Tales of Me and the Husband

bringing a summer dress into fall.

{dress: asos}
{sweater: downeast basics via zulily}
{boots: famous footwear}
the weather lately can change a good twenty degrees from morning till evening.  sometimes more!  or the house feels chilly and you step outside and discover, but always too late, that it’s actually quite warm and those leggings that are definitely a necessity as the dress you’re wearing is too short are now too much, too warm.  you’re that girl dressing like fall but wondering if those around you are thinking, “really boots-girl, really?  are you sure we’re there yet?” as they flip-flop around in shorts.  that was me last night.  but, my parents were in town for a hot second as they returned from a sailing trip in camden, maine (retirees… they suck.) and we ended up meeting them and my sister’s family for dinner on the water well into the evening.  so, bam, i ended up being grateful for my not-quite-summer-but-not-yet-fall attire (that last phrase makes me think of britney’s i’m not a girl not yet a woman, by the way).  i can’t say the look was nailed, but close?  i will say, however, that i’m obsessed with the print on this dress.  and it’s on sale!

enfp to infp.

(*Something an ENFP would do; not an INFP.)

I knew it!  I KNEW IT.

The Myers-Brigg personality test.  So, you’ve seen people mention it on blogs and such and it just felt like such a commitment to retake the test (who has ten spare minutes?!).  So, I never did.  But finally my curiosity got the best of me and I said, “Bridget!  Take the damn test!”  (Jenni’s post was the most recent one I read on the subject.)  Basically I remembered being an ENFP in high school.  And I just had an inkling that this was no longer the case.  I just felt less E.  I felt more I.  A slow switch somewhere along the way.  So, tonight I took it and tonight I got my results: INFP.  
I felt so self-satisfied.  Pushed myself back from the desk and with a smug smile thought, “You were right Bridget, you were right.”
I didn’t actually do that, but I was glad to have my suspicions confirmed.  Is this normal?  Do E’s often become I’s?  I felt like once an E, always an E.  But, that’s not the case.  I say, only half in jest, that I became an I when I realized there are a lot of crazy people in this world.  I mean a lot of them (seriously, did you know that?).  I realized, I’d rather walk from point A to point B keeping my head down and hoping no one sees me.  I love going to the mall alone.  I love listening to the Braveheart soundtrack (particularly track 17 and at minute 1:50) all by myself with a glass of wine.  I am perfectly content to do more of the listening and less of the talking on the phone.  Steve can’t imagine going to a movie alone but a matinee by myself?  Heaven.  Perhaps this is more just side effects of parenting and having a toddler touch you all day long and less some huge personality switch, but nevertheless!  For now, INFP!  
As an aside, it’s interesting to me to be both a blogger and an apparent introvert.  What does this mean? I think we could conduct a study on this.  Where are the psych majors?
*On the picture: not one of my brightest moments.  This is when the Red Sox won the World Series in 2004.  I was a freshman at the time and the whole campus was watching the game (if you’re not familiar, it’d been since like 1918 that they’d won.  The whole Curse of the Bambino thing.  It was a HUGE DEAL in the area at the time.  I mean fans were sweating, peeing their pants, the whole nine yards.  So anyway, they win, and my friend Karen is like LET’S DRIVE INTO THE CITY.  So we did.  Insane crowds, dancing, drinking… it was all going down in Boston that night.  Looking back it was fun and crazy but like standing in front of the cops in full riot gear in a semi squat with my stupid hang-ten hands?  Dumb, Bridget.  I don’t think an INFP would do THAT now.

Loaded baked potatoes.

The other morning Parker woke up at 6 am.  That’s fine, that’s fine.  Do you feel like I’m talking myself into it being fine?  Yeah, so do I.  Well, you see, usually it’s 7.  So, I expect 7.  Thus, 6 am feels rude and unnecessary.  I go to bed clocking my hours till 7 am.  The night before, I knew to expect 8 hours of sleep… but no!  Subtract one from that.  The child wakes when the child wakes!
So, as I was shuffling downstairs this morning, the wheels in my brain turning slowly–they turn a bit faster once the coffee is drunk but when I came down the coffee wasn’t even going despite the fact that the husband was already awake which is a mortal sin, did you know that?–I wondered about dinner.  Then I had this momentary, “Dinner?  Again?  But didn’t you just make dinner last night?”  
That’s the thing about dinner.  It comes around every night.  Every 24 hours, there you’ll find me, back at the drawing board of what to make.  Without it, the night just doesn’t feel complete, the natives are restless.  A dinner at the table, white plates set and all, grounds the evening, grounds the family.  The family that prays together stays together?  Nah, the family that eats together stays together.  That’s a lot of responsibility!  
Are you feeling the same “dinner again?” sentiments that I’m expressing here?  Cause, if so, here’s an easy one.  I didn’t really think of it the first few years of our marriage.  I mean, I knew about baked potatoes, but not about so many toppings that you can call it dinner (including, especially, a green vegetable).  And I definitely don’t think of it (for good reason; who eats heavy meals when it’s so hot out?) in the summer months.  But once the weather turns, this one gets entered into the rotation.  It’s so effortless, so duh.  Loaded baked potatoes.  Add enough good stuff to them, call it a meal, done.  And talk about cheap!  (Though, I will suggest: organic potatoes.  They’re one of those highly sprayed crops, plus they’re super cheap organic too.)  The kids love it too.  
Do I need to walk through this?  I can’t imagine that I do.  But, for the sake of the recipe post, let’s go.  Oven preheated to 425 degrees.  Pierce your potatoes a few times, and put them in for an hour (maybe a little more or less depending on the size of your potatoes and how many you’re doing).  
Then, prep your toppings.  Here’s the good part.  A potato, in my mind, is like a blank canvas.  By itself it is so very meh.  How my people (the Irish!) subsisted on them alone for so many years, I’ll never know.  I couldn’t be less interested in a potato.  But put all of this on top?  Mix it all up?  Let it all ooze together from the heat of the potato?  It becomes a work of art that is oh so delicious.  This time I did sharp cheddar cheese, a pound of bacon that I cooked and chopped just before the potatoes came out, and some broccoli that I’d sautéed with some season salt.  Oh and butter.  Do not forget the butter.  Another really great addition would be finely shredded chicken, I think.  Though I will say, it’s quite filling without it.  If you’re feeling really fancy and, say, want to Instagram a picture of your finished potato work of art, add the cheese at the last minute and then put it under the broiler for half a minute or so.  Bon apetit!
ETA: and plentiful sour cream.  but of course!

the pants that nearly killed me…

(not an actual woman in the window behind me.  a statue.  a little creepy.)
{hat: target}
{shirt: old navy}
{pants (old): tjmaxx}
{shoes: rainbows}
…and they’re gauchos.  so what a sad death that’d be.  death by gaucho.
true story: i was running on campus once (not actually exercising… just getting from point a to point b in a jiffy.  not sure why i did this but apparently i did it often because at one point this upperclass kid did say to me, “hey, aren’t you the girl that runs a lot?” and he didn’t mean for sport either.  but like, with books, backpack… running to class… so… i guess i was that girl.  and as i write this i can’t help but wonder if there are any old classmates reading this who’ve never been able to put a finger on exactly where they’ve seen me but are now having an a-ha moment, “nowwww i remember her!  the girl who ran everywhere!”  though, in my defense i will say this: i mostly ran to 8 am classes because i am notoriously late, or was then anyway.).  now that i got that out of the way… i was running, and running downhill.  my one foot hooked the pant leg of the other foot – of course! – and i legit went airborne-superman-style.  between the downhill, and the running, i flew in the air a good few feet, landed, and skidded.  concrete.  i have the most scarred knees ever and it was in large part thanks to this.  my one knee did not fare well.  swollen and bloody and disgusting.  also, my elbows and the palms of both hands.  and i remember a kid driving by as the skidding was taking place (what a sight!) and me getting up like all was cool.  all was not cool, all was not cool.
i put the gauchos away for a long time, but got them out last year.  give ’em a second go round.  i’m more careful this time.

moving into the next season that i won’t name yet…

{sweater: h&m}
{shorts: zara}
{boots: tjmaxx}
{necklace: providence story}
…but it begins with an f and rhymes with tall but we’re not going there yet!  not quite yet.  though there was a distinct chill in the air the other day that made this sweater actually a necessity (in fact, i could’ve done pants too.  and earlier in the day as i was walking with my sister in a semi-drizzle and cloudy skies, we were both shivering.)
and this morning?  this morning calls for a robe and slippers and i am not considering an iced coffee around 12 when the morning’s hot coffee wears off.  
but still.  not yet.  you, unnamed season, will have your chance to show off later when the pumpkins are out and the leaves change color.  but not just yet.  
have a good weekend!

steve at the playground.

the other day we were at a new cool playground.  new!  cool!  playground!  what exciting lives we lead!  moving on.  steve says to lindsey, “boy, i wish i could’ve played on this when i was a kid!”  (in his defense, it was this really cool net thing that your standard playground just does not have.  we do playgrounds UP in new england.)  without missing a beat some stray child says, “yeah, but when you were a kid you got to play with dinosaurs!”

kids are feisty these days.  have your comebacks ready before you leave the house.

(steve jokes that he said, and i quote, “so i pushed her down and she ran off crying.  i wanted to show her how we did it in the old days.”  but i am here to tell you, he didn’t do that.)

also, that contraption above is not the one i’m referencing.  just another random steve on the playground picture.  i have a lot of these.

last minute plans that fill the day.

such a chic city-dweller, that rachael.  
parker is reminiscent of a disenchanted man-ballerina here, no?
it’s good to have plans when you’ve got toddlers growing up amongst you.  i thought about using an adjective before toddler.  i started with unruly but then deleted it because… doesn’t that go without saying?  squirmy?  energetic?  crazy?  i think toddler itself is virtually synonymous with all of the above so, we carry on.  toddler does justice to itself, i think.  we like (and need!) to get out.  emphasis on the need part.  boston!  a change of scenery.  so let’s go.  rachael was equally ready for some plans, and ones of the last minute variety are sometimes the very best, so it worked out perfectly.
we met her and her girls at the most convenient corner and strolled on over to the copley square farmer’s market.  i haven’t yet had a good peach this summer.  i bought several over a month ago while still hard and waited patiently for the ripening process that never began.  i was ready!  my yogurt and granola sat beckoning for the company of the perfect, juicy peach but do you know that those peaches went straight from hard to rotten?  i checked!  i could not have missed the window.  and there’s nothing quite like the perfect summer peach.  i’m not even sure the perfect summer watermelon (and give it to me cold, please) matches it.  so, after throwing every single one away, i thought, “to hell with you peaches.”  i gave up too easily, yes.  but rachael talked me into buying some more at the farmer’s market.  they sit piled high in these cardboard boxes while the man shouts, “peaches!  take one, try one!  they’re delicious!”  well, i just ate two this morning and added one to william’s oatmeal and, we’d all agree, he was telling the truth.  you don’t even need to rifle through them for the perfect one, they’re all pretty spectacular.  there’s only a few left and i regret not buying a whole box.
i forgot that we first stopped at flour.  rachael always has good tips on where to go for a promising bite and flour was delicious.  parker and i shared a blueberry muffin (he spied the spots of gooey blueberry and could not be deterred!).  i’d go back, for sure.  bakeries know what they’re doing.  place all the doughy, buttery, glazey goods right there behind the glass for customers to gawk mouths watering.  i’d like to try the french toast, and a chocolate croissant next time.  
the kids played around copley square, shared some blackberries, chased each other.  rachael and i talked.  then we walked through the gardens and, of course, stopped at the ducklings first.  parker loves those ducks.

sam edelman knock-offs.

{t-shirt: target men’s}
{lace cardigan: banana republic (old)}
{jeans: asos}
{ray-ban sunglasses: c/o sunglasses shop}
{shoes: tjmaxx}
so the other day i wrote about how i was loving the sam edelman bootie.  and THEN i found these at tjmaxx for like a third of the cost.  they basically jumped out at me, “we’re its twin!  its cheaper twin!”  into my cart they went.  i love them.  i promptly called my sister to share with her my delight (and a good shoe at a good cost… as good sisters do) and she went to her marshalls in new jersey and found the same shoe.  so, now we are shoe twins and the moral of the story is, and brace yourselves because it’s deep, if you too have been eyeing sam edelmans but less enthused about paying for them, go to tjmaxx or marshalls and you too may find these keepers.

“it’s almost fall but it’s labor day weekend so i should really just shut up now” favorites.

// asos geo jacquard sweater: fun patterns, and cotton.  i love a cotton “sweater” // asos blouse: that asymmetric buttoning?  i love it.  great color too. // uo panama hat: much like my love of head-scarves, i love hats too.  and with an cool embroidered ribbon?  ok. // joe boots: they’re pretty amazing and a bit frye-knockoff (minus the frye price tag.) // old navy flowery blouse: cause… why not? // old navy boat neck striped tee: big stripes like this will always be a win.  bonus points for being black and white. //

i’m not, i repeat i am NOT (!!) ushering out summer — here’s your hat what’s your hurry — BUT i do look forward to the change in temperature and clothing for at least four days in september so i might as well jump on that train while it’s happily chugging because i will wax at length about waah, waah, winter sooner than we’d all like.

and while we’re talking about favorites… here are some more favorites.  drop the fall, just call ’em favorites.

// joliemade.  have you seen her work?  it’s silly pretty and on really thick, nice paper too.  see the one i own here!
// interwoven.  my friend kera opened a shop full of pretty throws, pillows, and more sourced from all over the globe.
// mamacase prints.  this is going to sound weird but i’m standing by the fact that it is hard to find a really good kids t-shirt with just a simple worn-in, cozy fit.  seriously.  and in gray or black?  no way.  and without a bunch of cheesy logos on it too, double no.  these fit the bill.  love them.
// viveo.  steve bought me this camera strap for mother’s day.  with b.c. hunt as the personalization.  i love it.  bonus–no more hair pulling from the rubberized side of the canon strap!

you got any favorites for me?
and happy, happy labor day weekend!!
if you’re in need of a bbq favorite, look no further.  this is the best.

parker at two.

you’re two, parker man.  you are two.  at two weeks old, i couldn’t imagine you reaching two years old.  what that’d look like but here we are.  i’d like to take a moment to highlight some of the silly things you do so you can look back and think, “so that was me at two years old, eh?”
// you say boku for big and bebe for little.  for example, you’ll run into a room and announce, “poopoo!  boku!”  from your mother’s perspective, all of your poops are pretty boku and rarely bebe, so i’m fairly distrustful of your assessment of the poop-situation.
// as i write this, dada’s pushing you around the first floor in a peg perego of the vintage variety.  one that he used to use for your big brothers and sister.  you have several stuffed animals occupying the stroller seat next to you, and your feet are hanging out the front like you’re a lanky teen.  every time dada bumps into a wall you says, “uh oh!”  also, you are trying your first rice cake and giving most of it to gracie who trails behind.
// whenever we give you a snack, you wait until you have one in each hand.  “twoooo!” you say with your lips puckered way out.  you won’t take a bite until you’ve got ’em both.  how dare we give you only one!  such stingy parents you have.
// i kiss you at least eighty times a day and i really don’t think that’s an exaggeration.  square on the mouth, whether you like it or not.  i can’t imagine even your future wife will outdo me and i am a-okay with that.
// you can identify the difference between bulldozer, excavator, crane, concrete mixer… so on and so forth.  i think this is pretty impressive.  but then again i am your mother and i think nearly everything you do is impressive.
// you are so reasonable about leaving playgrounds.  this is really something because i often see kids being dragged off by their exasperated (and rightly so) mothers.  you know, dragged by the arm, potential socket damage.  i’m often surprised there’s not a plethora of abandoned limbs on the playground outskirts from all the johnny’s and susan’s who refused to leave previous days.  but, usually if you’ve been given a warning, “one more time down the slide!” you’re cool with leaving and i really like that.  i am quite sure that i will eat my words one day in the not too distant future.  you’re probably buttering me up now and you’re really gonna let loose in your third year, huh?
// you say, “upp-ah!  upp-ah!” when you want to go upstairs.  like a greek wedding (opa!).  and usually that’s to william’s room to play with toy guns (yep.  you love them.  what is that?  i try to tell myself it’s a boy thing and not a big deal but really, i’d rather you fell in love with crayons and paper over toy guns.).  
// you can be moody at times, and opinionated, and have spent a bit of time in time-out in the last several months.  i think of the toddler phase as a mini-teen-raging-hormone sort of phase.  prepping me for the big one to come in about ten to eleven years.  i’ll brace myself.
// sometimes the big kids in the neighborhood are all over and william will bring you to hang out with them and, i swear, you’re probably thinking it’s the coolest thing ever.  little you surrounded by sometimes five or six kids ten and older.  they’re all really nice to you and you couldn’t be less interested in returning to boring mom after the fun you’ve had with them.  luckily, i know not to take it personally.
// recently, you wanted to play with lindsey and i just wanted a hug first and you would not give it.  you just walked out of the room holding onto lindsey’s hand.  i fake cried (i’m pretty sure i’m not supposed to do this?) and you turned around and with a smirk on your face, came back to hug me, and then walked away with her.  really cute.
// lindsey is “zzzz!” and william is “whim!” and you haven’t yet figured out nathaniel or jordan.  gracie is usually called, “woof woof woof.”  
// sometimes we’ll walk over to some good flat ground nearby for some scootering-time but, dependent on your mood, you will either just stand there holding your scooter, refusing to actually ride it, or, you’ll decide to comply with your mother’s wishes and, poor you, ride your fabulous scooter around.  i haven’t figured this out.
// you think me singing ten little monkeys is pretty funny because i do the silliest voice for the doctor with a bit of a crazy english accent.  
// dada does this claw arm that is equal parts exciting and scary to you.  he’s freakishly good at sound effects from motorcycles to helicopters.  it’s weird.
// we like to go through the day’s adventures for dada or the big kids if they’ve been out.  i include you in this conversation, you interject words or sounds you know, to tell the story.  so many adventures, so much recounting!
i love being your mom.  it’s like the sweetest job in the world and i’m pretty psyched the gig is mine.  it’s not always easy, it’s very rarely relaxing, but god is it good.
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