The Art in Life

He’s 18 months old and this is what he says.He hangs off the counter and asks for “cwackers,” tries to pry the fridge open and get access to “stwa-berries” and “cheeeeeez!” He loves “apples” and “passssssta” and “nanas” and “eggs,” and has learned to get excited and yell “taco!” because I maybe have an addiction. He constantly calls for “water” but especially loves “iiiiiice” and requests a “bottle” full of “milk” at bedtime. He yells “Amen!” at the end of prayers… and now has started yelling it as soon as we put him in his high chair, hoping to speed things along and get to the food part.

He can hear a “bus!” from any part of the apartment and races to the window, eyes big as saucers, to tell us about it and any “car” or “cuck” (he means truck, and yes, it funny and awkward) or “dawg” or “Puppee!” that he sees. He yells “CARRRRRRR!” as soon as we leave the house, hoping that he will be allowed to sit on the driver seat and honk the horn for awhile before we leave. He loves being told to get his shoes and socks, which usually results in him excitedly repeating “shoe! sock!” and fetching his red rain boots and then trying to get the door open as he calls for “keys!,” announces “stroller!” and anticipates getting to the park. He starts asking for “bubbles!” and “baff!” as soon as dinner is over, and loves informing us that the water is “hot.” As he plays in the tub, we often hear someone in the stairwell and he enthusiastically questions if that is “Da-DEE!” coming home. At bedtime, we tell him to go get specific books, and he races off, coming back with the requested story and repeating “book!”The best part of any book is when he gets to point to “FEET!” which is convenient, as many beings have feet, but confusing, when an animal gets on all fours and his brain short circuits a little. After books he begs to brush his teeth by sprinting to the bathroom and yelling “BEEF!”

He announces “oh boy!” and “uh-oh”  at all the best times… and “NO” at many of the not best times. He drawls out a “yeahhhh” complete with a slow tilted head shake. He does not know any traditional animal sounds, but he gives a hearty “Rawwwrrrr” when asked what a dinosaur says. He learned “All done!,” the words and the sign, from another toddler at childcare, and he gleefully declares them when he is OVER whatever is happening, whether or not is is actually done. He yells “WHOA” when I hit speed bumps too fast and “HOORAY” when set free to charge into open spaces. He desperately wants us to pass off our “shones” (phones), so he can play is beloved “Mwana” (Moana), often combing it into a wail of “SHONE MWANA!” As this request is rarely granted, he settles for the baby “monitor” that he broke months ago and has since been relegated to a toy. He declares when a “POOP” has happened, but also labels other people as “POOP” if, for example, they maybe should have changed out of their yoga pants post run but instead went in for a cuddle and he decided that they smell. Whenever he needs help, he reaches up and announces “hand” and continues to take on the world. If he falls his looks to me and tells me he is “hurt” before snuggling close. He starts happily calling for “Mommy!” as soon as he wakes up and nothing on this earth sounds better than his chirpy voice yelling that word.

I say I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you a million times a day and he smiles and I know that he will eventually say it back, and then there will be no better sound.

If you thought that my sparse-as-of-late blogging would skip a full post of Henry as a member of the animal kingdom--think again.

When contemplating his Halloween costume, James had many ideas that were instantly rejected because they were, though witty, not adorable, and this might be my last year to have full sartorial control of his costume. There was no other option than a precious furry creature, which led me down a rabbit hole of animal googling, as some fauna just lend themselves better to costumes than others. Why, for example, are so many penguin costumes inclusive of a tophat and bowtie? Why has no one designed a squirrel costume as adorable as the tree rat itself? Why must all the lamb costumes be so feminine?  These burning questions, coupled with Henry’s ability to produce one animal noise of “RAWR!,” and a failure to find a good dinosaur costume, led us to this little lion:I want to just eat him up.

The costume was on the tad small side, and he was initially not a fan of the hat, but the masses at last Friday night’s Hilloween distracted him until he forgot.James’ brother Thomas was in town, and truly a good sport about tagging along for Hilloween, which is really just a giant mob of parents taking too many pictures of their adorable offspring, most of whom this year were dressed like the cast of Moana, which a strong showing of animals, superheroes, and at least 6 Maxes from Where the Wild Things Are.Very concerned about the escaped balloons floating away, and very, VERY enthusiastic when given his own balloon. On Tuesday night we headed out for trick-or-treating, though Henry’s highlight was probably playing in the car while we waited for our group to meet up. This is far and away his favorite pastime at the moment, as he yells “CAR!!!” and runs over to it whenever we go outside. He also tries to walk up to any car we pass, get the door open, and get inside, but we are trying to quietly discourage that. Endearing at age 1, less so age 18.
The Pretzel Bakery gives out free pretzels to kids in costume, and unlike last year, I actually had to let Henry eat his instead of snagging it for myself. I did exact a 50% tax any Reese’s he got, biting it in half before handing him a nibble, so the evening was still good to me. Plus, the people on Capitol Hill, especially East Capitol Street go ALL OUT for Halloween. One house had turned their whole courtyard into Wonderland, complete with a full cast of characters in costume and a lavish Mad Hatter’s tea party spread. I was impressed.

We have Reformation Day party this weekend, but while it isn’t technically a costume affair… I can’t promise that I will be able to resist trotting out that tiny lion suit one last time.

Our weeks have a really good rhythm. I work Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and Tuesday and Thursdays, while I work while Henry naps, I try to be 100% in mom mode in the morning and after he wakes up. I try to minimize the housework and errands I need to do then, so that I can be really there as we explore the city and meet with friends. Sometimes it works, sometimes life creeps in, but I love the rhythm of work and play that fills my weeks. They are busy weeks, as I am racing towards dissertation deadlines, job applications due dates, and teaching responsibilities, but they are good weeks. I’ve been pulling back a little from blogging and social media to make more space for life, to feel like I can work well and rest well in laid back playtime. I’ve made space for sitting it at the window and endlessly yelling “BUS!” with Henry every time one passes, or analyzing the leaves on the sidewalk in excruciating detail.

It’s really, really nice, this season of toddlerhood. Sometimes hard, but mostly, I like it. We get with friends often, usually some deeply exciting activity like picking up (insert treat) and taking it to (insert park). No planning, no hassle, just kids content to run around and moms content to sit and talk. The past two weeks we have hit Sugar Shack and carried donuts to the playground. The kids crowd around to grab a handful and then run off, coming back with sticky fingers every so often. It’s the best of fall and motherhood and city living all wrapped into one. I race home afterwards, tossing [healthier than donut] snacks into the backseat to serve as lunch and then carry a sleepy boy into his room and he naps the afternoon away, still smeared with park dirt and donut glaze.

It’s really, really nice, this season.

Some things for your weekend…

If you are in the DC/VA area, you should track down a Sugar Shack and get some of their butterbear donuts topped with golden snitches. Heads up- we found you have to preorder them to make sure you can snag one!

Last night we did our annual it-finally-feels-like-fall viewing of The Village, and y’all, it just gets better every year. It turned 13 this year and has people coming around to its total perfection. Before bed I told James that i love it as much as when I saw it in high school and I think it may always be one of my favorites, to which he sighed and conceded that, “You will always love The Village longer than you have loved me.” Sorry Husband, old loves die hard. Or never.

I know we just moved past swimsuit season, but I may troll this one to see if it goes on sale this fall. Never to early to countdown to next summer!

This hits really close to home as I am in the throes of applying to jobs for next fall, all while worried about how I actually feel about taking one.

The most profound difference these days, it seems, is not between the women who spend the early years of their children’s lives in playrooms and those who spend them in boardrooms. It is between those of us who start the journey of motherhood clinging to the idea that we can have it all and those of us who start it with the less glamorous, but more realistic, expectation that we won’t.

I am kind of morally and practically opposed to buying expensive clothes that kids will grow out of soon… but even I am tempted by these Smallbirds!

This is the dreamiest fall dinner party.

Recently I remembered how much I love this green bean recipe and I can’t stop making it.

Going to have to hit this exhibit sometime soon! I took Henry to an exhibit there a couple weeks ago, and he very quickly realized that he could do amazing echo things in the [otherwise silent] gallery spaces… so maybe I will leave him home.

I know that 99.9% of the people reading this will not care, but I stumbled across this  in my research the other day and I really want to find a way to see it. Almost as good as if someone would turn all my favorite French books into miniseries.

Happy weekend friends! I highly recommend picking up some donuts and eating them at the park to make the most of it.

Let me break it down for you by the numbers: Our apartment is 980 square feet of narrow space that has a healthy amount of furniture, walls, and other obstructions. We possess 0 feet of unfinished basement or attic space that could serve as a play area, or act as storage so there was more space in our main living area. We also have 0 feet of yard as we are on the second floor, though there is a smidgen of uneven and unfenced grass in front lining a busy intersection that allows for limited play in the form of Henry trying to charge headlong into traffic and me hauling him back. Henry sleeps 11-2 hours at night, naps 3ish hours in the afternoon, and is almost 17 months old. There are around 9,786 unavoidable safety hazards in our tiny space and Henry has one box of toys. We have around 10 hours of wild toddler explorations to fill.

When you do all the calculations involved in the paragraph above, there is only one possible sum: every possible waking moment must be spent at the park.

Henry does not want to play inside. Henry wants to CONQUER and DESTROY and MAKE ALL THE NOISE IN ALL THE OUTDOOR SPACES. Also sit under slides like a troll and visit parks that match his wardrobe.

We get out of the house as soon as we can, trying to only make it back right before his nap and then we often head back out afterwards until dinner. We roam the city, hopping from park to park, green space to green space, embracing the sidewalks and steps in between. I love this aspect of urban parenthood, love getting to explore the city and its network of children’s spaces, love feeling like the whole of Capitol Hill is our yard. I love being a park mom, and I love that my house can remain somewhat calm on the days we spend at parks, at least, calm contrasted to the rainy days where there are no words strong enough to describe the destruction a toddler can bring to a small space when in it all day.

But along with park life comes park politics, not because parks are full of kids, but because parks are full of parents. Behold, the 5 parents you meet at the park:

The parent who keeps their kids clean. I wish I was this parent, truly I do, but I am not. My kid searches out dirt and revels in it, rolls in it, dumps his crackers in it and then eats them right back up. And I do absolutely nothing to stop it. I want my city boy to get country dirty and the only place we can do it is the park.

I heard that more exposure to dirt and germs in childhood can maybe prevent your body from developing autoimmune diseases. If this is true, Henry is invincible.

The parent who is overly concerned with preserving their property rights. Ok, here’s the deal: parks are communist spaces. All resources are to be pooled the second you pass those gates. Sippy cups left within toddler grasp? A free for all. Scooters that are left inside the fence? Anyone can have a ride. Our favorite park actually has a bunch of partially broken pushable toys sitting around, which means every kid falls in love with one and thinks it theirs… only to have their heart ripped out when they come back another day and it is in the sticky clutches of another child. While I too encourage sharing if violent altercations are breaking out among the youngsters, I try to let kids work out their own things. But sometimes, sometimes a parent rolls up, their stroller laden with toys, and they are determined that their toys will not join the common haul. This inevitably leads to anarchy. What the Property Rights Parent needs to understand is that at the park, possession is not just 9 tenths of the law, it is the law. Your toddler cannot lay claim to anything he cannot keep in his hands. I will exert some effort to prevent my kid from ripping a beloved piece of broken plastic from your kid’s hands, but if you bring a Stroller Of Temptation into the communal space and walk away, I just might not stop my kid from pulling your toys out of it.

My kid knows how the park works, and you better believe he will maintain a DEATH GRIP on that toy as long as he can.

The nanny. Yes, not a parent. But if you hit the park during the day, you aren’t going to see many actual parents. Which makes the park sooooooooo much more chill. Nannies have just enough disinterest to let kids play without micromanaging.

The fun parent. They bring bubbles and balls and good snacks and play so energetically that sometimes I stare at them over my coffee and wonder things like how? and why?

The professional parent. I have heard major business mergers, interviews, and political intrigue go down from someone on a see-saw or sitting under a slide. One of the beautiful things about technology and a place like DC is that many people have options to telework sometimes and be with their kids. That is awesome. It also means that work and play intersect and merge in a weird sort of way. It’s tempting to judge the parent on the phone while their kid plays (though to be fair, being on a phone for nonprofessional reasons is every bit as common and not a smidge more “respectable”), and I did when I passed through parks before having Henry. But now I just see a parent, trying to figure out how to do everything well, probably beating themselves up about how they think they are falling short.

Because the nice thing about park parenting, is that we get to see each other doing it, get to see each other in all stages and states of this messy adventure of parenting.

Given our family’s track record with having to take cover in parks from many rainstorms, I have already decided that this would make a great shelter in a clutch.

Making : This bread for the first time in a long time, because fall days need simple bread.
Cooking : This for dinner on a regular basis, because it is easy! Cheap (especially if you use thighs, which I always do because dark meat forever and ever amen)! One pan! Paleo! Tasty!
Drinking : All the coffee, and really wanting one of those salted caramel mochas because they are my absolute favorite, but I’m trying to stay easy on the sugar, even after we finished last month’s whole30.
Reading: Anne’s House of Dreams – finishing off the series and it is full of such gems. Also, The Little Blue Truck about a thousand times a day because it’s Henry’s favorite.
Wanting: To get an amazing job next year after I finally finish (!) graduate school and graduate (!!) but also to just stay home, because gosh if Henry isn’t just more and more fun every day and I hate missing it.
Looking: For a new couch that is aesthetically pleasing, comfortable, and small enough for Capitol Hill sized spaces that have recently been rendered more crowded by my amazing, though large, farmhouse style table.
Playing: Lots of games of “throw the ball and let Henry chase it and then collapse laughing so hard he can barely through it back.”
Watching: This is Us, because I love to cry; Poldark, because half the characters infuriate me, but I love the other half (AUNT AGATHA!) so much I keep on going; Scrubs, because it is maybe the best show ever to watch in little spurts.
Wasting: Wipes, as Henry loves to help wipe down any and all surfaces.
Wishing: That we lived closer to our parents, because being in Kentucky for a couple days last week made me want to move him asap so Henry could have more grandparent and farm time.
Enjoying: Henry’s current obsession with sitting down on chairs/boxes/steps/totally unsittable surfaces that are at the right level. He slowly backs up and then settles his little booty in a way that just kills me dead every time.
Waiting: For endless library books that I have requested… I’m on the last chapter of my dissertation and just can’t stop requesting books.
Liking: Images of Sweden, because some of my favorite people moved there and I want to visit.
Wondering: How I can get Hamilton tickets when it comes to DC next year. I knew they would be pricey… but I just looked, and pricey doesn’t even begin to cover it. Trying to find a way to be in the room where it happens without losing all my dollars.
Loving: How much Henry loved being at my parent’s house, how much he loved space to run and explore.
Hoping: That someday we can have some semblance of a yard. Any yard, of any size.
Marveling: At how many really awesome places have popped up in Lexington since I lived there, like Kentucky Native Café – paradise for foodies with toddlers.
Needing: To really deep clean my baseboards. Toddler who likes to hurl food + small city space equals baseboards in desperate need of some TLC.
Wearing: This shirt, partially because it is the softest t-shirt ever, but mostly because I just love my home state.
Noticing: The way Henry seems to understand things now, like instructions and explanations, even if he can’t respond.
Knowing: That there is so much in me, in things I say and do, frustrations I let overwhelm me, that I do not want him to understand and emulate.
Thinking: That this is how children make us better.
Feeling: Like I’m finally ready for fall, and all its beautiful changes.

Henry and I are headed to Kentucky this evening. We were supposed to go over the summer, but after sitting in BWI all day, our flight was cancelled and then we sadly drove home. I promptly used the voucher we were given to book flights for this week, as I just can’t go too long without some time in the Bluegrass. I always get ambitious when I travel, packing all sorts of dissertation reading and grading, imagining that I will get it done… when? On the flight, where I am holding a toddler on my lap, which is basically like wrestling an gorilla for 2 hours? Or at my parents, where I will certainly cloister myself away to work instead of basking in family time?

Not likely.

Of course, the best part of packing is when I pull the suitcase out of the closet, and Henry freaks out. His little body can’t actually handle the excitement that fills it when he sees any piece of luggage, which means he alternates between laughing and sobbing the entire time I am trying to fill it. As I write this, he is at my feat, trying to life the suitcase, laughing and crying all at once. Life at 16 months is never dull.

But anyways, here are some mid-week mindless links for your perusing pleasure.

I am beyond obsessed with this dress, as is evidenced by the obscene number of twirling photos in this post. (Sidenote: James and I watched You’ve Got Mail on Amazon prime last weekend and I had forgotten how good that movie is!  I love when Meg Ryan just announces that she and her mother liked to spin, the way some people claim the like to partake in actual hobbies.)

We tweaked this to make it compliant while on the Whole30 and it will definitely be returning all winter long.

And I will probably need this cookbook, as her first one is total perfection.

The best restaurant in New York.

Real estate with a side of existential angst.

Did you know you can have jeans rewoven? If you did, how did I not know this??? My second pair of Madewell jeans, like my first, ripped down the thigh in under a year. They replaced the first pair, but I doubt they will for the second, and I was bummed until I saw I could have them rewoven.

My beloved concealer pencil was discontinued, and I tried this one and am happy to report that it is awesome, and cheap. Well done Target, as always.

If you follow along on Instagram, you know that I have been truly insufferable the last couple months in my search for a table. Almost all our furniture is Ikea via Craigslist and around 5 years old (in its second life with us), and as things start giving out, we decided to start investing in quality pieces. When I couldn’t find the farmhouse table of my dreams for our smaller space and needs, I had Kevin build me one. It came last Saturday and I can’t get over how much I love it. Now onto the couch!

Happy mid-week-that-I-am-treating-like-Friday!

It felt just as hot as the first days of summer, so we did what we’ve been doing all summer long and headed outside. On the last day of summer, we got [the best] iced coffees at Philz, and managed to not entirely wreck the whole place, a far cry from our first visit a couple months ago.On the last day of summer, we spent the morning with the crew we’ve spent all summer with, babies and toddlers running everywhere, getting into everything, melting down and having fun all at once. On the last day of summer, we had the splash pad almost entirely to ourselves, a far cry from the early days of summer, when it was so packed with moms and kids and strollers, a giant community of people dedicated to making the most of hot summer days.On the last day of summer, this boy walked all over – ran even – when he started the summer only able to crawl around the fountains. It meant a lot more falls, more tears, more work, but also so much more fun.On the last day of summer, we broke all the rules and handed the kids ice cream cones, and pushed them just a little too much when it comes to naps, but it was the last day of summer after all and we just couldn’t help it.On the last day of summer, I found myself not at all ready for it to end. Yes, I would love cooler days, but that means shorter days too, colder days coming, less time to run and splash and play in the sun. I used to love when September rolled around and have so much anticipation for fall, only to get annoyed when most of the month still has those glorious sunny summer days. But now I lean into summer, into every last day. Fall will come.

But for today, the last day of summer, there wasn’t a hint of fall in the air, and I wasn’t a bit sorry.

“After all,” Anne had said to Marilla once, “I believe the nicest and sweetest days are not those on which anything very splendid or wonderful or exciting happens but just those that bring simple little pleasures, following one another softly, like pearls slipping off a string.”

The first month of the semester always surprises me with its overwhelming emails and photocopies and administrative duties and the deep struggle to drag my mind back from the luxuries of vacation, especially when it still feels every bit like summer outside. And then suddenly, we are more than halfway through September.  In the midst of the busyness and the absence of dramatic and highly photographed activities, this month has had lots of little gems. I turned 30 a week ago, ringing in the new decade with high tea alongside a few girlfriends and then dinner out at our favorite Italian spot. I’m usually a big party sort of birthday girl, but James and I decided to do our France trip in place of big celebrations or gifts for either our 30th birthdays or our 5th wedding anniversary. When it came down to it, I enjoyed our little quiet celebrations more anyways.

Isolated birthday treats aside, we have been sticking with our Whole30 this month, and prolonging it a week to make up for the couple days of feasting that fell in the middle (and yes, I realize that isn’t how the “rules” work. Don’t care.). I feel great, but I am as always reminded that doing one can be really isolating and squelch spontaneity. You can’t just wanted in a restaurant for dinner when out on a walk, or order pizza if the evening is busy. But it also means I tend to plan fewer commitments and we enjoy quieter meals at home. We are also devoted to our Sunday night Uber Eats tradition, and I have found a couple take out options that are compliant. I look forward to these quiet ends to the weekend, to ordering our dinner and then settling in to watch a movie after Henry goes down.

Henry spent the weekend really sick, which is both heartbreaking, and so special. My normally wild boy wanted to just snuggle and sit close to me, and when I would rock him to sleep he would press his face as close into my neck as he could get, arms tight around me. Nothing on earth feels better than that. He felt better Sunday morning, but still couldn’t go to the church nursery, so we took the morning to walk through Eastern Market as a family, grabbing coffee at Radici and letting Henry dance around to the saxophone player that’s always there. Moments like that, moments where my boy seems so happy and comfortable exploring the city his parents love, those moments are my favorite.

After watching and loving the much maligned Anne with an E on Netflix, I decided I just had to reread the novels (the entire series conveniently being 99 cents on the kindle). It’s been maybe 15 years since I read them, and I had forgotten so much, which probably accounts for my enjoyment of the [much altered] Netflix version. I’m devouring the series, crying more often than I can admit, and falling in love with the story all over again. Anne’s joy of everyday moments and the magic they hold has resonated with me this month. It’s had me thinking about the little daily joys, the” tiny pearls slipping off a string” that fill my days, even if they are sprinkled among harder moments and mundane frustrations.

That Sunday night feeling when James and I sit back with our takeout dinner and watch a movie. The way Henry squishes up his entire face to give kisses when asked. The contented feeling I get when I spend a whole afternoon working away at my dissertation, coffee in hand. These warm summer days that don’t show any sign of leaving. Henry’s recent discovery of his belly button and his joy at presenting it to any and everyone and requesting to see theirs in return. How he looks dancing around Eastern Market. Ending our days as a family all in our bed, reading books with Henry between us. The sweet repetition of days at home, where we hit the park every waking hour, and days at work, where I teach the same course I’ve taught 8 times and still find it exciting. A sleepy sick babe who can only be comforted by me.

So many pearls, slipping off a string.

PS: Mixed in with the lovely pearls is the truly terrible haircut I gave Henry. Those lovely curls have been butchered at my hand and I may never recover.

After our first beach weekend with a bunch of DC friends and family, the rest of the week was spent with my three best friends from middle and high school. Susannah lives out here in the DC area, and when she and I decided to photograph a wedding in exchange for a week at this beach house, we instantly knew we wanted to invite Megan and Rachel to come join us.

We used to dream about vacationing together when we were grownup. We would sit around in high school and imagine what life would look like and automatically assume that of course, we would still be friends, and of course, we would all love each other’s families, and obviously, we would find a way to take trips together. In 2013, three of us managed to slip away to the beach, but a lot has happened in the past 4 years. Marriages and babies and careers and moves and disappointments and joys. It was time for another beach trip.

We spent a lot of energy trying to find good beach donuts, something like these that James and I loved in Florida a couple years ago. I’ll be honest- donuts might be the only department where the Eastern Shore is lacking for me. We had lots of delicious ones, but I am a devoted yeast donut girl and all the local places boasted only cake ones. Is there a magic yeast donut place I missed?This boy was in heaven following after Susannah’s older girls. He was not always in heaven at the actual beach, as the sand and waves were sometimes overwhelming. But one day we dug a big hole, and all three kids were enthralled, even if they were not exactly helpful. Henry didn’t actually get in the water much, as those waves were intense. It was almost impossible to venture in without being thrown about and dragged through the sand. I was taken out so hard on the first day, that I couldn’t hear at all out of one ear and assumed it was swimmers ear. When it wouldn’t go away, I finally spent a morning in urgent care, only to find out that the wave had knocked me so hard that it had compacted all my ear wax and completely clogged an ear. I spent forever getting both ears irrigated which was a) disgusting and b) totally fascinating. One night we snapped some family pics at the boardwalk, and I shared some of the best-worst ones here. Love these ladies more than any blog post could ever express. That’s my kid, always up for crashing other people’s photos if he thinks there might be snacks. Truly, he is flesh of my flesh, blood of my blood. Last year we managed to end our time with these three on a couch together… and that proved a little more difficult this year, as toddler attitudes are a fickle and changing thing. This was the best we could manage, and I still love it:Our week was a wonderfully repetitive cycle punctuated with the foods that marked our childhood. We loaded up on toaster strudels and convinced Megan to make (several times) her bruschetta. We would stand around the bowl, shoveling spoonfuls of bright tomatoes onto the toasts, juice dripping down our chins.

It’s funny, how it is with old friends. We had planned on going out one night, just us ladies, leaving the dads home with the kids. But it didn’t happen. We were tired in the evening, knew that early mornings were coming, and honestly, I would rather have bruschetta and toaster strudels anyways. It’s how our friendship tastes.  With old friends, the best thing to do is to slide back into old and comfortable ways and find out they still fit. We did slip out during naptime each day, just us four. We enjoyed time at the beach without kids to slather in sunscreen and entertain in the sand. We swam for hours, beaten back by the waves and talking about life over the surf. We would head back to the house when babies woke up, for another round of the snacks we have been eating together long enough to know that some things never change.

Megan’s Bruschetta

Combine-

• Diced tomatoes, whatever is good in the summer, Roma in the winter
• Lots of fresh basil, cut intil thin ribbons
• Fresh garlic, crushed
• Glug good quality olive oil
• Glug balsamic vinegar
• Handful freshly grated parmesan or romano cheese
• Pinch dried oregano
• Sea salt
• Pinch pepper

Toast-

• French baguette, sliced into thin rounds
• Rub with garlic clove after toasted

Spoon tomato mixture on bread or chicken or directly into your mouth. Excellent alongside a cream cheese toaster strudel.

Last year, I spent all summer looking forward to our Labor Day beach weekend. I was thrilled to be finally fulfilling my dream of renting a beach house and filling it with my favorite people. But a hurricane came, and while we still had a wonderful time, we did a little less beach sitting than I had hoped for.

This year, we managed to make it back to the same beach house for a full week. It was so special to go back to someplace that we have been before, someplace marked with memories of Henry’s newborn months. It was a revolving door of friends and family joining us that week, and the first weekend some DC friends and my brother and his wife came down with us. SANDY BEACH BUMS. The best type of bum.This kid is impossibly lucky in the aunt and uncle department. This little one was not sure how he felt about the ocean and the sand. Sometimes, he loved it, charging at the waves and happily eating sand. Other moments, the whole thing scared him. We are at that stage now where he bravely takes on the world… but often reaches back blindly for me, just to know I’m there while he conquers. I love it.He probably ate a whole watermelon over the course of the week, and stole everyone’s water bottle at least once. I am beyond obsessed with the Eastern shore. The stretch of Maryland and Delaware  from the Chesapeake to the Atlantic is just impossibly magic to me. So many tiny towns, tasty eats, pretty farms, and just the perfect blend of beauty and charm. It doesn’t have the tacky commercial quality of so many beach areas, and you could almost forget you are driving to the coast until it just appears in front of you. It’s also kind of a hidden gem. People in the mid Atlantic love it, but I hadn’t ever heard of this area until I moved here. People flock to the southern beaches and leave this area a treasure.You need to go back to last year to see the pics of Hank and Ava as tiny little squishes, something that feels impossible, since they are both active toddlers.We don’t let him eat ice cream much, but when we do, it is an EVENT. Bethany Beach has the most darling little boardwalk, complete with the best coconut shrimp ever and some really tasty fish tacos. We tried the Rehoboth boardwalk last year, only to be totally overwhelmed by how big and crowded it was and how hard it was to park and find each other. Bethany is smaller, and with better parking and seating. Henry spent forever running around, approaching strangers and sizing them up for snacks, only to move on or grin and beg as the occasion required. Watching him fall in love with this world and get excited about all the people in it is the best.Everyone other than our family and one friend left Monday night… but the second wave of beach fun arrived Tuesday. Stay tuned!