Took a lovely boat ride to Mount Vernon today. What fun! The trip was restful, the weather gorgeous, the grounds beautiful. The boat gave the girls time to relax, so we didn’t have to endure an overwhelming amount of whining or moaning about the amount of walking.
All posts by Pink Me Not Mom
Our Nation’s Capital, Day Two
We decided to forgo the political animals today in favor of the real kind.
Our Nation’s Capital, Day One
Due to chilly and cloudy weather conditions this morning, we made a last-minute decision to ditch the National Zoo (tomorrow’s entertainment, perhaps) in favor of some Smithsonian fun. As it turned out, we did an impressive amount of walking – I’d estimate about 4 miles.
We’ve Invaded Washington
We finally made it. I had forgotten how horrible the traffic is when you approach D.C. A million times worse than New York. And we were lucky. Cars traveling west on New York Avenue were stopped for miles because the police decided it would be a wise idea to have a checkpoint (I have no idea what they were checking for). Really? A checkpoint on one of the most trafficked thoroughfares around the capital? All I know is that I’m glad it didn’t affect us. I had already had enough driving into the city, with the husband trying to provide directions from his free iPhone app. Only problem is that he’d tell me that I needed to turn at the precise moment I needed to be turning. Not helpful when the highway has four lanes, the exit is off the right lane and I’m speeding along in the left lane.
Made it to the hotel near Dupont Circle and the girls are happy as clams. Not because of the pool, not because of the free happy hour (ok, that’s really an adult thing), not because of the free breakfast, not because of the free Internet. They’re ecstatic because the bed has a great cylinder-shaped pillow that they can use to chase each other around the room. Kids are so easy to please.
We walked to our first choice for dinner tonight, Pizza Paradiso on P Street, but there was an hour wait. And people were eating outside in windy 50-degree weather. Needless to say, we had to find another option. We ended up at a good Thai across the street. No, the girls were not adventurous (although they both tasted the sauce on my dish). They ate steamed chicken and rice, which was fine for Sophie but not for Chloe. Too bland. Can’t win with the 9-year old. Either too spicy or too boring. Oh well. At least she remained relatively calm.
Tomorrow we will explore the National Zoo. None of us has ever seen a real panda, so it should be a treat.
Sophie is dying to see Obama at the White House. I haven’t burst her bubble yet, but I will eventually have to confess to her that we were not lucky enough to get tickets for the tour. We’ll have to settle for a photo outside of the gates, and she’ll continue to admire Obama from afar.
I Want to be a Model
Sophie has decided what she wants to be when she grows up.
“I want to be a model,” Sophie announced. “Why do you want to be a model?” She replied with a smile, “Because they’re fashiony. Because they’re pretty. Because their dresses are sparkly and shiny.” “What else?” I asked. “That’s it.”
How is it possible to have two daughters who are so very different in their likes and dislikes, and their interests? Sophie’s predilections scare me. A model? Ugh. When I got home tonight she was having a very philosophical discussion about what she should wear tomorrow (she’s seeing one of her beloved babysitters for the first time in months). “If I wear this and this, my legs will be too hot.” “Oh, but this is so pretty. I really want to wear it.” I’m not sure whose genes she inherited. Between the curls and the fashion sense, she’s a mystery to me. An adorable, entertaining, cuddly mystery.
Waiting for Obama
The girls are very excited about our upcoming trip to our nation’s capital. I put in a request with our senator for tickets to visit the White House, and we are all eagerly awaiting to see if we made the list.
I feel a little bit like Charlie Bucket, anticipating with bated breath whether we’ll receive our golden tickets. Granted, the girls would much rather win tickets to Willy Wonka’s chocolate factory – they don’t have a particular passion for social studies or history, but they sure as hell have a passion for candy. I’m actually pretty stoked at the idea of walking in the steps of past presidents, even if we’re only allowed to visit a couple of rooms that the presidents don’t ever visit. It’ll likely be the closest I ever get to a president.
Chloe’s most excited about visiting the Bureau of Printing & Engraving, assuming we get golden tickets for that tour. The idea of watching dollar bills get printed is an extremely enticing one to our enterprising 9-year old. She’s also eyeing the International Spy Museum. James Bond, here we come.
Not so sure how much Sophie will get out of our trip – there are no princesses lurking in D.C. But she had Disney last year. So it kind of evens out.
Curly Hair Getting Longer
Sophie’s hair is getting very long. I am ashamed to admit it, but the last time I had her hair cut was about six months ago. Sophie is in no rush to go to the salon. The last time we took her to get a new ‘do, she cried. And cried some more. She was not a happy camper.
Needless to say, after that last experience, I’m in no rush to go back to the salon, either. In the meantime, her curls are getting curlier and curlier. And she won’t even wear barrettes.
When her hair is wet and hanging almost straight, the strands reach the middle of her back. Pretty amazing. I still wonder where the hell they came from or rather, who the hell gave them to her. And I still wonder if she’s going to retain the curls as she gets older. At this point, I can’t imagine her without them. They’re just part and parcel of who she is.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m steeling for the day when she’ll be asking us to buy her a hair straightener. And I’m sure that when she’s a teenager she’ll spend way too much time getting rid of the curls. But for now, I’m loving them. They boing and boing.
What Time is It?
Another beautiful day today. We spent it with my mother, my cousin and her boyfriend, and we had a lovely time. We ended our day with a barbecue outside and at one point, Chloe was pleading with us to allow her to ask her friend to come over for a pinecone battle. Our answer was a resolute, “NO!” but anyone who knows Chloe knows that she doesn’t take no for an answer.
This went on and on, for a good 20 minutes. She attempted to cajole us by speaking in French, repeating “S’il te plait” at least 10 times. She tempted us with cherries and cupcakes on top. And she whined. And whined. And whined some more.
At one point, Papa asked Chloe what time it was. We were trying to prove a point to her – that it was Sunday evening, we had company and that there was no way in hell we were going to allow her to call her friend about an hour before bedtime. She looked at her watch with a traditional clock face and replied, “It’s two minutes ’til 6:20.” It took us about two seconds to realize what time it was, and we all started to laugh simultaneously.
I love Chloe. And no, her friend did not come over to play.
Hugs
Irresistible. My girls are irresistible. Earlier today, Sophie hurt herself on our playset in the backyard. Sophie was bawling, in her usual dramatic way. I looked out the window and Chloe had her arms wrapped around her little sister in a big bear hug. That helped quite a bit, until Sophie realized that I was watching. She turned the tears on again and came running to her mommy.
Later on, it was Sophie’s turn to comfort her older sister. Chloe was upset and was trying hard not to cry. But the tears flowed in spite of herself. And Sophie was there for her. She came to the couch and enveloped her sister in a huge embrace and lots of tender kisses. Chloe tried to resist, but in the end she smiled.
A few minutes later they went back to their squabbling. But make no mistake, all was well in their respective worlds.
The Time Traveler’s Tale by Chloe
Chloe’s latest short story masterpiece is based on the pointillism painting “Un Dimanche Apres-Midi sur l’Ile de la Grande Jatte” by Georges Seurat.
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The Time Traveler’s Tale by Chloe
I woke up in bed. Having woken up from another dream. It is always the same dream. I’m in bed but suddenly the bed starts to tilt forward inch by inch. But then I wake up and I never get to see what is ahead. Whether it be a pit full of snakes or a pile of mud. But I was soon going to find out for better or for worse.
When I looked at my alarm clock it was only 2 o’clock in the morning. So I went back to sleep. I woke up at 6 AM. I went back to sleep. It was 7 o’clock. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. I’m going to get up, just give me ten more minutes. Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh-my-god. OH MY GOD! I was freaking out .I had to be ready for school. And I’m supposed to be ready by 8:05. Oh, my god! Oh, my god!
Since the words “Oh, my god” really weren’t working over my frustration, I cursed under my breath. That definitely did the trick. I got ready as fast as I could and since I didn’t have time to take a shower I used the deodorant stick triple the amount of times I usually do. It masked the smell pretty well.
I reached the bus stop just as the bus came to a screeching halt. I’m the luckiest person on the planet I thought thankfully. I ate the two pieces of bread that I had managed to take when I left the house. Not the most sufficient breakfast but it was better than nothing. School was the same as usual and it passed by quickly. While I was walking home, I heard the twittering of the birds, which made me relax.
When I got home, I went to the garden shed, which was about as big as four closets. I used it as a clubhouse. The only difference is that I was the only one who used it. In fact, I put a beanbag chair in there, a mini-refrigerator that contained a few sodas and snacks, and a small (very small, actually) table.
I was reading in the beanbag chair when I heard a squeaking sound. It was coming from the wall. I turned around and for the first time in my life I noticed a small mouse hole near the corner of the shed. The mouse poked his nose out of the hole and sniffed the air. Eventually, the mouse seemed to decide it was okay to come out. It must have sensed my presence and it darted back into its hole. I wanted to coax it out, but I did not want to go into the house because my mom just realized that I had broken her mirror (long story).
Then I had an idea! My mom made me promise to keep something healthy inside the mini-fridge before she let me buy it, so I decided on carrots. I thought at least they were crunchy when I got them. So I coaxed the mouse out of the hole with the tiniest piece of carrot you could imagine. I made the mouse get onto my hand before letting it eat the carrot. It ate the carrot hungrily. But when the mouse finished, it bit me. I was shocked, but not from pain. It was the fact that I couldn’t feel any pain. What was even weirder, though, was that there wasn’t any blood either! And then I felt it about five seconds later (luckily, the mouse was able to scamper into my pocket by that time). It was an odd sensation. It was as if I was being pulled through air.
I doubt anyone has felt it, unless: (1) a mouse bit him/her; (2) they were thrown through the air a long distance or (3) although (for reason #2) it would be faster. It then came to a halt. And the first thing I noticed was the area. It looked like a park, or rather, a park on an island. But then I noticed the people and they were dressed as though they were in the 1800s. After that I noticed the island wasn’t even polluted. Wow, I thought. And then I put two and two together, 1800s outfits and NO pollution, either. I was IN the 1800s.
“Okay.” I was thinking everything is okay. No need to worry. I slid my hand in my pocket and patted the mouse for comfort. At first it squeaked in fright, but then it purred and curled up back to sleep. When I looked around some more, I noticed the island’s beauty, surrounded by crystal clear water, with boats sailing upon it. Everything was so peaceful! Even the trees seemed to be relaxing with the warm breeze that ruffled their leaves. I knew this place would be etched in my memory.
But right now, I had more pressing matters to worry about. A thought occurred to me:perhaps the mouse could take me back home. So I took it out and the closest bystander shrieked and everybody’s attention was on me and the mouse. I had the instinct to run. The mouse stayed in my pocket. A smart choice. After a minute of running the mouse bit me. But someone managed to grab me and he was pulled along into my century.
When we landed we were back in the shed. “Oh no!” was my first thought when I saw the man. And that was before I had an idea. The mouse will bite him but stay with me! So while the man was looking around, I put the mouse on my hand with my fingertips touching his shoulder. The mouse bit him and stayed on my hand. After the man wasn’t here anymore I lowered the mouse down to his hole and said thank you. I brought out a tiny piece of carrot and ate it. Then I went back to my house, knowing my mom hadn’t forgotten the mirror incident, and I went inside to face her wrath.