Girls' Day Out

Last Friday, Brian unexpectedly had the day off of work. We decided to send Emma, Clara, and me to D.C. for the day, while Brian stayed home with the younger crew.

I love D.C. I feel slightly possessive of it, having lived within two hours of the city for most of my life. I have been there many times, and there's just no place like it. We wanted E&C to see some of the Smithsonian again before we move, since we may never again live in this area of the country.

And last week, we discovered the beauty of D.C. on a weekday in January: No tourists. No lines. Same-day tickets.

Here are E&C, waiting to go up into the Washington Monument. The Capitol building is across the Mall in the distance.

At the top of the Monument, looking out on the sights of D.C.--1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

The National Park Foundation and Target Stores. Working together to preserve the Washington Monument. I had to laugh--good ol' American capitalism at its finest.

Touching the Monument.

As we left the site, Clara gave me a brief history of the edifice, having recently studied it in school. (For instance, construction on it was halted during the Civil War, and two different kinds of marble were used--which can be easily seen while gazing at it.)

Standing in the entrance of the Museum of American History. The entire museum has been redone, and I loved loved loved it--especially the exhibit behind this wall: the Star-Spangled Banner. I found myself moved almost to tears, sitting in the quiet dark, gazing at the flag in its new home.

At the Museum of Natural History.

Moments after this picture was taken, while staring at sea slugs--which I had never heard of before--Emma would tell me about "an article" she had recently read about sea slugs. She would then give me several facts about them, including that they change color according to the color of coral that they eat. Since when does my nine-year-old know more than me, and where on earth did she read an article about sea slugs?

We trekked over to the National Gallery of Art to see the Impressionists.

And we stopped by the Archives to see the founding documents. This picture below is contraband. I wasn't paying attention, and the flash went off when I snapped the picture--in front of the Constitution...and two security guards...and a "No Flash Photography" sign. And there was an audible gasp from a few other people in the rotunda. OOPS.

One of the security guards said that I had to leave. But I was really flustered, so the guard relented and let us stay, but not before he gave me a lesson on how to turn off the automatic flash. OOPS.

So there is my confession, and here is my illegal picture.

We passed by this statue and I had to take a picture. Two, actually.

The inscription reads: "The heritage of the past is the seed that brings forth the harvest of the future."

That's why I took the girls to D.C. And what's more, that's why I hope they will truly love history.

January Randomness

I haven't felt much like blogging lately--not for a lack of topics, but just, well, because.

Just because...and also because I am an avid news follower. With all the turmoil in the world--especially right now in Haiti--I guess I see my own little world as pretty insignificant in light of so much suffering.

It's like writing a Facebook status update. Who, really, is interested in the minutiae of my daily life, when there are urgent, widespread, colossal problems to be solved?

The answer: I don't know.

But for what it's worth, here's a mini update:

Isaac spent the better portion of two hours recently playing with two white bowls, a broken Caboodles box (dating back to 1994--who remembers the Caboodles craze?), and two fistfuls of hair accessories. He poured the hair clips back and forth between the bowls, organized them by color and size, lined them up in pairs, and so on. The kid is a genius. Seriously.

Madeline, our resident fashionista, modeled her woolen hat from Peru, given to her by my brother's family. They visited Peru over the summer. (Isaac got a matching grey one, but he didn't appreciate it too much.)

Emma and Clara set up camp in the basement and stayed up until midnight on New Year's Eve to watch "the [Times Square] ball drop," while boring old Mom and Dad had gone to bed hours earlier.

Madeline has taken to confiscating Nathan's new bathrobe. He hasn't seemed to notice, or care.

I had a sleepover with a few old friends. We stayed up until 3:30 a.m. (Did I mention that there are eighteen children, including three sets of twins, among the four of us?)

I am pleased to say that children #4 & 5 appear to be bookworms, like their older siblings.

And, finally, it has begun.

The house to-do's.

March 1st is the deadline, to have the house ready to sell.

A checklist three pages long is our goal.

We started off by painting the (icky, chipped) kitchen cabinets.

Brian and I had a late-night painting date.

I bought the first box of bubble wrap, with several more to come, I'm certain.

And I packed the first three boxes.

We've crossed off a few things on that list, with many, many more to go. Today I painted the front door. And listed a few things on Craigs' List. And packed a box of family pictures. And so it goes.

The "George Bailey" in Me

I know Christmas has passed, and so has New Year's.

But I am still thinking about this movie:

I really love this show.

Brian and I watched it, once again, a few nights before Christmas. I wrapped presents, he did some work on his laptop, and we watched and enjoyed.

It's been called "the best Christmas movie of all time." I know some people would take issue with that, but I have to agree.

It's cheesy. It's old fashioned. It's in black and white. It has none of the whistles and bells we've come to expect from film.

All the better, I say.

As I watched this year, I found myself identifying so much with Mr. George Bailey, the protagonist. Like George, I had a lot of plans for myself. Like George, life got in the way of lots of those plans. And like George, I have realized, over time, that the "life" that has gotten in the way is far richer and more meaningful than any of those original plans could have been.

Last week, while watching the movie, I realized that the movie is a classic precisely because George Bailey is a universal character, fashioned after each one of us. I don't know anyone, really, who hasn't experienced the let-down from a lost dream, an unrealized goal, or a surprising twist of fate that led him or her to some unexpected destination.

And so I suppose the great lesson of the movie is to appreciate the wonderfulness of my own life, even if it is a simple life, even if some of those lofty goals remain in the sky.

"He is never a failure who has friends," says George's guardian angel. If this is true--and I believe it is--then I have experienced great success. All my life, I have been blessed with wonderful, remarkable friends.

With this in mind, at the start of 2010--with a home sale and move in our future and many goodbyes & hellos to say--I will try to appreciate the moment a bit more, to worry about the mundane and inconsequential a bit less, and to focus on the people around me all the while.