The girls and I spent last weekend up in Maine with my folks, and had a lovely time. There were farm animals and apples, blue skies and falling leaves, chyrsanthemums and homemade cookies. The whole Fall-in-New England extravaganza.
Of course, first we had to get there. Packing up for a weekend away with the girls is hard enough when Alastair is around to help, but it's pretty much insane trying to do it on my own. I was able to load the Pack-n-Plays, booster seats, diapers, toys, etc. into the car while the girls were parked in front of Sesame Street. Then I brought them upstairs to hang in the nursery while I packed their suitcase and they "helped" by pulling every single item of clothing out of their bureau while gleefully exclaiming "out!" "out!" Then I distracted them with legos while I packed up my own bag -- something I don't do well under pressure. Seriously, as soon as I put an empty suitcase out on the bed, it's like my IQ drops 50 points. There I'll be, twenty minutes later, standing over a suitcase full of nothing but socks, holding a pair of hiking boots in one hand and a cocktail dress in the other, muttering to myself about bobby pins. Add two small children into the mix and, well, it's a miracle I managed to pack anything at all.
To top things off, I'd stayed up too late the night before watching the doggone VP debate and drinking wine, but couldn't pound coffee and water the way my body was begging me to do because I needed to avoid the need to stop on the drive up to Maine. (A bathroom stop with two toddlers and no double stroller: pretty much impossible.) Still, somehow we all got out the door and onto the road and made it to Maine without incident. (Hint to solo traveling parents: tie sippy cups / pacifiers / etc. to the carseat or the back of the front seats with a piece of twine, so when your toddler(s) drop them, you can retrieve them without having to pull off the road. Probably a strangulation hazard, so don't leave children in car unattended -- not like you would anyway.)
The girls have gotten to an age where it's finally not quite as stressful to keep after them in an un-babyproofed house. And my parents had set up a little playroom for the gals in the basement, complete with mini table and chairs, mini basketball hoop and a bunch of other toys, most of them rescued from the "swap shop" at their municipal dump. (The small town version of Freecycle.) On Saturday morning my folks watched the girls while I went on a gorgeous, 4-mile run past organic cattle pastures and woods and views of the ocean.
The highlight of the weekend, however, was a trip to a local Farm Day festival, where my mom got some great pics. Disclaimer: my mom also bought the girls the matching outfits and insisted that they wear them. (She has old pictures of me and my cousin in matching overall outfits, circa 1976). Not my cup of tea, as you know, but I must admit, they looked awful darn cute.
My Dad, aka "Bapa," introduces the girls to a duck. (Poor Clio, you'll notice, is a little puffy and splotched...she had a mysterious case of hives over the weekend, which we treated with Benadryl, and which have now completely cleared up.) Shortly after this picture was taken, Elsa grabbed the duck and tried to hug it.
Then it was over to the story tent, for some storytime with the town librarian / state rep. We have Silly Sally at home and the girls like it. I like it, too, though it does get a little weirdly PG-13 when ole Neddy Buttercup shows up on the scene.
My mom was determined to get an adorable twins-in-the hay shot, but if you want to see God (or me) laugh, try to get two toddlers to stay in one place and look at the camera for a photo at the same time. Some of the resulting pictures were actually sort of interesting, like this one. Though, upon closer inspection, Clio looks like she's plotting some kind of children-of-the-corn-type massacre, and Elsa looks like someone just flashed her from the animal pen.
And finally, here we all are, eating apples.
The stuff of which memories and Norman Rockwell paintings are made, eh? Of course even better than the weekend was Monday night, when Alastair finally came home from Europe, safe and sound.
