Sweet Sixteen

I know the sixteen-month birthday is nothing significant, but it seems like Soren does something monumental every day. So what better time to boast about my babe than now? (Also, I’m reeeally proud of myself for remembering to take pictures of him on his monthly birthdays, so I need to document them before I get more behind.)

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Soren is mostly non-verbal, but he signs like crazy. He has about 25 words in his signing vocabulary, so communication with this kid is mostly a breeze. He can tell us when he wants food or books, when he wants to go out, when he spies a duck or dog, etc. He’s said a few words here and there (mama, hello, bye, dada), but he gets a little defiant when we encourage him to talk, so we’ll stick with signs for now.

Soren was practically the last of his peers to start walking, but he finally decided he’d give it a try last week. I wasn’t worried about his disinterest in using his feet, but it was a little funny to see babies half his size cruising around. I’ll go with the opinion that late walkers turn into smarter kids.

One of Soren’s favorite games lately is hiding things. He’ll place a ball or pacifier or toy inside a drawer or under a blanket, then hold his hands up as if to say, “Where is it?” It’s pretty adorable. Sometimes things go missing for a little while — like Tim’s glasses — until we remember to check Soren’s hiding places.

If I’m sitting on the floor playing with him or reading to him, he’ll periodically crawl or walk over to me and put his arms around me for a quick hug. I hope he never gives that up.

I like to teach Soren to do things that we think are funny. For example, when I say, “Who’s cute?” he knows to point to himself. He loves to look at his reflection in the mirror, and he’s finally figured out who the other baby is. He’ll give himself smooches in the mirror, and sometimes I catch him playing a solo game of peekaboo. He also points to himself when he sees his reflection — maybe he’s double checking to make sure it’s really him.

He’s mastered most of his body parts and can point out his head, hair, ears, nose, eyes, mouth, teeth, tongue, hands, fingers, belly, feet, and toes. We’re still working on things like knees and elbows.

Reading to Soren is really fun. He’s particular about which books we read — I’m only about 50% successful in checking out library books he likes. He knows some of the books really well, and will often act out what’s happening on a particular page before I’ve read the words. So in “The Cat in the Hat,” he starts bouncing up and down when I flip to the page that says “And then something went bump! How that bump made us jump!” He also reacts to some parts of the stories in ways we don’t understand one bit. In “Hop on Pop,” he giggles and squeals when we read the pages about Pat. No idea why.

Soren is endlessly patient with some of the less-fun aspects of life that we put him through. We spend a minimum of five hours at church every other Sunday, and he complains less than Tim does. I was dreading our road trip to Virginia for Christmas, and I spent more time planning for the car ride than I did for the actual holiday. But he was an angel, only whining a bit in the last 30 minutes of the 10-hour day. As long as he has books and snacks and a few toys, he’s pretty happy.

He’s maintaining his stellar eating habits, for the most part. He has some days where he’ll turn his nose up at new foods I offer, but he has a mostly adventurous palate. His eyes light up when I mention Costco — he’ll try any sample available, and he gets pretty confused if we shop during non-sample hours. Like his father, his favorite food is pizza. Like his mother, he can polish off a package of raspberries in one sitting. Soren is still a big-time breastmilk lover and shows no signs of giving it up anytime soon.

Although I’m permanently tired and always behind on work, church responsibilities, and life in general, things are pretty great right now for our family. Now if only we could get Soren to sleep past 5:30 a.m….

From Baby to Toddler

Shortly after Soren’s first birthday, I walked into Gap and was surprised and saddened to see that their toddler section is designed for ages 1-5. They were telling me that my baby wasn’t a baby anymore! He was suddenly a toddler, and I couldn’t do anything about it. And he wasn’t even toddling! I had tears in my eyes.

But the birthday itself was non-emotional and lots of fun. In the weeks leading up to the day, I had felt a little pressure from Pinterest — some people pull out all the stops for a party the kid will never remember. Plus, I knew a huge celebration would not be Soren’s preference, so instead I made the day all about his favorites.

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I did want Soren to know it was an out-of-the-ordinary day, so I had a room full of balloons waiting for him in the morning.

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Birthday breakfast = breastmilk pancakes. Extra antibodies for everyone.

Thanks to Shutterfly for Soren's birthday plate.

Thanks to Shutterfly for Soren’s birthday plate.

Following our normal routine, Tim took Soren out for a morning walk while I worked.

Following our normal routine, Tim took Soren out for a morning walk while I worked.

A birthday walk is the best kind of walk.

A pants-less birthday walk is the best kind of walk.

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Tuesday playgroup at the park was a hit, as always.

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Tim quit work early to join us for a late-afternoon family pool party. Good thing, since the water was too cold for my liking.

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End of the summer, and Soren still isn’t sure how he feels about the pool.

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Party time!

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Then back home for dinner and cake in Soren’s fancy high chair. Maybe Pinterest did get the best of me. But it only took one afternoon nap to create, so I don’t feel too bad about it.

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Soren chose Boca Grande for dinner, plus peas and watermelon. What a life.

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And then, the moment we’d been waiting for! Would he touch the cake? (He definitely did want to touch the flame.)

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He wasn’t exactly sure what to do with it.

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I broke the cake in half to make it a little easier for him to work with. He took one taste and was sold. I stuck with my no-sugar-for-baby rule — the cake was healthy enough that I fed it to him for breakfast the next few mornings (bananas, applesauce, wheat flour, oat flour, etc.)

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Yep. He liked it.

Happy birthday to the best one-year-old ever!

Happy birthday to the best one-year-old ever!

 

My Happy Place

It’s November 1,  and we’ve already had a number of really cold days. Like last Saturday — it was 35 degrees! Miserable. But today was a magical fall day that almost felt like summer. It was warm and a little muggy from the rain, and I had flashbacks to the hotter, happy days of a few months ago — specifically July 20-27.

The Dickson family trip to the Outer Banks is pretty much the best week of the year. I could go on and on about my love for the beach (and the family!), but I’ll stick with photos instead.

We started our North Carolina experience with barbecue at Sooey's. Soren was thrilled with the pulled pork.

We started our North Carolina experience with barbecue at Sooey’s. Soren was thrilled with the pulled pork.

Page's kiddies were a little wary of the water on our Sunday beach walk.

We headed out for an evening beach walk as soon as we arrived in Rodanthe. Page’s kiddies were a little wary of the water and the wind

My little buddy, Faye.

My little buddy, Faye.

On our first day at the beach house, Soren watched four other babies (younger than him) crawl all over the place.

On our first full day at the beach house, Soren watched four other babies (younger than him) crawl all over the place. After weeks of rocking back and forth on his hands and knees, he finally made his move!

That face!

That face! Those eyebrows!

It’s always a little tortuous to arrive Saturday night and keep the whole Sabbath day holy. But we packed in plenty of beach time starting on Monday. I have no idea which photos were taken which days, so these are in no particular order.

It's always a little tortuous to arrive on Saturday night, then keep the whole Sabbath day holy. Our first real beach day didn't come until Monday.

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A certain someone wasn't quite as wild about the beach as I am.

A certain someone wasn’t quite as wild about the beach as I am.

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But he did have some happy moments with Tim in the ocean.

And in the pool.

And in the pool.

And when he would tire of the sun before we were ready to go in, we resorted to the pacifier.

And when he would tire of the sun before we were ready to go inside, we resorted to the pacifier.

Snoozin' Shauna.

Snoozin’ Shauna.

Faye

Faye.

Brooklee.

Brooklee.

Truman.

Truman.

Dallyn.

Dallyn.

BFF cousins and our babies (born just a week apart).

BFF cousins and our babies (born just a week apart).

Same people, different backdrop. Also, don't mind my lovely shell necklace. It was part of a game, but I was unable to remove it without scissors. And no one has scissors out at the beach!

Same people, different backdrop.

Kite flying.

Kite flying.

Kite flying.

Everett was our second child for the week. He rode in our car to and from Virginia, and Page named us his godparents. I could totally have two kids if one of them was Everett.

These babies were all born within a month or two of each other.

These babies were all born within a month or two of each other.

Holmes family.

Holmes family.

He never warmed up to the sand. He did fine in the ocean, at the pool, and on a towel or in a tent at the beach, but the sand was just too much.

He never warmed up to the sand. He did fine in the ocean, at the pool, and on a towel or in a tent at the beach, but the sand was just too much.

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Cousins!

Cousins!

Little family.

Little family.

We tried so hard to get a picture of Soren's immediate cousins. We were missing Isla in this shot.

We tried so hard to get a picture of Soren’s immediate cousins. We were missing Isla in this shot.

Sisters.

Sisters.

Dallyn.

Dallyn.

Wild times in the pool.

Wild times in the pool. Anyone know which cousin is flying through the air?

Sandy snuggles.

Sandy snuggles.

Just a little morning workout. Camilla is always the designated workout instructor, and this year's CrossFit routines were tough.

Just a little morning workout. Camilla is always the designated workout instructor, and this year’s CrossFit routines were tough.

Story time while waiting for dinner.

Story time while waiting for dinner.

Family talent show. This was Brooklee's act — she read a book outloud that required audience participation.

Family talent show. This was Brooklee’s act — she read a book outloud that required audience participation.

High chair city.

High chair city.

Cousins bonding over a smartphone.

Cousins bonding over a smartphone.

Caught in the act.

Caught in the act. Never thought I’d see the day.

More story time.

More story time.

Morning devotional. What a family.

Morning devotional.

What a crowd! I have no idea how many people were there. But I love them all.

What a crowd! I have no idea how many people were there. But I love them all.

We stayed in Virginia for a few days after our beach trip. One week is never enough family time.

We spent Sunday at Reagan's new house and finally got a picture of all the cousins (with Grandmama and Pappy).

We spent Sunday at Reagan’s new house and finally got a picture of all the cousins (with Grandmama and Pappy).

Nuclear family.

Nuclear family.

Reagan, have you painted your walls yet?

Reagan, have you painted your walls yet?

Another successful cousins picture. Where else but in Pappy's truck?

Another successful cousins picture. Where else but in Pappy’s truck?

And another.

And another.

Trampoline party.

Trampoline party.

Soren totally wants a trampoline.

Soren totally wants a trampoline. Someone else break the news to him that we don’t have a yard in Boston.

Shalom — Part ד (Four)

Well, this is it. I’m wrapping up our four-part trip journal only four months after our return from Israel. If I can write about our July beach trip and Soren’s August birthday before the end of the year I’ll consider my 2013 memory documentation a huge success.

We spent our last Israeli Shabbat driving north from Tel Aviv to Yavne’el, our home for the next couple of days. Along the way, we stopped at Caesarea, another one of Herod the Great’s elaborate endeavors.

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Caesarea — another coastal beauty.

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We spent a good part of the day exploring the ruins of Herod’s port city, complete with a palace, temple, amphitheater, markets, residences, bathhouses, pubs, aqueduct, and a man-made harbor.

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Ruins, ruins, ruins.

The mosaic floors remain.

The mosaic floors remain.

I'll tour any site that has views of the ocean.

I’ll tour any site that has views of the ocean.

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Those Israeli cats are EVERYWHERE.

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Chariot races at the hippodrome.

From Caesarea, we continued north to Tiberias for dinner. We made it to the Sea of Galilee right around dusk, so Shabbat was coming to a close and people were starting to materialize.

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These boys are just waiting for the sun to go down so they can let loose.

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We chose a restaurant that was right on the water. The weather was perfect for an al fresco meal. Soren didn’t seem to mind the pink high chair.

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I’ll just have a whole fish for dinner, thanks.

We knew we couldn’t check in to the Villa Ramona until well after Shabbat was over, so we killed some time walking the Tiberias promenade, which was definitely on the touristy/kitschy side. We eventually got back in our tiny rental car for the short drive to Yavne’el. It was after 9 p.m., so Soren was angry and wishing he was in bed, and Tim was in a panic about navigating since the battery on my cell phone was 99% dead. And we had received an email from our hosts saying that many of the previous guests were still in the process of checking out. All a little stressful for a vacation. So it was fitting that where we were headed was not a giant hotel or big-city apartment (like the two previous places we’d stayed), but a peaceful zimmer. None of knew what a zimmer was before arriving, but it’s the word the rest of the world uses to describe a private accommodation tucked away in the countryside. It’s where the Israeli urban-dwellers go for an escape from the hectic city life.

When we arrived around 10 p.m., Shmuel and Chana were still cleaning the suites after the previous tenants’ late departures, but they welcomed us with warm muffins and sliced watermelon. (Apparently, there had been a revered rabbi in town from New York, so everyone stayed late to have a moment with him.) Because we had to check in a few hours late, Shmuel and Chana offered us an additional zimmer for the duration of our stay. Jackpot.

In the morning, we were better able to check out our surroundings.

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Soren enjoyed his little alcove between the jacuzzi and closet. With that lovely pink partition in place, he had no idea we were sleeping right next to him.

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What a relief to be surrounded by greenery after so many days in the desert. Our patio and yard were ideal for relaxing outside. Note the Jewish star trellis.

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We ate all our at-home meals outdoors. Soren preferred to sit right on the table, mostly nude. I know I shouldn’t feel embarrassed to see him in a disposable diaper, but I sort of do. But cloth diapering on this trip would’ve been a nightmare.

We ventured to Mount Tabor (the Mount of Transfiguration) on our first morning in the north. We started late enough in the day that we needed lunch first. Turns out it’s not easy to find a restaurant when you’re in the middle of nowhere. Yavne’el had literally zero places open for lunch. On our drive to Mount Tabor we pulled off and drove through a couple of other small towns hoping to find something. Nothing. Eventually I spied what looked like an eating establishment behind a gas station. Winner! There was not a lot of English spoken there, but the food was excellent.

Another restaurant, another high chair.

Another restaurant, another high chair, another hunk of bread.

A few thousand years ago, we would’ve had to walk up about 4,340 steps to reach the top of Mount Tabor. Since we could, we decided to drive. The Church of the Transfiguration sits at the summit, and it’s divided into Eastern Orthodox and Roman Catholic areas. The gardens surrounding were nice to walk through. The views of lower Galilee were hazy, but pretty neat.

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Supposedly where the transfiguration occurred.

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Family photo at the summit. Soren wins for most photogenic family member.

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Vacation is all about finding any relatively flat surface for a diaper change.

On our drive back home, all the gas station ads for cool drinks got the better of me, and I decided to drink my annual soda. I don’t always drink Coke, but when I do, I prefer it to be from a foreign country.

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Just a regular old fuel station.

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Sweet soda selfie.

Our next stop was the River Jordan — a really beautiful but very commercial place.

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Pilgrims come from all over the world to walk in Jesus’ footsteps and be baptized here.

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Not the actual site where Jesus was baptized, but clearly good enough for the 600,000 annual visitors who come here. This place can accommodate 1,000 people at once. How’s that for a sacred baptismal experience?

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We thought about having Soren baptized while we were there, but we arrived after the last had taken place for the day. Also, it costs $10!

We then made our way to the Sea of Galilee for an evening dip. The beach area was quiet at 6 p.m. Just a few families swimming and smoking their hookahs.

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It was a bit chilly, so Soren, Shauna, and I stayed mostly clothed.

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Tim was the sole swimmer from our group. Just hanging out in the Sea of Galilee, like it’s regular.

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I can’t tell from Soren’s face if he was excited or terrified.

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Definitely happy about this.

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Dads are good for excitement and playtime, mamas are good for quiet snuggles.

Then back to Yavne’el for dinner — at one of the two restaurants in town. I’m not sure if we should even call it a restaurant. It was more of a shack. There wasn’t exactly a menu, and definitely nothing written in English. The lone man who worked there knew a few English words, and he was able to make some recommendations to us. To this point, nearly all our meals had been very similar — hummus, falafel, shawarma, etc. All tasty, but not a lot of variety. But this dinner was different and wonderful. We had pizza! And a couple of other items that were so good, but I have no idea what they were called. Delicious, flaky dough with hard-boiled eggs and gooey cheese, all dipped in tomato sauce.

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One of Yavne’el’s two “restaurants.”

The next day was our last day. There is something a little bit relieving about packing up to go home after nearly two weeks away.

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Grandmama and Soren time while Tim packed and I worked.

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Awkward family photo in front of our zimmer in Yavne’el.

We checked out of our zimmer, said farewell to our friends/hosts, and made our way south. We left the 100% Jewish town and spent most of the day in Nazareth, also known as the Arab capital of Israel.

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Sights along the drive. I don’t remember which town this was, but most of the communities near the highways look just like this.

After I accidentally attempted to enter a church that was for Arab males only, we found the Basilica of the Annunciation. This was one of my favorite sites of our trip. Sometimes I wonder if I was meant to be Catholic, because I’m a big-time Mary fan.

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The church was established at the site where the Roman Catholics believe the annunciation took place. Our Greek Orthodox friends argue it happened while Mary was drawing water from a local spring in Nazareth.

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The front courtyard and the walls inside the church were lined with dozens of mosaics commemorating Mary — each one from a different country around the world. Asian Marys and South American Marys and abstract Marys. All beautiful.

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This face!

But since most of our trip was about food, we made our way to lunch, following the recommendation of one of our guidebooks. Nazareth isn’t a huge city, and the old part of the city (where we were) seemed mostly reserved for tourists. So we weren’t surprised to find ourselves alone in the restaurant. Our private chef whipped up us his best dishes.

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We have some family friends in Virginia who lived in the Middle East for many years. Their home is decorated like this restaurant, and now I get why. It’s what everyone does in Israel!

Our last meal was traditional, but one of my favorites.

Our last meal was traditional, but one of my favorites.

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What we really came for was the dessert. Sweet little pancakes filled with goat cheese and nuts and cinnamon, then drenched in geranium syrup.

The meal left us full beyond belief (we decided to fill up before the long, long plane ride), but that didn’t mean we couldn’t go to the bakery to fill our suitcases with treats. On our way, we stopped in a little park so I could nurse the babe. While we sat, an Asian tour group entered the park with a very special-looking box. They all gathered round the box, and we were surprised to watch them releasing a pigeon into the air. No idea what that was about.

Time for sweets.

Time for sweets at Mahroum.

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All so pretty, all delicious.

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We brought home a variety of treats, including these shredded filo pastries. But nothing was as good as the classic baklava. My favorite.

I won’t write about the plane ride home, because it was 12.5 hours of misery. I think the photo below, taken during our short layover in Philadelphia, shows what we were feeling.

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The morning after being up all night. Ugh.

I swore I’d never get on a plane again, but I guess the bad memories disappear quickly since we flew to Virginia less than a month later. Now we can dream about our 2014 family trip to Europe (right Tim?).

Shalom — Part ג (Three)

On our last day in Jerusalem, we started off with a few goodbyes.

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Soren said farewell to his Israeli cot. Baby spent about half his sleeping hours in his own bed and half in ours. We’ve dabbled in co-sleeping since he was born, but it was extra fun in Israel since each of the places we stayed had king beds.

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Goodbye to our Ben Yehuda apartment.

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We entered Damascus Gate one last time.

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One last meal at Abu Shukri. Soren always dives in before we take the pictures.

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Hummus with meat, anyone?

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Ahhh, falafel.

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I had been craving pomegranate juice after seeing every juice stand advertising it. When we finally stopped to buy, we were informed that it wasn’t actually pomegranate season, so this particular juice shop wouldn’t sell it. Instead, we went with a delightful lemon/mint beverage. Soren settled for a smoothie pouch when we wouldn’t share our juice.

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Leaving the Old City.

Next we made our way to the Garden Tomb. Out of all the sites we visited in the Holy City, this was the only one that felt at all holy. It was peaceful and beautiful and maybe it really is the place.

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At the place of the skull — Golgotha.

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Lovely, right?

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The tomb — hewn out of a rock.

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He’s clearly pondering some deep thoughts.

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I feel a teensy bit sad that he won’t remember any of this. I guess we’ll have to just keep taking more trips until he does.

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A quick cab ride brought us to the BYU Jerusalem Center on Mount Scopus.

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I dream of pomegranate trees in my yard.

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Tim and Soren pretended to make olive oil. I wish I could’ve done the BYU Jerusalem study abroad, if only to make my own olive oil

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What a view.

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We walked through a less savory part of town to get to the Garden of Gethsemane. I’m choosing to believe this is not the true site where Jesus and his disciples prayed. It just wasn’t what I’ve always pictured.

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I expected the Garden to look a little more… rustic. And forest-like. Instead it was well manicured and tiny and you could only walk around the perimeter (the Garden was fenced in).

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This is East Jerusalem.

And then we raced home to pack our things, jump in a taxi, and head to the train station. Next stop: Tel Aviv.

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Roadside sites in Jerusalem on our way to the train station. Tim said he wants to live there.

Tim’s conference organizers arranged a room for us at the Tel Aviv Crowne Plaza, which was right on the beach. Like, the beach was literally two steps from the hotel’s back entrance. The accommodations were excellent, but having three adults and a baby in one hotel room is a little tricky. Especially when the baby sleeps in the bathroom, so the bathroom is off limits for much of the night.

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Soren knows he’s the king of our bed. Also, why is hotel artwork always crooked?

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The hotel had a lavish Israeli breakfast buffet for select residents (that’s us, obviously). We dined on fancy cheeses, eggs, pastries, fish, fruits and vegetables, yogurt, hummus, and more. Things were just easier if we left Soren behind (with my mom), but we made sure to sneak food for him from the buffet. Our bed became his dining room, and he saw no reason to avoid messes.

For our first Tel Aviv outing, we took a long walk to Old Jaffa.

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Tel Aviv felt mostly like any European city. Those palm trees give it a coastal vibe, even when you’re not next to the ocean.

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Lots of odd architecture in the city.

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Loved this one.

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These strange outdoor “gyms” were all along the beach.

Our destination was HaTachana, which is an old railway station that’s been converted into an outdoor shopping area with high-end boutiques and restaurants. But my favorite shop was just down the street from the train station.

You know how sometimes you go into a store and you feel like everything about it fits you perfectly? Like you could decorate your house using only items from that store? This was it for me. Soren posed for a few pictures.

You know how sometimes you go into a store and you feel like everything about it fits you perfectly? Like you could decorate your house using only items from that store? This was it for me. Soren posed for a few pictures.

Fun with Grandmama's hat.

Fun with Grandmama’s hat.

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We walked through Carmel Market on the way back to our hotel. It was mostly creative junk.

And then it was time for our first dip in the Mediterranean. And Soren’s first ocean swim ever!

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First he wanted to pose in his beach gear.

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Totally loving it.

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He wasn’t exactly sold on the whole ocean thing. He didn’t hate it, but he wasn’t dying to hang around.

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Still pretty wary.

We didn’t see much of Tim all day, and at night he had a dinner and tour to attend. So Shauna and I took a cab back to Jaffa to dine at Dr. Shakshuka.

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A co-worker had recommended this place to me, and it did not disappoint.

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Loved the zillions of pots hanging from the ceiling.

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This, my friends, is shakshuka. It’s a North African dish, and it sounds totally strange — eggs poached in a spicy tomato sauce. But it is absolutely divine. I can’t figure out why it doesn’t appear much on US menus.

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Soren thinks every meal should be eaten at a restaurant.

On day two in Tel Aviv, we headed to Jaffa again. This time our destination was the Jaffa flea market.

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I could walk for hours, as long as it’s next to a beach.

The market was fun, but I forgot that going to flea markets in other countries is partly sad because you can’t buy much. Why is it so easy to find perfect furniture pieces when you can’t take them home with you?

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But we did buy juice. Always juice. And Soren learned to use a straw! Grandmama taught him how, and as we walked around Soren would pull out his pacifier every now and again and stare Grandmama down until she would give him another sip. He’s used to his demands being met.

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During our walk home, our nice, quiet beach was overtaken by Tel Aviv’s 20th Annual Gay Pride Festival, with more than 100,000 people in attendance. We made it a pool day. Lucky for us, the hotel pool overlooks the beach, so we didn’t have to miss any of the action.

That evening Tim and I had an amazing dinner with his conference goers in a hip part of the city. I had been in a major panic about whether I should go, because I wasn’t sure what Soren’s schedule was going to be like. He’d been going to bed late — 9 p.m.-ish most nights. I put him down for a nap at 6 and decided, at my mother’s persistence, to join the dinner. I was a bundle of nerves the whole time. I was certain he’d wake up from his nap and be a total mess without his mama. As it turned out, he thought he was in bed for the night, and he never made a peep. Success.

The next morning, Soren said good riddance to his bathroom/bedroom.

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I’m baffled about the razor that is definitely within Soren’s reach. I made sure to keep it away from the crib. But I guess we have photo evidence that I’m a terrible mother.

We spent one last hour on the beach, then left the Crowne Plaza to head North for our last few days of the trip.

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Shalom — Part ב (Two)

Shauna and I started our Monday with a little Jerusalem education. Our tour of the Old City took us through 4,000 years of history, with rooftop views, a walk through all four quarters (Jewish, Muslim, Armenian, Christian), and breaks from the heat under lovely grape arbors.

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Allan was a delightful tour guide. He’s an Irish native who has spent the last 30 years in Jerusalem.

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Soren especially loved this mosaic map of the Old City.

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Breastfeeding break in a Greek Orthodox bookstore.

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Grape leaves make for beautiful landscaping.

Naturally, all that learning made us hungry, so we lunched at Lina — another top hummus spot in the city.

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Soren’s licking the first taste off his fingers.

After Soren’s afternoon nap we headed back to the Old City to walk the Via Dolorosa — the street that supposedly (but probably not really) marks the path where Jesus walked to his crucifixion.

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At Station 1, Jesus was condemned to death by Pontius Pilate. Don’t worry, I didn’t take pictures at all 14 stations.

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Just your standard Old City street. Some areas are bustling and crowded, others are dark and quiet.

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Jerusalem is the city of cats. Stray felines all over the place.

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The final stations on the Via Dolorosa are inside the Church of the Holy Sepulchre. The church is venerated by some (not me) as the site of the crucifixion and burial.

We capped off the evening with more Moshiko and ice cream, then spent the night dreaming of the full-day food fest Tuesday would bring.

The Machane Yehuda market was high on our list of spots to visit in Jerusalem, so we spent a good chunk of our Tuesday there. Tim found an amazing self-guided food tour online, so we bought our tickets and prepared ourselves for foodie paradise.

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We made sure to give Soren plenty of time to roll around on the floor of the apartment before stuffing him into the Ergo for the day.

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Heading out of our home, sweet home at 27 Ben Yehuda.

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This card was our ticket to deliciousness. The market is also known as “The Shuk,” and it has more than 250 vendors selling baked goods, fruits, vegetables, fish, meats, cheeses, nuts, seeds, spices, and even some textiles and shoes and clothing.

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Our first stop was Basher Fromagerie, apparently one of the top cheese outlets in the world. Many of the cheeses they offer are Israeli, but the shopkeeper also ventures to a giant wholesale market in the suburbs of Paris every month to maintain his supply of hundreds of varieties.

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Don’t be alarmed by these colors. The green wedge represents two of the greatest tastes combined into one — it’s pesto-infused gouda! The red is flavored with tomato. Heavenly.

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One of the most interesting tidbits of this part of the tour was the controversy between the cute cheese monger and her husband — apparently he hates the stuff!

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Next up was the land of spices. Pereg Tavlinim is more than a century old and contains more spices than I knew existed. There were towers of paprika that were taller than Soren.

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This man convinced me to purchase all varieties of spice blends. I’m not usually such a sucker, but he kept filling up bags and I kept buying.

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As we made our way to this juice bar, we figured it was just like all the others in Jerusalem. Boy were we wrong.

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We were pleased to meet the most lively character in all of Jerusalem — Uzi-Eli Chezi, i.e., the juice doctor, i.e., the etrog medicine man. We tasted three concoctions, all of which he devised using his ancient healing skills.

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We kept asking what this magical fruit was, and he kept telling us, “citrus!” Turns out it’s citron, or etrog in Hebrew. Separately, Soren was absolutely terrified of the juice doctor. When we took this picture, the medicine man let out a boisterous guffaw, and Soren burst into tears.

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But after I gave Soren his first ever sip of juice, he decided the man must be alright.

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Along the way, we feasted on the flakiest, most amazing cheese-stuffed Georgian pastry from Hachapuria.

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Soren was made to travel. Look at that face!

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After a few more stops, and just when I thought my stomach couldn’t handle any more, we arrived at Fishenchips (that really is the English translation they chose for their sign).

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Tim ate his mustard- and beer-battered fish while speedwalking around the market. Oh, the sacrifices we make to keep the baby asleep.

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We marveled at the wonders of the shuk as we walked off our lunch, regretting that we didn’t have a few more days in Jerusalem to keep exploring the hundreds of stalls.

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I don’t know what this is, but I want it.

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Soren must have enjoyed himself — on the walk home he would throw his head back and smile.

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Hands full of loot after a day well spent at the Machane Yehuda.

Tim had a dinner and tour to attend as part of his conference, so my mom and I went for an accidentally loooong walk (like, all the way around the walls of the Old City) to get to the Western Wall.

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We wrote our prayers on tiny slips of paper and stuffed them in the cracks of the wall.

Next post: Farewell Jerusalem, hello Tel Aviv!

 

Shalom — Part א (One)

Well, we did it. We flew halfway around the world, drove all over Israel, ate hummus for 10 days straight, and managed to keep our baby happy throughout the adventure. I better document this properly so Soren can one day see how spoiled he was as a baby. Here goes our massive trip journal.

The flight from Boston to Tel Aviv (with a brief stop in Philadelphia) was not the most fun thing I’ve ever done. International flights are bad enough when you’re on your own, but when you’re taking care of a kid it can be kind of miserable. Soren was a champ — he slept most of the time — but I found it impossible to sleep while holding him and trying to keep him asleep. So… we arrived in Israel feeling like we’d pulled an all-nighter. Our driver, Norbert, picked us out of the crowd of incoming passengers at Ben Gurion, and an hour later he dropped us off outside our lovely Jerusalem apartment on Ben Yehuda Street.

After a little unpacking and a nap for Soren, we headed to the Old City. Because it was Shabbat (Friday night), the streets were absolutely deserted. We saw very few people, and all the restaurants and shops were shuttered. A 15-minute walk brought us to the walls of the Old City, and we entered through New Gate. Our destination was the Western Wall, but apparently Google Maps doesn’t know anything about the maze that is the Old City. We wandered around for ages while I complained pretty much non-stop. I blame the sleep deprivation. We eventually found ourselves looking down over the Western Wall, so we observed for a few minutes then called it good.

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Friday night at the Western Wall.

My goal for the night was to nip that jet lag in the bud via a normal bedtime for the three of us, so I did a lot more whining as Tim’s attempts to navigate us home failed repeatedly. We eventually made it, but not before Soren fell asleep in the Ergo. And then I remembered that my plan for the entire trip was supposed to be “go with the flow,” so I put the grumbling to a halt and we all went to bed late.

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Tuckered out after a late night on the town.

If we had been anywhere else in the world we probably would’ve skipped church the next morning, but it seemed a little sacrilegious to play hooky in the Holy Land. So we dragged our tired selves out of bed and made our way to a cab stand, only to find that no one actually knows where the BYU Jerusalem Center is (and if you can find an address for it online I’ll pay you $5). Miracle number one of the day was making it to church with a driver who didn’t speak English and didn’t know where he was going.

Soren hasn't fallen asleep in our arms like this since he was teeny tiny.

A quick snooze in the taxi. Soren hadn’t fallen asleep in our arms like this since he was teeny tiny.

Our relief at arriving to church was upended when Tim realized he left his cell phone in the cab. We said goodbye forever to the Samsung, until miracle number two presented itself with a good-hearted driver who came all the way back to the building to return the lost goods. Phew.

After the service we snapped a few photos:

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During church I won the game called “find someone you know” when I spotted my good friend’s mother in the congregation. It’s a small Mormon world.

Beautiful Jerusalem

Beautiful Jerusalem.

Maintaining his plan to sleep at all the wrong times, Soren napped during church and was wide awake when we got back “home.” Since he’s cute, I forgave him.

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Loving life in Jerusalem.

And then we had a cuddle in the twin+twin=king bed. I don’t know what’s going on in Israel, but apparently that’s normal, since a number of vacation rentals we looked at showed beds like this.

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My face is screaming, “Let me take a nap!”

Since the rest of the town was still observing Shabbat (meaning everything was completely shut down), we spent the afternoon in the Muslim quarter of the Old City — their Sabbath is on Friday, so they were ready to party. We went straight to Abu Shukri, which is said to have the best hummus in Jerusalem. I don’t have the photos to illustrate, but it was an amazing meal. I never want to eat American-made hummus again.

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Soren could live on Middle Eastern food for life. Look at that post-lunch face — he’s in foodie heaven.

After sundown, the city came alive — people swarmed the streets, shop owners opened their doors, and the aroma of falafel and shawarma filled the area. What we thought was a quiet old city began to feel like any other bustling metropolis. At 9 p.m. or so, my mom appeared on our doorstep after her flight from Virginia, so we all went out to celebrate. With gelato.

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Not quite to the level of the gelato Italy has to offer, but as I always say, mediocre gelato is better than no gelato.

On Sunday we rented a lime green Chevy Spark and took off for a drive through the Judean desert. Our destination? The Dead Sea. Along the way — in the middle of nowhere — we stumbled upon a couple of road-side camels just waiting to be ridden. Don’t mind if we do.

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Soren’s first camel ride! The nice camel owner is approaching Tim to tell him (in his very limited English) to hand the camera over to someone who knows what he’s doing. The guy then proceeded to take a ton of photos for us.

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Probably the tallest animal I’ll ever sit on.

After a quick lunch of Israel-style fast food (hummus, falafel, salad, and french fries in a pita) we moved on to Masada, Herod ‘s palatial desert fortress. We hopped on a cable car and flew a thousand feet up to the ruins (with our ears popping all the while).

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That Herod the Great was one crazy man. Who builds a palace at the top of a cliff in the middle of the desert?

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Family picture inside the walls of the 2,000-year-old fortress.

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Soren is either asleep or passed out from heat stroke. Pretty sure it was well over 100 degrees on that plateau.

After sweating, sweating, sweating at Masada, it was time for a swim in the Dead Sea. But when I say swim I actually mean float. That is one salty body of water. Mineral Beach was our sandy spot of choice, and we arrived late enough in the day that we practically had the place to ourselves. (We did enjoy the entertainment from an Australian-sounding family, however. Upon entering the sea and feeling the effects of the salinity, one of their teenage boys began yelling, “My balls! My balls!”)

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Soren loves being able to say he’s been at Earth’s lowest elevation .

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It takes zero effort to float in this 34% salinity sea (that’s about nine times saltier than the ocean).

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We donned our throwaway swimsuits and got all muddied up. I was hoping the magical minerals in the Dead Sea mud would cure all my imperfections. Worth a shot, right?

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Any day that includes the beach is my favorite day.

After a full day of serious tourism, we rewarded ourselves with dinner at Moshiko, which ended up being our most favorite food spot on Ben Yehuda street. I think Tim ate there four of the five days we were in Jerusalem.

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Falafel, shawarma, and schnitzel — oh my!

Naturally, I topped myself off with another gelato that night, and that wrapped up our third night in the Holy Land. And since this post includes about 20 photos, I think it’s time to wrap this up as well. To be continued…

My Week

Tim and I aren’t known to go all out for holidays, but last week was extra special since two whole days were all about me — Mother’s Day and my birthday.

My Mother’s Day began with a failed attempt to sleep in. Soren is often up and at ’em around 6 a.m., and even when Tim whisks Soren away to let me keep snoozing, I often just can’t do it. It’s terrible. But things got better when Tim whipped up my dream breakfast — eggs Benedict. This year he served the perfectly poached eggs, prosciutto, and Hollandaise on homemade popovers. Divine.

First official Mother’s Day means the start of a new family tradition — taking a photo of me, the mother, with my baby (or maybe multiple babies, someday).

Next up was my birthday, with another early wake-up call (this time by my alarm, not Soren). But at least I had a pile of chocolate next to my computer to welcome me to the work day.

I’ve never come across a Trader Joe’s dark chocolate item I didn’t love.

Tim had to do boring stuff during the day, like defend his dissertation proposal and host a reading group, so Soren and I went out on the town.

My dreamy lunch date.

We shared a sandwich for my birthday lunch at the park in Copley Square, then basked in the sunshine for a little while.

I’m still getting used to sharing my food with this little person. He always eats more than I’m expecting, even when the mushrooms are covered in a spicy mustard.

When Tim finished up at school he hopped on his bike and met us downtown. Good thing, because I needed someone to snap our photo.

My perfect day always includes time in the sun.

The day was a bit brisk, so our next stop was Burdick’s for a little hot chocolate — only the richest and most divine dark hot chocolate on the face of the earth. It was our first visit to the Back Bay location, so we celebrated by also picking up a treat for later in the night — a loaded brownie with lots of walnuts and ganache.

Soren fell asleep before we made it to Burdick’s. He must have known he wasn’t getting any of my hot chocolate.

Soren dozed off in my carrier, so Tim and I wandered down Comm Ave. and through the Public Garden. I’ve never seen the park looking so lovely.

We finished off the night with dinner at home from Esperia, and Tim gave me the presents I had picked out for myself a few days earlier — new cookie sheets and a deviled egg tray from Crate & Barrel, and a bundle of glass bottles from IKEA. Happy 31st to me!

Life Lately

Sometimes when Soren is sleeping and the house is very quiet, I miss him. I might not have said that when he was four months old and his naps never stretched beyond 30 minutes. But now that he’s a champion napper, the longer absences are making my heart grow fonder.

During times like these, I often take little breaks from my work or whatever I’m doing in the kitchen to look at pictures of him or watch a few of the many videos taking up space on my phone. It’s an especially nice diversion from the not-fun tasks that should be demanding my attention, like cleaning the enormous pile of oatmeal, pears, and fried rice beneath Soren’s high chair. So, to keep myself away from that mess for another few minutes, how about I share some of our latest happenings in photos. (Warning: Most of these photos have been Facebooked and/or Instagrammed, so sorry if this is old news.)

A month ago we ventured to Newport for the day. I was nervous about how Soren would react to a full day away from our home base, but he was a dream — snoozed all the way there, took a few mini naps in the Ergo while we toured mansions, and slept part of the way home. In between, he was as happy as the clams we ate for lunch.

Marble House might be my latest favorite Newport mansion. During the audio tour I literally laughed out loud multiple times about Alva Vanderbilt’s shenanigans.

Soren tasted his first bite of lobster at Flo’s Clam Shack. I wouldn’t let him near the rest of the food, though (fried, fried, and more fried).

Our fair city’s Patriot’s Day (otherwise known as Marathon Monday) got turned upside down this year. We live about a five-minute walk from the course, and five miles from the finish line. We waited to go watch the race until Soren woke from his afternoon nap, and we arrived just as the runners were being told they couldn’t finish — two bombs had gone off downtown, and everything was chaotic and unknown at that point. We watched the news for a little while from a nearby restaurant, then walked back home while checking for updates on our phones. I was glued to the news for days after, especially on Friday — the day of the manhunt and lockdown. On Saturday morning, everything felt fresh and new around the city. As Mayah Menino said at the interfaith service earlier that week:

“I’m telling you, nothing can defeat the heart of this city. Nothing. Nothing will take us down, because we take care of one another. Even with the smell of smoke in the air … and blood on the streets … tears in our eyes … we triumphed over that hateful act on Monday afternoon. It’s a glorious thing, the love and the strength that covers our city. It will push us forward, it will push thousands and thousands and thousands of people across the finish line next year. Because this is Boston, a city with the courage, compassion and strength that knows no bounds.”

Even the MBTA showed its support.

Soren told Tim how he felt about being cooped up in the house during the manhunt for the marathon bomber — barf, barf, and more barf. I have yet to get the stains out of that shirt.

Our trip to Israel is a go, so we ordered a baby passport for Soren. If you think the post office is a dreary place to be, just bring in a really cute baby. All the workers are crazy about him.

I’m convinced there’s never been a more adorable passport photo in the history of the world.

Soren continues to amaze us with his love for food. (And I continue to take lots of pictures and videos of him eating because I think it’s so fun to watch.) I know not every baby takes to food so quickly, but I’m on a personal mission to share the idea of baby-led weaning with the world. I believe that is the single reason mealtime is so great for us. Over the last two months he’s eaten many foods I didn’t try until I was in my 20s. He gets pretty much whatever we’re eating now, and while he does have preferences (he’ll drop the carrot in his hand if I put a spoon full of cottage cheese/tomatoes/basil on his tray), he has yet to refuse anything outright.

He’s also gotten to the point where he’s fun to have around at meals outside the home. We attended two great barbecues this weekend, and he didn’t hesitate to grab my grilled chicken/pesto/spinach on ciabatta and dive into it. He tried watermelon and pineapple for the first time and loved both. We got burritos at our beloved El Pelon yesterday, and he sampled some beans, tortilla, and plantain. Then he realized the plastic utensils and paper food trays were even more fun to play with, and I was secretly glad to not have to share my food.

This picture perfectly captures my life right now — Soren in his high chair, with a pile of freshly washed diapers behind him. Food and poop. That’s my life.

The mess on his tray may not look super appealing, but Soren loved it. I think I see lasagna, carrots, and zucchini there.

After months of coveting beautiful rockers/gliders (if only I had $1,000 to just throw around on one of these) for Soren’s room, I finally gave up my dreams and decided to do a little DIY. I checked Craigslist religiously for a chair that wasn’t hideous and was thrilled to see this one pop up one day — for free! I ditched the previous owner’s cover and got to work painting the upholstery underneath (mixture of paint, textile medium, and water). Three coats (and a couple months) later, I have a chair I actually like! I did some more IKEA hacking with the spice-rack-turned-bookshelves behind the chair. It’s the most decorating I’ve done in years.

Our next step is to use the green polka dot fabric to sew a pillow cover. So as not to overdo myself with all this craftiness, I think I’ll wait until my mom is in town in two weeks and have her do it.

A few weeks ago we took our inaugural trip of the year to Kimball Farm. Tim rode his bike, and Soren and I drove up to meet him there. (We’re on a hunt for a bike trailer so we can all go together.) We tried a new flavor, for once, and I think it’s a keeper — the caramel cashew chip is great with our old standby, chocolate peanut butter. Soren ate a banana and had no idea what he was missing.

Bliss.

Soren did seem to notice we were eating something different than him. But he was satisfied after I gave him a spoon to use with his banana.

Relaxing Sundays with loads of downtime are a thing of the past. Tim leaves for church a few hours early to ride his bike to meetings at the chapel, so Soren and I hang out on our own and then meet him there. Our congregation began meeting from 1-4 p.m. this January, so some of the little kids are sleep-deprived by the end of church after skipping their afternoon naps. The time doesn’t make much difference for us since Soren needs a morning and an afternoon nap (and quite often takes a third nap). During the second hour of church Soren plays in the clerk’s office with Tim while I teach a Sunday School class about family history. During the third hour Soren starts to get the sillies as he gets more and more tired. His talking and giggling make it really difficult to pay attention — he’s just too fun. As soon as we get in the car to drive home, his eyelids start drooping and he’s asleep in no time.

Sunday snooze.

We go outside quite a bit more now that it’s somewhat warm. Soren seems to understand that outdoors is more fun — he starts kicking and smiling when we walk out the door.

Spring has sprung.

At the risk of becoming one of those stage moms, I’m seriously considering turning Soren into a baby model. I know all parents think their baby is really cute, but based on unsolicited feedback we’ve received, ours is exceptionally good looking. If we can make some money off of our offspring, I’m all for it.

When I hold up the camera, he starts smiling.

 

Have Baby Will Travel

Although we have yet to purchase plane tickets, our little family is headed to Israel in June. Tim will attend a sure-to-be-thrilling conference about risk adjustment, and Soren and I will run around Tel Aviv and eat a lot of hummus. I keep meaning to scour the internet for tips on traveling abroad with a baby, but so far I’m banking on my overly optimistic view that the whole trip will be a breeze. Fifteen hours of travel? No big deal. Seven-hour time difference? Soren can handle it. I think my (over)confidence comes from the great successes we’ve had with other trips we’ve taken since Soren was born. Our upcoming vacation is obviously  a bigger deal in pretty much every way, but “go with the flow” is going to be my modus operandi.

To maintain my “blog as journal” plan, how about a recap of our travels since we became a family of three?

Soren’s first venture out of state came at five weeks old when we made the long drive to Virginia for Gram’s funeral.

Is this my baby? Was he ever really that teeny?

My favorite boys in my favorite state.

I love my family.

When Soren was just shy of three months old, we gave Virginia another go. I hadn’t been home for Thanksgiving in at least a decade (after I left home for college, my Thanksgivings were spent all over the place — many years in New York, once in Mexico, once in Las Vegas, and a few in various parts of Utah). Yet again, Soren was a dream baby on the drive to and from VA.

This is how Soren makes the most of his travel time.

When he wasn’t sleeping, he was smiling. Except for the part where we were stuck in traffic on a bridge and he was hungry. Then he screamed.

Soren loved swimming in Grandmama’s big sink.

We took lots of walks with the little girls. The twins like to race down the hill on their scooters, then play dead in the street. Don’t ask me.

Thanksgiving day at the Taggs’ house was a joy, despite the look on Soren’s face.

Soren loved his first hike on the Appalachian Trail. He needed a rest at the shelter, though — hiking is hard work.

A month later, Soren took his first flight. I’m a big whiner when it comes to Missouri travel since the flight is followed by a looong drive, but Soren handled it well.

First flight with my babe.

Tim has the magic touch. (It helps that the airplane provides some nice white noise and just the right amount of turbulence.)

Love those post-nap red cheeks.

The halls were decked.

The governor’s sweet wife came over to read stories to Soren.

Soren wasn’t quite sure what to do on Christmas morning.

Playtime with his great grandpa. Could he be any cuter?

We kidnapped Soren’s cousin London for one of our walks. We could totally handle twins.

In March Soren and I took our first solo trip. When I bought my plane ticket I was a little nervous about being Soren’s sole caretaker for five days, but it ended up being surprisingly easy. Easier than being at home with Tim, in fact. Turns out life is pretty fun when you don’t have to think about work, cleaning a house, preparing meals, etc. and can instead spend every minute just cuddling with your baby. Texas was a real delight.

Since Camilla moved from Brooklyn to Dallas (and since I had a baby), my New York visits have pretty much come to a halt. Seeing Camilla and Linsey (and their combined five kiddies) in the sunshiny South was heaven.

We loved the Dallas Arboretum. Tulips galore. Soren enjoyed it for about 30 minutes then quickly fell asleep on my chest.

Soren was like, “What’s this enormous space you call a yard?” We’re not accustomed to such luxuries in Boston.

I needed another kid to snuggle with while Soren was napping, so Ruby joined me on the couch.

We ventured downtown for an afternoon at the park, including sushi and ice cream sandwiches from the food trucks.

It’s extra fun to push a shopping cart around Costco when you’ve got two cute babies in front of you. Soren tried to snitch Ruby’s samples more than once.

And, 23 photos later, that’s our recap. Now it’s time to think about Israel in June, the Outer Banks in July, and maybe a few days in Montreal this fall?