Engineering degree

Zach has gone through a battery of tests in the past week to help us determine if he might have some sort of brain-wiring issue. Conclusion: He's just an unusually brilliant kid with bad ears and some strange quirks. I'm being a little bit facetious of course, but it's essentially true. He's probably going to be an engineer who has a blast doing creative pranks with his buddies in college.


Exhibit A: He came home the other day to find our big cooler sitting in the living room (a friend had just returned it). His eyes went from the window blinds, to the cooler, back to the blinds. Then he proceeded to tie the cooler to the string that pulls down the blinds, before announcing, "A zip line!" and sending his toys zooming down the string.

The whole process of evaluating someone's personality and characteristics has been fascinating for me. It's like, we all have unusual tendencies and compulsions but we don't necessarily have a label to slap on them. Sometimes when I was reading through the behavioral questionnaires I would even think, "That doesn't sound like Zach at all, but it fits Luke to a T." Another example: When I told the psych doctor that Zach had gone through a phase where he was obsessed with water heaters, the doc took extreme notice. But then I said, "That's nothing - his older brother went through a few months where he didn't want to talk about anything except hazard lights!" Uh, OK, I guess we'll just need to file that under, "The whole family is weird."

Anyhow, I just need to slip into sap mode for a second to say I really believe that we have the kids we have for a reason. We have been divinely entrusted as guardians of these little spirits because there's something about them, and there's something about us, that is a perfect match. So while Luke may test our patience with his endless questions ("How can a person wear a beard of bees?" "How long does it take for rocks to break down into sand?"), I have to remind myself that there is no other set of parents in the world that is so uniquely suited to help him flourish. And when Zach confounds us with his endless experimentation ("What happens if you put seashells in a blender?"), his mad-scientist building projects ("Mom, I am making some fireworks") or his screw-loose enthusiasm (dancing around the kitchen with unbridled joy when I tell him he can have leftover shrimp/lobster/dill pasta salad for lunch), I again have to remind myself that for some reason we were chosen because we were exactly right for him.

Zach has another round of behavioral testing next week, and the next step on the medical front is to demolish the inner ear infection that has been plaguing him for the better part of a year. The infectious disease doc prescribed such a high dose of antibiotics that it even gave the pharmacist pause. I worried about how to get him to take the medicine, but the ID doc said, "Just take the powder from the capsules and mix it with chocolate syrup." This seemed like an ideal solution until I discovered just how awful the medicine tastes -- I'm not even sure you could stir it into a chocolate fountain without tasting it. Currently we are working on teaching Zach to swallow a capsule. Not many kids can do it, but there are quite a few pediatricians who say that every kid should learn how. And if he masters it, we'll be able to add it to his growing list of unusual skills.

On the hernia front, Dave is doing much better save for the occasional wince and grimace. He's still not lifting heavy stuff, but I swear he can pad up and down the stairs faster now than before the surgery. His comedian/surgeon reported that when Dave first opened his eyes after the surgery, the surgeon declared, "You survived!" - to which Dave groggily replied, "That's really not appropriate."

Last, for my top-secret news (really, this is top secret) - I am going to be in a flash mob! I can't say when or where but I have been rehearsing and trying to make sure I don't look like a complete idiot. Luke, who is an expert at memorizing karate routines, started helping me once he learned what a flash mob was. Now he enjoys watching them on You Tube. I'm only mentioning this because the other morning he ran in to my room saying, "Let's look at flash mobs!" Then he cocked his head to do sort of an imitation of himself and added, "Twenty years later: 'Let's look at babes!'"

As they say, out of the mouths of...well...

Pain in the

I hear there's this thing called vacation, and it's something that people do in the summertime. It goes something like this: You get the whole family together, maybe some friends too, and then go off to some nice place, go out to eat, maybe stay in a hotel...

We don't do that. We do things like move, and have surgery, and recover. I'm so far beyond exhausted, and I have had so many pity parties for myself, that at this point that I'm just starting to think of our family as some sort of alien species that observes the strange and wonderful customs of others.

This week's Worst Week award clearly goes to Dave, who had his double hernia surgery on Tuesday. Surest sign that it needed to be done: He had a meeting with a potential new client at a house on Monday and after 45 minutes he couldn't even stand up anymore. This thing had literally brought him to his knees. Surest sign that if he can make it through this, he can make it through anything: He did not drink coffee all day on the day of the surgery. True, he was complaining about it even as they rolled him into the OR, but still, he survived.

I'm glad to report that he's doing much better now, even better today than yesterday. However, I'm dismayed to relay the following instructions from Dave's surgeon: "He needs to be the king of the house for at least two weeks. This means no cooking, washing the dishes, setting the table, folding laundry, or helping in any way around the house." Dave then asks, "How about settling fights between the kids?" to which the surgeon responds, "Definitely not. Not at all." I am going to assume that he bills for his comedy services separately.

All complaints aside, I have to point out one really nice thing about this summer: I am having an amazing time, individually, with each of the two boys. They each are such fascinating characters and I am having such a great time getting to know the personalities that each are developing.

I had a five-star lunch with Luke yesterday. Through my blogging group, I was invited to a special preview lunch of a new restaurant and I took Luke as my guest. The staff wasn't quite organized and it took us a while to get seated, get orders taken, get food - but Luke and I were oblivious because we were having such a great time. It's a good thing there's internet on our phones because a conversation with Luke requires at least seven Google searches. Topics of discussion included: What does Shirley Temple look like now? How much did the world's smallest baby weigh? Did we get a video of Dad's surgery? Somehow we wound up talking about the Seinfeld episode where Kramer accidently drops the Junior Mint into the surgical patient, so of course we had to line up that video to watch it at home. As an apology for the slow service, the restaurant gave us three desserts. This picture is of Luke sitting smugly in front of our bounty, feeling like the king of the world.

Zach is currently in his pirate phase (doesn't everyone have one?), which might have something to do with his favorite TV show, "Jake and the Neverland Pirates." Anyway, he is always on the lookout for treasure, usually gold doubloons. (He used to call them "gold d'balloons" but sadly, he seems to have phased out of that.). On Monday I took him to the rocky beach so that we could find some treasure or at least some cool shells or coral ("quoral"). What he found instead was a skull from a small animal (rat? gopher? ferret?) to which he developed an instant attachment. He carried that skull around with him for two solid days and nights (I banished him from the kitchen when he insisted on trying to feed it bacon for breakfast) and he wigged out his teacher when he brought it to school. Fortunately, none of these kinds of attachments last long. Yesterday I found a very shiny cowrie shell among the boys' things, and once I showed it to Zach he was smitten, and the skull was history. Last night he slept with the shell by his side so that he would have it in his hand as soon as he woke up.

The shell has "Martinique" engraved in the side. I don't think we'll be going there anytime soon, but a boy can dream...of travel, and treasure, and of long summer days in paradise.

Tooting your own horn

Jeanne: "I wonder if there are other people who say, 'I had some really great tweets today.'"
Dave: "I wonder if there are other people who say, 'I had some really great toots today.'"
Luke: "That is just so...immature."

Every day is the Fourth of July

Yeah, so I'm late putting these pictures up from our July 4th luau. So, just do more fireworks and pretend it's still the 4th of July. Even better, play that Katy Perry song while you're doing it. Because the kids really love that.



"Ewww...coconut!"

Written in stone

Tonight Dave was trying to convince Luke that gambling is not for kids because it is irresponsible -- while simultaneously getting him excited about the scratch-off tickets they were doing together. "You know what your problem is?" I asked him (famous tongue-in-cheek question of ours). "You make everything seem like fun."

In fact, from the beginning that was one of the most convincing arguments in favor of pairing up with Dave. Things that aren't that much fun are better with him, and things that are already fun are even more fun with him.

Today marks 14 years since I moved to California and six years since I started writing Beach Bucket. Would I have done any of this without his constant encouragement and inspiration? Even if his abdominal musculature is leaky, I still just plain love him.

Summer of Surgery

Zach had his surgery today and he is more than just fine; he is great. If I had been able to make and edit a film about his recovery it would look/sound something like this:

Voiceover from pediatric post-op nurse: "You can expect him to be a little wobbly on his feet as you leave..."
[Cut to image of Zach dragging me out of the post-op recovery ward: "Mom! We're going to the gift shop! Come on!"]

Nurse voiceover: "We're prescribing him this Tylenol with codeine because he may be a little bit sore today."
[Cut to Zach clambering out of the car at home. Me: "Zach, how do your ears feel? Do your ears or your throat hurt?" Zach, calling over his shoulder as he heads into the house: "Nope!"]

Nurse voiceover: "He should have kind of a sedentary day, and he shouldn't do anything that requires balance, like riding a bike."
[Cut to Zach jumping from the coffee table onto the couch: "Ya-hooo!"]

Nurse voiceover: "He may be a little drowsy or dopey through the afternoon."
[Cut to image of me, lying face down on the floor in the den. Zach marches in from the kitchen. "Mom, I cut off my hospital bracelet. Let me cut off yours now." (Snip!) Me: "Guhhhghhhhh."]

The best outcome for the short term: He is clearly hearing better after getting all cleared out. Next step: Hearing test, then an assessment from infectious disease doc to clear up whatever infection is in there, once and for all.

Ahhh...now it's time to relax. No more doctors, no more hospitals...Oh, snap! Turns out Dave has not one but two hernias. Surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday. Some people go on vacation in the summertime; we just go to the hospital. What can I say?

Guilty

Something has been wrong with Zach's ears. This I know because on Sunday he found a Honey Graham Z-Bar and he asked me if he could eat it and I said, "No, please wait until after dinner." Apparently his ears translated this into, "No, I am not going to open it, but please open it yourself." You can see where this story is headed.

Zach disappeared for a few moments, and when I realized he wasn't coming back, I went looking for him from room to room: "Zach! Zach! Where are you?" Eventually I found him upstairs in the master bathroom. There he was, sprawled out on the counter, with the nail scissors out, with pieces of Z-Bar wrapper all over the place, and with the guiltiest look you've ever seen on his face. Picture a cat caught with feathers spilling out of its mouth trying to say, "Bird??! What (mmmhph) bird?"

I have great updates from the fabulous Fourth of July luau, and from Zach's surgery this morning - all went well. I'm just too tired to post them right now. So for the moment I'm just going to leave you this picture of my favorite grinning little imp.