a pause in the activity

Luke is sleeping right now, Dad and Dave are shopping, Mom's reading a book, and I'm taking just a few of my available minutes right here to do the blog. I'm nearing (well, sorta nearing) the one-year anniversary of when I started this blog, which calls to mind its original purpose - to record the highlights of our great family vacation. But the flaws in that plan are evident again now, when there's just too much happy fun stuff going on for me to blog. Luke is having a ball with Papa and Bomma (new name, we don't know why, but he thinks it's hilarious). We haven't covered too much territory, just the beach and a museum and a park or two, and this afternoon we're going back to another beach for a drum circle. I could live like this. I mean, I could really, really live like this. Luke is walking around saying "So happy!" Yep.

trapeze act

Luke has started a little trend of asking questions that cannot be answered, as in, we've left the Tot Lot and he'll ask, "Where Tot Lot go?" Well, it's...at the Tot Lot. Or we'll be reading the Passover book that mentions that the haggaddahs are in Hebrew and he'll ask, "What Hebrew do-ning?" Well, it's...not doing anything, especially when I'm the one reading the book. He also has started to ask me, "What's today?" I was starting to feel like "Monday" or "Sunday" were sort of empty responses, so I made a little daily calendar with pictures to show what he does on each day: Saturday/Sunday is family day, Monday/Tuesday/Thursday is Teacher Beverly and school day, and Wednesday/Friday is Mommy/Lukey day. I decided to represent Mommy/Lukey day with a picture of me and Luke when we were opening the ukelele for the first time, but in truth, Mommy/Lukey day is an evolving work-in-progress. Last week Dave was out of town on both of the Mommy/Lukey days, and those mornings were essentially danger mornings (bruises occurring, stomachache-inducing foods being mistakenly eaten, and doors being inadvertently locked). Now how do I illustrate that? I'm thinking a big skull-and-crossbones might do it. ("Caution! Today you will spend time alone with your mother!")

I'm going to take a big risk here that Luke will never talk to me again when he hits age 12 (or whenever you get embarrassed about things) but I thought I'd mention our forays into potty training, such as it is. We've had some friends who started and had to stop when anti-potty rebellion ensued. So we definitely haven't been pushing it. But we've been giving him the opportunity to use the potty every night before he puts on his pj's. On Wednesday, when Dave was gone, he peed in the potty and came out the door triumphantly: "I did it!!!" So we both celebrated, me by cleaning out the little basin, and him by heading purposefully into his closet, closing the door, and pooping on the floor. But as I told Dave, at least...oh, never mind. That's enough on that.

Saturday night Dave and I went out for dinner and a movie - thank heavens for our babysitters Suzi and Boom-Boom. Luke was a little sad when we left, but Suzi knew that, and she made a point of calling us within five minutes of when we left to let us know that he was totally fine and laughing. On Sunday morning Luke was happy as a clam and even told us the whole story about spilling the grape juice down the front of his shirt.

Sunday night we went over to Bruce and Brandi's house for dinner so that Luke and Eitan could run around and bang drums while Dave and Bruce talked home remodeling, and while Brandi and I commiserated about the poor plight of the part-time working mom. After dinner Bruce hung up the trapeze, which seems as if it should have some great metaphoric value for this blog, but it doesn't really. It was just fun and slightly dangerous, and when you sit on it as Luke did, you can see nothing but Pacific ocean behind him. Now *that's* cool.

30 seconds

Why is Luke walking around with a long purple bruise on his face? Not because he is beaten, but, perhaps, because he is overindulged. See, I was getting dressed in my closet, and he was standing next to me, and he wanted to get up on my stepstool, which I helped him up on even though it's kinda rickety and not so safe, and he fell off somewhat spectacularly while swinging his hammer. He didn't seem to be too much worse for wear, except for the dark, angry streak down his cheek. But it goes to show you (read: me) that you can't let up your guard even for a second.

Like yesterday, when Luke and I were sitting in the playroom, and the guestroom door was open because I had gotten out some art supplies...so Luke ran into the guest room and politely asked me to leave while he shut the door. No sooner had I told him, "Do not shut that door," when he tried to open it and in the process LOCKED the door FROM THE INSIDE.

Now imagine all time freezing and the rest of the world floating around us in suspended motion. I tried to pry the lock open with my finger, and in the process ripped off a large chunk of my thumbnail. Then I grabbed the phone and made a panicked phone call to Dave (voicemail! dammit!) while trying to sound relentlessly upbeat for Luke. "Hang on just a minute, there, buddy."

Could I break through the window outside? Tricky, because the shutters were also closed. Could I bash in the door? It's pretty flimsy, but I'd be afraid of bashing through and giving Luke a matching bruiser on the other cheek. Could I call 911? How long would it be? Would Luke go into panic like me?

Then I realized that the part I turned with my thumb could be turned with a screwdriver, so I dashed to the basement and grabbed it and - whew! - unlocked the door. In reality, it was only about 30 seconds but it happened in agonizingly slow motion.

Luke, calm as a cucumber, took one look at my thumb and said, "Mommy, need a band-aid?" I left a follow-up message on Dave's voice mail..."Uh, please disregard the previous message and tone of panic."

So Suzi and Boom-boom are coming over to babysit tonight while we go out to celebrate our anniversary. (How many years is it again? Six? Seven? Paper? Iron?) I know he will continue to entertain them with his adventurous food choices (yesterday = a marinated clove of garlic). Let's hope they're more careful than I am. (Not hard, says the peanut gallery.)

Eastover

Of all of the many joys of today, nothing can quite compare with the crazy, frenetic, five-minute high of the egg hunt. I had no idea that Luke would enjoy it as much as he did, but each time he found an egg, he wanted more...to the point where I just started taking eggs out of his basket and re-hiding them as soon as he found them.

It looks like we've got a mountain of a task ahead of us in the next few years, trying to explain what is essentially a collision of cultures with Easter and Passover. Luckily, he's a guy who enjoys eating no matter what the occasion. When we told him it was time to eat the matzoh, he said, happily, "Masa?" (talk about a culture clash...) But he gamely tried (almost) everything, including a little experimental dip of parsley in the salt water. And when he learned that, after a three-hour multi-course dinner, it was finally time for dessert, he was seated back at the table in a flash, fork in hand, waiting expectantly before the cake even came out of the box.

As predicted, the Seder readings were a little too long for him but he was reasonably content to work in the workshop once he finished his hard-boiled egg. We just might have a little explaining to do in school tomorrow if he starts talking about "Lukie's wine" (the kosher grape juice he polished off).

With dessert came a sugar high and a bouncing-around-the-room guy who basically had no chance of being asleep by bedtime. So hey, our schedule is off a little bit. But it was a great holiday, with great family, and again, a long list of thank-yous to say at the end of the day.

First date

Oh, I want to blog about friends and attitudes about money and cool people and not-so-cool people, but who wants to hear about all of that? I know what you really want to hear about is how delicious California dates are. I grew up thinking that dates were something to be tolerated, perhaps tossed in a bread or a cake after being mashed beyond recognition. But that was because I had never had a *fresh* California date. I'm partial to Khadrawy dates, by the way - and there IS a difference. You could just eat them straight out of the package and they are soft and chewy, like a caramel pudding. Apparently Luke will grow up eating dates, because he's well on his way to glomming down at least three a day. In fact, he threw a near tantrum the other day because we wanted him to eat dinner (pizza, which he truly loves) before he had another date. Also, at bedtime we always run through a list of things we are thankful for, like the people who take care of us, and our home and our health. On the night of the tantrum, Luke wanted to add "dates" to the list. Hey, at least it's not Captain Crunch or something, right? (Oh wait, that's part of a nutritious breakfast.)

So we're gearing up for a big Eastover feast tomorrow - that's the holiday where Jesus died so that we could eat bitter herbs and gefilte fish and ask a bunch of questions, or something like that. We're going to hide eggs and matzoh for Luke to find, and we'll keep mentioning the Easter Bunny, just to ensure that he's thoroughly confused.

Sticky-sweet

I am still glowing from our big night out on Monday. Yes, Dave and I went together to an adult gathering. Yes, we left Luke at home to be put to bed in the care of others. Yes, we had fun, and yes, he did too. Did he miss us? I don't think so. Suzi and Bill had him thoroughly entertained, to the point where they almost had a "Code Blue" when he was laughing so hard he had to be reminded to breathe. And I have to swallow my pride and admit this, but...when he woke up the next morning, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where Suzi and Bill?" and I said, "They had to go home, sweetie," and he burst into tears.

In the meantime, we had a sparkling, twinkly-light kind of dinner with good food and wine and good comedy and beautiful scenery. On the way home down the hill, I saw the entire city shining out before us and I got one of those lumps in my throat and a feeling like, is this real, and am I floating? Once I came down from that high, I also realized - Hey! We could go out on a Saturday night and everyone would still be happy - possibly even happier! Maybe a movie? Dinner? Wheeeeee! Anything's possible!

On a somewhat related note, the three of us went to the our wise doctor this afternoon, and Luke was on his best behavior. When he met the doctor, he shook his hand and said solemnly, "Hi, Doctor." Then he offered, "My name is Luke." Yes - That's my boy! A poster child success story for that office if I've ever seen one. Dr. W., of course, made us feel like everything would be OK, and I came out feeling like we could conquer the world...or maybe just one more tiny infant. Could we do that? I mean, could we really handle that? I had a funny moment in that office where I put my hand on my head and felt a strangely familiar sticky-sweet glop. Yuck - child-sponsored maple syrup in my hair. But then I realized, exactly three years ago I had sat in that same seat and I would have done anything to have child-sponsored anything in my hair.

Dave and his political types might have us ask ourselves, "Are we better off today than we were four years ago?" and I'd have to say yes...yes we are. Covered with syrup, repeatedly sweeping up large piles of sand all over our house, and constantly picking up small plastic tools. Our lives are definitely much improved.

For the record

Hang around at our house for a while and sooner or later you're bound to hear:

Who dat onna phone?
What's happening here?
No I YIKE it (I don't like it)
Wanna go Pom Pings
Wha do-ning?
What's THAT?
Wanna see it
What dat man's name? What dat yay-yay's name? What dat boy's name? What dat dog's name? What dat cat's name?
How are you? (offering hand to shake)

Unk says a career in politics is sure to follow...

all brain and no brawn

We're having a great time with Uncle Yay-Yay, or I suppose I should say Larry, and Luke has certainly not been shy in asking him to read a book or carry him around. Speaking of carrying him around....hmm...I'm starting to think we need to have Luke develop more than just his brain. I think he'd be happy to alternate sitting on my lap and reading books all day, with hammering at the workshop and/or drumming, but there's a point where he might need to learn how to do something else, like, say, run and jump or walk up and down stairs. We went to a gymnastics class today and it took Luke a while to warm up, but once he was comfortable he had a grand old time (especially because the man teaching the class played guitar and harmonica). Still, it was painfully clear that he's nowhere near where some of his friends are in terms of climbing and jumping capabilities.

Then again, he was pleased as punch to sit for about 45 minutes at the Cuban restaurant tonight, eating tamales and rice and beans and talking up a storm, so maybe we should be happy we have a little gourmand on our hands. No one really earns a living running and jumping anyway, right?

School daze

I realize I haven't talked much about Luke being in school aside from the first few days. Bottom line is, I'm not really sure what to make of it. Except for the agonizing drop-off, all seems to be well. He seems happy and he comes home buzzing about everything he's been doing. He hasn't even gotten sick more than that one time with the pinkeye. But I have to admit I woke up in a panic the other night, imagining myself as Luke at school, feeling scared and not knowing where to turn for help.

Today I had the unfortunate duty of doing my first-ever drop-off, while carrying out the morning on my own - note to Joe - how do you get two kids out the door by 7:30? I couldn't even get Luke awake until 7:55 and it took me a good hour to get us both out the door, even without TV, books, or dawdling. Funny thing is, once I said, "Let's go to school!" he said, "Yeah - Let's go!" and ran to the door. I guess I just didn't say the magic words soon enough. But the drop-off was painful, involving lots of screaming and clinging, coupled with my own uncertainty and frustration (where am I supposed to put the lunch bag? why did some guy double-park and block me in?).

Good things about school: Miss Beverly. Miss Melissa. Miss Rubio. KJ the director. Lots of activities and distractions. Lots of cool toys outside. Drums. Miss Beverly's autoharp. Not going into debt every month because of the nanny. No nanny.

Bad things about school: The dropoff. Not really knowing for sure what he did during the day. Not really being sure that when Luke says something the teachers will understand him. Not really knowing what diseases the other sniffling and hacking kids might be carrying. Wondering during the day if he is scared or crying and not having someone to comfort him.

Happily, when I went to pick him up on Tuesday I walked in on him laughing hysterically at one of the teachers. And when Dave picked him up on Thursday he was engrossed in reading a book one-on-one with the teachers. Dave loves Miss Melissa because she has no hesitation about telling us how smart he is. I think might only be a matter of time before he's king of the hill there.

What does it take for a guy to get a drink around here?

Hahahahaha. I have tons of pics from vacation but this one jumped out at me as a good starter. It has just been a dream-like weekend, from the swimming, to the fine dining (yes, we did it with a 2-year-old), to the exploring. I don't think I've ever seen a kid happier in a pool than Luke is with Dave. (If I close my eyes I can still hear him laughing and counting, "One, two, teeee!")

We had such a good run with him that we decided to take him out to our favorite fancy restaurant last night. It really wasn't quite as bad as it could have been, but we made it as easy as possible. We got there when the doors opened at 5:30 and we grabbed a corner table in an otherwise empty room. They propped Luke up on the couch because there were no highchairs, and they had him drinking milk out of a porcelain coffee cup, but otherwise it was just like any other gourmet meal with a toddler (I spent an inordinate amount of time praying that he wouldn't yank on the white tablecloth, sending our wine and martini glasses flying). But when the spread arrived, it was all worth it. Their famous curry entree amounts to a lap-blanket-sized plate, featuring a careful arrangement of mango chutney, cucumber and yogurt, tomato salsa, sliced bananas, jasmine rice, raisins, cashews, an impossibly light fennel cracker bread, and mounds of perfectly spiced chicken curry. ("Where the beans?" Luke wanted to know). But in the end it was all OK, and we got the waiter to take a picture of us, and we made it through without having to pay for any additional stemware.

Another possibly dangerous trend that I've noticed is Luke's increasing awareness of others coupled with his ability to talk about it, which makes for some embarrassing moments. Like when he saw the lady at the zoo with the oxygen tank and tubes. "What dat yay-yay (lady) have? What dat yay-yay have?" Or when he saw the lady with the spiky gray hair at the pool - "Hey - dat Dan Zanes!" Or more embarrassingly, at the pizza parlor, when Luke saw the sumo-wrestler-sized cook in the back of the kitchen:

"Dat a big man. Dat a big, big, big, big man"
"OK, Luke, shhhh. That's enough."
"Dat a big man."
"Shhhh. We'll talk about it later."
[thoughtful pause]
"Dat a big, big, big, big man"

We lived to tell, and we even made it home in one piece after that. Luke had, once again, a joyful reunion with his tools and his drums, polished off a healthy dinner, and literally sang with happiness in the bath. Now it's just about 9:45 and Dave is still up there with him so I can't say all is perfect, but we came pretty darn near close in the last three days.