Happy birthday, Henry

Happy 3rd birthday, Henry. I love you and I like you.

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Strawberry Festival

Growing up, my gymnastics team marched in the Strawberry Festival parade every June, in which we did sweet tricks in our red body suits and white shorts that our moms bought at Jamesway and tried to make sure we didn’t land in horse crap. This, and sunburns and burning my hands on hot tumbling mats, are my childhood memories of the Strawberry Festival.

This year was Henry’s first Strawberry Festival. He did not wear a red body suit or white shorts. 

We ate strawberries:

  

And watched the parade:

  
There were fire trucks and white people and fried food.

  
And the big kids helped the little kids get the candy out of the street before they got run over by a fire truck or a white person eating fried food. 

  
Then we dropped Henry off at the church tent and went and tasted lots of wine in another tent. 

  
(He was with his Gangy, and it was a Methodist church, so, totally fine.)

Then we stopped at my aunt’s house to use the bathroom, but she was not home, so Tim and I may have peed in her backyard. Successful day all around. 


Father’s Day 2014

Yup. I predated this to look like I posted it in June 2014. Suckers.

First, I must brag about our Father’s Day gift. Henry and I MADE Tim a book. Here it is:

                        

We made Tim breakfast:


And went on our now-tradition-because-we-did-it-once bike ride in Central Park:


Then we all went home and took a nap.

I have not updated this blog regularly. I am going to work on “filling in” the missed time and be better at updating. I know a lot of people love Henry. We love you too.


24 hours in Fire Island

This is another backdated post. You’ll be OK.

This past weekend we ventured out to Fire Island Pines and stayed with some friends who have a summer house there. After Henry’s friend Penny’s birthday party in Queens, we took a bus to a subway to a Long Island Railroad train to a ferry

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to a waiting, tipsy Omar on the Fire Island Pines Marina dock (no pictures of that).

Tranport tally: bus, subway, train, boat. It was like it was HENRY’s birthday. And Mommy and Daddy got to have a beer on the boat because of course the Fire Island Pines Ferry dock has a bar. Fire Island starts at the ferry. With this view:

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Then it was a quick stop at the one grocery store where we were the weirdos not wearing bathing suits and on to the lovely house where our friends very, very graciously let us stay, and let Henry wear their shoes. He loved the shoes.

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Then, it was beach time.

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With all the sand around Henry was not interested in the ocean.

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While the boys went to tea dance, Tim and I watched the sunset on the ocean and drank white wine while Henry tried not to fall asleep on Tim’s lap. Then it was back to the house, where the kiddo slept and Tim and I were regaled with Fire Island Pines stories into the night.

Because two-year-olds get up with the sun and adult friends on the weekend don’t, we were out of the house very early and took a walk. Tim described Fire Island as a mix of camp and the beach. No cars are allowed on Fire Island (thus the ferry) except for an emergency vehicle, so all of the “roads” are wood walkways. There’s really no reason to not wear your bathing suit at all times and shoes at no times.

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Then some beach time, followed by brunch, followed by more beach time. This time, because all the boys were going in the water, Henry wanted to too.

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Then it was back to the ferry, then the train, then the subway, none on which Henry fell asleep. Even though it was only for 24 hours, it felt longer, and the trip, even with a toddler, was relaxing.

Now, here is your reward for making it to the end of the post.

(Video courtesy Omar.)


Henry turns 2

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For his birthday we threw Henry a birthday party in Central Park. Lots of friends and family showed up, and the rain held off until the party was over. It was a good day.

I brought the camera, took what I thought was a ton of pictures (it was not) but luckily enough to share. No pictures this year of the table, but I did take a picture (after we got home) of the sign we hung on the table:

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If you can’t tell what it is, too bad, Henry knew and was very excited. (Sorry, MTA, for going off-brand; I can’t freehand helvetica.)

Henry spent the day trying to escape from the confines of a very large, open field,

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figuring out his new bubble shooter,

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ditching his party for the playground,

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kissing people he loves,

Eleanor

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laughing,

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and eating cupcakes.

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Happy birthday, Henry. You’re the best.

 


22 months

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Henry turned 22 months this month. We are closer to 2 than to 1 now. In fact, I’ve just started calling him a 2-year-old. He looks like it. He acts like it.

Looking back at my 18 months post he is so different. There’s now very little overlap in his “stats.” It’s equally bittersweet and fascinating.

At 22 months:

Favorite foods: Pancakes, waffles, french toast, french fries, dried fruit, yogurt, Trader Joe’s cheese rocket crackers, raisins, macaroni and cheese, spaghetti, Mommy and Daddy’s cereal.

Favorite books: Anything with a train, construction vehicle, or emergency vehicle in it. Any and all books about anything. But particularly lately Where Is the Green Sheep, Good Night Central Park, and Red Wagon.

Favorite toys: 2 train, matchbox truck from Gangy, wooden cars, bucket of blocks (not the blocks inside – the bucket), laundry cart, microwave stand, baking utensils drawer.

Favorite activities: Reading, vacuuming, brunch, playing with his train and truck (always together), visiting family, dancing, singing, making a mess to clean up (cleaning up is the goal), putting on lotion, watching “Bigger Bigger,” running to the window every time a vehicle with a siren drives by … and we live near a hospital. AND PLAYGROUNDS.

Words: I’m going to stop listing the words. Every day his school report checks off “talkative.” Though I will announce that he says “excavator.” We were just as surprised as you are.

How Henry currently makes us laugh: Well, “excavator.” Singing himself to sleep. Figuring everything out. Knowing what he wants and doesn’t want. Closing the toilet lid and putting the safety lock on if we forget to do so when he goes in for a bath. Pointing out his penis every time it’s exposed. Calling Uncle Neil’s song “Bigger Bigger,” singing along to “Bigger Bigger” and getting really upset when we don’t play it eight times in a row or every five minutes. Always being excited to hear an “ambeeants” [ambulance] or see a subway train. The feelings he feels. How well he repeats words. Wearing my boots and successfully walking in them. Telling us he has poopy in his diaper and being right sometimes.

And now for the pictures:

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A Christmas post!

Christmas was particularly special this year. It was in Key West. We lived here for a whole week:

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(You’re welcome for getting this song in your head.)

Henry made his first trip to an airport:

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where we let him run around from 4-6 a.m., after which he slept for most of the flight. (Thank you for the children’s area, Jet Blue.)

We flew to Ft. Lauderdale, where we were soon reminded that we were in Florida:

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We took a family nap at our hotel and spent the evening using our magic to open the [automatic – shhh don’t tell!] doors in hotel lobby and running around the lobby breakfast area. Thank you for tolerating us, Jessica!

The next morning we met up with Uncle Michael and soon-to-be-Aunt Courtenay – whom we hadn’t seen since July 2012 – and were on our way to Key West! Our first stop was Hogfish Bar and Grill, where we would also make a second and third stop before the week was over. They have lobster mac and cheese, and fish on the wall:

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We went to the beach:

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We swam in the pool, some of us in our regular diapers even though we had swim diapers but couldn’t wait for anyone to go back in the house and get swim diapers before swimming:

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And Henry met his new best friend, Avery:

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Henry still asks about Avery almost every day. And any picture he sees of a white boy ages 2-10 he calls Avery. Ahh vree? Ahh vree?

But the reason we all went to Key West was to see my brother and Courtenay get married:

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We rode a trolley to the ceremony:

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Drank sparkling wine:

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Danced:

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And ate ketchup.

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Then we killed time until Christmas morning being classy. Playing Cards Against Humanity:

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and icing one another (though as the week progressed we veered from the traditional game beverage to a more economically sensible yet still appropriate one, as you can see):

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Then it was CHRISTMAS! Hugs and kisses all around:

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And, of course, presents:

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Then on to a sunset cruise, on which Uncle Jason proposed to to-be Aunt Laura:

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After which we all went out and celebrated:

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And we had a very merry Christmas.

Then it was back to the cold.

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And a visit with Grammy and Grampy.

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Where he got many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many, many presents.

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And had some feelings when it came to the last one:

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Before the holiday caught up to us.

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Then we came back home. And said Merry Christmas to our tree.

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Hope your holidays were as magical as ours. Merry Christmas!