so this happened

swatch watch

mccormick and schmick's

republic happy hour

brunch at bread & chocolate - twice

drybar bethesda

georgetown cupcakes

lucky strike bowling

the friends

the family

the exhibit

If this, my friends, is forty, I'll take it. 

Keep sweeping, Martha

life lately

cherry blossoms on their way

my recent pastime

garden fun

only boring people are bored

Keep sweeping, Martha

the cruelest month

Things have not been going very smoothly over here at the Beeton household. Right now, we have this tally... Bridget Jones' style.

1 new car, 1 new car sideswiped

1 experiment completed, 1 cold room heat-up, resulting in the combustion of said experiment

1 stressed out toddler who "Doesn't want to go to the nanny share!!!!"

1 momma who is trying to juggle teaching her class, being a competent administrator, and writing an academic analysis of Betty Draper's parenting practices for a conference next week

And it's snowing. Again.

That's why - no matter what - on the only nice day in a while, you just have to head to Brookside Gardens. A little green makes everyone better.

Even if it was followed by projectile vomitting in the backseat of the new car on the way home.

Keep shoveling.

Martha

moody

I love the mood boards that home design bloggers often post to show their inspiration for certain rooms. In high school, I obsessively collected various home design magazines (Country Living was a favorite), clipping photographs of inspiring rooms and tucking them away in a folder. I still have that folder in one of the drawers of my desk, and I pull it out occasionally to see how my taste has - or has not - changed.

Though I have a mood board for the kitchen and one for the dining room, I didn't come up with one for Baby Beeton's room. Instead, I realized as I was putting pieces that I loved together that those pieces were the inspiration for the room.

The felt board the elves made for Christmas.

The Seattle print that Great Aunt K gave us one year along with a clementine box that I saved because I loved the colors.

The mini-rocking chair that Great Grandpa made with the seat cushion that Great Grandma made.

These items - with their navy, orange, red, and turquoise hues - are what has defined Baby Beeton's room. They dictated that I bring in an old yellow and aqua owl bank from Mr. Beeton's Grammy as well as Mr. Beeton's Snoopy bank from when he was a little boy. It's the reason why a photo of Ella and Baby Beeton rest on the side table next to a Westie plant potter that Mr. Beeton got me one Valentine's Day.

Slowly, the room is coming together. We have a radiator cover that we got on craiglist that we'll paint navy, the grating white. We'll stack books on top with these bookends. I'd love to get a Color + Plus turquoise lamp for the dresser. And these Superhero prints from Etsy. And a big wall clock like this one. Maybe a bird cage or two. And a crazy quilt for snuggling.

Decorating is the best.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Finished reading It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I Had a Baby, A Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita by Heather Armstrong.

in the middle of a snowstorm

a little self-shaming never hurt anyone

It's been a rough week here at the Beeton household. I've been transitioning to a new position at work. Mr. Beeton just got his spring class schedule and found out that he's teaching at exactly the time I am teaching on Tuesdays. We've been scrambling to find childcare for that afternoon. It's just been bleck.

Not to mention this...

What is that, you ask? Well, it's a certified mess. A few weeks ago we decided to transition Baby Beeton into the guest room and move our guest room into Baby Beeton's nursery. We were full of good intentions, but life got in the way. I feel like I need a shot of motivation to get this project going again, but I'm not sure how to do it.

And then I remembered people like Yuka. When I taught a course entitled "The Personal Is Political: Writing About Women's Autobiographies," I did a segment on documentaries. We watched Yuka's Fat Chance - a really delightful and thoughtful chronicle of her struggle to lose weight. At one point, she addresses the fact that it's a little nutty to document what she sees as shameful - her extra body weight. But, she laughs, a little self-shaming never hurt. My post here is in that spirit. Maybe sharing this photo with all of you will kickstart something here on Quackenbos Street.

Of course, right before I sat down to write this post, I went through the mail and found this:

Talk about adding insult to injury?! Now I have to go to the thrift store and look for an old card catalog to refurbish into a toy chest.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Lost in Translation. Watching Dexter: The Final Season. Finished Homeland: Season Two.

in the meantime

I saw a post today on Facebook about poetry. A friend of mine from graduate school had assigned another friend of mine from graduate school the poet Amy Lowell. The idea behind the assignment was that my second friend would then make her own assignments to anyone who liked or commented on her post. Reading these exchanges first and foremost brought back excellent memories of a study abroad trip to London (TOX02, Wagamama, weekend trip to Dublin, creepiness) - both friends were on that trip. But, it also got me thinking about poetry - something I rarely read now but read a lot of while living in the first state.

I posted Deborah Digges's "For Sylvia Plath." I hadn't read much of Digges and didn't know her tragic story, but of course, I'm a sucker for anything Plath. And reading that poem prompted me to re-read the poem that Plath wrote for her son, Nick. It resonated with me as I laid out the rug in Baby Beeton's big boy room and as I sang "Away in the Manger" to him tonight.

Keep sweeping, Martha

PS - I know that I owe a post about our trip to the Sixth City. It's coming. I promise.

Nick and the Candlestick

I am a miner. The light burns blue.   
Waxy stalactites
Drip and thicken, tears

The earthen womb
Exudes from its dead boredom.  
Black bat airs

Wrap me, raggy shawls,  
Cold homicides.
They weld to me like plums.

Old cave of calcium  
Icicles, old echoer.
Even the newts are white,

Those holy Joes.
And the fish, the fish—
Christ! they are panes of ice,

A vice of knives,  
A piranha  
Religion, drinking

Its first communion out of my live toes.  
The candle
Gulps and recovers its small altitude,

Its yellows hearten.
O love, how did you get here?  
O embryo

Remembering, even in sleep,  
Your crossed position.  
The blood blooms clean

In you, ruby.  
The pain
You wake to is not yours.

Love, love,
I have hung our cave with roses,  
With soft rugs—

The last of Victoriana.  
Let the stars
Plummet to their dark address,

Let the mercuric  
Atoms that cripple drip  
Into the terrible well,

You are the one
Solid the spaces lean on, envious.  
You are the baby in the barn.

Finished watching Girls: Season 2. 

we wish you

throwback tuesday - is that even a thing?

Mr. Beeton found this video the other day. It's precious. In retrospect, Baby Beeton was probably rooting, not kissing. But, we were new parents. Cut us some slack.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Hunger Grames.

* Originally, I published this post under the title "throwback thursday" - even though it was a Tuesday. Loooooong week.

the ketcheson gene

I saw this email today from BabyCenter and laughed out loud... in part because Baby Beeton had - earlier that day - pointed to a display case of insects at Mr. Beeton's school and said, "Look at those butterflies, Daddy." I also laughed because he earlier asked me, "What's the word for dog in Spanish?" Later today, we were talking about relatives. He said, "Momma, you have a Poppop. His name is Peanuts." So... I think we got the verbal thing down.

You need a helicopter to get them apples? I think you hear what I'm saying.

Keep sweeping, Martha

sleeeep

A few weeks ago I sent an email with the above subject line to the listserv for my moms' group. Baby Beeton had started to rebel. Nighttimes, as you know, were never easy with him, but in the last two weeks, he began to resist the crib mighty hard. (Being the offspring of parents both born under the sign of Taurus, his stubbornness isn't surprising.) And, now that he's extremely verbal, he could find the words to express his discontent in a way that pulled at my heartstrings. "My crib isn't comfy cozy!" he'd wail. He'd gotten used to sleeping in our "yummy" bed for naps. And, when he was in Pennsylvania for two wedding weekends, he slept in a grown-up bed there. I didn't really blame him. In comparison, the crib wasn't particularly comfy or cozy.

When I sent my message to my moms' group, I was looking for some tips to transitioning to a big boy bed. And, can I just say that my moms' group came through again?! My thread on gmail says there were twenty-five replies to my original post! Just one more reason that the Takoma Mamas 5 rock. Thank you, ladies!

So, we did it. We bought a mattress and a box spring from a little place on Georgia Avenue which should really market itself as a mattress store and indoor gymnasium for children. Baby Beeton ran and ran and ran around that showroom. We ordered crib rails. And, we set the big boy bed up in the same spot that the crib was occupying. We'll be getting a frame from Grammy who - like my mother - saves everything (thank goodness)! Baby Beeton has taken to his new bed like a champ. Tonight, he was playing with his figures (Green Lantern, Batman, Batgirl, etc.), and I heard him say, "Do you want to go up and sleep in my big boy bed?" So cute.

With this new transition, Mr. Beeton and I realized that we'll probably need to move Baby Beeton into the guest room and transform his nursery into an office. He needs more space. The sweetheart room - as our electrician called it - just won't cut it. Plus, I've got big plans for stars on the walls, this tent, and a pirate treasure chest which I will be making from a cool little piece of furniture our neighbor threw in the trash. Of course, I realized as I excitedly began planning this big boy room that I never posted pictures of our nursery. So, here they are! (Right before we took the crib down.)

Sleep tight and keep sweeping, Martha

A full shot of the room. Our electrician said that rooms of this size - which are common in this neighborhood - are called sweetheart rooms.

Baby Beeton's crib 

Our wall collage inspired by this collage over at Young House Love. You'll see Little Mr. Beeton and Little Mrs. Beeton, Tintin and Snowy, and Little Orphan Annie and Sandy.

The banner made by my very talented mother for my baby shower. And a make-your-own mobile off to the right, using alphabet cards like these given to us by Grammy.

A repurposed fruit basket from our old apartment, which housed tiny animals. A great distraction for baby while changing dipes.

Henry and Ribsy!

Another repurposed shelf - this time from the childhood bedroom of Little Mr. Beeton.

A little marble-topped table we found in our neighbor's trash.

What I thought was an insect door stop from my Great Aunt Mary... it's actually a boot remover, according to my father-in-law.

P.S. - My new favorite Baby Beeton saying... "I love you, Baby Beeton." "I, too, Momma."

putting the lonesome on the shelf

Last weekend, we had the pleasure of celebrating two of our favorite people - M & B! They were married in Bethlehem, and Friday, Saturday, and Sunday marked three days of fun with family and friends. There was a fabulous rehearsal dinner at Sagra in Hellertown with the cutest party favors - Granny Smith apples and Baby Ruth candy bars, packaged with an inscribed maple leaf. On Saturday, we had the ceremony at Peter Hall along with the reception at the Banana Factory. (Again, Sagra provided the food, and it was ah-mazing! As were all the little details that my mom and sister worked so hard to put together!) Then, Sunday, we gathered at Perkins - in true Peanuts Clay fashion.

One of the more challenging moments of the weekend was my giving my bridesmaid speech. At first, when I was asked to be the matron of honor, I refused to give a speech. It seemed way too intimidating. But, as the months passed, I realized that I wanted to honor my cute, funny, smart sister (Baby Beeton's quote) in some way. And, I also realized that doing things which make you uncomfortable can provide an opportunity for growth. I've had a couple of requests for my speech, so I'm posting it here. (Get inspired B - you're next!)

Good evening everyone. I’m M's sister, and on behalf of my family, I’m here to thank you for joining M &B as they collect the first moments of their married life together.

I thought I might begin by recognizing some of the impressive marriages on both M's and B's sides of the family.

In doing a little research, I found that on both sides of these families there have been some very long lasting, strong marriages, and it seems appropriate to give these couples a shout out.

To start, B’s parents – if my math is correct – will be married thirty-six years in April. M’s parents mark their forty-first anniversary in just a week or so. And, M’s grandparents who unfortunately couldn’t be with us today have been married sixty-nine years.

B’s grandparents – his Nana Marie who is here today – was married to her husband since 1949. And, Mr. R’s parents who are no longer with us were married in 1939. Finally, my Nana and Poppop who are no longer with us were married almost seventy years when my Poppop died.

You can see why, after reviewing this list, I was a little intimidated to offer my own marriage advice. I wasn’t sure what advice I – with my five years experience (Frank stands and corrects me, holding up six fingers) – could offer the newlyweds.

But then I realized that M & B are already familiar with the best metaphor that I can think of for marriage – that of the tennis doubles team. For a successful doubles team, you try to match up partners whose strengths compliment their partner’s weaknesses. You have to move together as one unit. You have to communicate. You have to celebrate the wins together and mourn the losses together. And what I’ve learned most recently in my marriage is that you have to realize exactly when you don’t have the strength to book it back to the baseline for that lob. And your partner, in turn, has know when to say, “I got it.”

Now, I know that there are a lot of expectations, given my profession as an English professor, for me to come up with the perfect quote that sums up what marriage means. So, I didn’t want to disappoint. I went through my volumes of Shakespeare, my Austen, and the Romantic poets in the hopes of finding that perfect quote. And, I found it. In a little known text, Orange Is the New Black, a Netflix original series. In this show, there’s a scene where the protagonist Piper is helping her best friend Polly get ready for her wedding day. While the two are talking, Polly shares her advice for a strong relationship. She notes that her soon-to-husband rarely gets angry when she puts her cold feet on him in the middle of the night. She also says that he always knows when it’s time to order Chinese food. But, it’s this quote that really resonated with me regarding M & B's relationship. Polly says:

“You have to find someone that you can spend two weeks with in a cramped time share in Montauk in the rain and not want to kill… He made jigsaw puzzles fun and competitive.”

And that’s when I knew. M & B. They’ve got this one.

So, raise your glasses as we celebrate M & B's new partnership. We love you. Best of luck.

I don't have many photos to share, but here are three of my favorites. If you're on Instagram, you can try #smithruthwedding. There are some super cute ones posted!

Keep sweeping, Martha

PS - A HUGE thank you to Grammy and Poppa for trekking up to the Little Town to watch Baby Beeton during the wedding festivities! It was much appreciated. We owe you a dinner (at least).

Finished watching Orange Is the New Black. Onto Homeland: Season Two. 

some type of way

We've been in some serious denial that summer is over here on Quackenbos Street. But, now that Labor Day has come and gone, I think it's time to face the facts - even if select splash parks in D.C. are still open. 

In these waning summer days, I noticed more and more people posting on Facebook about things that they were pleased to note they had finally crossed off their "summer bucket lists." I find the whole concept of a bucket list to be perverse (who wants to actively think about their impending doom?), but I did want to post about a few places that were especially special to us this summer - places that we visited more and more as the impending first day of school loomed.

Trohv - I cannot even explain the magic that is Trohv. If you haven't been, you need to hop on the red line and head on up there. After all, where else can you find an A-Treat soda bottle carrier that you'll transform into bathroom wall art? (Yes, you read that correctly.)

Pleasant Pops - This place was one of my most favorite summertime haunts - the pop shop! (Thanks, MB, for tipping us off to it!) When you combine it with a picnic in Meridian Hill Park, nothing says summer more. 

Van Buren Playground - Yes, folks. The playground is finally open! We'd been dreaming about it all summer, and I have to say that the final product is waaaay better than what we imagined. We spent so much time there the past few weeks that I think the maintenance men thought we had set up permanent camp in the little treehouse. And, again, when combined with a picnic... aaahhh. As Baby Beeton would say, "This is the life!"

AFI Silver Theater - How did we not know this was in our backyard? Mr. Beeton and I had a date night not too long ago (only the second of the entire summer... a crime, I know). We followed it up with a drink at Sidebar. I had a "Tennis Is More Interesting When You're Drunk" in honor of the U.S. Open. It had Pimm's in it, and you know how I feel about that.

Takoma Park Farmers' Market - We loved going to market all summer. Frequently, the much anticipated La Mano coffee bar would host pop-ups, and we could shop for fresh veggies while drinking cold brewed coffee. Baby Beeton loves, loves, loves the yogurt drinks and guitar player. And, this past week, we did our best to convince our former neighbors-now-friends that they really need to move here (please, please, please! we'll watch your cats when you take trips... er... I mean vacations).

When I think of summer 2013, these are the places that I'll think of... the places that make me "drop down to my knees, thankful for life today." If you can guess who made that quote famous, I'll buy you a cold-brewed coffee.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Watched Blue Jasmine.

 

just because i'm losing

Um... how did it get to be August 2nd?

I always have this feeling once August hits. No matter how much time summer offers, it never seems like enough. And, inevitably when August hits, I start to mentally list all the things I didn't accomplish. Book. Check. Article. Check. Conference proposal. Check. To be honest, I don't know where the time goes. It seems as though pre and post Baby Beeton this was always the dilemma. It's amazing how doing nothing takes up so much time.

I can't complain. I know. I'm privileged to have a stretch of time without teaching. To think. To research. To read. To write. To blow bubbles.

This morning, in an effort to remain positive, I tried to focus on the things that I did accomplish - the things aside from tent tea parties and trips to Opal Daniels Park. I remember when the summer started, saying to our babysitter, "When you come back in the fall, you won't even recognize this house!" I knew it was a bold statement to make, and as I look around today, I realize that she will, very much so, recognize this house - its broken dining room light fixture, the rooms yet to be painted, the cracked kitchen floor. But, I also know that there are a host of things that we did do that she might not notice but are significant... at least to me.

What follows is a list of summer time accomplishments...

1) A brick border in the front garden.

2) An organized front hall closet.

3) A painted downstairs bathroom.

4) A clean downstairs bathroom.

5) A new downstairs bathroom curtain - made by me (with turquoise ball trim!).

6) A newly hung Kate Spade shower curtain in the downstairs bathroom.

7) A chevron futon in the playroom.

8) A painted and organized desk.

9) New playroom curtains.

10) An organized closet for Baby Beeton.

11) New bedside table lamps in the master bedroom.

12) New bedside table lamp in the guest bedroom.

13) Newly hung hooks throughout the house to help with organization.

14) Back stairs demolished and new stairs on their way up.

15) Plus, countless smaller organizing projects to clear up living space!

To be honest, I think when people visit our house, they tend to forget just what we were up against. I forget what we were up against. I completely forgot that we had to cut our bed in order to get it up our narrow staircase. I blocked from my mind the night I filled the tub, and there were three dead roaches floating in it. Or the time when a dead mouse was discovered by Ruby in our couch. In focusing on our unpainted dining room, I forgot that we had to clear a significant amount of stuff out of our house from the previous owner, including such things as dirty magazines and forgotten underwear. Here's a few pictures of the severity of our initial situation.

I need to remind myself of these facts when I start to feel down about our lovable little money pit. Even though our basement doors downstairs are half painted, at least we have real carpeting down there and not fake green grass. And, while there may not be curtains hung in the guest room, Baby Beeton has a cute little nursery, lovingly painted by his parents. With no more mice.

Keep sweeping, Martha

Read Down Came the Rain by Brooke Shields. 

nothing to see here, sheryl

A few more moments of leaning back...

A tea party in a tent with a frog.

A picnic on the bed before nap time with a rabbit.

A swim in a pool with a dog.

A summer haircut (courtesy of Shampoo) with a cell phone and messenger bag.

And what I don't have documented is an extended Momma and Baby Beeton dance party last night after dinner, swimming and picnics at Prince George's Swimming Pool (thanks to A and C), celebrating new babies at Jackie's (can't wait for the newest bean to arrive!), and general summer malaise. It's been a heatwave, after all, Sheryl.

Finished reading Mary Higgins Clark's Daddy's Gone A Hunting. Finished watching Dexter: Season 7 and Top of the Lake. Started Veep. Still into The Killing.

Keep sweeping, Martha

birthday times three

Keep sweeping, Martha

later's better than never

Sheryl Sandberg would not be happy with me.

If she had walked by my house on Wednesday, she would have seen me literally leaning back in my plastic adirondack chair, my feet soaking in a kiddie pool, blowing bubbles like it was my job. Which it kind of is. At least for now.

I'm not sure I care, though.

(By the way, if you work with me, you might want to skip this post. I don't want you to think less of me for leaning back instead of leaning in.)

I first heard about Sandberg and her book from one of my students - an ambitious young woman with a internship in the office of a prominent Congresswoman. When the student enthusiastically explained the premise (her mother had given it to her as a gift), I internally raised my eyebrows. It sounded incredibly problematic for a number of reasons. Sitting there, facing this eager, young undergrad, I suddenly felt very old. I could see my past self in this student, voraciously consuming Sandberg's words as I carefully planned out my post-graduation future. But realistically, from my current perspective as a new mother, trying to balance going back to work with child care, Sandberg's manifesto seemed a bit oversimplified. Perfect for a wide-eyed co-ed. Not so applicable to a thirty-nine year old, first-time mother.

Admittedly, I still haven't read the book (though it is on my "To Read" list), so I could be totally wrong about Sandberg and her advice to young women. But, I have read the criticism, and it resonantes strongly. Elsa Walsh's response in The Washington Post was particularly insightful. At fifty-five, she thinks back on her children's early years and acknowledges while it seems all consuming at the time it's really just a small, wonderful blip on the screen - one that she wouldn't have wanted to miss, leaning in at work. Allison Stevens, who writes for We News, has a similar response to Sandberg; she notes that until domestic work is shared equally amongst partners in a household there's no sense in trying to do it all. You'll just end up more tired, more angry, and more disappointed in yourself.

In her column, Stevens notes that she's "leaning back" - a philosophy which I am readily embracing this summer, even though I have a nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that it might be career self-sabatoge. I still have a book to finish. But, I'm wondering now if turning two chapters into two articles would be more realistic. It would give me a lot more time for blowing bubbles, that's for sure.

In any case, I have to make peace with my career decisions this summer and into the future. Every time I think about exchanging an afternoon at the playground with an afternoon in the library, however, the playground always wins.

I keep reminding myself there are so many reasons not to feel guilty about being fully present with Baby Beeton this summer. As Walsh reminds, childhood is fleeting. And, if Baby Beeton ends up being an only, then I'll only have this one summer with a two-year old who finds such pleasure in butterflies, birdies, ice cream, and dancing to "Gangnam Style." Leaning back, in that case, sounds pretty darn good.

Some shots from our summer of leaning back.

A new favorite pastime - washing dishes (i.e. splashing, splashing, splashing!)

Hoops!

Matching shoes

A game of "whack it" - also knows as golf

One lump or two, teddy?

Keep sweeping, Martha