Look at us, all grown up.

This may be our new house...

...and these may be the new wheels...

Of course that could all change when we get back from Vegas on Friday. We may decide to go with something of this nature...

Time, and one heck of a winning streak, will tell.

Tips from the other side

Okay, so...here are the key things to know for your next move, fresh from a newly-minted expert:

Instead of three or four hours to load a two bedroom apartment into a truck, it takes approximately ten hours, three men, one woman, no toddlers, three breakfast sandwiches and surprisingly little coffee.

If you are planning to drive a U-Haul out of New York City, plan a route ahead of time that allows commercial vehicles. DO NOT leave at rush hour, hoping that your trusty GPS factored your "commerical status" into her plans.

Lock the gate at the back of the truck.

If you've neglected to do so, have someone driving behind you who can stop traffic and gather all of the items that begin spewing from your oh-so-expertly packed vehicle approximately two blocks into the trip.

When you find yourself driving along at two o'clock in the morning, seven hours into a seven hour trip with at least three hours and one border crossing to go, debating the merits of stopping for the night or pushing on...stop for the night.

If you will be traveling "caravan-style", establish rules to be followed for the drivers. For instance, if - hypothetically - one driver has to pee and wants to zip quickly off of the road without informing the other, thinking she can probably catch up to a slow-moving U-Haul pretty easily, decide whether or not that will result in a panicked husband suffering a complete emotional and physical breakdown and proceed accordingly. Also, determine situations in which a 911 call is, or is not, warranted.

Here's a good one: Let's say you've been living in the United States for about two years and are now returning to Canada. Did you know that you must have an itemized list of EVERY ITEM that is returning with you, along with its estimated value, for the perusal of the customs folks? And let's say you *forgot* to compile that list prior to your attempt to return across the border. Well, in that case you'll be parked at the inspection office for some time compiling that list. Bring snacks. Side note: Toddlers squatting mid-office to enjoy an embarrassingly long poop session are surprisingly well tolerated.

Oh, I know: Book a storage unit before rolling up to your city of storage choice. Also, pick a reputable company. Sure, they might tell you on the phone that they NEVER run out of spots...but they might be lying. And very few people will actually disclose to you over the phone that their units are flooded. People can be quirky that way.

Unpacking a truck takes approximately eight hours less than packing it.

The good news? All people, vehicles and belongings made it back across the border in full working order. Minus one shopping cart.

Until next time, New York!

We went to the Top of the Rock to say our goodbyes.

Shades just seemed appropriate.

We're baaack...and then we're leaving again.

I should be packing, but this will just take a minute.

We got back from Santa Fe on Saturday, after - as predicted - ALOT more shopping and ENDLESS amounts of eating. Even with the extra half-suitcase that Jeff so wisely accounted for, we still needed to pack a box. I tell you, that Sandra is a baaaad influence...

Notes:

* The desert is dry. Santa Fe is in the mountains. Nosebleeds happen. Bring kleenex.

* If you go to a casino one day and win, don't expect it will happen again the next day.

* New Mexican food is really, really good. But try to lay off it a little the night before a looooong day of       being trapped in a metal capsule.

* When it rains in the desert, it has the exact opposite effect on the general population as it does in more temperate regions. Read: elation.

* Toddlers don't respect manicures. They're going to want to touch your purple nails.

* If your toddler tells you that her belly is sore while riding in the car, DON'T proceed to feed her berries and yogurt.

Amazing Anecdote:

Our flight home involved a stop in Chicago with no plane change. That made for 7 1/2 hours on a plane. With a toddler.  E snacked and watched Toy Story on the first flight, then fell asleep while we taxied before take-off on flight number two and had to be woken up when we landed. True story. It was the most relaxing day I've had in months.

What's Next?

J and I have been the picture of determination in our efforts over the last two days to complete our packing. We're nearly there. Our wonderful friend Dr. N arrived this evening and insists on being shown the sights in the Big Apple before selflessly offering to drive our beloved daughter back to our native land. We will oblige him. And then on Friday, with mixed emotions, we will leave our tiny little apartment in our lovely corner of Brooklyn, and head for cooler, and most certainly greener, pastures.

I'll try to stop by the blog and throw up a picture or two before then, but please bear with me. Packing is a bitch.

Family Vacation!

Just hours after stumbling home from a most sublime, most indulgent dinner to end all dinners, the Cowfam piled into a car and headed for the airport.

We're On Vacation!

Now that my husband is no longer a student, and not yet gainfully employed, it's time to live a little and enjoy all of this free time.  So we headed to Santa Fe for a little extended family visiting, high altitude living and just plain old relaxing.

We're three days in, with four to go, and it has already become apparent that we will have no desire to return home to our boxes in Brooklyn on Saturday. Sunday was spent shopping our hearts out in Target and frolicking in a sculpture garden. Yesterday we drove to Taos, ate New Mexican food, shopped, shopped, shopped and made animals out of pipe cleaners. E has spent every morning "making art" before breakfast. This morning we had to opportunity to explore a 10,000 square foot mansion in the mountains in Gene Hackman's neighbourhood. It had a guest house and - get this - pilot's quarters. Yes, it did. Over the next few days we have plans for lots more New Mexican food, a children's museum, a wildlife sanctuary, and maybe story time at the library (I'll leave you to guess whose suggestion that was). And I'm willing to bet we'll end up shopping a couple more times. There's this woman I'm related to by marriage, an absolutely fabulous woman by the name of Sandra, whose mere presence fills me with an insatiable desire to spend money on pretty things. I love her dearly, but my wallet recoils in fear at the sound of her voice.

Also, it took a trip halfway across the country to discover Trader Joe's Orange Cranberry scones. Do yourself a very big favour and seek them out immediately.

A Day Worth Celebrating

Today was J's last day of medical school. He is now a Dr. Dr. But the significance of this day requires a little more explanation, I think.

This September will represent the first in 15 years that he will not return to University.

This September will represent the first in 30 years that he will not begin another school year.

Wow.

That deserves a celebration. So we went to Daniel. And dropped ALOT of money. It was delicious. It was wonderful. We paid for 2 desserts and we got 5. That's a successful dinner if I've ever had one.

Goodnight.

NEWSFLASH: Parenting is hard.

Is it just me, or are there a lot of articles out there these days that sound like this. Or this.

I'm going to be perfectly honest here. When I see these headlines, my very first instinctual reaction is: Tell me about it. Then, of course, I feel guilty and think about how much I love my kid and how lucky I am and all that yadda yadda that people do when they're afraid they've revealed their true inner monster.

Today I got to thinking...what is it about our generation that is so terribly ambivalent about parenthood? The obvious answer is that roles have changed over the years, and you now have women with careers and men with more paternal responsibility, and it's only natural that living in our "want it all" culture leads us to inevitable disappointment and frustration when we can't have it all.

But then I started thinking more (I had 2 1/2 hours of alone time today. My brain surprised me with all kinds of thoughtful thinking.) and it struck me that people probably haven't changed all that much over time. Fifty years ago when women were almost exclusively in the home, running a household and raising children, I don't really think that every single one of them felt completely fulfilled and at peace with their lives. Or anyone else for that matter. I think that from the beginning of time, people have been frustrated by their situations and longed for better circumstances. In fact, I'd say that's the only way a species can advance.

Sooo...(Seriously, my brain hasn't had this much exercise in...a long time), why do you suppose that we hear so much more about parental dissatisfaction these days? The moms and dads from my childhood, including my own, seemed happy enough, and by all accounts our grandparents were the picture of domesticity and hard work. So what happened to us? I'll tell you. We're whiners.

Yes. You. Me. We complain to our friends, we complain on Facebook and on our blogs, we complain to our children and to our bosses. We complain to our mothers and fathers, we complain in books and newspaper articles. We are obsessed with venting every feeling and frustration we experience in an effort to a) gain sympathy and b) be reassured that we are not alone in our self-pity.

Our parents didn't do that. Okay, maybe they did it a little, but they didn't have the internet to fan the flames. I'm fairly certain our grandparents didn't do that. Who had the time, with ten children and no washer and dryer? I'm quite confident that from the beginning of time, moms and dads have felt put upon and underappreciated for their own, unique familial roles, regardless of how those roles have changed. But we are just now becoming comfortable voicing our displeasure and feeling justified in our malcontent. We feel that we should be happy all the time, and when we aren't we need a scapegoat. Those damn kids. If I wasn't saddled with them I'd...I'd...

Well, guess what? The childless are unhappy too. As are the employed, the unemployed, the wealthy, the poor, the blondes, the brunettes...you get the idea. Maybe if we all stopped buying into this mass pity party, we could take that energy and focus it on improving our situations. Who's with me?

Maybe I'm being alienating here, and it's not my intention to be, but I also think that people need to form opinions and not be afraid to state them at the risk of offending others' sensibilities. There's tolerance, there's respect, and I'm all for both of those things. But there's also two sides to every story, or perhaps more, and a whole lot of perspectives to consider. I'm just sayin'...

Naptime Poetry

I remember you
From another time
Freshly inked with independence
Full of plans that had no time to be made

I saw you then
As I see so many others
Glamorized, idolized
With a place for me somewhere in the fallacy

I hoped, I chased
I put on a show for you
You bought a ticket
You didn't leave when the curtain fell

But I forgot to take off my mask

I remember things
You
Trying
Saying the right things

I remember hearing them
Too late

It was all a show
And when it ended, I didn't notice
The lights turned on
The audience left
And I stood there
Looking at you

Big Sister, Little Sister

I think Elle is going to be a wonderful big sister. Someday. (Relax, mom and dad, that wasn't an announcement.) What I know she won't be is a little sister. That's just how it works when you're the first. But she gets to play the role whenever she visits her wonderful friend Gracie. Gracie is expecting her new little sister in the next couple of months, and I can't think of a luckier spot to be in than to be Gracie's little sister. This girl was born to be a big sister. She's kind, she's gentle, she's patient, and whenever my daughter sees her, her whole body lights up. E doesn't generally like to be told what to do, or to get help with something unless she asks for it. Unless it's Gracie. Gracie's mom is pretty special too. I'm going to miss these two something awful.

Best sushi I've ever tasted

Ki Sushi, Brooklyn


Ki roll: tuna, salmon, yellowtail inside, topped with spicy crunch king crab, avocado, caviar and gold leaf