Smelling Flowers in Our Backyard

Carl Schurz Park is our backyard. We go there every day. To take walks along the John Finley Walk promenade which has the perfect stonework for stroller-nap-inducing bumpiness. To swing on the swings back and forth, so high, up and down. To have our morning Starbucks coffee/yogurt and greet the rising sun. To set up shop on our blanket for lunchtime picnics. To chase pigeons. To watch dogs play in the small dog park. To teach Savannah the important terminology of our neighborhood: river, doggie, pigeon, flowers, trees, leaves, gray skies, blue skies, neighbors, nannies, babies, big kids...

There are always heaps of people in the park and at the playground. It really is the hub of the neighborhood and somewhat akin to what I imagine a British square or promenade would have been like in the 1800s. But we've found one hidden-away spot that is almost always secluded (you need to do a bit of off-roading with the stroller to get there) with a sizeable grassy area, a few trees and a flower garden that seems to change every month. I like to take Savannah here to explore the grass and see the changing seasons. I call it our backyard and the cherry tree, "our tree".

We enjoyed the last afternoon of summer there yesterday. Savvy celebrated by smelling a flower. Apparently, getting your nose tickled by teeny tiny purple petals is the most hilarious thing ever:

The First Fortune Cookie

Savannah's first fortune cookie reads, "Little brooks make great rivers."

What would have been a maddening fortune for me ("Gah. That's not a fortune. WHAT DOES IT MEAN????"), is the absolute best fortune ever for a 1 year old.

And she liked the cookie.

Gelato is Better in Italy. Duh.

Here's a quickie photo recap of the world's fastest trip through one of the smallest neighborhoods in Manhattan: Little Italy. I left the house with Savannah strapped in the Ergo intending to go on a Russian staycation to Brighton Beach. But after 20 minutes on the subway, the idea of spending another 40 didn't seem feasible. So we got off early and walked through Little Italy with a short pitstop to share gelato and visit to an Italian pasta shop to buy fresh artichoke ravioli, which Savvy devoured when we returned home.

I learned two things:

1. Savannah's not content to stay strapped to me all afternoon anymore. Shoes are now mandatory.

2. When introducing Savannah to a new food (i.e. gelato) I should order my favorite flavors (nocciola and stracciatella) instead of flavors I think Savannah will like (strawberry and vanilla) since she will only take one bite, leaving her mother with crappy, unsatisfying gelato.

Shopping like it's 2001 (or the post where I really embarrass myself)

I recently sorted through my closet and over-stuffed a garbage bag full of clothes to donate. I do this at least once a year. Every year for the last 10 years, I've held onto a few items I purchased during the year I studied abroad in London. I began my twenties in London. Next month, I turn 30. Clothes a decade old from Topshop, H&M, Mango...Never to be worn again but still loved. "Smart trousers" that I rocked a few seasons past their prime...A flirty going-out shirt that my now-husband encouraged me to try on during an awkward shopping trip to Topshop while we were "on a break"...These and others are too sentimental to throw away.

Since they say 30 is the new 20, I thought it would be fun to update my wardrobe from the Oxford Street transplants that now reside on Broadway in Soho. After an especially tough morning with Savannah where she decided to start the day at 4:45am, I had a couple hours to myself thanks to an auntie (or should I say fairy godmother?) and took the opportunity to hit up Topshop and Mango for some retail therapy even though my eyes were burning from exhaustion. I hunted for party clothes to wear on my birthday night out and decided to snap some dressing room photos for the blog.

Taking self-portraits and spending lots of time on Instagram editing them was just the self-indulgent narcissistic activity I needed after months and months of pouring every ounce of my being into my daughter. I felt like my old, dorky (and hot) self. I ended up buying the black dress. It has long sleeves. I hope we have chilly evenings this September because I'm dying to wear it.

A Bunny and the Development of Language

A few weeks ago, Savannah slept through most of our visit to a petting zoo in Manorville, LI.

Luckily, we had our own petting zoo of sorts in our apartment this week, when a friend brought over her pet rabbit to meet Savannah. She loved the bunny: pointed at her, pet her fur gently, held her ears, touched her feet for good luck.

My enthusiastic friend tried to teach Savvy the word "bunny" over and over and over. Savannah's babble du jour is a throaty "duck" or "dch" sound. So their conversation went something like this:

"It's a bunny!"

"Duck"

"Bunny! Look at the bunny."

"Duck?"

"BUN-NY"

"DUCK DUCK DUCK"

and so on...

Savannah's babbles have made it through most of the alphabet by now but lately she's cycled back to almost exclusively D sounds. I'm hearing her get closer and closer to saying words based on slight, slight differences in her utterances. Here is her D vocabulary:

"Dat" --> Says this when she points at something. To me, Dat means "What's that".

"Dook" --> Book

"Dit-uh" --> Diaper

"Duck" --> Thought this meant Dog but clearly this also means Bunny....and presumably Duck. It also means "this" because she says it when she's holding something. Things far away are Dat and things close are Duck.

After the rabbit was back in her cage, I showed my bunny mama friend how much Savannah loves purses. (The bunny mama is also a major fashionista.)

Savvy started playing with my pink Coach bag, pulling the handle up to her shoulder, prompting a "Savannah, that's a bag!!! A PINK BAG!!!! Do you like that BAG???!!!!" Her response? "Baaaach". And here's photo evidence of her love for this bag: