's just miserable.  He doesn't want to eat or play and everything from getting into/out of the car to taking a bath is a drama.  Lot's of tears are shed -- from London & me.  I've been on the road a ton lately, but I need to make an appointment to talk with his teacher about a solution.  If Barry would go for it, I'd like to have him pick London up at 1 for a nap at home and -- if he needs -- drop him back off at 4 for another hour or two of play.  Poor kid.

Above is a picture that Barry took last night & sent to me.  He's looks so beat. 

One of the Six Gets Married

I still keep in touch with a group of girlfriends from high school -- some from junior high -- and one from grade school.  I gave them a name at one point -- not sure why -- and called them the Schaumburg Six.  We're a very diverse group of ladies who live around the world and our careers range from teacher to designer to marketer to artist to engineer to full-time mom.  We have different political and religious views.  Between us, we have eight kids and at least 9 college degrees.  Nonetheless, we've mostly stuck together for 25+ years.  Granted, we may not talk to a friend for six months or longer, but when we catch up, we're still the same group of girlfriends and it's really hard to believe that we're as old as we are.

This weekend, Patti, one of the six, celebrated her recent wedding in Costa Rica with a reception.  It was nice too see most of the girls but when we get together I always feel like we're not complete unless we're all there.  Patti looked beautiful and happy and we all wish her the very best.