This babe was made for walkin'....

And that's just what he did.... on American soil!

We had just arrived on gorgeous Kiawah Island to join the rest of the Rothman clan to celebrate Anne and Lew's 50th wedding anniversary, and on Day 2 Hugo just up and walked... like he'd always known how, he just hadn't felt like it.  And thus ended life as we knew it.

We had been not concerned exactly, but a tad surprised that the boy who sat up, stood, crawled, and cruised so early was lagging behind his sister's walking age by 2 months. I guess he didn't have anywhere important to be! And now, oyyyyyy. He walks everywhere, across rooms, in the tub, into the crashing surf of the Atlantic Ocean. If he's anything like his sister he'll soon be RUNNING away from me as fast as possible, so I suppose I should pause and count my blessings while I still can.

But let me back up - it was a crazy exhausting month of travel and activity. In early June we tooted over to Le Beaux Paris for the Queen's Jubilee weekend -- treasonous, I know -- hoping to escape the rain and grey for good friends and great food. Sadly the weather didn't cooperate for long, but we did reunite with les filles Bell (Virginia Mom et famille) in the Luxembourg Gardens for carousel, ice cream, and sand pits. While they initially stood around staring at each other, fingers in noses, they quickly got comfy and chased each other around, sharing ice cream licks and flinging sand at each other. Ah, the good old days.

The Three Horsemen

 La glace! Oh la la!

 Hugo looooves the sand

Good golly, Miss Molly!

We stayed not too far from our old 'hood, on Boulevard Montparnasse, in a holiday flat that was sadly not air-conditioned nor equipped with that modern convenience they call a fan. Still, it was a hop-skip from most of our old haunts, like La Coupole, the Raspail market (where Jeff still had to wrangle hot cakes in a bag from Cranky Potato Pancake Man) and all the great shops around Boulevard St. Germain and Rue de Rennes, which Jeff let me have an afternoon to explore.

We had a great time with C, my British and first Parisienne Pal -- a surreal Sunday afternoon was spent watching the Queen's flotilla on their Sky network dish, eating treats from the new Marks and Spencer on the Champs-Elysees, while her son W taught Josie some classic Jedi maneuvers.

It was great to be back in Gay Paree, but honestly for the first time we all felt like tourists. Lots had already changed as far as shops, etc., a few of our friends had left as well, and Josie really didn't remember anything, which felt so shocking! But I still loved it more than ever. Loved strolling through the Luxembourg Garden -- an especially French afternoon as it was "L'Exposition des Jouets" or something, which was basically all these dorky guys and gals in matching T-shirts demonstrating various sports (Frenchies playing b-ball - something to see, lemme tell ya) to BLARING LOUD horrible French synth-pop. We ate les macarons at every opportunity, yelled at mothers of kids with no socks, and cringed at every loud American in white tennies (which don't get me wrong, in Bath I am happy to be, yoga pants, scrunchie and all!).

(you'll notice I am borrowing heavily from my homegirl MJ in this post, but what can I say, she noticed and noted way more wacky French sh*t than I did!)

Macarons on the steps of the Opera Garnier 

Dinner with Virginia Mom at Hotel du Nord

Without much of a break, we were again packing and trekking to Heathrow for our long-awaited 2-week sojourn to the States. As aforementioned we started in gorgeous (hot! sunny! Thank God!) Kiawah Island. Our 22-hour itinerary looked something like this: wake up at 5:30 am, 2 hour drive to Heathrow, 9 hour flight to Miami, 3.5 hour layover (with Miami Spice and family, thank goodness!), 2 hour flight to Charleston, 1 hour drive to Kiawah Island, arrival around midnight! You can imagine what we looked like when we arrived.

Despite warnings about alligators (and severe penalties for "taunting them"), three-inch "palmetto bugs" (mm-hmm, that's Southern for good old cucaracha, mi amigos!) the resort was gorgeous and comfortable. Our three-building complex  had its own pool, which Josie in particular never wanted to exit.

Both kids had an amazing time with their grandparents, aunts and uncles and crazy cousins.  Anne and Lew were celebrating 50 years of marriage, so we serenaded them to a bastardized version of James Taylor's "Goin' to Carolina in my mind" and they in turn re-enacted their first date, dressed in character.

 

It's true... after this long you do start to look alike! 

The beach was also gorgeous, and Hugo quickly demonstrated a strong and horrifying affinity for the ocean, skuppering as fast as humanly -- or more accurately crably -- possible towards the waves.

Out of my way!!!!

There were no shortage of activities -- we biked all over the resort, got ice creams and massages and painted pottery and generally soaked up all the sunshine we could since it had been about 34 weeks since we'd glimpsed that elusive orb in Merry Olde England. Just what the doctor ordered.

Then after a week of Southern Hospitality (I even got to eat grits!! mmmm!) it was another psychotically early wake up (4:30 this time!) to catch a 7:15 flight to Martha's Vineyard via Washington, D.C.  Other than shop for really cheesy crap in the airport store (I got some awesome Michelle Bachmann Tea Party mints) there wasn't much to do, so Josie cruelly decorated her snoozing brother.

Though we didn't go "home" this vacation, the Vineyard felt pretty close. Nom and Pee-pa were waiting at the arrival gate, ready to whisk us off for our first lobster rolls of the season. We stayed in a great condo complex (where we'd stayed back in '08) with its own pool and tennis court. The weather was super HOT again so as much as we love the Vineyard's gorgeous beaches it was also great to have a pool.

 Gorgeous Gay Head Cliffs (yeah, no lame Aquinnah nonsense for us!)

 Placid State Beach

 Idyllic Menemsha (I took a 2 second break from 

stuffing fried oysters in my piehole to snap this)

 

Hugo loves da pool 

Though it was actually our third Fourth of July on the Vineyard, we'd never before been to the famed Edgartown parade. Edgartown is small, uber-preppy and already kind of a parking nightmare, so I guess we'd never felt it worth the pain and effort, but once you've got 2 kids, you gotta hit the parade! Sooooo glad we did. The day was classic Americana. Bunting everywhere, flags, everyone dressed in their most patriotic Tommy Hilfiger and Ralph Lauren shirts (plus one old, weird-looking guy sporting that classic "Harvard: the Michigan of the East" but even my mom thought he looked too kooky to approach with a "Go Blue").  

We had to grab prized and shady curbside seats and chill for about an hour, but with sandwiches from a completely classic old deli and a grassy yard to play catch, it wasn't a terrible wait.

 Edgartown Deli....classic Americana!

 Waiting patiently for the Main Event

Here come the Rebels! (I hope they're not coming for us! 

Cover Hugo's Union Jack T-shirt!)

No one enjoying the parade more than Hugo

Though Josie had been to the Vineyard twice before, this was the first time she could really remember... so we've promised to return every summer that we can! We just love this place. Biking, beaching, lookin' for wild turkeys, shopping for cool folk art and antiques, it's got everything this wacky side of the family needs!

Now it's back to gloomy England, where the rainiest June on record followed the rainiest May followed the rainiest April. Sheesh!!  But between chasing Hugo, work and Olympic fever, the weeks before our next trip (Stockholm!) should fly by.

 

Just like Josie's kite flew high over Oak Bluffs Memorial Park