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Category: It Was Awesome

Mom, What’s the Smell?

We journeyed to the heart of Amish country Saturday to take the wee lassies aboard Thomas the Tank Engine, which had magically hopped from the Island of Sodor (I just accidentally typed “Sodom” there, and am thinking that a show based there would make for an entirely different type of programming) to a railroad somewhere in the farmlands of Pennsylvania. As is always the case  (every single time, and it is delightful) when we take SK and the Mighty on an adventure, our children were an absolute blast. They loved the “Peep! Peep!” sound Thomas is so fond of making, and the ice cream (of course) and the absolutely fantabulous can’t-be-beat surprise ride on a–wait for it–school bus. But the very best moment for this momma was her eldest daughter getting to ride a train. Because SK’s always (for two-thirds of her life, anyway) wanted to ride a train, and Thomas is just so cool and because the windows were open to let the breeze flow through the cars, bringing with it all the scents of cut hay and cow poop that fresh country air…

Buying the Farm

We took Saoirse and Quinn to pick strawberries yesterday during our CSA‘s open farm day (yeah, yeah, I hear your jokes about patchouli and Birkenstocks). And as usually happens while harvesting one’s own produce from the earth itself, we spent a lot of time in an open field (shocking, right?), under a hot sun (in June?! No way!), a solid 10-minute uphill walk from the “house” part of the farm itself. As this little event strays from the norm of our air-conditioned, Wegman’s-shopping life, I was expecting a meltdown of sorts, but really, I did okay. Har, har.  You thought I was talking about the girls, right? Nah, they had a grand ol’ time. It was a good–albeit, long, exhausting, sweaty–morning, out of which I gleaned a few specific tidbits for the life lesson books: When there is a 24-pound baby who will need to be carried on someone’s back in a carrier that, while practical, clasps over your collarbone in an unforgiving way and produces enough sweat to fuel a slip-n-slide, opt to make sure your husband does…

One for the History Books

A few weeks ago, our local parents magazine started advertising their annual Family Fun Festival (go ahead, say that three times quickly).  The shindig itself was free, but way at the bottom of the ad, I saw that there was an option to buy tickets to a character breakfast with–wait for it–Clifford (the big red dog?!) and Curious George.  It was like Saoirse’s fairy godmother was personally waving a red flag at me, shouting, “Hellooooo, lady, look at the sheer joy we have concocted for the sole pleasure of your young daughter!”  I did a happy dance, took out our much-abused bank card and bought us a little spot of happiness.  David calmly said, “Oh, that sounds cool.  Saoirse will love it.”  Saoirse saw the ad lying on a table where I had cut it out, grabbed it, and carried it around with her for five days. So, Saturday, we–I, David, and the mighty Quinlan, of course–took Saoirse to meet her hero.  I was a basket of nerves, because she’d been talking about meeting Clifford–you know, bigger-than-a-house Clifford…