2/23/18

48 hours in Florida.

Very likely the last work trip with my sidekick, my cauliflower-sized companion. Just 48 hours of sunshine and seminars, good food and good company, then back home again.

2/20/18

Third annual Valentine's Day brunch.

On Saturday, I set the table for our third annual Valentine's Day brunch: a simple thing of pancakes, fruit and love notes, but a tradition that brings color to our February and cadence to our years. And love is always worth celebrating, in mundane and monumental ways.

From last year and the year before.

2/15/18

Night at the Philharmonic.

he sent flowers to the office - for me and baby girl, from our guys (him, the toddler, the bulldog). we met for Italian food in Midtown, feasted on beet gnocchi with truffle sauce and chicken parm. we walked up ten blocks to Lincoln Center for a night of violins and cellos: Wagner at the Philharmonic. then took the long way up Central Park West, through the lamp-lit Sheep Meadow, past Bethesda Terrace.

us at 15 and 17: him slipping notes in my violin case.
us at 28 and 30: him with his hand on my belly, stirring at the sound of strings in Lincoln Square.

2/12/18

Working weekend.

*a Saturday of work in Tribeca, punctuated by a walk to lunch in the rain, by skyscraper and cobblestone views.
*a date with Blake at Nica Trattoria: gnocchi and pesto for me, orecchiette alla barese for him, cannolis to share.
*pure barre, modified for a bump.
*a breakfast fit for a Friday: millet, fruit, dark chocolate and peanuts.
*leading nursery at church, lunch with our boy after.
*dinner with family, reunited at last.
*an afternoon of Star Wars and sweatpants and a nap for the babes and for me, here at 26 weeks.

2/8/18

Dear little boy.

You'll be a big brother in just a few months, and already, you're so, so good at this gig. You seem to know what life will teach you over and over: a sibling is the best gift we could ever give you. Daily, you remind us that your "baby sister is coming", and smother my belly in kisses. This little one hit the jackpot in having you to pave the way and look out for her. 

But now, still, you're my little boy. The other day, you came down with a cold and I let you fall asleep next to me on the couch - you in your dinosaur pajama top and your chubby two-year-old feet tucked under my legs. I am still your resting place. You are still my wild. 

Working full time, I ask myself if I'm missing too much. If I've missed too much. If you'll grow up to be a man who wishes he'd had more of his mother's ear, or equates hours spent with amount loved. I hope not. I think not. Instead, you should know well how much you are thought of on commuter trains, in conference rooms, in a home office. 

You and your sister - you should know this. 

your mama

2/5/18

From our week

*a boy and his pup, and the bond that I've dreamed of.
*workouts indoors - cycling, a barre class, a new gym for me and the babe.
*a clean, white snow to greet us one morning.
*and city sunsets to color the evening.
*small home projects, finally completed.
*my boys, twins in their sleep.
*and Saturday mornings for lattes, for Bon Iver, for meeting with friends.

2/1/18

A finished kitchen.

With a new rug (thanks to my generous aunt) and completed backsplash, we've officially finished our kitchen, and it feels SO GOOD. Ask Blake, and he'll tell you that a big, fancy kitchen has never been something I've craved (exhibit A: our tiny kitchen in NYC, which I also loved) or that we've had need for. I still prefer small living spaces and limiting the "stuff" we accumulate. But this. This is the clean, white kitchen of my dreams.

Next on the renovation list: landscaping, finishing the basement, adding an outside door and moving my office downstairs. We need to clear out a space for this baby!