The next chapter

I have found a fragile peace here in the desert heat. At nighttime it is more than 100 degrees and yet Dave and I come out here to sit, talk, find comfort in the quiet stillness. We are on a large, leafy estate, surrounded by palm trees and lush bougainvillea. There are just a few lights in the pool that reflect upward and make the greenery look like it is shimmering. The moon is sitting just above the mountain to the west of us and there are stars in every direction. It's hot but there's no humidity so the heat is healing, not oppressive. We've been coming out here after Luke goes to sleep, just to look out into the sky and talk about what's ahead - for the next hour, week, thirty years. Last night we stopped our whispering when we heard a rustling in the trees. A large white owl swooped overhead, then came to rest on a tree nearby.

There's nothing more to say about me other than that I feel scooped out and raw, and I don't know what's going to come next. I'm sad and confused, and extremely disappointed to be barred from the pool (the worst is having to listen to Luke saying, "Mommy, I want to swim with you!") But the truth is, while I thought that being out in the desert might be a bad idea, in some ways it's been a relief. We are in a beautiful fantasy home and Luke has been thrilled beyond belief with the pool and all of the activities. The fact that it topped 112 degrees today and I couldn't swim was completely beside the point. I decided that I've been looking forward to this trip for so long that I wanted to give myself permission to enjoy it - and I have.

We capped off our day today with a dinner out at a Japanese steakhouse - the kind where they do the cooking at your table. We had given Luke a clue about what was ahead: Just before he went down for his nap, we told him that we were going to eat at a table where we could watch a man chopping the food and flipping it. He said, "My so excited I want to jump out of bed!" At dinner, when the chef chopped the shrimp and tossed a piece into Tony's mouth, it completely rocked Luke's world. For the last several hours he's been carefully re-enacting the scenario and quizzing us about the details.

It's been a year since I started writing this blog and it's odd to look back and remember that one year ago, we decided that we were ready to start trying for #2. Looks like we didn't get too far in a year's time. But that's just one yardstick to measure by; we've had a year's worth of total delight with Luke and plenty of blog-worthy material. Mid-year, in fact, I had decided that if there were a purpose to this blog, it would be to keep a journal or a record for Luke. But of course it's been about me and my own motivations as well. I guess if I'm writing this at all, even if it's for Luke, I need to be honest about what's going on with me and make that a part of it. So that's why, even though it doesn't really mesh that well with all of the funny stories and joyous memories I have from this trip, I have to bring up this sad chapter and think about how I want to start the next one.

As I sit outside in the dark heat, with the pool lights glowing in the background, it is completely silent except for the hot breezes that are blowing in the trees, around my face, and on my feet. It seems like what I've written has made sense, but I'm not sure how well it will hold up in the light of day. No matter; I'm going to go and find Dave now, so we can stay cocooned in this little dream for just a while longer.

surprising changes

Lots to catch up on...If I were really organized, there'd be a picture for each update. But what can you do.

Luke has some new things that are either cracking me up or disturbing me - I haven't quite decided. For one thing, he has designated one little stuffed dog as his "baby" that he insists on wearing stuffed down the front of his shirt. And he walks around telling us that the "baby" wants to eat beef. Or money milk. Hmmmm...

He also informed us that he needs a slide guitar. (A little too much time spent watching bluegrass, no doubt). But still, hmmmmm...

Three times a week or so he asks where his drum set went. "We had to return it to the store because it was broken," I tell him. "Who broke it?" is always his next question. Well, it was flimsy, and Luke broke various parts through wear and tear, but there was one part that Eitan broke. "Eitan broke it!" is always how the conversation ends. I was starting to get worried because the other day when they saw each other at story hour, the first thing Luke said to Eitan was, "You broke my drum set!"

So finally we got him a new, hopefully sturdier drum set. He was all excited, sat on the stool, drum sticks poised expectantly in the air, and before he played a single note, he stopped to ask, "Who broke my other drum set?"

And then there was the party. Hooray for the baseball party. I have tons of good pics but only one available at my fingertips at the moment right here:



Lots of baseball-themed fun - Baseball, baseball cupcakes, pennant artwork, hot dogs, etc. Luke and Hatcher were perfectly matched in their 2.5 shirts. Luke was clingy for the first half-hour, but three hours into the party he was running around like a crazy-happy person, singing the alphabet song at the top of his lungs.

We got home, exhausted, and decided to open just one present (presents given to us against our "no-gifts-please" instructions, by the way). The present was from Eitan and the beauty of it was that it could be used right away - a set of floating drums for the bathtub. Luke loves it, and we're just grateful we don't live in an apartment building on account of the noise. Let's hope that is the last chapter in the great "You Broke My Drum Set" wars of 2006.

The sad little postscript is that the little raspberry and I are still fighting the good fight, but it is not looking good at the moment. I'll spare this blog from the roller coaster but suffice to say we are hoping for the best but preparing for the worst.

What are you yaffing at?

What are you yaffing at? Luke's now in a fabulous stage where everything is just plain funny. Making up nonsense rhymes with songs he already knows is funny. The dog that says "foo" in the comics is funny. Other Luke, who calls all farm animals a helicopter, is funny. Uncle Joe, who says "Pee-yew" is funny. "Poopdeck" is funny. "Did you ever see Nut/Scratching his butt" (sung to the tune of "Down by the Bay") is funny (and something tells me I'm going to regret making up that one).

Point is, he seems to have a whole new joy and appreciation for things, whether it be bouncing a ball off his head, or playing guitar naked after a bath. I'm going to attribute it at least in part to school, where the kids crack each other up all day long.

Yes, we're still dealing with a sudden pig-headedness that manifests itself as a refusal to eat all previously loved foods. But he can be tricked into changing his mind. Last night, Dave made hamburgers rolled into little cigar shapes and Luke happily glommed down two "hot dogs." Oh, and he'll occasionally go back to rice and beans, as long as he wants to and not because you tell him to.

One of the things that Luke is most joyful about these days is the fact that he has a party coming up in only five days (at last count). He can barely contain himself with glee when he talks about eating cupcakes, and playing baseball, and eating more cupcakes. If this is how it's gonna be, I'm signing up for more.

shaken, not stirred

We are in the midst of celebrating Father's Day, which began with Luke's outstanding new recipe for sesame seed pancakes and culminated in a loud hot morning on the beach at the drum circle. Now we're all collecting our respective thoughts by sleeping (Luke), grocery shopping (Dave) and lazing around on the computer (me). What a difference three days can make. I was sad then and I'm happy now, but everything is just a little more guarded, even more so than before. There was no point of elation for me when we got the good news, just total and utter shock because I had believed for more than a week that the situation was hopeless. I guess one possible reaction would have been cheering from the rooftops. But I can't take any more of the roller coaster. For the moment, I have a different feeling than I've had before - I've lost the worry about how we would manage with another kid, and I've gained kind of a warm fuzzy googly feeling when I think about Luke plus another Luke-ette running around.

I'm still not counting any chickens. Still, when you think about it, there are currently four hearts beating in this house. We're going to do whatever we can to keep it that way.

words

The other night when the family was all here eating dinner, Luke excused himself and went off to play by himself. I guess he wanted to make sure he wasn't forgotten because he decided that the best way to amuse himself would be to sing the alphabet song, repeatedly, at the top of his lungs. It was funny, but more importantly , it was hard to ignore.

Seems like we don't know exactly what's going to be coming out of his mouth these days. Like this morning when he told me that he was off to the store to buy "beer and juice and bubble water." Anyone unsure which beverage-oriented parent he is taking after? When Dave complained the other night about Luke needing a separate utensil for each food item, Dave's parents wondered aloud where *that* particular trait could have come from. "It's all in the genes," said Bobbie. And then without missing a beat, Luke agreed, "It's all in the genes!"

For all of his conversation and mimicry, I'm still totally amused by the words he can't quite get right, especially those that involve "r" "l" and/or "g." But if I generalize, and say he still can't say the "g," I remember that he's been asking for "go-gos" (goldfish) since practically day one. Or sometimes I think that he has trouble with the "v" sound, but in reality he just uses it in the wrong way for violin: "bah-vah-in"

A quick guide for those still confused:

tah-TAH = guitar
a-yeh-tah-tah-tah = electric guitar (very important distinction, by the way)
dah-dah = gorilla
soo-doo = cereal
nuh-donna = iguana
beh-uh-ee = Miss Beverly
wee-budduh = wheelbarrow
teem-wudduh = steamroller

We went to a fun graduation party yesterday for Luke and all of his pals as they move on from Mommy and Me into various big-kid activities like preschool. Luke was the only kid who refused to sit for the class picture so I have some cute pics of the class sans Luke, maybe for later posting.

I'm not denying that I'm sad right now. In fact, I'm fumbling my way through a fog of sad. But what I have right now to get me through is an otherwise happy life, filled with the soundtrack of the alphabet song and the strummings of an a-yeh-tah-tah-tah.

Whatever happened to...?

Lots going on right now with everyone but let's just focus on Luke for a moment. Dave tried to talk to him in Spanish the other day and Luke cut in without a moment's hesitation. "Stop, Daddy. I don't like Spanish." Sunday we took him to the Cuban restaurant and he announced that he would eat rice but not beans. Whah? Today I took him to the farmers' market and went through a comical routine of buying just about every lunch option for him (pupusas? guacamole? tamales?) until he finally accepted a hot dog. Lest it start to sound like he's just rejecting Hispanic culture, he's also turned up his nose at such previous favorites as chicken, red peppers, noodles, and mushrooms. My heart used to swell with pride when he would beg for vegetables. I think now we're going to have to hope that bland starch items, fruit, and nitrate- (or is it nitrite-, I never can tell) loaded meat products will fulfill his nutritional needs. But I mean, how predictably toddlerish can you get?

What's Seattle do-ning?

Just a few pics to hold us until I can get my mind and act together...

Deep in girl world

There's much too much going on to spend lots of time on the computer, but I can't go a *week* without blogging, can I? We are in Seattle, deeply entrenched in girl world. There are dolls and princess hats and dress-ups and things that Luke just can't really get his mind around (I had to tell Antonia, "He doesn't really like changing clothes once he's put something on for the day.") But in the end they have a lot more in common that you'd think. After all, who wouldn't want to run around a park like a crazy person, picking up sticks and pinecones? Or chase after the ice-cream truck? Or look at a massive room-sized aquarium full of fish?

Luke had some confusion at first, thinking that Aunt Julie was "Ant-onia" and Antonia was "sister" (as Helena calls her). But they've worked it out amongst themselves. Luke and Antonia were fast friends from the beginning, and Helena and Luke are now more likely to hug than slug.

Antonia is extremely sad to learn that we're leaving tomorrow already, and Helena's persistent comment is a plaintive "Why?"

Pictures to come soon...