secret weekend

A week or so ago I was out for a drink with friends at a bar near the office and a couple walked in with their two children – a boy about 4 and a girl about 2. Now to be clear, we were at a bar, not at the bar at a restaurant, an actual bar with pool tables and such. And despite the fact that I’ve now been a parent for nearly three years, but perhaps more so because of it, I found it a little odd for this couple to have their two youngins’ in tow. That said, it quickly became apparent that they desperately needed a drink and that any thoughts about the appropriateness of bringing their children to such an establishment were rendered irrelevant by that need. The kids were loud and climbing on things and the parents were stressed and exasperated and then this happened…the mom was walking past our table with one of the two children at her side and she looked over at us forlornly and said “I wish I was out with the girls. I love my kids, but I just need a break.”

Never in my life have I had a complete stranger be so open about the fact that she just needed to get the fuck away from her children for a bit. It was kind of amazing and definitely surprising. I quickly empathized by saying something like “I totally understand and am going home to my two in a bit!” which made her half smile. Later that night I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a post by my dear coworker (and fellow mom) showing a photo of her and her hubs smiling gleefully with the caption “One week before Beau was born. Looking very innocent and so well rested.” It seriously simulated a scene you’d see in a comedic movie or tv show right before it broke to two weeks later with both parents looking disgusting and haggard, a baby screaming in their arms, and them arguing with each other about something stupid like who got less sleep the night before. It was the kind of post where your initial reaction is to laugh out loud and then as your brain begins to process it you start to think about how exhausted you are from all things parenting and your audible laughter is silenced by your realization that life is officially crazy.

I wonder how many times a week the average parent begins a sentence with “I love my kids, but…” I’d put money on a lot. Because we do love our kids, but we also do need breaks to maintain some semblance of sanity. And it’s so super duper important that those breaks sometimes occur with each other, as in both parents breaking at the same time together, because we all know that one of the greatest challenges of being a parent of young kids is making sure your marriage or relationship isn’t relegated to roommate status for lack of quality togetherness. Which brings me to my whole point for writing this post! SECRET WEEKEND!

For Mother’s Day weekend this year, Pete planned an overnight trip for he and I ONLY and it was all a complete surprise for me. I knew we were going somewhere, I just didn’t know where or how or to do what. I love surprises and getting away and hanging out with Pete, so I was psyched.

He told me we needed to be on the road by 7 AM sharp because we had a couple stops to make on the way and there was a schedule to stick to. I was so intrigued. Off we went down the highway a handful of exits, and then got off! We’re going to Burlington? I thought to myself, losing some of my excitement (sorry Burlington). We pulled up at the Company Shops Station, a large brick building that I was unfamiliar with, and Pete told me something was going on there that morning. What on earth is he dragging me to at 7:15 AM in Burlington? Some kind of flea market? I guess that’s cool? We park the car and he takes out this top secret purple folder with papers in it and we head to the door. Once inside, I very quickly realize that we’re at a train station which is aided by the fact that it’s National Train Day (total coincidence) and there are model trains and train info and all kinds of trainy type things all around. We were headed to Charlotte by Amtrak!

The train ride was super cool and something we’d never done together before. Once in Charlotte, we went to an art museum, had a delicious alfresco lunch, saw a badass show at the theater, went to a couple bars in NoDa, slept fairly well, had a lovely brunch and then took the train back home. Apparently this is what people with no kids, lots of discretionary income and abundant free time do. I like it! But I love my kids! Pete did such an awesome job planning the trip – it was perfect and I love him dearly for being an amazing, thoughtful husband.

That’s it for solo trips for us until the big one in September…SCOTLAND! FUCKYEAH!

Some instas from the secret weekend can be found over at Elderworld (scroll a bit). Buh-bi.

elderland elsewhere

I started a tumblr. I’m still not quite sure why other than as a means to achieve absolute omiwebence. Clearly not a real word, but it’s the best made-up one my mind could conjure on short notice. Omniwebence, a hybrid of interweb and omnipresence, is best achieved through social media, and being that I regularly blow up Facebook and Twitter with my Instagram photos, sporadically pin recipes and such to my Pinterest, and at least somewhat frequently write a lengthy blog post here on WordPress, the only logical next step was a tumblr blog.

Q: What will your tumblr blog be used for?

A: See post one.

Q: Why do your Instagram photos need another avenue of exposure?

A: Have you seen my Instargram photos? If no, then that’s why. If yes, then that’s why. Think about it.

Q: Why not just post the stuff from tumblr to this blog?

A: Hmmm…

That last one could actually lead to the abolishment of my tumblr blog. I’ve yet to pinpoint a clearly defined reason for having both, but somewhat vaguely I just see them as different. WordPress feels like a place for written expression accompanied by the occasional photo. Tumblr feels like a place for visual expression accompanied by the occasional blurb of text. Plus, my Tumblr theme looks prettier for my snappies than anything I’ve found on WordPress so far. And then there’s the fact that some folks get an email every time I post to WordPress so sharing my Instas here would mean you 10 or so people that fall into this category (SO popular) would eventually be cursing your inbox. Twitter makes me happy because it’s brief, it can be interesting, I’ve met some rad people there, and it’s cleaner than Facebook. Facebook is annoying, increasingly so, but I keep it around because I’ve got lots of family that will never tweet a day in their lives but maintain a Facebook page and I’d like to keep up with them. Instagram will forever be an addiction. And this blog will remain a place where I can ramble on for paragraphs about whatever’s going on in our lives.

So here it is! The Elderworld Tumblr. And guess what else? There’s an RSS feed in the right hand column to make it super duper easy to find and visit whenever you’re stopping by Elderland. You’re welcome.

we laugh

Having an almost three year old is an incredibly emotional experience that truly runs the gamut from vein throbbing anxiety and anger to heart melting pride and happiness. Somewhere in between there is absolute hilarity and even though in writing these moments won’t be nearly as funny to you as they were to us, when I look back in 5 years and read this I’m sure I’ll crack up all over again.

For the past several months Norah has been a champion potty pooper. As she has become more accustomed to number two in the loo she has also picked up on some practices that go along with it. Recently after a particularly robust movement on her part, she pulled up her pants, flushed the toilet, lifted the lid to be sure it was gone (this is her routine) and upon seeing some leftovers said “ohhh, that’s a double flush.”

Our bed time routine with Norah involves playing in her room for a bit, brushing her teeth, putting on her nighttime diaper, reading stories and alternating nights where one of us stays for a couple minutes after the light is turned off to sing or talk to her. Guess which one of these things would have the most negative outcome should it be forgotten? And guess which one we have forgotten a time or two recently? This past week when that happened, about five minutes after we’d both left her room, Norah came to the gate at her door and hollered into the hallway “hey! somebody needs to put a diaper on me!” It’s good that at least one person around here knows what’s going on.

Back on the poop train–being the typical toddler that she is, Norah soaks up every little thing that we say and often repeats random things that we’d never have thought she’d pick up on. After a recent nap I got her up and took her to our room to change her out of her diaper and into panties, and upon setting her on the bed she exclaimed that something was stinky. I proceeded to tell her that daddy had been tooting (sorry Pete) to which she knowingly replied, with big eyes and a nodding head, “daddy needs to go poop, can I go tell him he needs to go poop?” Yes. Yes you can.

And finally…Tonight around 8 PM Crosby finished up his bedtime bottle and I got him ready to go in and say good night to Pete and Norah who were hanging out in the bathroom after Norah had used the potty (there’s some sort of theme here). I lifted Crosby up to Pete’s face so he could say good night and give him lots of kisses on his puffy cheeks. Norah enthusiastically requested to say good night too and I leaned Crosby down to her so she could kiss his head. Then I said one more good night from Crosby to the fam and turned to leave to take him to his crib and Norah hollered at me “good luck!”

It’s like she knows.

If you know Pete at all, you know that he loves, I mean LOVES the outdoors. We might even dare to call it an obsession at times, especially when it comes to researching and acquiring new (and always lighter) equipment for backpacking and camping. Lucky for him, in her short existence on this planet, Norah has shown signs that she too will be a lover of the open air and this makes Pete one super happy camper. Quite literally in fact as last weekend one of Pete’s dreams came true – he went camping with our daughter!

To be clear, they didn’t actually “go” camping, but rather he setup our tent in the backyard and he and Norah slept outside. While he certainly pines for the real deal outdoor adventure with both kids, Saturday night’s experience was a necessary test run before going all out woodsy with a toddler. And for the most part it was a smashing success. They slept outside the whole night and they loved every minute of it. While I fully supported this endeavor, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a wee bit neurotic about the whole thing, and as neuroses go, there was no clear basis for this worry. All I can surmise is that it stemmed from thinking that there was no way she’d stay out there the whole night and stressing about the possibility of having to deal with some middle of the night toddler freak out. Thankfully this was not the case and I’m super proud of my baby girl! She did wake up maybe a little earlier than comfortable – 5:30-ish (ouch) – but there was a lot of outdoor noise and commotion so who can blame her. Yes at that painful hour, on top of what must have been the longest train ever going by blowing its horn every 10 seconds, there was also the joyful spring symphony of birds making sure that everyone knew dawn was on the horizon. As Pete likes to tell it, shortly after the sunup song began Norah swiftly lifted her head and exclaimed “what are those birds talking about?!” After that, going back to sleep was a fading hope, and at about 6:30 I started getting text messages asking for snacks.

Of course no first camping experience would be complete without s’mores! We borrowed a fire pit from our lovely neighbors and after Crosby went to sleep for the night (your turn will come buddy!) Pete built a little fire and we introduced Norah to the ooey gooey deliciousness of hot marshmallows sandwiched between chocolate and graham crackers. I don’t have to tell you how amazing this was for her – there were definitely some moments of crackhead crazy eyes after she’d had her first and was watching us make more. I suppose it probably helped with the overall enjoyment of the “camping” experience that we loaded her up with sugary goodness as part of the deal, so all in all I’d say she’s a fan.

PS For Christmas we got Norah a book called Fred and Ted Go Camping – an easy read story about two dogs and their camping experience – which instantly became one of her faves. But for some reason now when we read it she doesn’t want it to be Fred and Ted, she wants it to be Mommy and Norah. I guess that’s my cue to be a part of the next adventure .

31 is the new 30

Once you get past the youthful milestones of 16, 18 and 21, birthdays begin to run together a bit and eventually exist solely to remind you that you’re not so youthful anymore. Beyond the “I can finally drink (legally)!” celebration, the next “big” one tends to be your thirtieth and each ensuing decade marks another occasion to celebrate more outrageously than usual (and/or freak out about the seemingly impossible increase in the speed of time while overanalyzing even the smallest sign of aging). Being that I was five months pregnant with Crosby when I marked 30 years on this planet, the celebration consisted of some seriously low key family time, and being that low key family time is not exactly the Sarah Elder way to throw down for a big deal birthday, I was decidedly motivated to make up for it this year. And I did (with much help from others of course).

My birthday weekend kicked off with some serious awesomeness at my place of work thanks to a truly amazing group of coworkers that I’m quite fond of. In the morning they surprised me with a little breakfast biscuit party where I devoured a delicious sausage, egg and cheese delight from a favorite local deli called Neal’s. I then proceeded to consume half of my boss’s egg biscuit because he took the morning off to go flying (as in piloting a plane because he’s 50 something and needs to do that now which I fully support because it keeps him happy) and I somehow thought he might forget about it or not even have known about it to begin with. Oops, wrong. He most definitely inquired after his eggy goodness almost the moment he arrived at work and I apologized profusely for my greedy food hoarding behavior offering to replace his biscuit or buy him something else to snack on. Lucky for me the bossman doesn’t see food theft in quite the punishable light that I do and all was well in the world of work. Later in the day I was asked to come to the back where I was surprised once again, this time with the number 31 laid out on the back table in beers. A few of my worky faves had gotten together and picked out 31 different IPA’s for me which is pretty much the only beer I like to drink and that made me feel all kinds of special. Not only were the beers fun for me, but as it turns out they have provided much entertainment for Norah who thoroughly enjoyed playing “pretend beer” by faking the consumption of many beers with her dinner while talking about how she was going to have a party for the people and give them all the beers. She then took them out and lined them up in a curvy row and talked about how when she got older she could have beer like mommy too. So much trouble is coming my way, but for now at least it’s kind of hilarious.

When I got home from work on Friday I did my normal routine of greeting the family and heading to the bedroom to change into my PJ’s (it’s never too early). I noticed the bedroom door was closed but thought nothing of it as Norah frequently closes it on her own. I opened it, entered, went to set my bag down, glanced in the mirror and gasped…there was a new headboard! I looked some more – a new bed too!! Pete had built us a bed that week and I had no freakin’ idea it was happening. I knew he was building something but totally thought it was Norah’s bed as that’s what he had me believe and I never once questioned it. Clever one that guy. The headboard he built out of some reclaimed barnwood we’d acquired awhile back and it’s absolutely gorgeous. The bed itself is going to be (still needs drawers) a farmhouse style storage bed. It was a giant surprise and entirely changed the look and feel of our room and I am SO happy with it.

Then came Saturday with all the big plans. A couple weeks prior I had finally made a consultation appointment at Glenn’s Tattoo Service in Carrboro. Backstory: I got my first tattoo at the not so grown up age of 19 while attending the University of Florida. A couple of my friends had gotten the ubiquitous tramp stamp (clearly unaware of this label) and I wanted in on the action, so I found a lovely yellow flower deal and started thinking about it. Then one day while studying for exams at a local coffee shop I decided it was time and closed the books to go get my ink. While I can’t say I’d make the same selection for art or placement today, I don’t regret my tattoo because it’s pretty and simple and reminds me of that time of my life. Of course that first ink triggered a heddy desire for more because (assuming you didn’t have a terrible experience) the tattoo to potato chip analogy is totally accurate – just one is never enough. Until recent years I wasn’t quite sure what my next ink would be and then I had babies which puts a serious hold on permanent body art, but once I knew the baby making was done and I had most of what used to be my body back I was ready for round two. So I had my consultation, brought my ideas, worked with the wonderful Paulie Andrews on my art, and on Saturday of my birthday weekend Pete drove me to my appointment. I was so nervous about the whole ordeal and so happy with how it all went down and I absolutely LOVE my tattoo.

That evening I put on a pretty dress, a little makeup and some fancypants purple shoes and got together with most of my favorite people for a Mebane Bar Bounce complete with dancing and even a few shots (trust me that’s a big deal these days). It was funtastic and I love my friends so damn much. For those of you that couldn’t be there…I will never forgive you. The rest of you are my BFF’s. The night went late and wound up with me stealing my pal’s Chinese food and eating nearly all of it by myself (I’m sensing a theme this birthday) followed by five or so hours of sleep before the kiddos decided it was time for Sunday to get going. Aside from being super exhausted I didn’t feel too terribly and later enjoyed a nice family birthday celebration at Grams and Grandma’s house complete with sushi and a funfetti cake that my mom baked and Norah decorated with oodles of sprinkles.

Monday, my actual birthday, was actually the least exciting as the weather was shite and Norah came down with something icky. She spent the better part of the day sleeping off a fever and when she was awake I did what I could to make her feel better with lots of cuddles and attention. After the exciting events of the three days prior I was perfectly content to do pretty much nothing on Monday and other than my poor baby girl feeling puny it was just what I needed to wind down the weekend.

Thank you so much to all of my friends and family for making this birthday amazing with their cards and flowers and wishes and gifts and love and celebration. I couldn’t be happier with where I am in life at the fine age of 31. Hugs and kisses to all!

Elderland out. XO.

duck-sized crazy

In a recent round of hiring at Kalisher we decided to implement a new “test” for our applicants that made it past the first interview: we wrote up five questions to be answered over email, giving each of them 24 hours to respond. There were two main things we sought to discover with this test, the most important of which was whether or not the person could write clear, coherent responses absent of glaring gramatical errors. Our company has been growing rather rapidly in the past few years and I handle a good portion of the hiring and I’m endlessly surprised at how difficult to find this quality actually is. The other quality we hoped to unveil was creativity as that was important for the role we were filling. We were quite pleased with the bevy of questions we came up with, but our absolute favorite was one that we didn’t write ourselves but rather pulled from the great and powerful internet:

Would you rather fight 100 duck-sized horses or one horse-sized duck?

The answers we got were pretty damn good, and hopefully original, but with the wealth of clever analyses published online about this meme there’s no way to know if some of what they offered was a reworked reply from someone else. Regardless, it was fun.

Why am I telling you about this? Aside from the obvious fact that I want you to be jealous of how cool my company is, it’s also because there are times when I think parenting two small children feels like what I’d imagine you’d experience if you were taking on 100 duck-sized horses. There are these moments when shit (sometimes quite literally) just keeps coming at you nonstop – someone’s whining to be held, someone’s crying to be fed, someone shat up their back, someone pissed the floor because they were in timeout throwing a tantrum, someone got hurt, someone needs something in the exact moment that the other someone needs something and you have to make one of them wait and while you do the sound of that one crying is causing your blood pressure and anxiety levels to creep up slowly until they reach the point of making you screw up whatever it is you were doing which makes everything take even longer and now you just want to go batshit crazy and start swinging maniacally with every limb at every last one of those charging duck-sized horses until you’ve punted all 100 of them into oblivion. Of course I’m not saying you’d ever want to actually punt your children, I’m simply speaking hyperbolically, but the point is that in parenting, every so often, you feel like you’re being attacked by an unrelenting army of fantastical beasts set out to destroy you. In a manner of speaking.

Don’t feed the animals.

Elderland out. XO.

Thing number 291 that you hear about having two kids before you have two kids that you ultimately find to be true once you have two kids: you take less photos of the second one. Now anyone who’s linked to me on instagram, twitter and/or facebook might find that statement to be implausible based on the social media salvo of snappies that I unleash on a regular basis, a good percentage of which include or are solely of Crosby, but I swear if you compared the actual quantity of photos taken from Norah’s first seven months to Crosby’s, she’d win by a margin of at least 25%. I am conscious of this and it does stress me out because I do want to have just as many mind-blowingly adorable moments captured from Crosby’s youth as I do Norah’s, but with two wee ones in tow it’s ever so slightly more challenging to remember to get the good camera out. Thank goodness for the handy dandy iPhone lest there be such a disparity as to cause some questions from teenage Crosby about favoritism.  All of that said, every now and then we’re successful at snatching the ‘ol Pentax from its roost in the kitchen and clicking a frame or two, so I figured I should actually share some of those moments with the people that love our dear little buds almost as much as we do.

Early December hanging out in the kitchen with the dogs on daddy day. That exersaucer came to us all the way from the faraway land of the Florida Elders and afforded us much baby holding time for both kiddos. It now lives down the street where it will soon house yet another adorable baby.

Mid January good times on the weekend in the bear’s room. Yes he is almost always this happy. Also, that’s an Eagles blanket he’s laying on and his sleeper is orange and blue. Start ‘em young!

Walker time sporting a super stylish outfit care of the Khannas. Buds looks good in green and blue! The walker is his (read: our) best friend. He really gets moving in that thing and is quite the little navigator. Our ped once suggested that walkers are questionable because of something about how they encourage toe walking and that doesn’t help babies learn to actually walk. Well guess what? Norah was walking by one with no problems and oh, also, it makes Crosby super happy. So take that.

A couple weeks ago at bath time, Norah decided that Crosby was having too much fun in his whale tub without her and so she climbed in with him and they had a grand ‘ol time. I’m sure was saying something about how she doesn’t like Crosby at some point during the event, likely while she was smiling and laughing because, well, she’s crazy.

And for every 10 heart achingly adorable, gush worthy snappies, there’s one of these. But come on! Still somehow cute.

Captured mere moments after Crosby went forehead first off the bed landing, as luck would have it, on my somewhat cushy slipper. While that perhaps saved him from any broken skin or blood, he still cried horribly hard for at least three whole minutes and immediately formed this delightful little bruise just under his hairline. I take responsibility for this one as I was supposed to be preventing any such happening by actually watching him with both eyes when Norah got up in my face claiming she peed in her pants (she didn’t). I was distracted just long enough for him to take the plunge. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t ever so briefly consider the possibility that Norah planned the whole thing. Toddler cunning is fierce. The cut under his eye is a self-inflicted baby-dagger-fingernail wound.

I’ll do my absolute best to keep the camera snapping so as not to deprive anyone of oodles of Crosbyness!

Elderland out. XO.