2 months

Angus turned 2 months a couple of weeks ago. He's practically 2 1/2 months now. At his doctors appointment I couldn't resist snapping a photo, just as we had done 2 years ago with Amelia. Later, I looked at the two side by side. Genes are unreal. They look so alike, and yet so different. How does that work out that way? I already know they'll BE very different from each other too, personalities reflecting each one of their parents. Amelia--stubborn, dramatic, funny, strong-willed, smart, visual. She's her mama's daughter. Angus--mellow, easy going, tactile, sensitive. He's his papa all the way. After just 2 months of life, I know this about him. I feel I'm just getting to know him, and yet know so much already. And I'm completely in love.

He smiles

I breath a sigh of relief. It's 11:32 on a Friday night. Col is out with some friends and I'm in bed with little A. Milly is asleep in her own bed. For once. All of the lights in the house are off. 

Up until this week, we've been leaving a light on in our bedroom, knowing there'd be numerous nighttime wakings and diaper changes. Knowing that I'd want to SEE--not just hear--the little guy breathing next to me.

So much changes in a month--and even from day to day. I'm feeling more confident. The baby is more confident. He knows more. We sleep with the lights out now. If little guy so much as stirs I simply roll over, shove a tit in his mouth and fall back asleep. 

He's started smiling at me too. And at his big sissy. I think they will be great friends. That is my hope at least.

Before Angus was born many people warned me that having two kids was harder than one kid x2. I never really understood what that meant. I still don't, and I'm not seeing this unfold. At least not yet. Am I being naive? Are we still in a honeymoon phase? If so, I want to cherish this, because it's pretty frickin' great.

The way we are now

I woke up this past Monday morning thinking "yesterday was one of the best days ever." It was Mother's Day and we had spent the day together as a family on a mini road trip down route 7.

We stopped for pastries at Vergennes Laundry--something I've been wanting to do for months--and then headed to Middlebury, where I had attended college a few years back. There was a new shop I wanted to check out and I thought it would be fun to explore campus. 

We did neither. The shop was closed for the holiday and we never made it up the hill to the campus. Instead we had a picnic by the waterfall in town and then got side-tracked by the Morgan Horse Farm right outside of town, where there were 6 or 7 new baby foals vying for our attention on such a lovely, sunny spring day.

The kids were on their best behavior too, Angus slept the whole time and Amelia was a complete peach, playing frisbee with her papa and laughing uncontrollably and wanting to say hello to every single horse at the farm.

It was almost 3 by the time we headed home, way past nap time. We were treading on dangerous territory. But there were no meltdowns. Just two zonked out kids for the 50 minute drive home. 

Bliss.

Back at home Col and Amelia stopped at a lemonade stand on their walk to pick up burritos for our dinner. Angus and I just lounged on the sofa for a bit. It really was a perfect day, not extravagant or outrageous by any means, but it was exactly what I wanted or needed.

I was explaining to Col that visiting Middlebury always brings with it a certain amount of anxiety. I go there and I see the buildings and remember the memories. I had a good time there and I have no regrets, but I was wild and also a college kid. I look back at the me in my late teens and twenties and cringe just a little bit. I want that girl to grow up. I want the people I was trying to impress or prove something to to see that this girl has grown up. I've changed so much. 

Just as that girl could not related to who I  today, I have a hard time relating to her. To her, excitement was making out with an Italian supermodel on a dance floor somewhere in Paris. Now? I just want a picnic with my family. 

And I got it. Such a lucky lady.

another day

Listen, it feels good to be saying this, but I read my last post and have to chuckle. A friend of mine made a remark recently that these times of transition are short-lived. And you know what? She was right. At least when it comes to toddlers.

After my daughter rejected me and made me feel like a failure as a parent, I made of point of spending some alone time with her and just reassuring her. I've been trying to give her hugs whenever she's having a tantrum or meltdown or whenever she seems to need it.

The hugs are as much for her as they are for me.

And then all of the sudden, a few days ago, she whimpered, "I don't want Papa, I want Mummy! Mummy and Angus!" I didn't even try to hide my excitement at that remark. To realize that she hadn't rejected me forever, that she still needs her Mummy. And it only took a few hugs and a couple of days to get here.

These days we are all wearing our emotions on our sleeves. Loud and clear. She is a toddler, I am hormonal, and Papa, well, he's just tired. It's a roller coaster of emotions all around. The upside of this of course is that with every low point, there is a high point.

And silly little distractions can help us forget why we were upset in the first place. 

I'm not trying to belittle the huge transition we're all working through or saying we're over the hump or that Amelia has completely accepted her new lot in life. That will take time. But it's just good to rememeber during those dire moments that dire is not forever and in many cases is very short-lived.

family of 4

Well, we did it. After almost 42 weeks, the little baby arrived and he is a boy and we named him Angus. We are now a family of four, which feels much more of a unit than three. It feels good in that way. It also feels strange. This will be an adjustment.

One thing people kept asking me leading up to the birth was, "Is Amelia excited to be a big sister?" I always felt it was an odd question to ask and a difficult one to answer. How does a 2-year-old feel excited about something she doesn't understand? Excited, no. Curious? Perhaps. But I knew it would be difficult for her. No, it would not be exciting in the beginning. It would be difficult. My heart was aching for her even before Angus came. I cried about it sometimes, even knowing that eventually they would become best friends.

Turns out, my anxiety was justified, in part. When Angus was a day old, Amelia came to visit us in the hospital. Her first reaction to seeing me holding the baby was to burst into tears and cry, "Uppie, Mummy!" (which means she wanted me to pick her up). My heart broke. Luckily, I had support. I handed baby off to Papa and swooped her up in my lap and gave her a toy giraffe "from Angus." This appeased her and the visit ended on a high note. But I was nervous about coming home and what the adjustment would look like.

On the one hand, to my surprise, she adjusted pretty quickly to having a new baby brother. She actually has become "excited" and fascinated with his poopy diapers, his crying, his nursing. Everything. 

Sadly, what she's not excited about anymore is her Mummy. She wants her Papa for everything--to bring her to the loo, to put her to bed, to put on her socks.

"I don't want Mummy in the room," she whimpered to Papa the other night before bedtime. My heart broke, again. But I left the room quietly, wanting to give her space, not quite sure how to deal with this new parenting challenge. 

I wasn't prepared for this. And it's breaking my heart over and over again. At daycare, her teachers say she has become very attached to her two female teachers and is upset whenever they cuddle with any of the other children.

They wonder if she is searching for a mother-figure. My heart breaks, yet again.

"But I'm here!" I want to tell her. I want to hug her and kiss her and tell her everything will be ok. And I do this, but somehow I feel she doesn't quite understand her own feelings yet. And then the baby cries and I must leave her to go and attach him to my breast for a half hour.

This is very complicated stuff for anyone to deal with, let alone a 2-year-old.

Now the difficult question people keeping asking me is, "How is Amelia doing with Angus?" The easy response is, "She's doing great, she loves him." But the stuff the trails after in my thoughts is harder to put into words. 

And I know it's a phase. I hope it is. That's what I keep telling myself. But in the meantime, I miss my little girl. And she misses me.

holding my breath

I'm staying home from work today. To rest. It wasn't the original plan. But suddenly I reached my due date and passed it. And all of the energy I'd been rounding up day after day—to get myself out of bed, get the girl fed and dressed and off to school, get to work on time and work a full day before coming home to make dinner, pass out on the couch and wake up to do the same the next day—suddenly, I couldn't quite scrounge up that energy anymore. It has completely dissipated.

And here I am lying on the couch, listless and lazy. It's a foreign feeling that I haven't known in some time. I know I should make the most of it and just BE, but at moments, there it is: the guilt. Of not being fully productive. Of not working. Of sending my girl to daycare, when I SHOULD be spending some of our last precious days, hours, as a family of three TOGETHER.

Agh.

The breathlessness comes and goes. The crampiness. The contractions day after day. Still no baby. I'm feeling impatient to get on with this next phase of life.

Where did this impatience come from? The routine of non-stop-ness? Is this the American family way? Or am I just turning into my father?

Instead of holding my breath, why can't I just breathe deeply and enjoy it?

The blissful moments when we are able to slow down are so seldom, they are SPECIAL. Last night, for example, I was tired after dinner, so I went to lay down on the couch. Mealy came to join me with a stack of books while Col cleaned the kitchen. We read together for what felt like hours (though it was probably 5 minutes) and it was lovely.

All of a sudden, she started looking around with concern and said, "I peed on Mummy."

"What?" I asked in confusion and jumped up from the sofa to discover a giant wet spot beneath us.

"Run to the loo," I exclaimed! "Run before you pee anymore!"

She ran to the loo and I ran to get some cleaner and was scrubbing up the pee before you could say, "itsy bitsy spider."

And just like that we were back to normal.

is this dialogue?

Two nights ago, as I was getting ready for bed, my husband walked into the bathroom and began, "I think I'll wear my new Vans tomorrow." I searched his face to do a quick read of emotion and all I could see was a stoic, weary visage staring back at me. This was serious.

It was a few minutes before midnight on a Monday and our first meaningful conversation all day (and last chance at any conversation for 2 weeks) was a barebones declaration of his foot fashion choice for air travel. But I had no good alternatives to suggest, so...

"Really?!" I replied. "I'm so happy for you."

He looked back at me quizzically and then relaxed his face into a soft chuckle, finally I suppose realizing the comedy in the moment. But we didn't go on to talk about shoes, socks or otherwise. It was late and we were exhausted. We kissed goodnight and fell into bed.

He would wake up 4 hours later and get on a plane to China.

Fast forward a couple days and again I find myself searching for the right words. Time is short and so are characters counts on my iPhone. I type out a quick message from work hoping Hubby will get the message in the next 24 hours. Bonus if I get a response.

I type, "You make it to China ok? Mealy went to dr with me this morning and got to hear the baby's heart beat. She was wide eyed and fascinated. So cool. Baby is healthy. Strong heart beat."

Ten hours later, I do get a reply. Positive and affirming in under ten words.

I don't really need much more than that. Really. Let the words live in the subtext or in a good book. Or a good argument. (But let those be few and far between.) This is how we communicate these days when life things get in the way. 

We learn to adapt our expectations and interactions in a way that works with what we've got, right now, in the moment.

one

This time last year, I was doing this:

I loved being pregnant and spent the last few days of my pregnancy just being. Then all of sudden, this happened:

We spent the first few days and weeks getting to know this strange little thing who had entered our lives. It was hard some days and I remember looking back on those quiet days of my pregnancy with yearning. I wanted to be back in that easy place where I could lay on the couch for hours and sleep and snuggle with the kitty and just be me.

But slowly and surely, this little creature edged her way into our hearts and our very beings. And now I look at that photo of the young pregnant woman on the couch, just on the cusp of a new life, and I just have to chuckle. How much she has learned and grown and changed. How much she's gotten wrong. But how much she's gotten right, too.

Tomorrow, our little girl will turn one. What a wild journey it's been so far. And on to the next!

Brand new

1 month old

Right before 2 month shots!

Almost 3 months old - This was the night before I went back to work

Almost 4 months at my birthday party

Her character started coming out in the spring

Lots of poolyside fun this summer

Beautiful baby at Hannah and Richard's wedding in June

Enjoying the beach with besties in East Hampton

First family trip to Southport, Maine

Papa Daughter time in Boston

Not quite sure about the Steam Punk exhibit at Shelburne Museum

Playing in the leaves at the Farmers' Market

Amelia's dedication on Mount Philo in October

On our traditional hike to get the Christmas tree at Paine's. She was a good sport.

Awake

I woke up this morning after a full night sleep, with my daughter and husband sleeping peacefully next to me. We all got up together and began the day with excitement for the day, for the holidays.

I know there are many who did not sleep last night, because the sorrow in their life is too much to find peace. And for those who by the grace of God were able to sleep last night and were able to remove themselves from reality for just a few hours, for them perhaps the morning is even more difficult because they awake with a new sense of reality and sadness as the shock of their loss wears off.

Meanwhile the rest of us start to move on with our lives again and if we are blessed to live without sorrow, we tend to forget the sorrow of others. I believe that is partly a necessary survival mechanism.

But though we forget about sadness, we should never forget to be grateful.

I am so grateful for the nights when I can fall asleep with my family in a warm and precious and safe cocoon. For being able to wake with a light and joyful heart.

The best kind of parenting

I slept in this morning 2 hours past normal waking time (till 8 a.m., people!). Col took Amelia for the first shift. (It's becoming a lovely Sunday morning routine.) I woke up refreshed and feeling mentally clean. Well, as clean as a groggy mind can feel at 8 a.m. on a Sunday morning. This statement of freshness did not prevent me from uttering a parenting criticism with the first morning breath.

"You fed her peas for breakfast?!"

"I fed her whatever that green stuff was in the fridge."

"It was peas. Why didn't you feed her fruit or oatmeal or something more breakfast-y?"

"It was the only thing in there." (Note to self: if I really do want to control everything that passes through baby's lips, must. leave. in. plain. sight. in. fridge.)

"Well, did she eat it?"

"Yup, all of it," he said proudly.

"Well, I guess it's ok to give her something savory for breakfast. We eat savory breakfasts sometimes right?" In retrospect I don't know why I cared so much. It's so silly. Why am I such a control freak when it comes to parenting? Is it because I'm the mom? Are all moms like that? Or just first-time moms? Or is it just me? 

Thankfully, I have a husband with pretty thick skin and a sense of humor. He didn't seem to mind my snarkiness.

Which leads me to my next awesome announcement of the morning: after that exchange, I put A down for a nap and went running (in my 5-yr-old running shoes that have been worn a total of maybe 15 times). It felt good. I felt strong. 

I used my run (as I always used to do) for the quiet introspection I've been looking for. It worked. It works every time. I thought about my goals and about my life and about my loves (Col and Meals) and family. I let lots of things go. That felt really good. I focused on breathing. I killed those hills. All of them. I added on an extra loop. I felt that good.

Towards the end of my run, I passed a little scene that humbled me a bit. It was a couple of young women (in their early 20s I'd say) getting in a car with a young child. One of the women looked like she had had way too much fun last night. Her voice was all raspy from too much smoking and partying. 

She yelled out to the boy, laughing, "Hey Ry, do you need some Dunkin' Donuts right now? Cause I definitely need some Dunkin' Donuts right now." He laughed back. I bet he was soooo excited to go to Dunkin' Donuts. And in that moment, I realized that this boy was happy. Even though he was being taken care of by women (mom? sisters? sitters?) who were probably not leading the best life examples, he seemed loved (from the 15 second exchange I witnessed) and he was laughing. Isn't that all that matters?

I thought to myself, "love and laughter—those are the two most important parenting skills." The love part I've got down. The laughter, which Colin always has in spades, I need to work on. Constantly. If only I didn't get so caught up with peas and oatmeal.

As the two women peeled away towards Dunkin' Donuts with the boy in the back-seat, they each flung their arms out the open windows in contentment, lit cigarettes in hand. That bummed me out and snapped me out of my rose-colored view on life.

Ok, so maybe the "love and laughter" thing is a little too simplistic. But minus the cigs and feeding second-hand smoke to a tyke, it was a sweet interaction that taught me a lesson.

And now I need to go apologize to my hubby and tell him I love him. He got Meals to eat her peas at 6 in the morning. How great is that?

7 months & are we still here? Are we still who we thought we were?

Hello? Is anybody there? I'd be surprised if you were. Even I, the writer and keeper of this now-crappy, defunct blog can't be bothered to show up more than once every couple of months. And why would I?

I haven't been berry picking this year. I think I've missed blueberries. I know I missed strawberries. I haven't been to farmer's market. I haven't baked a quiche or made any fancy ice cream. I haven't even replace the tarragon in my garden yet (is it too late?).

But while the babe is napping, I just decided to stop by my blog and see what I happened to write about last time and cringed to discover that all the pictures and features were broken (for who knows how long) and that the last post about Amelia turning 5 months is not much different than the one I was about to write: she's just turned 7 months. How thrilling for you the reader. How original.

Here's the thing: there's nothing more I want to write about than my squirmy, burpy, slurpy baby. I want to write about how, at 7 months, she just started solid foods and absolutely loves her morning pears and banana breast-milk smoothie. She loves her Mama and Papa and when she's sad for some silly reason, all I have to do is pick her up in my arms and give her a little kiss and she smiles. I melt.  I want to shout from the rooftop that OMG that girl is sitting up on her own and gabbing and shrieking and it only was just a year ago she was a blob in my belly. How is that possible?? How can you be a parent and not believe in magic? It's pure magic.

5-month milestones

Amelia is turning 5 months in a couple of days. It's a super-fun age. She is full of beans all the time and is becoming much more dependent. She's also BIG! We had to switch to size 3 diapers and in the cloth diapers she is wearing the large setting. I cannot believe it. Here's what she's up to these days:

She's very vocal and has been happily shrieking whenever it suits her—even at 4 a.m. sometimes! She zerberts and makes low-pitched lion roars under her breath.

She's gotten really good at grasping things and likes to put everything in her mouth: her thumb, her nuk, her bottle, Mama's hair, her bib, her burp cloth, her sleeve. You name it.

We've been going to yoga together every Sunday. She loves to lay on her belly and watch the other babies and Mamas. She loves to chatter while Susan is trying to teach the class.

She's been rolling over more and more. Once she rolled from back to front, but I wasn't looking and so I missed it. She hasn't done it since.

A couple of days ago, she sat in the high chair all by herself. And she's pretty good at sitting in the bumbo seat at school too.

Tonight I nursed her down before bed, but she didn't fall asleep, so I tried putting her in her crib just to see what would happen. I left the room and waited. Nothing. No sounds, no fussing, no chatting. A few minutes later, I went in to check on her and she was asleep! She fell asleep all by herself. That is a first and I'm not getting my hopes up that she will do it again any time soon, but it did make Mama proud.

The most magical thing though is her smile. All you have to do is give her a little glance and her face just lights up. You can't help but melt. Even when you can see her face light up in the dark bedroom at 3:30 in the morning. You want to sleep. She wants to play. You see that smile and it's a-okay.

a few things

There are a few things I'd like to jot down in history (my mother said I should be keeping a journal of these things):

Amelia turned 5 weeks yesterday.

The stars aligned and for the first time she slept a whole hour in her bassinet this morning, giving me the freedom to glide around the house in my bathrobe making coffee, pumping breast milk, feeding the cats. Oh, the luxury of it all! (Thank God for the butt pat technique handed down from my sister that really does the trick.)

She's also started smiling the last few days, but not yet on cue, so I'm not sure if it really counts.

I finally put my maternity clothes away in the basement, which felt really good, except that now I don't have any clothes that fit me. (Well, not until my online purchases arrive in the mail. I promised Col that's the last of my late-nite online shopping binges. I really neeeeeded new clothes.) Online shopping and iPhones are a godsend to newly minted breastfeeding moms.

I gave up dairy yesterday. (Oh, the horror!) See, we have a spit-upper. I mean really. And several sources suggest dairy might be the culprit. So, I'm giving up milk and Cheddar and butter and everything cow for a 2-week trial to see if it helps our little one keep down her dinner. It's not so bad. At least there's goat cheese.

Finally, Col and I celebrated our 2-year wedding anniversary. Well, we didn't quite celebrate yet. He is in Utah for work, so we will have to put that off for a bit. But he did send some beautiful flowers. And my mother treated me and Amelia to an anniversary brunch at Penny-Cluse. Later she cooked us dinner and we had the family over for bangers and mash. (It's one of Col's favorite dinners—too bad he had to miss it!)

proud papa

Since the arrival of our little one, most of our attention has been diverted to her. Not all of it though. The two of us, Col and I, have also developed a new sense of admiration for each other. I was worried that the lack of sleep, the frustration of not knowing what to do with a crying baby, and not much time to nurture our relationship might diminish the love that we have for each other. Not so! (Or at least, Not so fast!)

My boy is a wonderful father! And only one month in, despite my constant hovering and advice, he has found his own style of parenting and bonding. Where I have boob, he has patience. Where I have experience, he has inventiveness. When I am at wits end, he has the ability to sooth.

Amelia has established a good nursing routine, so last weekend, we decided it was time to give Papa a chance to do the feeding! While he and babe were napping my sister came over and gave me a tutorial on pumping. How glamorous. She also gave Col some pointers on bottle feeding using a teddy bear to demonstrate (what would we do without her?!).  I filled a bottle full of milk and then we waited for Amelia to wake up.

Emi advised I leave the room during the event so as not to distract baby (or Papa!). I was a little worried about that part. I'd heard introducing the bottle to a breast-fed baby could be a real challenge. But Col wasn't worried. He was excited. Of course, I knew he would figure it out one way or another. And in the end, our little piggie made the transition quite easy. She latched on right away and started happily suckling in Papa's arms. I snuck in the room only long enough to snap a photo.

Since then, of course, Amelia hasn't let me figure out a way to get a pump in edge-wise. But we're taking baby steps, right?

it's a girl! and we will call her Amelia

We are parents! We welcomed our little baby girl Amelia last Monday night, just a few days before Christmas. Everyone but my mother was betting on a boy. What a surprise she turned out to be. Amelia was born with a full head of black hair—just like her mama!—a full 8 pounds 6 ounces and 20 3/4 inches long. Not a tiny little thing. Already she has stolen our hearts with her suckling and little cooing noises.

People wonder where her head of hair came from. Well take a look at the picture my sister Emma found from our childhood. (That's me in the middle.) Look at that hair!

a pregnant pause

Where have I been the last 9 months? I've been pregnant. And something about the experience has caused me to direct my focus inward, rather than to externalize. I haven't been drawn to my writing for some time now. But I know that my writing is a part of me and as I near the end of my pregnancy, I feel the pull to my keyboard once again. Perhaps it's the knowledge that this little rumbling, tumbling meatloaf inside me will not be my own anymore as it leaves its world of one (me) and comes outside for the first time.

When that happens, I hope that I will want to write even more. For now, I am writing to use up time. Isn't that terrible? I never have enough time, it seems, and now that I've stopped working, and have all the time in the world to myself, I wish I didn't have soooo much free time.

Anywho, all the veterans say to make the most of these quiet, restful days alone before the baby comes. So I'm doing my best. I will go to as many yoga classes as I can. I will get a massage. I will get my toes done. I will bake cookies.

I most certainly will not vacuum or mop or clean the tub. Well, maybe I'll clean the tub. We'll see...

Since I haven't been posting, I thought I'd do some highlights over the next few days if it's still just me and the couch. Last month, Col and I took a trip to East Hampton, New York to surprise my friend Brooksie at her baby shower. We called it our "baby moon—the last hurrah—and got a nice room at an inn in town. We visited the beach and just enjoyed ourselves. Col convinced me to dip my feet in the water (in November!). It actually wasn't that cold when it was just my feet, but then all of a sudden, a big swell came in and soaked me up to my knees. Kind of exhilarating actually (thank goodness we weren't too far from the car).

my best friend

In a couple of weeks, Col and I will be celebrating our 6 year anniversary since we first started dating. Sometimes I feel like it's been twice that long. But honestly the whole trip has been a real breeze. That's because my boy makes it so easy. Even if I TRY to pick a fight with him sometimes (now, why on earth would I do that??) he always knows how to talk me down off the ledge. He's so patient with me. He makes me laugh. He inspires me to step out of my comfort zone—and that keeps life exciting!

Col has taught me so many things. And not just how to be a better person. He taught me how to snowboard so that we could spend our weekends together in the winter and now I'm good and I love it and I can't wait to go again.

He has tried to teach me things that I didn't end up loving. For example, he tried to teach me how to surf once on Nantucket, but I had a panic attack while I was on my board thinking about sharks and drowning that I had to go in. But at least with surfing, we can still be together. I can sit on the beach and watch him on the water and say to myself, "That's my boy. He loves life so much. And that makes me love him even more."

a year and a month later

Our one year anniversary came and went and until now I've neglected to make any record of it in writing. To celebrate our inaugural year of matrimony, Col and I had decided that we wanted to try and recreate our wedding weekend in Stowe.

It was a frigid weekend, starting in the single digits, then plunging even colder. First, we nutcrackers decided we would go snowboarding. Brrrr! After two runs in the chilling temps and feeling stiff on icy terrain, we thought the Trapp's outdoor hot tub sounded much more appealing. So we left the mountain and drove over to Trapp to check in.

The views from that hilltop never cease to give me pause. And having had been to Austria just a couple months prior, I remarked to Col, "It really does look like Little Austria up here."

The folks at Trapp had left a bottle of bubbly in our room for us with a card welcoming us back. We popped it open and enjoyed a glass while we looked through a book of our wedding weekend that I'd made for Col as an anniversary gift.

After totally reminiscing about that magical day, we went to the hot tub to soak in some steam while contemplating the view of the frosty green mountains.

Later that night... dinner at the Lodge. In symbolic reference, I wore my white felted wedding shrug and my green suede wedding shoes. We ordered a bottle of our favorite wine Morgan, which we had special ordered to serve at the wedding and which was now magically on the wine list. We enjoyed a rich, satisfying feast and finished with our cake topper, which had been made fresh for us as a one-year gift from Trapp. Chocolate and vanilla speckle cake with maple cream filling and maple cream cheese frosting. Oh my! I especially liked that they had recreated a miniature version of the snowflakes as well.

Next morning was even colder if you can believe it. Too cold to ride. Lucky for us, Colin's parents had ordered us up some morning massages. I can't remember the last time I was that relaxed. I was in a quiet, reflective stupor for the rest of the day.