Crazy town

Who says you can't get a whole bunch of people on a big bumpy... slide ... walker ... thingy? We've had a full house this weekend with a mini-reunion of Eric's mom, his siblings, and their kids. It was a full and lively day at the park and at the beach with seven kids and eight adults total. Luke of course had a blast with his cousins, but also spent a surprisingly large part of the day peppering Eric with questions about every possible detail of Harry Potter. We will probably need to call him with questions when we get around to reading the books.

The bumpy slide-walker thingy, which is a little diversion at our elementary school park, was something we had never given much thought to until the cousins came to town. Once all of the grownups started hopping on, and off, and up, and down - it turned into at least a half-hour of hair-raising fun for big and little alike (and yes, that's Eric's mom Linda on the end). Linda had so much fun she declared that someone needed to create "geriatric" parks for older folks to have fun exercise and improve balance, etc.

Somehow at the beach kids never seem to get enough of getting buried in the sand. This time it was Helena's turn, and although Antonia and Luke and Isabella spent quite a bit of time on it, it was Zach who seemed to take the most glee in doing the finishing touches. Sooner or later he's going to want to be buried and he's going to realize that it's no fun to have sand dribbled on your head when you can't reach your arms.

The kids also love to go to Elizabeth's house because it's full of all sorts of curiosities. When she hauls out the "kids box" of (quiet) toys, it's a mad rush to see what's inside. Luke and Helena and Antonia have a special place in their heart for the window paints (that can be wiped off), and Elizabeth likes it too because she when she wakes up in the morning she gets to read all sorts of fun messages to "Auntie E."

OK - too many pictures, not enough time for words. While I go off to pack for our trip to see even more cousins, I'll leave you with a few extra pics. In no particular order: pizza swing, Elizabeth's porch, Zach meets cookie, Helena and I after doing our nails; kids devouring a 24-inch pizza.

Apple Jack-y

You know those lazy summer days when you just sit around and don't do anything? We didn't have that kind of weekend. We jam-packed so many activities into this weekend that when we finally came home our heads were spinning. Usually at the end of the day we ask the boys, "What was your favorite part of the day?" but tonight we had to amend it to something like, "Can you narrow down your six or seven most favorite parts of the day?"

I was hoping to be able to remember all of the details of our cabin, but fortunately Luke did the work for me. He went around the cabin and took about 40 pictures recording every single detail, from the fire extinguisher to the grill to the toilet. I probably won't be posting them here. But he was nice enough to take a few pictures on demand, including one of the only pictures of me and Dave you'll see from this vacation.

Today we took the ski lift up the mountain for a "sky tour" of the valley, all the way to the peak, and then did a little hiking around. Dave got the boys interested in the whole affair by announcing that we were going to take a ride up "Ice Cream Mountain" where there were treats waiting on top. And even though Zach wasn't initially thrilled with the ski lift, he was happy as a clam once we got used to the zen-like feeling of floating in the air above the valley. Of course the reward of ice cream at the top made it that much sweeter. There were a few big rocks to climb at the peak and Luke impressed us all with his quick and nimble shimmy all the way to the top. And of course once Luke did it, Zach needed to follow suit.

After we came down from the mountain we went down to the marina and rented a little pontoon boat for a one-hour tour. The lake was a little choppy, which made Dave's grin a little more maniacal and the boys a little more worried (five minutes into the voyage, Luke was asking, "Is the hour up yet?")

But once we settled into a comfortable groove, we were feeling a little better about it. Zach especially - he fell sound asleep for the duration of the boat ride.

Then, after we turned in the boat and loaded back up in the car, we drove down from the mountain, giddy, dirty, and over-extended, back home at last.

"Stumbling into fun"

We are at the happiest little cabin in the mountains, a jolly little green cabin known as Apple Jacks, and we are having an unexpectedly great time. (Zach: "What is this called again?" Me: "A cabin." Zach: "Yeah. A cabin. I like this cabin.") (Editor's note: All of my good pictures are on my phone, so I'll have to update this when I get back to my regular technology set-up at home).

Yesterday we weren't exactly sure how the day was going to go, but one thing after another just turned out to be great. We went to the Alpine recreation center and did Go-Karts, which the boys loved (and left me wondering why I had never driven a Go-Kart before because it was So. Much. Fun). Then we took the chair lift (boys' first time) up the mountain to do the alpine slide (little toboggan-like slides that you steer and control the speed as you wind down the mountain). Neither one of them met the height requirement to ride alone, which was just as well because we got a chance to ride with them and hear what they had to say. (Zach, on the way down: "Oh, I love this ride. I am loving this ride. This is a great ride. I love this ride." And then at the bottom: "I want to do it AGAINNNNNN!")

In the afternoon we sort of stumbled into a rickety old town museum. As we pulled up Dave and I were chuckling to ourselves about how lame it was probably going to be... and then we walked in to see cases and cases of gemstones from mining operations, and the docent said, "You're here just in time to do some panning for gold!" And of course that made the afternoon for both Luke and Zach. Oh, and a friendly blacksmith made little "pirate peanut butter knives" for both of them.

Then we didn't quite have time to get to the hike we wanted to do, but we pulled over to the side of the road because we saw all sorts of people walking on this cool little boardwalk through the marsh areas. And that in and of itself was a huge attraction too. It turns out that boys love water, mountains, cozy cabins, going fast, and finding sparkly things in the dirt. Oh, and girls do too. Go figure.

Freeze

If I could only use one word to describe Luke these days, it would be "exuberant." Somehow, through a combination of summer vacation, cool activities, and fun friends, he has suddenly hit his stride. He walks through the day with a perpetual smile on his face, and he just bubbles over with enthusiasm to tell you every detail about Star Wars (Episodes I through IV), his DS prowess, playing in the ocean, his favorite movie quotes, or his plans for future Lego projects.

This new development is best encapsulated by his week at beach camp. He seems to have gotten over any fear he had about going in the ocean, and he has spent the week joyfully tumbling in the waves and getting soaked without even once bothering to put on his goggles. (Last year he'd come home with a different craft he had done each day, but this year he skipped craft time altogether to spend more time in the ocean). I can't tell you what a joy it is to watch him discover something cool and have so much fun with it. Oh wait - maybe some of you know something about that already.

He's been watching a few movies lately and he seems to be taking them in stride too; not getting too frightened or worked up about the scary parts. He had me cracking up the other day with his spot-on imitation of Flint from "Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs" baffled by his first snowball fight: "Is there like a point system, or is it...to the death?"

He seems to miss his kindergarten friends, but he's confidently taken matters into his own hands. Last week he systematically worked his way down the roster, calling various friends and leaving rambling messages on family voice mails. Sure, I got some confused responses from a few moms, but it also resulted in some great playdates and meet-ups with his long-lost (read: haven't seen them in three weeks) buddies.

Tonight as he was falling asleep he suddenly lifted up his head and announced, "I need the phone number for a scientist or an inventor." Turns out he wants some help with a water speeder he has plans to build. The funny thing is, I'll bet if I gave him a phone number, he would call it.

I just love six and a half so much I want to freeze it.

"The sky popped open"

There are few roads lonelier than the one leading to the children's hospital at 5:30 in the morning. It's not quite light outside yet, and your heart is so heavy that it seems to scrape on the ground with every little bump.

Four of us parents arrived at the hospital at 6 am today, each holding a child and mentally making a calculation about whether it was better to surrender them or just run out and not come back. When it was our turn in the operating room, I held Zach on my lap with his soft yellow hospital-issue pajamas and heard his whimpering gradually subside as the gas did its work. A vacant look came over his eyes and then his eyelids slowly shut. Then I lifted him onto the operating table, gave him a kiss, and walked, heavy-hearted, out of the room.

Can you imagine what it must be like for a parent whose child has a chronic or deadly illness? Or whose child must undergo repeated surgeries? I'm not trying to make it more about me than it really is, but I have to say that for every twinge of fear or anxiety he felt before the surgery, I probably felt it four-fold. Where do parents get the nerves of steel that it must take to make that surrender time and time again?

After the operation it was Zach feeling the pain. He howled in protest when he woke up from the anesthesia. He kept complaining about pain in his left ear, which led the post-op team scrambling in search of some codeine they could give him to add to the Tylenol already circulating through his system. He was annoyed by the blood-oxygen monitor on his toe. He was peeved about his too-small hospital socks slipping off. And he was hopping mad about some "thing" in his left ear that was causing a little bit of blood to drip out. But by that point I was better because at least he was awake and back in my arms. Once the hurt has been done, I'm pretty good at managing the fallout.

After driving through the pre-dawn darkness, and then adjusting our eyes to the operating room florescent glare, it was as if we had been in the hospital all night. So when we finally stepped outside, the sun was shining and it felt like a completely new day.

"Mom, it was nighttime but then the sun came up," Zach told me as we headed back up the freeway, with hearts light and giddy, ears cleared of gunk. "It was dark outside and then the sky popped open."

Stymied

This week was supposed to be a work week. Emphasis on the "supposed to be." Luke had all-day camp, and Zach is in preschool T-W-Th, which meant I should have had three nearly full days of kid-free work time. Of course I probably don't even need to say that it didn't work out that way at all. Zach got sick with yet another ear infection so I had him home with me on Monday and Tuesday; I got a little bit of work done when he went to school on Wednesday; and then on Thursday I spent the entire morning with Zach at the doctor and at the hospital for pre-registration for his ear-tube procedure to be done on Monday.

(Side note: A wise rabbi I know recently told me, "It's minor surgery if it's happening to someone else. It's major surgery if it's happening to you." I'd only edit that to add, "...or your kid.")

When I finally settled down to do some work on Friday, I learned that my parenting assignment for the week was on "Moms and Internet Addiction." I found myself typing the words, "While your kids eat lunch, you’re checking your email. You let them watch TV so that you can update your blog. When everyone else goes to bed, you’re checking your Twitter account to see if you have any new followers. "

Oh, snap. Did I just write those sentences directed at others? And did I just go on and on about the importance of enjoying experiences, and living real life?

Well, in that case, I'm going to need to sign off. But I'll make things more interesting by putting up a pic of our last night with the Florida clan - a long dinner table, lots of food, and a happy, happy group. For real.

Zach side note: He was going on and on with some story about a speeder and a cat and an engine, and who knows what. My eyes must have glazed over because he suddenly stopped and said, "Mom. Have you heard a word I just said?"

Luke side note: His July 4th drink sale grossed $65, and he pocketed $45 after he reimbursed me $20 for the supplies. At camp this week the kids were singing, "Down by the banks of the hanky-panky, where the bullfrogs jump from bank to bank-y..." and Luke later asked me, "When they say 'Down by the banks' do they mean a bank like Wells Fargo?"

I am Five

Happy birthday to me
Happy birthday to me
My blog is five years old today
Happy birthday to me.

Backfill

To get to the explanation of why my dad mailed me a package filled with dead leaves requires something of a back story.

It's been somewhat recently that I've been experimenting with the idea of urban homesteading. I established a reasonably good compost pile earlier this year, and I've been a dedicated farmers' market shopper for quite some time. This summer, after looking at the ingredient list of my econo-tub of store-bought jam, I resolved to start making my own jams more often. So two weeks ago at the farmers' market I asked my friendly stone-fruit lady if she had any bruised seconds that I could use for jam. Why yes, as a matter of fact she did. In a massive milk crate were 20 pounds of peaches, apricots, and nectarines that were headed straight for the trash bin unless I took them. So I lugged them home and got to work making some of the best jam I've ever had. The next week I brought her a big jar of apricot jam, and she responded with an even bigger gift - a whopping 30 pounds of plums. Needless to say, I've been "jamming" all week long.

However, the unfortunate side effect of having so much fruit waste is that my compost is way, way, way too fruity. It's more like a primordial soup. Too much wet and sweet stuff, not enough dry brown stuff. And where we live, I don't have much in the way of dried leaves or old grass clippings to throw in for balance.

That's where my dad comes in. Yesterday I got a medium-sized brown package in the mail from him that was curiously light. I opened it up to read a small note: "Premium Mix Compost Helper. A hand-picked selection of prime northern hardwood foliage by Jersey Brown Thumb Ltd. (Purveyors to the Queen). Guaranteed to provide the necessary roughage for perfect compost. *Be sure to look for the free gift in every package."

Inside was a grocery bag filled with delightfully crumbly brown dried-out leaves. Which of course I added to the compost forthwith. And I had to smile thinking of my dad and his quirky sense of humor, because it was exactly the kind of thing that my grandmother (his mom) would have either done herself, or would have found completely entertaining.

But more mysterious (as if there could be something more mysterious than getting a package filled with dried leaves) was the "free gift" - a small cardboard box that had been carefully taped shut. It was even lighter than the leaf bag and made no noise when you shook it. We gingerly peeled off the tape and opened the box to find the teeniest, tiniest, most perfect little bird's nest you've ever seen. Zach and I gently lifted it out and brought it outside to its new home, in a little crook in the bird-of-paradise tree in the backyard.

And if you thought our L.A.-area flies and worms are confused about what's been appearing in our compost, imagine what our L.A.-area birds are thinking this morning.