Category Archives: Photos

The Tidal Basin…or: L’enfer c’est les autres

The cherry blossoms hadn’t quite popped yet, but the Cherry Blossom Festival was in full swing this weekend.

After lunch, we decided to go paddle-boating in the Tidal Basin.

Two people had to peddle in our four person boat. My three kids argued over who would get to peddle as if they were vying for seats on the U.S. Olympic rowing team. The man who was helping us into the boat solved the problem by suggesting that we return to the dock halfway through to switch positions.

“Remember! You’re not allowed to switch positions in the middle of the water,” he warned, “When you’re ready to switch, you have to come back here and we’ll help you do it.”

The boys took the first shift:

while my daughter and I relaxed:

Halfway through the hour, we returned to the dock so that my daughter could have a turn. My oldest son graciously gave up his coveted spot to switch positions with her…

Moments before all hell broke loose.

…and immediately transformed into a crazed martinet. “FASTER! Peddle faster, you maggots!” he shouted gleefully.

His siblings bore his strident orders with good humor at first, but the relentless nature of his hectoring soon began to pall. Undeterred by my dirty looks and increasingly forceful requests that he put a sock in it, he kept goading his younger siblings. We were like the characters in Sartre’s Huis Clos, who eventually come to realize that they are in hell, and that their punishment is being trapped for eternity with each other.

To distract the kids, I suggested that we go investigate some white rocks I could see in the distance. I didn’t recognize them and wanted to get a closer look.

The two kids got the boat fairly close to the rocks, but not close enough for me to make out what they were.

“I still can’t see what they are. Can you get a little closer?” I asked.

My conscientious eleven year old, our family’s own Jiminy Cricket, advised me against this unwise course of action. “It will take us too long to get back to the dock if we get any closer to the rock.”

“But I really want to see what they are. How about you get us just a little closer?”

Meanwhile, my eldest took this as a signal to renew his taunts.

“CLOSER! Get CLOSER! Peddle harder, you maggots! I want to see bubbles in our wake!!!”

Against his own better judgment, Jiminy Cricket steered us close enough to the rocks so that I could see at last that it was the new(ish) Martin Luther King, Jr. memorial:

“OK, let’s head back now!” I said, sneaking a peek at the time.

“How much time do we have left to get back to the dock? NO! Don’t tell me, it will just stress me out. OK, go ahead and tell me.”

“Ummm, well, we have about ten minutes.”

Now Jiminy Cricket was pissed. He started scolding both of us.

“You HAD to see the rock! And NOW we’re going to be late getting back to the dock. Don’t blame me if they make us pay more for the boat! I TOLD you it would take too long, but NO, you HAD to get closer.”

“Don’t stress out about it! If we have to pay extra, we’ll just pay extra. It’s not a big deal,” I tried to reassure him.

All the while, his brother provided a steady dose of maddening counterpoint: “Is that the best you can do? We’re not even moving! Come ON! Peddle for all your worth, Maggots!”

Jiminy Cricket lost it: “YOU peddle then. I’m not going to peddle anymore!”

“I’d be glad to peddle, but we’re not allowed to switch.” (For some reason, now my eldest son switched to a velvety, smarmy English accent dripping with evil).

For dramatic effect my second son stopped peddling, even though I know it was killing him not to be making any progress back toward the dock.

“Well somebody has to peddle…,” I ventured, as the boat came to a standstill.

At that point we realized the youngest was not feeling well.

“I think I might throw up,” she moaned.

“Just stop peddling. STOP PEDDLING! Take your feet OFF the pedals. I can manage myself!” shrieked my poor little Jiminy Cricket as he resumed peddling as fast as he could, “UGH! My back is KILLING me! My legs are killing me!”

“QUIT your whining, you maggot and peddle!” (I whacked the boy to shut him up – to no avail). “Don’t tell me that’s the best you can do. Peddle harder!!!”

The ridiculousness of it got to me and I started shaking with silent laughter.

“You think this is FUNNY?!” asked Jiminy Cricket, apoplectic with rage.

“NO! I’m sorry! It’s not funny at ALL!” I said trying to get a hold of myself, “I’m sorry, I wish I could help you peddle, but….”

Finally, we made it back to the dock, about fifteen minutes past the time we were due. Fortunately, they took pity on us, and let us stagger off into the sunset without any additional payment.

As we walked on, my sweet Jiminy Cricket said, “Thanks so much for taking us on the awesome boat ride, Mommy.” I looked at him suspiciously to see if he was mocking me, but he continued with earnest sincerity, “It was so much fun!” (That one’s a keeper, I’m telling you)!

The three siblings reconciled…

and we headed back to meet up with my sister for our ride back to Arlington.

National Museum of Natural History

Last week was spring break for all three kids, but not for my husband or for me. The older two boys were OK on their own, but for the first two complicated days, our youngest child alternated between sitting through her dad’s college lectures and my advising hours. We took turns ferrying her mid-day to a half-day soccer camp and then back home at the end of the day. After just the first day, it became clear that my vague plan to take some time off from work needed to happen sooner rather than later. I decided to take off Wednesday through Friday and to take the kids to Arlington.

On Thursday we hitched a ride into DC with my sister and I took the kids to the Natural History Museum.

Look! It’s me in a kayak!

(See: Kayaking: Or How I almost killed my P.E. Teacher)

The mummies were ghastly:

The animal mummies were kind of cute:

crocodile
cat mummy
group of crocodile hatchlings

The insect zoo is always a hit:

We caught the tarantula feeding…

We checked out the butterfly exhibit. The butterflies checked us out too:

And then we scoped out the gems. I took plenty of notes and photos to give my husband some ideas for my birthday…

Tucked way back in an alcove is a Korea exhibit!

Time for lunch!

Tomorrow: The Tidal Basin…or “L’enfer, c’est les autres.” 

Happy Birthday!

Today is my child’s fourteenth birthday.

We were overjoyed when we found out that I was pregnant with our first baby. We had been trying for a long time to have one, and were beginning to think it might never happen. Almost as soon as we had gotten used to the idea, our joy turned to despair when I started spotting. At the hospital a doctor performed an ultrasound and concluded that I was miscarrying when he didn’t find a heartbeat. He offered to do a D & C (dilation and curettage) right then and there to hasten the inevitable. Devastated, I said I just wanted to go home. He told me I would lose the baby naturally in a couple of days and to come back for a checkup.

I spent those days in bed sobbing. When my mother called me from Korea, I told her that I was pregnant and that I was miscarrying all in the same conversation. She called me later that day after consulting medical professionals she knew in Korea. She told me there was still hope. She was deluding herself, I thought. I pitied her, and pitied myself even more. The only thing that kept me calm was repeating Psalm 23 in my head over and over in the rich, archaic language of the King James version. I hadn’t even realized that I knew it by heart until then. The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures, he leadeth me beside still waters…Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I shall fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.

When we went back to the hospital, they did another blood test and were surprised by the results. They sent me to get another ultrasound and within seconds the technician casually said, as if she were not announcing something life-changing and miraculous: “There’s the heartbeat.”

The point is: from the very beginning it’s been a bumpy, winding road. These past fourteen years have been full of drama. There have been painful times and searingly beautiful moments when I have felt a love so intense that it literally hurt my heart. The point is: this “Prince of the Silla Dynasty,” as my parents dubbed him at birth, has taught me to have faith and to believe in goodness and mercy and miracles.

Happy birthday to my dear son. My cup overflows.

Snow Days

On Monday we woke up to a winter wonderland. Work: CANCELLED! School: CANCELLED! It was a gift that literally fell from the sky!

We began Monday morning with a conference.

“What we have here is an amazing opportunity to get a lot of things accomplished. We’re certainly not going to waste it by lazing about all day in our pjs, right? Right! So! Let’s brainstorm about what global problems or crises you’ll tackle today. I’d like your action plan by noon and the solution to the problem to be implemented by the end of the business day. T2! What problem will you be addressing?”

“Ummm…cancer?”

“Excellent! T1?”

“I’ll solve the problem of world hunger and deal with the crisis in Ukraine.”

“Love the enterprising attitude! Off you go! N?”

“My project will be…the reunification of the Koreas, I guess?”

“YES! Let’s get to work! Go, GO, GO!”

Here they are, toiling away industriously:

Drive and diligence!
Mid-day conference over hot cocoa.
Our genius dog lent his intellectual firepower to the proceedings.
Uncompromising focus!

“Going the extra mile”:

And that’s the way we get things done around here!

Plum blossoms

Prunus mume

The birds are shrieking in indignant chorus
Flying fretfully from tree to tree
They raise the alarm and complain bitterly
Of the snow and ice heading our way

Let me be like the plum tree
Blossoming bravely
Her gnarled limbs serenely outstretched
To receive the blanket of snow

Hair Show!

When we were little, my sister used to entertain us by having “hair shows.” She has hair that can be sculpted into all sorts of amazing, gravity defying shapes. We would howl with laughter every time she emerged from the bathroom with a new hairstyle, each one more outlandish than the previous one. Too bad she’d kill me if I posted a photo of one of those…

Nowadays, she works her magic on the kids. Here’s a hair session with my son:

Here we go again…
Argh!
The “Biebs”
The “Alfalfa”

This weekend it was my daughter’s turn:

The “Elizabeth” – step 1
The “Elizabeth” – step 2
The “Elizabeth”!
No pain, no gain!
The Gibson Girl
Too puffy?
Let’s do the twist
Cute!
Another one? Really?
Messy bun, almost done.
(Sigh)
Done!

In the (not so bleak) midwinter…

The Rivanna Trail

We took advantage of the beautiful weather on Saturday to walk an easy, quiet little stretch of the 20 mile long, mostly wooded Rivanna Trail that loops around the city of Charlottesville.