On to catching up. . .
Saying goodbye in DC was sad! This move has been a possibility for over a year, so in some ways, it was a long, slow farewell. Each season, month, and week of the past year has been marked by the thought, “This might be our last ________ in DC,” which has been nice, because we’ve been able to savor all of it.

In a formal sense, though, our “official” goodbyes really began late this spring. We have played with Chomp, an ultimate frisbee team in DC, every spring and fall since 2004, but we knew wouldn’t be able to play this spring. We had hoped to make it to one last game, but between weather and our schedules, we had to settle for an e-farewell.

In mid-April, I spent my last evening at “The Porch.” I have worked as an adult leader with this youth ministry on Capitol Hill for the past three years. In fact, one of the girls in my small group was even my “tutee” back when I tutored at the Neighborhood Learning Center from 2004-2006. Which means we’ve had a mentor/mentee relationship since she was in 4th grade, and now she’s a rising 10th! grader. Saying goodbye to all of the youth at the Porch- but particularly to my small group- was emotional. I so wish I could be there as they walk through there remaining years of high school– to see them in grow into young ladies, wear prom dresses, pick out colleges, graduate, etc.

Although we said farewell to a few friends from church and other social settings on an individual basis, we didn’t have too many other larger goodbyes until our last week in DC. Caleb’s office hosted a going-away luncheon for him on his last day of work, to which the kids and I were also invited. Several of his former co-workers who have since moved on to new positions were invited, and plenty of people came by to wish him well. Overall, it was a really kind send-off.

Then came “moving weekend.” We picked up our HUGE Budget truck on Saturday, May 1. That truck was a BEAST! I was glad that I didn’t have to drive it!
Many, many thanks to the wonderful friends who helped load our belongings, including Laryn, Corey, Rebecca, Sara, Jana, Mary Ruth, and Brett. An even more special thanks goes to our friend Janel, who watched Andreas & Simona ALL DAY that Saturday. Hers was hands-down the most taxing job of the day. She also hosted our family for dinner that evening. . . and I have no idea how she managed to cook for that 7 people while watching three kids all day!

Sunday, we ate one last breakfast at Pete’s, a diner on the Hill that we’ve visited a few Sunday mornings a year throughout our seven years in DC, even before we were married or had kids. After that, we headed to WCF for our final Sunday service. We had been given a brief time during the service to say goodbye to the congregation, but I was most emotional during other parts of the service. Looking at all of the faces, I couldn’t help but think that this is what the kingdom of heaven will look like: A random bunch of quirky people all trying to do their best to love God and love each other.

Sunday evening, our friends Heather & Kevin and Laryn & Janel hosted a going-away party for us at Heather & Kevin’s house, which was really special. So many friends came by to say goodbye, and aside from our wedding, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more surrounded by people who love our family. A huge thank you to our gracious hosts!

Monday, my dad flew up from Georgia to drive the truck back down. He loves to drive and was eager to take the opportunity to help us out. We were glad not to have to drive in two separate vehicles! We worked all day, loading final belongings and cleaning the house. Caleb and Dad concluded the day with a wild chase for our scared cat, which apparently involved crawling between drywall and the outer wall of the house, pulling the cat out of her hiding space with a hoe, and trapping her in a garbage can to get her into the back of the truck . . in the end, she did make the journey to Georgia, just not in her cat carrier as planned. Our friends Heather & Kevin again hosted us, this time for our last night in DC (Maryland, actually), while Dad drove overnight to avoid traffic with the big truck.

Tuesday, May 4, was the long-anticipated moving day. It was also the day of Simona’s “graduation” from Little Learner’s Playschool, which she attended for two years. It worked out perfectly to be able to attend the last day of class and feel like she had some closure around that. We love all of the kids and families we have met through the school and will miss this group, too.

After graduation and the class party and luncheon, we piled into our packed-up car and hopped onto 395 for the long drive to the Peach State. Watching the Washington Monument, the Jefferson Memorial, the Capitol, the Pentagon, and the Potomac fade in the rear view mirror was sad. So long, Washington, D.C. Thanks for so many great memories and for becoming our home.

First came an after-work picnic near the Washington Monument and a (partial) walk around the tidal basin to see the cherry blossoms during twilight.

We have seen the cherry blossoms at sunrise almost every year, but we really enjoyed them at sundown, too!

The second adventure was during the workday, so Caleb couldn’t join us. The kids and I took the Metro down to Union Station and enjoyed the sunshine, flowers, and fountains along the Mall.

We rode the carousel near the Smithsonian “castle,” which was fun for Simona but a bit nauseating for me! That thing spins much more quickly than I remember, and balancing Andreas and a camera left me no free hands with which to hold on for dear life! Nevertheless, I did not fall, and she had a GREAT time.

The “half smoke” is the only food item I can name that screams Washington DC, so it seemed only appropriate that we end our touristy morning with a bite of local flavor from a street vendor before hopping on the Metro and heading for home.

We will miss living in our nation’s beautiful capital!

A mom-friend of mine whose husband is a pastor at a local church recently described ministry in DC as “like trying to hug a parade.” She was referencing the transience for which this city is renown. The reason behind the revolving door is manifold: student interns who visit for three to six months, congressional representatives (and their staffs) whose time in office is brief, presidential administrations and their political appointees who rotate positions, college students who attend one of our many universities, government employees who rotate between domestic and international assignments, and so on.

We recognize that this characterization of the District primarily describes our demographic- educated, white collar people who did not grow up in the region- but the fact remains that this trend shapes and affects relationships of everyone who lives here- from the third-generation-native-Washingtonian to the just-arrived-yesterday-college-intern.

Our DC friends & acquaintances who have moved away have landed across the country (and even the globe!), meaning that we now have friends all over the place but that we have also had to say our goodbyes far too frequently over the past nearly-seven-years. Each person who’s moved on has left a mark on our hearts (and often, a void in our social calendar! One of the upsides, though, is that new friends have always stepped into those voids.)

Well, the time has come for us to start marching again. Our parade is moving on. . . to Georgia. Caleb will begin a graduate program at Emory University in Atlanta in May, so VERY soon, we will be the ones saying our goodbyes. It is bittersweet– we are excited for what is ahead, but we have come to love our lives here. This is where we went from dating to engaged to married, where we bought our first home, and where we welcomed our two children into our family. This house and this city are filled with memories and friends, and parting will be difficult.

We hear the music, and we know that God will be there right beside us, wherever this parade may lead.

Just a smattering of the nicknames we have heard for the snowy weather that has pounded DC this winter. I heard on the radio today that if we were located in Upstate New York, we would be in the running for their “Golden Snowball” award, which goes to the NY city with the most snowfall in any given year.

I’m snowver it. This may be fun for those who own cross country skis and/or Netflix subscriptions, but it’s snow fun for those of us with small children with bundles of energy and a constant need for entertainment. Since Caleb has turned the kids’ bedroom into his home office, the three of us have been restricted to amusing ourselves in about 500 square feet. . . for DAYS on end. I’m snow excited for spring, but I think that is still a ways off.

In case you somehow haven’t heard about DC’s many snow storms this winter, I have chronicled a few here:

Our first snow of the year barely even counts anymore! It’s funny now that I was very deliberate about making sure the kids took advantage of the inch or two. Had I known then what I of course snow now, I probably wouldn’t have taken snow many pictures of this!

Second December Snow (The first “Snowpocalypse,” on December 19th)

Our kids really LOVED the snow. . . can you tell?

But at least our Christmas lights looked beautiful in the two feet of snow!

January was not snow bad. . . I think we had a few light snowfalls, but these days, we barely take note of anything less than a foot! We had some snow on the 30th/31st, and another light, fluffy snow on February 3. You can see some of the remnants of the first and beginnings of the second of those two snowfalls in these pictures. At least they were not significant enough to trap us indoors!

Then came snowmaggedon. We got about 25 inches on Saturday, February 6. It was too cold and windy for our kids’ tastes on Saturday, but Sunday was sunny and allowed for some good sledding.

We also were dog-sitting Bo for my sister.

Simona and I made a snowman, and she was VERY proud. (Unfortunately, the snow was a little too fluffy for a really good snowperson, but she didn’t seem to mind one bit!)

One of the reasons I am not snow excited about all the white stuff is that this is my route to our laundry facilities:

These icicles have formed on the back of our house. They are pretty to admire, but they are dangerous! I was on our back steps when a sheet of ice fell and shattered around me; luckily, I was just hit by a few small shards.

Finally, today’s snow has been the most grueling. We are snow tired of sitting around the house, but wind gusts of up to 50 mph and white out conditions have meant yet another day of staying indoors. Simona has been asking if we can please GO somewhere, and even Andreas seems antsy. It’s snow fun for active preschoolers and toddlers to be trapped! A few photos from today:

And now, pop quiz: Can you find our car?!

More December / January pictures will be up soon. We anticipate having plenty of time to update, since frantic weather updates lead us to believe that we’ll be snowed into our home for the foreseeable future. . .

. . . ONE front tooth.

Yup, our little Simona’s first tooth is out. I wouldn’t quite say it “fell” out, seeing as how there was a nasty pair of plyers involved, but out it is.

Back in September, while we were at a playground in Leipzig, Germany, Simona fell while climbing on a rock at a playground. Her lip bled, but otherwise we couldn’t see much visible damage. She complained of her tooth hurting for several days, but after about a week she seemed fine again. We mentioned it to her pediatrician when we went in for Andreas’s 9-month check up, and he took a look. He also saw no visible damage and told us to contact a dentist if she started complaining again or if we saw any changes.

This past Friday night, while reading her a bedtime story, I noticed that it looked a bit gray. Caleb was at the store, and I forgot to mention it to him when he got home. The next day, he noticed it himself. So, on Monday morning, we left a message at our dentist (who fortunately also does pediatric dentistry and is wonderful with children). When we got in touch, they gave us an appointment for 8 AM this morning. Simona was very brave and did a great job with our dentist, who could see that the root was becoming infected. She wanted it out right away, so she sent us straight to an oral surgeon whom she recommends for pediatrics. (She doesn’t do procedures like that on children under 5 in her office.)

The oral surgeon’s office was very quick. They didn’t want Andreas in the room, so I had to bring the carseat into the office, strap him in, and leave him behind the receptionist’s desk while I went in with Simona. Not much later, we had two crying children and one tiny purple treasure chest containing Simona’s very first tooth.

We weren’t anticipating our first visit from the tooth fairy quite so early, but, like everything else in parenthood, you just can’t predict these things!

Today was one of those days.  After a rough night (continued teething woes for Andreas), we got a late start getting everyone dressed, fed, and ready for the day.  Because of the specific items I needed for a few recipes I’m making this week, I knew we’d need to head to two grocery stores to complete our list.  We headed out for the dreaded errand run and made good time getting through both stores.  Even better, we had successfully avoided meltdowns. . . but I could tell we were on the brink.  Andreas was NOT happy about the extended search for chicken bullion cubes (Aisle 4 at the New Hampshire Avenue Shoppers, for future reference).
So as I’m pushing to finish up and get home for lunch and naps, admittedly buying peace from Andreas with a graham cracker, the check out woman gets chatty with Simona.  Bad move.  I guarantee you that a 3-year-old can out-chat anyone.  Even the chattiest of grocery clerks.

Then, as is liable to happen around here, a random acquaintance of the clerk walks up and joins the conversation.  Pretty soon, Simona is pulling up a pant leg to show off her “owie” from tripping on the sidewalk on Sunday.  Now, mind you, this minor scrape had already spent two days covered by a Curious George band aid (which in turn meant not bathing for two days).  Suffice it to say that the wound was well on its way to being healed.  But, the clerk and her friend decide that a band aid is necessary, and preferably a Barney band aid.  They begin discussing looking for the first aid kit, which, I’m sure, would contain no Barney band aid.  I’m already envisioning such a prolonged search for Barney that nap time will have come and gone before we finish paying, so I, smilingly but firmly, convince them that Simona really is OK and that we can skip the first aid kit.
Finally convinced, the cashier resumes checking groceries but now is singing the famous “I love you” Barney song.  Simona hears it, jumps in, and before you know it, we have a grocery store sing along happening.   I am not lying.  Two cashiers, Simona, and customers in each of the two check line are singing.  Andreas is amused and entertained; I am able to quickly finish my transaction; and we manage to leave the store as the MOST (instead of the usual LEAST) popular customers.

Crisis averted, and another successful morning as a mom is in the history books.

The real excitement begins on 09/11/09, when we fly to Germany for a two week visit.  Andreas will work his hardest to destroy every knick-knack placed lower than about 36 inches off the ground at Uromi’s house but will not be successful.  (That project would take even him- a most determined crawler / investigator / destructor- much, much longer than two weeks.)  Simona will likely sample every unhealthy cuisine found in Deutschland, including plenty of Kinderschokolade, Eis, and probably several of the unfortunately named chocolate-covered marshmellow treats known as “Mini Dickmanns.”  Caleb and I will spend our time supervising the above-mentioned troublemakers while trying to visit with friends & family and take in the sites of Dresden, Leipzig, and Berlin.

Should be a fun trip.  We’ll let you know how it goes– wish us a good time!

In July, a good friend emailed a group of moms and asked if anyone wanted to go peach picking in early August.  Now, I am ashamed to admit that, despite being from PEACHTREE CITY in the PEACH STATE, I had never been peach picking before.  And since I do love peaches, I figured a Friday spent picking peaches in the fresh non-city air would be fun.  So I replied that I’d be up for it.

Come Peach-picking Eve, however, I realized that the next day was going to be a *mite* crazy.  I was scheduled for a 20-mile marathon training run, and we were supposed to meet in rural Virginia at the orchard at 10:30 AM.  Little did I realize that the orchard was an HOUR AND A HALF drive from our house, which meant loading up the kids to head out by 8:45 AM.  But by then, I decided it was too late to back out on my friend, despite Caleb’s urging me to reconsider.

The next morning, I overslept and did not end up with time for my long run.  That meant another day of hydrating and mentally preparing to run 20 miles.  In the meantime, I got the kids ready and headed out the door remarkably punctually, since I had an extra few hours in my morning.  We made a quick stop by the gas station to fill up, and somehow I managed to spray gas all over myself in the process.  After a brief debate about whether or not to run home to wash off, I opted to wipe down with baby wipes and continue on my way.

The peach picking itself went fairly well.  Minor “episodes” included Andreas eating part of a leaf and a handful of dirt, but otherwise, the morning in the countryside was great.  The drive was indeed a bit much, but I was feeling pretty good about the whole outing. . .

Peach Orchard
   

. . . until I got home.  And realized that I had about 50 peaches, 15 tomatoes, and one HUGE zucchini to deal with.  I didn’t have any “canning” supplies, so I spent HOURS over the next few days looking up recipes for peaches, zucchini, and tomotoes.  Caleb gamely helped out in the kitchen, though I doubt having “bake night” for 3 or 4 days in a row was his idea of a good time.  We mashed and froze peaches for Andreas; ate LOTS of peaches ourselves; made zucchini bread, peach pie, and peach-berry cobbler (twice); and STILL had peaches to use up.  Some went bad, but we made a valiant attempt to not let any go to waste.  We suffered from a terrible fruit fly infestation (that I think we have just about under countrol now), and there were even a few ants appearing in our dining room.  I felt incredibly domestic. . . and I think Caleb just felt incredibly like he did not want to deal with ANY more peaches.  His estimate is that between driving, picking, looking up recipes, baking, cooking, freezing, mashing, etc., we probably spent a good 20 man hours on those peaches.

    
Moral of the story: If your gut AND your husband tell you it’s not such a great use of your time, you should probably listen.

We may have had a little too good a time, though.  The plan was to leave Maine to drive to NYC fairly early on Sunday.  I didn’t realize, however, that there was a family brunch planned for Sunday morning.  I decided we should go, since the whole point of traveling to Maine was to spend time with family.  I figured we could spend just a little while and then still get on the road at a reasonable time.  That was my first wrong assumption.

Once Simona and her cousins got into the pool, though, there was almost no getting her out again.  It took us until early afternoon to finish swimming, get dressed, eat some lunch, and head for NY.  We left Maine at 2, and I figured that we may hit a bit of weekend traffic heading south out of Maine but that we’d be out of that by the time we passed Boston.  Second wrong assumption.

So the GPS said we’d arrive in Brooklyn, NY by 7:21 PM.  I figured stops, etc. would put us at our destination at 8:15.  Third wrong assumption. For the sake of not boring you with the details, suffice it to say that at 9:30, I called Caleb from the car in a traffic jam in NYC to tell him that I was living my own personal hell: Andreas was sitting a few feet from me, screaming his head off because he was hungry, but I was unable to help.  (I did finally cave in and pull over on the side of the highway in Brooklyn to nurse him. . . I figured traffic wasn’t moving anyway, so there was no reason to force A to suffer more.)  With all of that, I FINALLY made it to my friend’s apartment at about 10:20. . . only 8 hours, 20 minutes for a 5 hour, 20 minute drive!!

But, it got even better.  The next morning, I decided to wait until 10:30 AM to leave the city, figuring we’d hit the least possible traffic that way.  We pulled out at 10:40 for a drive that should take about 4.5 hours.  I was shooting for 6.

Of course, we hit traffic the entire way out of the city and then had the privilege of paying an ELEVEN DOLLAR toll to cross the Verrazano Bridge.  I shook the dust from my sandals, vowed that I would never again drive anywhere near New York City, and, for the first time in my life, was THRILLED to be in New Jersey.

We merged onto the Turnpike around 11:45, and at about 11:45:02 AM, the people in the car next to me waved at me, pointed at my front tire, and mouthed, “You have a flat tire!”

SO, we fortunately made it about 4 more miles to the next service plaza, pulled off, and spent an hour and a half using the bathroom, eating our lunch, getting gas, and changing a tire.  Many, many thanks to Jim and Tom from Charlottesville, VA, who helped with the tire change.  Driving on a donut doomed us to having to travel at about 55-60 mph the rest of the way.  Fortunately, the kids fell asleep, and I hoped I could at last make a long, strong push towards home.

Traffic was, for once, mercifully light, and we had about an hour of smooth sailing.  I was getting a bit tired and began debating pulling over to buy something to drink, but figured that I should push through while the kids slept.  I passed a service plaza with a sign telling me that the next one was 25 miles away and figured I could easily make it that far.

About 2 miles past the sign, however, Simona woke with a start and announced that she had to use the bathroom.  Urgently.  I thought about pulling over on the side of the highway, but the traffic was busy enough that it seemed unsafe.  (I also didn’t want to leave A alone in a parked car on the side of the road while I took S to pee in the grass. . .)  So, I began trying to distract & encourage her to make it 20 more miles.  I sang and cheered while she whined and cried, both of us increasing in our intensity and desperation.  Finally, though, she exclaimed that she had wet her pants.  Honestly, it was actually a relief for both of us, since she finally stopped her pained cry.

BUT, it added another lengthy stop, with a change of clothes and some clean up.  Andreas got a diaper change and wasn’t hungry.  Since I had left my wallet in the car, I decided to skip the drink and hit the road again.

We made it as far as Delaware- only about 20 minutes away- before A decided he needed to eat IMMEDIATELY.  And, of course, S had to use the bathroom again.  So, we took YET ANOTHER 45 minute stop.  I vowed that it would be our final stop, and for the only time on the trip, I was right.  We pulled up to our house at 6:00 PM- a mere 7 hours, 20 minutes after leaving NYC.

Lessons learned:  Too many to list.  Memories made:  Tons.  Desire to repeat the experience:  Absolutely none.

(PS- hoping to get some new pictures up soon.)