Windows

"This was meant to be," I told Dave. It was two days before our planned escape to Santa Barbara, and I had just attempted to secure the house we wanted to rent, only to learn it had been booked an hour earlier. My bad. So instead I scrambled to find us another place to stay, and we sort of stumbled upon this house that didn't have any reviews and hardly had any pictures. But on paper it sounded good, and the lady was willing to give us a last-minute deal, so...OK.

Of course Santa Barbara is amazing, and of course you can't go wrong there, but the house turned out to be this hidden little jewel that was the absolute highlight of the trip. It was up in the canyon, nestled on top of a steep, lushly terraced lot. The house was built in 1902 - as an artist's studio? - and the main room had the most beautiful floor-to-ceiling windows I've ever seen, with a view out to the ocean on one side and a view of the private lush backyard on the other.

There was a rope swing on a giant Mission fig tree in the front yard, and in the back there were two lounge chairs and an umbrella for total relaxation. It was absolutely an indoor/outdoor house (when we got there, all the doors and windows were open) - the most surprising aspect being that the refrigerator was not in the kitchen but on the deck outside. As weird as that sounds, the door to the kitchen was always open, and we ate outside, so it just made perfect sense.

Dave and I slept in the master bedroom (probably a later addition to the house) with not one but two doors leading outside (much to Dave's delight) and the boys slept in one big bed in the original bedroom, which also came with an enormous built-in cabinet filled with toys. Luke enjoyed looking for lizards in the backyard; Zach's favorite part was (of course) the water heater.

Oh, sure, we were tourists. We embraced our inner dorkiness and rented a surrey (without a fringe on top) and rode up and down the bike path at the water's edge. We went to three of the city's most amazing parks, one of which was featuring an international dance festival. And of course we went to the mission, although the chief attractions for the boys were the cemetery (Luke) and a fountain that just happened to have a dead fish in it (Zach). Zach dutifully clambered up the stairs to the main church, sat quietly as we reflected at the artwork, and then when we told him it was time to go, made a beeline back down the stairs and across the courtyard to go look at the dead fish again.

For Dave, one of the highlights had to be our trip to La Super-Rica Taqueria, a hole-in-the-wall place with no sign that is a Mexican foodie's delight, and a favorite of Julia Childs' when she lived in Santa Barbara. We took the insiders' advice and ordered as many dishes as we could contemplate eating (ask me for a rundown), then settled down for a long and satisfying lunch. We were planning on having leftovers, but for some reason (!) we barely had anything left to show for it at the end.

As for me, I was just happy being at the house and soaking it all in. Oh, well, there is one other thing: As we were leaving town, Dave offered to let me stop at the outlet stores while he and the boys played at the beach. So, yeah, THAT was cool. "What a beautiful town this is," said Zach. You got that right, kiddo.

Home

Last weekend (at a birthday party for the loveliest 90-year-old we know) we introduced my parents as being "from New Jersey" and one friend's response was, "And you haven't convinced them to move out yet?" Sigh. No, not yet. But we're chipping away very slowly at their resistance by offering cute kids who adore them, the good company of West Coast family, and consistently perfect beach weather (with no humidity or mosquitoes).

On the last night they were in town I came downstairs at 9 pm, which is usually the point at which my mom is tucked away in bed, and made a radical suggestion that we go out for a walk. To my surprise, they both agreed. We walked down along the beach all the way to the pier, and, lit by the full moon, it was the best walk we'd had all week.

Now that they're gone, we're in a strange sort of limbo: It's the end of the summer and all of the associated fun stuff is essentially over, but it's not quite time to start school yet so we aren't settled into any routines. With mom and dad gone, I'd like to say the house is quieter, but it's actually noisier now that there are fewer things and people distracting the boys from bickering with each other. Yesterday morning I had to separate the boys because (no joke) they were fighting over an adhesive "No Solicitors" sign - the kind you stick to a door in an office.

Zach is, as I've mentioned several times, is thrilled to be home. But certain elements of his time back East definitely captured his imagination. The other morning he came up to me and said, "Mom, when they built this house they forgot to put in the attic. And they forgot to put in a basement." So now we know what Zach wants for his birthday: at least one more level on the house. Got that, Dave?

Last in case anyone doubted that Luke is the smartest kid in town, get a load of this: Dave has started giving him random numbers to add in his head (example: What is the total of the ages of everyone in our family?) and Luke gets it right every time. With two-digit numbers! With digits you have to carry! Last night at dinner Dave said to him, "How about two of my lucky numbers - What's 47 plus 47?" Without missing a beat, Luke declared, "94!" and then Dave said, "You know, I never realized that's our house number too." That's right, we live at double 47. Somehow I knew we were in the right place.

Vitamins D and Z

"Once a-POWN a time," Zach's story begins, "I was a little piece of sand. And I got stuck in someone's shoe. And they walked all the way home and took off the shoe and took a shower. And I went down the drain and through the pipes to the water heater. And then I came back up into the...toilet."

Has there ever been a kid happier to see his dad?

Nested

At the end of the day, when I ask Luke what was his favorite part of the day, the answer has started to become predictable: "Everything."

When Luke feels something, he feels it deeply: his love for his DS, Legos, and Star Wars; his hatred of bug bites, wild amusement rides, and any weather that requires wearing something heavier than a t-shirt and shorts. At dinner time last night, I asked him, harmlessly enough, whether he wanted lasagna or macaroni and cheese. "What?!?!?!" was his response, as he doubled over in horror. He was so completely appalled it was as if I had asked him whether he'd prefer pig knuckles or grubs.

But here's why I can't get enough of him: If you can channel that passion, it's a beautiful thing. Yesterday at the adventure farm, he fell in love with the giant slingshot. Then he found out that if you hit a target (a large cutout of a water bottle or Coke bottle) that was about 30 yards away, you'd win a prize. Of course he didn't care much about the prize (a Coke keychain) but he was determined to win it. He shot tennis ball after tennis ball through the slingshot, extending his range and refining his aim. "I am going to win this, Mom," he declared. Even the teenager monitoring the slingshot game was smiling and shaking his head.

Soon enough it was time to move on to the next attraction. But before we left, I told him he could do one more game, so he chose to do the slingshot again. And this time, he nailed it. He marched back to me, grinning from ear to ear, keychain in hand.

All of this is not to say that Zach hasn't been enjoying himself too. What's not to like about staying over in a red caboose? With not one but two sets of bunk beds? After we checked in, Zach spent the first 30 minutes running back and forth singing, "We're in a caboo-oose, we're in a caboo-oose!" But it surprised even me how much Luke enjoyed it. He pretty much made himself comfortable on the top bunk, declared it the coziest place he'd ever been, and stayed in his little nook for as long as he could, right up until checkout.

I'm also pleased to see Luke's confidence picking up as he branches out to do new things. Zach didn't want to climb up the hundred stairs to the top of the "watchtower" (grain silo) but Luke was more than happy - in fact, he led the way (see pic above). At the pick-your-own farm earlier today we learned we could get pears, so Luke grabbed the pear-picking stick and got to work. Then we weren't sure if the raspberries were plentiful or good enough for picking, but Luke assured us he'd find a way. He led the charge, green cardboard picking-pints in hand, confidently down row after row of raspberry bushes, until he had collected a beautiful pint-ful.

The other thing about Luke that I don't quite know how to explain is his newfound fascination with - and knowledge of - Harry Potter. Apparently his DS game follows the book in close detail, because when I started reading the first book with him this week, he knew exactly what was coming at every turn, down to the characters' names. (When we were reading about Harry Potter meeting some people at a pub, Luke asks, "Is this where he meets Professor Quirrell - the one who stutters?" And sure enough, on the next page, he meets Professor Quirrell: "N-n-nice to m-m-m-meet you, H-h-h-harry.") I thought I'd tap into this a little bit so I asked Luke if maybe for his birthday this year he'd like to have a wizard-themed birthday party. I thought he was going to fly out of his chair right there: "AWESOME!!!!"

Last but not least, the boys and I have a little bit of a sentimental connection to baby chicks because of a game I've played with both of them since they were very small. That's why one of the chief attractions of the adventure farm - a little coop with about 20 baby chicks - was a great thing for them. They picked them up, not especially gently, but well enough to do the job, and were captivated for a long time, stroking and talking to them softly. We learned that the chicks squawk and yelp if you let their legs dangle, but if you cup your hand underneath them and make a little nest-type thing for them to curl up in, they'll stay with you as long as you like. Good to know.

Z Man

There is SO much to say about Luke, but today it's all about Zach. Like most three-year-olds, Zach is at one moment unbelievably cute and at the next moment incorrigible. In the past week he has simultaneously added joy to this trip and made it incredibly difficult. But happily for the rest of us he is a sucker for the charms of my dad, who managed to capture him in a few rare, silly, unguarded moments in front of the camera. Here he is holding his new little cat named Balloony (that's "Balloon" with a "y" at the end; not to be confused with "baloney").

Zach's new thing is all toilet talk, all the time. He doesn't really talk about gross stuff, he just likes to insert "toilet" into just about any point in the conversation because that's apparently high comedy among the three-year-old set. The other day when he woke up from his nap he was just lying there in bed for a while so I asked him what he was thinking about. "Oh, I'm just thinking about that toilet machine," he said, pointing to the air conditioner. You get the picture.

Today on the way home from the pool Zach started making up some songs using only the word "toilet" and Luke begged him to stop, so Zach obligingly came up with something new (sung to the tune of "Twinkle Twinkle"):

Chicken, chicken in the pool
Chicken, chicken in the house
Chicken, chicken in the tree
Chicken, chicken in the car
Chicken, chicken in the mailbox
Chicken, chicken in the...toilet.

Even though Luke and I didn't want to laugh, we couldn't help ourselves, in part because the comic timing was perfect.

We took Zach to his first movie today ("Cats and Dogs") and he sat through the whole thing (on my lap) without getting up; in part because I kept giving him some M&Ms every few minutes. When we got home he and I brought the old game of Ker-Plunk down from the attic and he had a great time playing with me and Luke and Dad. Then after everyone else had enough, he played with it alone, methodically putting the sticks back in the holes and plopping the marbles in before letting it all loose again. When he was finally ready to stop, he put the whole thing away in the box and carried it around the house with great care so as not to lose a single piece.

Is it worth talking about the times that make us miserable? No, it's not. Anyone who has ever known a 3-year-old can probably imagine. Last night at Rosemary and Fred's house he accidentally knocked over a table with few plants and a china saucer, which smashed to pieces. Fortunately, they are professional grandparents who have more patience and loving indulgence than we could ever ask for. Zach must have been feeling guilty about it on some level because on the way out the door he told Fred he would come back over to help him fix it. And then he said thank you to Rosemary. Except he called her Fred.

We *Skype* You, Dave!

Four Kids and a Dog

Pick a Peck

I am brave, I am confident... I have successfully flown across the country, solo, with two small boys. The worst things I had feared (Zach flipping out when he finally learned Dave really wasn't coming with us; having all three of us in the plane bathroom at the same time) never happened. It was a very calm, mellow flight. In fact, I had so completely overcompensated with goodies and activities that we never even made it through the first few layers of stuff in my backpack. It "helped" (even though that's not quite the right word) that there was a two-year-old sitting behind us who was having a very hard time, even with one parent on either side of him. Compared to him, my boys looked like veteran fliers.

Now we are in hot and sticky New Jersey, and today was basically a day of rest except for the traditional trip to the organic pick-your-own farm. Today's haul included blackberries, tomatoes, eggplant, peppers, and a few mosquito bites. Here are the boys chilling out in the shade at the farmhouse after picking, and although they were certainly hot, I think the tiredness was at least a little bit theatrical.

Zach had a great time picking (and eating) blackberries and then he was pretty much finished. But Luke had the most stamina of anyone, and he was rewarded at the end of the trip with a row full of the sweetest cherry tomatoes we've ever had. Is it possible he likes them even more than the M & Ms he devoured on the airplane yesterday? He sure ate enough. Afterwards I showed him how delectable it is to sink your teeth into the bigger tomatoes - still warm from the sun - just like an apple, and he wholeheartedly agreed.

One thing I love about going to the farm is seeing produce that grows in all sorts of unusual shapes and sizes and doesn't quite fit the "mold." That's why I asked Dad to take a picture of this pyramid-shaped eggplant for me. It's so cool-looking I almost don't want to eat it... but I will.



Every afternoon at 2 pm, and every evening at 7 pm, a train rolls by down the street from where my parents live. Tonight we managed to walk down there in time to see the whole train, much to Zach's delight. After the train had passed he wanted to stand there for a long time, studying the tracks, not getting too close, but taking in every detail. We are looking forward to 2 pm tomorrow.