There are two months in STL which make bike commuting a joy… and we’re smack in the middle of one. Perfect weather, combined with Wash U’s graduation (which makes getting to Kate’s school tricky by car today) and the fact that it’s National Bike to Work Day – what’s a girl to do?
I suppose she’s almost too big now for the tag-a-long. Sheesh.
(the upside? i can actually tell when she’s helping peddle up the @#$%* hills!)
Home from work/school on the MLK holiday. I have other client work to address on this ‘off’ day, yet I have company. And lots of it.
With well over 2,500 square feet at their disposal, both little ‘girls’ choose to occupy my 100 sf office. Of course, it’s not enough to just BE here. Kate has to build a fort out of my desk. (I was a fort-builder once, too. I get it.)
Then she needs the iPad for videos – which means she needs headphones. Another trip out from the fort.
Snacks, gotta have snacks. And milk.
And, mom, could you lift your bottom up and sit on my blanket to hold it in place? Can you clip this? Can you get Paddi in here? (Paddi is contributing in her own way – there is a regular aroma filling the space which could only be canine farts.)
In place, lodged under my desk, head under my chair, she settles in. And then sings along with the movie. Sheesh!
Where’s the play date call when we need it?? Oh wait… that’s my phone ringing now…!
between nostalgia
and nightmares
(sorry for the glare and random reflections in the window. it was too blasted cold to stage a proper photo. and Kate kept popping in and out of the pic.)
So, we pass by this auction house window nearly every day as it’s just a couple of blocks from our house. Every day those dolls stare back at me. Smiling their sweet little innocent smile, melting the hearts of little girls everywhere.
They scare the shit out of me.
So it seems I missed all of November. No posting, no love. In fact, I ignored the site to the extent that I had maxed out capacity at some point and it was down. (Sorry about that! How rude…)
2011 is turning out to be an interesting year. Started it off by launching my own business, and it’s quickly growing like an unruly, demanding toddler. I love it, but I want to make it stop pulling on my sleeve in the middle of the night, waking me up.
So, until I can get it under better control, here is a fun shot of Kate in our backyard.
I’ve learned to hate the 726 number that pops up on my phone of late.
Tuesday night – a call from one of Katie’s teachers. Kate and a classmate had been horsing around and she hit him (lightly) with a closed fist in the jimmies. That’s right. Decked the kid in the batteries. Or, as the teacher so delicately put it, ‘the privates.’ The boy didn’t cry, Kate kinda laughed but then apologized for it.
Discussion at home ensued.
Wednesday afternoon – 726 again. Damn. Really? Maybe she’s sick. God I hope she’s sick.
No dice.
Kate and four friends found a Sharpie pen (don’t you love a good Sharpie? me? I did…) on the playground, took it around to the side of one of the buildings and drew on the wall. (*Shit*) They were made to try and scrub it off. The teacher just wanted to alert me to the incident if Kate comes home talking about how they made her scrub the walls at school. (make them scrub more, I say!)
I went to pick her up and we discussed this. At length.
She swore she didn’t write anything, but just watched. From her description, she was the Lookout. Perfect. I grilled her as to who else was involved and she caved. Friends of hers and friends with parents who have become really fun friends of ours. (Maybe we’re going out with them a little too much these days…)
This morning, entering their school building, I ran into our friends and fellow parents-of-delinquents. We shared notes and one shared this: a photo of their work.
For anyone following this, anyone who knows Kate, anyone who has spent more than 5 minutes with her, it’s clear she used the Sharpie. Although she didn’t write her name, she may as well have.
So much for plausible deniability.
Hm, haven’t we been down this road before? Like maybe last year, about this time?
Kate and I were biking home Tuesday evening in the most beautiful weather STL has seen in ages. Less than a mile from our house, coasting downhill and relishing the feeling of being a kid again on a bike, down-up a little hill, down-up the next, it happened.
Control – gone.
Front tire – spun.
Bike over.
But! That’s not all. I also tried to emulate Superman, arms out, trying to fly, over the bike’s handlebars.
I can’t fly, though.
Horrible.
Pulling myself up, I turned to Kate to see how she fared. (I had raw palms, and may have ruined my shirt, but otherwise ok.) She stood there, crying, as I looked her over, patting every limb and looking for rips in clothing. When I finally determined that the road rash on her elbow was the only product of our graceless fall, I tuned in to listen to what she was saying.
“Worst mom ever. Worst mom ever… Worst mom everrr…”
At some point, I’ll do a better job of detailing our recent trip to the Northwest, but in the meantime I wanted to post this photo of a hike Kate and I took on the mountains in and around Whistler, British Columbia.
There are just so many places in this great, wide world that just take your breath away…
As you might recall from this post, my family visits Eagle Hurst Ranch each year. Religiously.
We just returned yesterday and I’ve enjoyed some lingering thoughts about the place – particularly after reading this post about the connection between great urban design and kids. I know – it seems like a HUGE stretch connecting Eagle Hurst with urban design, but it’s not.
Here’s what I saw and experienced. (And here is why I think we love it – both Eagle Hurst and great urban design – as much as we do!)
* The ranch is completely walkable. At no point during your stay do you need to use your car.
* The cabins are built around a central dining hall and the lodge – which also contains the registration area, game room, snack counter and the only tv on the property.
* TV – that’s right, there’s only one. In the lodge. So, if you’re inclined to indulge in a little boob tube, you’ll have to do so in the company of others, often negotiating what to watch. (Don’t even think about catching your favorite cable show out there. They have videos, but no streaming content.)
* Sidewalks, not streets, connect the cabins with the main buildings and with each other.
* Nature surrounds the place and inserts itself everywhere (at times when you least expect it). The stream at the bottom of the hill is just as inviting and far more entertaining than the swimming pool. The woods around the edge of the property are lined with trails – and cobwebs in the early hours. Critters abound, although most prevalent are of the insect variety.
* There is a sense of community. While walking to and from cabins, eating in the dining hall and exploring the property you run into to your neighbors. You choose whether or not to strike up a conversation and get to know one another better, but even if you don’t, you start to recognize them quickly.
* It’s safe. Due to the notes above – the lack of cars, the walkability of the property, knowing your neighbors – kids can run free. This was truly a vacation for Kate AND me. She ran around – sometimes with older cousins, sometimes alone – and I felt confident that she was safe and happy. Of course rules like ‘don’t go to the river or pool alone’ apply, but she is old enough to understand and abide.
(My posts don’t seem complete without a photo, so here is one of Kate as I found her before lunch one day.)
We spend time at Eagle Hurst and relax. Of course, we relax because we’re away from our jobs and the fast pace of the city. But we also relax because of how it is designed and how we “live” there.
So, after reading this article which the Urban Land Institute tweeted, I couldn’t help but let my mind wander a bit to Eagle Hurst Ranch . Now, I’m not pretending to say that it is the perfect urban community. It’s not – it’s a resort. It’s not a city or even a town. It is, however, something special and each year I try to define what it is that makes it special.
This year, Eagle Hurst was special in light of this article.
Maybe there is something to it…
Off in KC last weekend visiting Natalie and San Diego (aka Katie San Diego, my college roommate’s daughter), Nat snapped this little pic of my Kate.
My new favorite by far.
Last night, we had the pleasure of picnicking with friends at the Missouri Botanical Garden’s music festival.
The kids had plenty of time to run around, play in the fountains, and attempt to give us the slip in the children’s garden before we settled down for dinner back on our blankets. They grabbed bites of the food their parents brought, but mostly coveted what their friends were eating. (we should have just rotated the kids one seat to the right and everyone would have been happier…)
The kids soon ditched dinner altogether and began exploring. We gave them parameters – no further than the stone dragons and not past the trash cans. (great visual, eh?)
At one point, they were gathered around one of the dragons (or was it a dog?), beating it with dried plant stalks. I thought to stop them – disrespecting the art, etc. – but realized that the plant stalks didn’t stand a chance against the stone. Another parent, with a keener ear, soon cocked his head and asked, “Are they shouting ‘America’?”
No… they were singing (and I use that term loosely) “America the Beautiful.”
As they beat the Japanese art.
That’s just so wrong…