All creatures great and small

So the great Fratello Four-Day Weekend is still in full swing and we've done so much I can barely even remember the beginning. A haircut for Luke...a day in Topanga...a day at the aquarium...and we still haven't made it to the beach yet. That'll be tomorrow. For now, we're basically trying to keep things interesting while we manage this new-found habit of throwing a tantrum over the smallest thing (Where's my balloon? I want a cupcake! I don't want to get dressed! etc.). It's balanced out by an even richer sense of humor, especially while reading the food book (tell him there's a picture of spapple and aghetti instead of apple and spaghetti and he's completely gone). Things tend to balance out on the positive side, at least for now. Now it's time for some much-needed rest.

who puts you to school

The first night after I wrote the sleep blog, Dave helped Luke with the whole jamas-on-and-teethbrushing routine, but then Luke came looking for me, grabbed my hand, and led me into his room. When we got there, Dave was sitting at the foot of the bed, in the book-reading "put you to bed" spot.

"Oh, NO!" said Luke. "Who's sitting there?"

Poor Dave. He just does not get enough credit. Let's give him a round of applause for elevating the school drop-off to a fine art. As in, maybe I can take Luke to school without a tear now, but no one does it like Dave does. I'm going to take the liberty here of sharing his daily morning update from today:

Well, when Postman Pat was over, Luke jumped out of my lap, said, "T'mon, Daddy, go to school!" And I said let's look at the lunchbag, and he said, "Maybe some blueberries!" And there were, and he was pleased, then said, "Get the Cold One." So we did, and we went to the door and he said, "Let's see Miss Beverly." Of course we did that too.

I gathered an all-boy crowd again for book-reading, 4 of them, until Roxanna came over and boldly handed me a book about manners featuring a monkey. I deferred to her and read that after we finished book one. Meanwhile, Kadin left during the monkey book to bring back a gigantic book (seriously, like 3 ft by 3 ft) about a mouse that eats a strawberry while fearful that a big bear is going to come get the strawberry. Actually it was cooler than that sounds maybe.

While I was reading the strawberry book (which Kadin called "the scary, scary book" and "monster book" because of the looming bear - who never actually appears), Luke and Roxanna took over naming most things on the pages. Luke asked me what the words said frequently.

When we finished that book Luke rolled around in my lap, put his face up to mine and said, "Let's see Miss Beverly." I said "great" and we went over there. He said he wanted Papa-Damma, but he brightened when she told him that today they're going to do something messy with shaving cream outside. But first they're going to pull out instruments. OK! he said. And off I went.

No question, he's the most famous guy at school. And he writes me a complete update every day. How can you not love a dad like that?

Who puts you to bed

No need to remind anyone that sleep is somewhat of an obsession in our house; aside from me and Dave, now there's Luke. Every night, sometime between dinner and teeth-brushing, comes his inevitable question: "Who puts you to bed?" as in, 'Who's putting me to bed?'

In the past there wasn't much of a question or an issue:

Ages birth-3 weeks: Sleep?
3 weeks-5 months: Nursed to sleep by mom, then swaddled and rocked by dad
5 months-18 months: Nursed to sleep; occasional rocking to sleep with bottle from dad
18 months-19 months: Rocked to sleep by dad after protesting wildly for mom
19 months: Gently (albeit noisily) trained to put himself to sleep by dad
19 months-24 months: Happily accepted being patted and tucked into crib by dad
25 months: Increasingly resisted being put into crib by dad and certainly not by mom. Culminated in one unfortunate night of dad being in Sacramento and mom in tears on the phone at 11 pm with toddler screaming in the background
25 months plus a day after that: Changed over from crib to bed and happily willing to go to sleep again, only this time prefers mom once again. Theories abound, but most likely having to do with the fact that mom curls up in the bed with him and nearly falls asleep in the process.

For a while, when Dave started putting Luke to bed, it was a huge relief to me. I had a whole extra 30 minutes of my day, whittled down by only the amount of time it took to do the dishes and clean up the kitchen. But what Dave wasn't telling me, and what I only gradually learned, was that it is increasingly cool to put Luke to bed, especially now that he talks. Dave wasn't kidding when he said he felt like he had pulled one over on me by taking over the tucking-in role.

Now I "let" Dave put Luke to bed but I am secretly happy when I get a chance to do it. For one thing, it means I don't have to do the dishes. But for another thing, I get to hear the last remaining things that are on his mind from the day. It often comes out after we say our prayers....he'll mention that he wants to give special thanks for Daoud and his drums, or that Michael pushed him at school, or that Teacher Alinda was chewing gum today. For the last few weeks, he'll often curl up and mumble something about wanting his Grandma and Papa, or perhaps tah-sert (dessert).

Last night (continuing this on Monday morning) Dave had to go to Sacramento. Nevertheless, I got the question anyway: "Who puts you to bed?" "Me, of course!" I told him. He mulled this for a moment, then agreed, "Yes, Daddy go downstairs and do dishes."

This morning, given that Dave was not here to do the usual morning drop-off at school, I got another interesting question: "Who puts you to school?" Luke asked. Well, kid, you're stuck with me today.

My school-taking skills are pretty rusty (much like my bed-putting skills once were). I don't have the funny banjo music in my car, I don't know most of the kids, and I don't have the ability to draw a crowd with my book-reading sessions. Yet amazingly, it went by without a tear. Dave's going to be in trouble if I start liking the drop-off too.

The perch

Before we had Luke in our lives, one of my favorite down-time activities was lying draped across our love-seat, reading or sometimes just staring off into space (or sleeping, especially when I was pregnant). Dave called it my "perch." After I had Luke, I never had much perch time and I sort of got out of the habit.

But lo and behold - the perch is back in my life, only now I'm not alone there. Luke has started to enjoy lying back in the perch with me. We pull back all of the curtains so we can look up in the trees and telephone lines and scout for squirrels, or if we're lucky, an adventurous cat. Luke calls it "my nest." For a toddler, he can lie amazingly still just watching and listening to the sound of an occasional airplane (or jackhammer).

This morning we were sitting in the perch, more comfortable than ever, and we were lucky enough to see three squirrels.

"This is nice," I said.
"Nice - Yes!" he agreed.

I knew that we had a concert to go to but I didn't want to interrupt precious perch time. Finally I got up to see what time the concert started so we could get out of the house at a reasonable time - Yikers! - It started 10 minutes ago!

I briefly considered just staying on the perch. But we had friends to meet and In-N-Out Burger to eat. Maybe we'll go back to the perch after naptime.

Table for three

If you have a day that's filled with fun activities that you can check off in your mental scorecard of how you're doing, how does that compare with a day where there's nothing on the books but you still have a good time? Today we did nothing much of anything, but yesterday we did everything...Mother's Day tea at Luke's school, picnic at my office, then Shabbat at Eitan's house with Hatcher and assorted parents. Today - eh? We had big plans to go to the beach but when Luke seemed to be having just as much fun walking around with a hose, we just scaled back on our ambitions. Fine with me; I needed a day like this. Lots of other things to say, probably, but I just want to go to bed and see if I can make it through tomorrow (24 hours) without another load of laundry...

Luke's latest revelation: "I have blond hair!"
Latest skill aquisition: He can sing the alphabet now (but it's probably a good thing he learned "Take Me Out to the Ballgame" first)
Latest bizarre kid activity: Sneaking out of his room when he was supposed to be napping, taking our framed wedding invitation down from the shelf in our bedroom, and curling up with it to go to sleep. Huh?

The mysterious older woman

Yesterday at school Luke was talking somewhat insistently about "Sophie," to the point where Teacher Beverly asked Dave if we knew a Sophie. No, we don't...and yet, Luke kept insisting that Sophie was at school.

So this morning, determined to get to the bottom of it, Dave and Beverly figured out that Sophie is one of the kids in the 3-year-old class. Luke's class doesn't have any regular interaction with the older kids, but the teachers had just opened up the yard so that the kids can see each other through the fence.

The best we can tell is that he met her by talking to her through the fence. (Luke: "What's your name?")...

Take me out to the Dodgers

Just a few quick mementos from the Dodger game last night...Luke entertaining us in the car on the way there while singing "Take me out to the ballgame"....Getting there and meeting Julie and Stu's friend, who told us, "I know you asked for six tickets, but I thought I'd just give you seven so you'd have the whole row".... then seeing that he gave us a whole row *on the field* ten rows back from Larry King, who threw out the first pitch...Watching Luke and Hatcher march around in their gown-length Dodger shirts....Luke with his new mini-bat standing in the aisle and shouting down toward the field, "Throw it to ME!"...Staying until 9 pm without even the slightest meltdown...All in all, a pitch-perfect evening.

Life as a carnival

Is it any wonder that Luke is losing out to his battle with a bad mood, considering the revolving door in our house last week? First there was the thrill of Papa and Bomma, then saying goodbye to Papa, then saying goodbye to Bomma, then saying hi to Bomma again, then saying goodbye. Add the uncertainty of when Suzi and Bill and maybe other Grandma and Grandad are going to be around and you've got one semi-confused kid. (Now he's started saying "Where am I going?" not just when he wakes up in the morning, but after nap as well.)

This morning we went to a big carnival at Luke's school, and that's only half of the activity for the day. We still have yet to go to a baseball game with Hatcher tonight. The carnival was interesting...I guess it would be a little confusing because Mommy and Daddy both came along, and all the usual toys were put away, and there was Miss Beverly dressed like a princess, and Miss Melissa trying to paint faces, and there were all of these cupcakes just sitting around. No wonder Luke had no interest in the big bouncy house. I mean, there were perfectly good cookies just sitting there!

Luke has for some reason convinced himself that when Dave goes to Sacramento he eats donuts, and even more mysteriously, rides a Ferris wheel. If nothing else, I'm glad that that's Luke little fantasy of the world beyond our house. He's upstairs sleeping now, a much-needed break until the next round of sweet food and fun.

the brotherhood of the drum

We just wrapped up the weekend of crazy family fun, tucking an exhausted Luke into bed and preparing to say sad goodbyes to Papa on Tuesday.

I told Dave that having Mom and Dad here makes me feel like I have my two most trusted advisors at my side at all times.

Sadness aside, I have to say we've made the most of the past few days, avoiding the freeways and just heading to the beach at every opportunity. Oh, and the drum circle. That was clearly a highlight for Luke, and the picture is going to make a good album cover one of these years.

So what did we learn:
1) That Luke is willing to walk if the carrying grandpa complains that his back hurts enough;
2) That bird poop is more interesting than diggers, shovels, buckets, actual live birds, bugs, other people, or just about anything else on the beach;
3) That a large group of perfectly mature adults will all willingly hide under pillows and pretend to sleep if so instructed by a 2-year-old;
4) That a flock of birds and ducks will eat honey-roasted peanuts fed to them and not die, or at least not yet;
5) That talking about taking out a splinter is just as bad as the act of taking out the splinter;
6) That Luke can play the piano with his toes ("Ready, toes?)
7) That the issue of what to call the spikes on the back of the pink dinosaur's back is so important that it's worth going upstairs and waking up Dad for;
8) That you don't need to carry your goofy plastic kids' drum to the drum circle because even the hardened pros will soften a little and let your 2-year-old have a go at one of the "big drums;"
9) That nothing gets a kid tuckered out more than a day at the beach, some drumming, a stroll down the crazy Venice Beach promenade, and a visit to the Mexican restaurant where the lady cooks the tortillas; but
10) That the promise of ice cream is always enough to keep even the most tired guy awake for just a few more minutes.

Lucky for us, Mom is in town for a few more days...

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.

all sunshine and rainbows

Luke has been looking forward to our vacation all week, to the point where he was repeatedly telling his teachers, "Go Pom Pings! Stay hotel!" If possible, the reality exceeded even his expectations. When we got to our room, his first comment was, "This is great!" (and then, in a more sober moment, surveying our view of the atrium and lobby, "This is nice!") It was our folly to expect that we would get to the hotel room and he would nap immediately. In fact, he spent the next hour or so bouncing around the room and running up and down the hall. In the few moments I had him on his mattress trying to sleep, he pressed his face against mine and whispered excitedly, "Pom Pings!" "Eva-yater!" (elevator). Needless to say, there wasn't any napping done. It was perfect luck that we arrived on the night of the crazy street fair. We got a chance to see a man on stilts, and a loud lady playing electric guitar, and then...well...things slowed down dramatically until a totally wiped out little guy fell asleep right in the crook of his daddy's arm.

Today, unbelievably, was even more fun - as close to the perfect day as I can imagine. We went to our favorite pancake house for breakfast, then I bid farewell to Luke and Dave and took off for four hours of outlet shopping while they went swimming, checked out the library, and ate pizza. By the time I got back Luke was still asleep so I headed over to the casino to lose some quick money...I ended up leaving at just $15 down and feeling like the itch had been scratched, so that was about as good as I could expect. Then we walked to dinner at our favorite leafy, twinkly-light, yummy chips and salsa Mexican restaurant. Luke was again a charmer, telling the waitress all about eating pizza at the hotel, which was apparently a highlight of the day. We topped it off with some ice cream, and then a late-night family dip in the hot tub. Luke's asleep now, and Dave headed off to the casino, so I'm left here to survey the happy mess of a living room we are inhabiting here.

Where does Luke get his cheery nature from? There are definitely some Dave elements at work...like when he sees men operating heavy equipment to build a road, he says optimistically, "Luke drive it?" But when he runs around and says, "So happy - Pom Pings!" I'm starting to think there's some of me in there too. When I'm here, in one of my favorite places, having a day like today, I can barely contain myself either.

The house of silent doors

This weekend marked some incredible highs and pitiful lows. The highs begin with a super-successful dinner party, punctuated by a melt-in-your-mouth, possibly never to be re-created brisket. Of course there were good friends, good conversation, and a sweetheart of a boy who shared his toys and sat happily chatting at the dinner table.

Saturday morning Luke suggested that we make waffles together ("Good idea, doctor," he congratulated himself) and we sang songs and mixed and poured, making way more waffles than we would possibly want to eat in a three-person household. As an aside, I should have considered that the making of the waffles was possibly more fun than the eating of the waffles, when Sunday morning he wanted to make waffles again, and I just had to laugh because our refrigerator and freezer are now groaningly full with waffles, leaking little square compartmentalized pieces of dough out the sides and top.

Incredibly, following the waffle extravaganza, we decided to go out to Mexican for lunch. That brought about my favorite memory of the weekend, which is the expression on Luke's face after he glommed down on the hot salsa: His mouth dropped open and his eyes bugged out, and he croaked, "Need...milk..." and then after a few chugs he went right back to eating happily, none the worse for wear.

Sunday morning's trip to the park involved the expenditure of approximately 15 calories by Luke: He wanted to be carried from the car to the sand, then he sat and played with some diggers with intense concentration, never moving from a three-foot radius away from me, and then he sat on the bench feeding the ducks and watching them from behind my enormous black fly-eye sunglasses, until he announced that it was time to go home. I'd say he's more or less a mellow dude. Maybe just tired. Or maybe, as Dave suggests, he has too much going on inside that big head of his (scientific theories? complex drum rhythms?) to be bothered with pointless running around at the park.

Sunday night we had dinner with friends at a mediocre Greek place, which was vastly improved by good conversation and a happy Luke, who got down from his seat to go over and lean his head on Dan the Man's knee and ask him to read books. We had such a good time that we all decided to head back to our house for apple pie and the official breaking out of Luke's new drum ("Hooray!"). Unbelievably, Luke and Kaitlin actually found it more fun to entertain us with a marching band than to sit and eat pie and ice cream - go figure.

The lows sort of bottomed out on Sunday morning when it became clear that I have been fat and cranky and hungry not because I am pregnant, but just because I'm fat and cranky and hungry. The worst part is the sudden reversal: I had been dancing on air in part because I thought it *might* *actually* be happening...until that particular fantasy came to a sudden and unceremonious halt. So. Enough said on that because I don't want to revisit it.

Saturday morning while I was in my "I think I'm pregnant" reverie, Dave and Luke took on the project of rehanging all of the doors in the house, which changed our daily sitcom soundtrack from "Screeeeeeeeeeech......Wahhhhhhh!" every time we shut Luke's door at night and he realizes we're gone from the room, to a silent little "poof," and they're closed. All weekend long I was thrown off by the lack of noise and I found myself going back and shutting and re-shutting the doors, waiting for a noise. It's a strange thing, a quiet house. Maybe we need some new noises around here.

Finally, a few late-breaking entries to the Luke-tionary...These are some of the more mysterious constructions that would leave anyone baffled if they were to come to our house:

Soo-doo = Cereal
Yassat = Restaurant (which took me forever to figure out)
Puh-pul med-sen = Purple medicine, aka Dimetapp, which cures all ills.

The lack of noise that I hear upstairs must mean that Dave is shutting the door and Luke is finally asleep. Now that I brought the sad part up, I can't seem to focus enough to end on a bright note. Dave and I are just going to lug our tired, old bodies over to the couch to watch "Big Love" and finally rest and relax.

out of the blue

Just a few quick adds to the Luke-tionary from yesterday...a few things he came up with that I had no idea he had in his brain:

1) In the new hippo book, he pointed out the "palm trees."
2) When we got home from Costco I found him sitting in the playroom, eating an apple from the jumbo tray of apples I bought, and he told me, "Having a picnic."
3) In the car he wanted me to sing "Michael Row," and I asked him if he wanted me to sing the funny version (fast), which he did and I did. Apparently it went on too long because a few minutes later he said, "No - Slowly!" And I said, "Slowly?" Yes. That's what he wanted. Baby's first adverb! (sniff, sniff)...

Luke-tionary

Yesterday turned out OK, though as I described it to Dave, if my brain were a pie chart, at least 1/2 of it would be devoted to Luke/family and work is only a small part of the remainder. Is that bad? I thought about them all day while I was gone, and when my flight was 90 minutes late coming home, I thought that perhaps this wasn't much worth it. Sure, I proved something to myself, but all in all I'd rather be here than stuck up in Sacto.

So........it's about time for new entries in the Luke dictionary:

"Worka-worka-workshop" = Let's go work in the workshop!
"Masa masa and poos-pasa" = Tamales and pupusas
"Mommy, a-tah-ning? Tahning, Mommy, tahning!" = Mommy, please pretend you are crying so we can play that very odd little game where you cry for my own amusement until I say "feel better."
"Nah-nat" = Napkin
"Bob-a-Didda" = Bob the Builder
"Wanna read books down-tairs" = I don't want to go to bed
"Puh-buh me" = Pardon me (after the big fish eats the smaller fish and burps)
"Moo-dic" = Music
"Baby song" = Dan Zanes' "Pay Me (Baby?) My Money Down"
"Vewy, vewy ow"/ "Ow fork" = very very dangerous/pointy fork
"Ray!" = Hooray!
"His-DO-REEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!" = the grand finale of "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer," complete with wild banging of drums and clashing of cymbals, followed by a very deep bow.

horn of plenty

So I'm squeezing into this chair after having squeezed into my pants and squeezed through the doorway of the office. How did I ever gain so much weight, I might ask myself. I think it can be traced back to the end of nursing, though there may have been some cookies, Mexican food, office snacks, and goldfish that had something to do with it too.

But that didn't stop me and the rest of the team here from celebrating St. Patrick's Day (or excuse me, St. Patrick's Season as it has turned into) in fine style, with a multi-faceted parade (marching bands! bagpipes! cloggers! clowns! people throwing candy! crazy people doing line dances with hand-trucks full of cases of beer!) and a fine corned beef and cabbage dinner at Suzi and Boom-Boom's house. Luke was a little worse for wear by the end of the day yesterday, which is possibly what resulted in him sleeping until 8:35 this morning.

Luke has had a lot of new stimulation in the last two days. Dave finally got tired of the slow trickle of second-rate books that I brought home from the $1 store, so he went all out and just ordered a whole bunch of cool books and music and one DVD from Amazon. It's basically been the "horn of plenty" since it arrived because every time there's a dull moment we can pull out a new book or put on Dan Zanes. Another fave new toy is the $3 green shamrock trumpet from the parade. Funny, while we were at the parade I thought to myself, "These horns are really cool and they aren't all that loud." Then you take away the open air and the crowd of thousands, and you get back in the house, and let me tell you, it is pretty darned loud. ("Mommy say, 'too youd!'")

Today we added to the stimulation by going back down to the beach to see the continuation of the St. Pat's festival and to join in the drum circle. I didn't think it was possible but even Luke finally had his fill of drumming, in just about one hour, when he said, "Bye, drum circle," and headed off in the direction of some construction equipment.

I'm not so happy about traveling tomorrow, particularly because the arrangements and logistics have kind of bled into my long weekend, but I made my decision so I'm headed out of town. I feel even weirder about it now because Luke is in a hyper-mommy mode at the moment (more so than usual) and I know he's going to be thrown off when I'm not there tomorrow for the first time EVER. (Did I mention that already?) Luke now wants me to put him to sleep rather than Dave, though I was able to pinpoint one possible reason last night when I discovered a very large difference in our sleep-putting-down methods: Dave sits on the floor next to the bed and pats him and leaves the room, whereas I climb into the bed and curl up with him and he falls asleep holding my hand. Hmmmm, is all I can say. We'll see how it goes tomorrow. I just can't wait until the next time I have an opportunity to hear, "I yuv you, Mommy!"

Orange truck

Not feeling especially bloggy today, but I have this bagelhead picture, so I feel compelled to think of something to say to go along with it. We saw Charlotte Diamond ("I am a pizza") today, but the thrill of the concert was vastly overshadowed by the thrill of a little orange maintenance truck outside the performing arts center, causing Luke to spend the entire concert saying "Wanna see orange truck!" Darn near worth the price of admission. Remind me not to spend $40 a pop to see the Wiggles if there's a chance there's going to be any kind of maintenance vehicles parked outside.

Later we had another special Mommy-Lukey lunch (I'm sorry, Mommy-Doctor lunch, as Luke kept reminding me) that once again involved large quantities of milkshake and very little of anything else of substance.

I guess I'm just totally thrown off by being off on Thursday instead of Wednesday. It's also coupled with a little bit of anxiety about my first "day" away from Luke coming up on Monday. I'm going to be leaving at the crack of dawn for Sacramento, and for the first time won't be there to see him in the morning. I mean I know he'll survive but it's a little weird to have that piece of knowledge about the future and then watch yourself overcompensating in the present.

One nice side-benefit of my topsy-turvy schedule was finally making it to our Thursday night class again, and we got a near hero's welcome when we walked in the door. Then we got home and Dave bought an entire new box of books for Luke, necessitating many additional minutes of reading and giggling before the topic of sleep came up. As I type, it's 9:38 and I'm still hearing laughing and a significant amount of pounding coming from upstairs.

Tomorrow it's a St. Patrick's Day party at the park, probably a Costco trip, and the near-certainty of many hours spent working in the workshop and/or watching one of our two taped episodes of Bob-A-Didda on TV (can we please find another episode somewhere? please?). But it's been a good day. Let's hear it for big trucks, thick sweet beverages, and lots of mommy time.

red and yellow and pink and green

Emotions have run the gamut this week. We've had tears, crazy-running-around happiness, and sticky, sticky pinkeye. Luke is home from school today, after having been sent home yesterday with the dreaded eye goop. Luckily for all we have Aunt Suzi to come over and babysit for the day. It's funny, I have a little relief that he's not going to school today because things have been so up-and-down with his emotions and behavior and attitude toward school. Yesterday morning Dave and I were both nervous (not around Luke of course) about how the day was going to go. After a fantastic three-day weekend off from school, filled with activity, Luke woke up early, super-floppy, demanding medicine, and otherwise seemingly knowing that it was a school day. When it came time for me to leave, he begged to go back upstairs and go to sleep. Of course we learned soon enough that he wasn't *actually* tired. Finally Dave managed to get him off to school and dropped off with relatively minor screaming and crying. Then he went on to have a good day that actually involved laughing at the funny Flubber. Who knew? He even got an early reprieve as his eyes were sealed shut after his nap, earning him a one-way ticket home.

This week was going to be a rare three-days-in-a-row week for Luke at school; now, as I said, I guess I'm feeling a little relief that he doesn't have to face that test just yet. But either way, we've got a great long weekend ahead: Charlotte Diamond concert on Thursday; Shabbat with Hatcher and Eitan on Friday; St. Patrick's Day parade on Saturday; and drum circle on Sunday.

Our life is different now, no two ways about it. Mostly it's a big change for Dave in the mornings without Silvia. We now have dishes in the sink, laundry in various states of messiness around the house, unmade bed, various fuzzballs all around the house, lunch and sheets that need to be packed and unpacked, and a boy that needs to be carted and dropped off. But there are too many pluses on the plus side to even think about these things. The real challenge, I think, is going to be getting us all on the same page of "happy" about school and our new life.

One final note from the Luke archives: The other night we were reading Corduroy, and when we got to the page where he wakes up in the morning and Lisa is standing there preparing to buy him, I asked Luke, "What does the girl say?" - expecting to hear "I'm Lisa."

Luke looks at her and says, "I got da money."

The ambassador

We're officially in the toddler universe right now, and it's a confusing and downright strange place sometimes. (Why, for instance, did Luke need to get up from dinner three separate times to confirm that Dave's shoes were tied?). I think Harvey Karp is right that sometimes you have to look at yourself as an ambassador to this little proto-caveman world.

For instance - I think Dave probably said it better today already but - for the record - Luke's big accomplishment today was going down for a nap at school. On Thursday he had been a little skeptical about the idea of sleeping there ("Where are the beds?"). But Dave thought to mention that question to Teacher Beverly this morning, and she had the brilliant idea that it might help him if he saw her preparing the beds before naptime. So when nap time rolled around, she had him help her pull out the cot and put his sheet on it. Apparently he fell asleep within minutes of putting his head down. Teacher Beverly = My new favorite person.

We also have to realize we're dealing with a master politician. While working at his workshop he handed me a giant toy nail: "Here's special surprise, Mommy!" and I was obviously delighted. So, seeking to use this to his advantage, he sprinted over to the door of the garage (basement) and said, "Mommy, see special surprise in basement!" Of course the only special surprise in the basement is Dave's tools, which is not so much a "surprise" for me as it is "special" for Luke.

But the good thing is, he's becoming quite creative at serving as his own interpreter. Tonight he held up a jagged block and said, "Chain chack," and we were both like, "Chain what?" ("Chainsaw?" Dave suggested helpfully). Luke shook his head patiently. "No. Chain. Chooka-chooka-choo-choo!" Ahhh. Train track - of course! Now can you explain the thing about the shoelaces?

Planes, trains, and anything with wheels

Luke was a Man on the Move today; first we had a visit to the train museum, later Dave took him for a Guy's Afternoon Out at the airport (that's right, a voluntary non-travel-related trip to LAX - the first in city history). Here is a guy who likes his modes of transportation: Every night and every morning, the first and last book we read is the airplane book from Grandma and Papa. Then when we go downstairs, "Read books!" really just means "Read book!" because there's only one book we actually read downstairs these days - the "Cars and Trucks and Things that Go" book by Richard Scarry.

What is it with this seemingly male-oriented fascination with all things mechanical and in motion? I told Dave that I had a good time at the train museum, but I could see a lot of lazy Saturdays in my future as I loll around at home while the men go to the train museum for the squintillionth time. Mmmmmmmm....Lazy Saturdays....

Sorry, I got distracted there for the moment. The only other noteworthy development from the day is that the dog previously known as Medium Dog (to distinguish from Little Dog and Big Dog) and/or Doggie, is now known as Nut. It's funny because Luke is currently in the midst of a name fascination, in which he needs to know the name of every person or animal in the books we read. That leads to a lot of off-the-top-of-the-head name assignments, and Dave and I have to compare notes at the end of the day ("So the kid in the cookie book is now named William, and the mouse is called Scratchy...").

But the thing about Nut is, much like Pudgy Bear, I have no idea where Luke came up with his name. Seems somehow fitting, though, for a small fuzzy guy who's just as happy to be tossed across the room as he is to curl up and sleep after a busy day.

see-saw

Yeah, yeah, I know, get blogging already...The past three days have been such a range of ups and downs that I just collapsed in exhaustion last night. I was only a few steps behind Luke, who was almost catatonic in his zombie-ness.

So we've had a series of goods mixed with bads. Bads started with Silvia leaving, which was far sadder and tearier than I had anticipated. It made me wonder - Was I being just way too petty with all of the things that she did that really bugged me? I mean, she truly loves Luke as her own. Isn't that enough? Then I told myself that of all the things that were changing, her love for him was one thing that was not going to change. I mean, we don't have to pay her for that part of it. Or we could pay her, for instance, to babysit, now that we can afford a babysitter.

One weird thing is that the house just seems empty. Like I made a big roast the other day, and I was thinking, Silvia is going to love this - oh wait, she's not here...And when we came home yesterday, it was so weird to think that the house had been empty and not played in all day...But on the bright side, it wasn't any messier than when we left it. And hey, now we can afford having someone to come clean the house!

Luke's first day did not start very auspiciously. He woke up with a bad cold and in a sad and clingy mood. His mood perked up, though, when Dave told him it was time to go to school. He ran to the door, lunch bag in hand, beyond excited that he was going to ride in the back seat of Dave's car. But then - as the see-saw swings - it turned out that Teacher Beverly was out sick for the day. ("Where Beverly? Where Beverly?") The separation and leave-taking, as Dave reports it, was painful. But then as far as we know he was OK for the day. He was crying at naptime, and had to be patted down for 45 minutes or so and seems to have slept for an hour, and then by the time I got there he was glad to see me, but almost marginally annoyed that I was going to take him away. So, some good mixed with bad, or at least that's the best I was able to reconstruct it. Let me add that I'm more than a little frustrated that I can't really get good information about the day. I've had to do some detective work and interviewing of witnesses, but the real story lies somewhere in the recesses of Luke's brain.

I know millions of kids go to day care every day, but I'm still not fully sold on the idea. In fact, since no one out of all of the many kids we know actually goes to day care, we're sort of being viewed as an oddball test case by all of our friends. I almost feel a little defensive about it, like I'm compelled to paint a much rosier picture to them about what it's like, just to be able to justify this decision. If it goes poorly, I can just hear the wagging and clucking.

Luke was still pretty floppy today but he managed to hold it together for a fun trip to Dave's office to see Uncle Matt and Aunt Berta and Other Uncle Bill and Roxy the fish. After taking part in so many mom-discussions about discipline, and reading online comments from other moms, Bill's "there's no point in having rules" child-rearing philosophy is a welcome breath of fresh air. I get so bugged by the "you have to show them who's in charge" discipline mentality when in many cases it seems like it's more a case of an insecure parent grasping at straws for a way to assert control. Do we have a mellow kid because we deal with him in a mellow fashion, or just because he's mellow? And is it true that the firestorm of tantrums really will hit us at some point, or is it possible to just sail by that stage? For now I told Dave I'm sticking with Dad's "four c's of childrearing" - con, coerce, cajole, capitulate - with cajole being the primary motivator these days.

So we've got a lot to unpack in the next few weeks. But for now, we have a kid who is maybe/possibly/sorta OK with the idea of school and tentatively/reluctantly/hesitantly OK with the idea of staying there for the day - and who sleeps in a big-boy bed, eats in a big-boy chair, and doesn't even ask for "money milk" anymore. How about no more big changes in the next five weeks or so? Deal.

One step away

We are thisclose to sending Luke off to school for a day all by himself. And he seems to be doing alright with the teeny transition steps so far. Today was the first day he was going to eat lunch there, and although he didn't seem to be listening when I showed him his lunch bag and told him what was in it, he apparently spent the rest of the morning at home asking, "Where's Lukie's lunch bag?" When it was time to leave he ran to get the lunch bag, then slung it over his shoulders and marched out the door like a big kid on a mission.

His "doctor" affectation, while mystifying, seems to have taken hold in a big way. If you say, "Thank you, Luke" or "Sorry, Luke" or "Luke, could I please have the..." he will quickly correct you: "Thank you, doctor," - etc. As Dave puts it, he's one step away from having an imaginary friend. Well, if that's what it takes to keep the doctor happy...

workshop

Nothing much to say, just kind of blissing out after a really nice day. The "doctor's" big surprise this morning was a super-duper new workshop/tool center (thank you, Craigslist) and we didn't do much else except fix things and talk about tools. Had a nice, mellow Shabbat dinner over at Hatcher's house and the two little guys played together like longtime buddies (which, technically, they are). I guess it's part of the bounceback from being sick - and maybe Luke is feeling this too - but I have just a nice glow about what a good day it was. Yes, I ate far too many chocolate chip bars...and yes, I'm feeling very nervous about the big change looming ahead of us...but hey - it's winter and I don't have to wear a swimsuit...and Luke seems basically OK, possibly even happy about the concept of "school" thus far. (In fact yesterday, after spending two and a half hours there in the morning, he had a weird kind of electric energy about him, but in a positive way. It was almost like he was just being stimulated in a new way. At least I hope it was that, and not some new weirdo kind of virus.) And on top of all that, I have American Idol, the comfort food of television, to get me through the next few weeks. O happy, happy day.

The doctor is in

So we told Luke that today he'd be going to school with Silvia. As soon as he realized that meant he'd get to play the drums again and climb up the reading loft, he was game. Dave reports that once he finished breakfast, he jumped down from his chair and said, "Suba, go to school!"

Today was technically just the first break-in day (just a 2-hour visit) so we have yet to see how lunchtime will go...or nap time...or a full day...or the drop-off. But so far, so good.

Also, there's another kid named Luke in his class (and a kid named Duke, of all things). When Luke introduced himself as "Me llamo Lucas," the teacher asked if he wanted to be called Lucas in school. I don't think so. But he has had an oddball thing recently where he wants us to call him "the doctor." ("The doctor drumming," "The doctor using tools," etc.)Wonder if they'll indulge him on that?

overnight

So we started out with a toddler, and now all of a sudden we have a kid. How did it all happen so fast?
--Earlier this week, he weaned completely. He will now announce to anyone and everyone: "No mas money milk."
--At some point this weekend, he officially refused the booster seat and started eating happily, compliantly in the grown-up dining room chair. He even knows that he has to ask to be excused.
--Last night he had his first night in the big-boy bed. Slept through the night. Seemed fine with it, except for being a little disoriented this morning. I'm sure it's confusing because all of a sudden there's this new bed in the room, and the rocking chair is gone, and there's no mas money milk in the morning...So he basically woke up and wanted out of the room entirely. Back to more familiar pastures, like Postman Pat.
What has he morphed into? Here's a two-year-old who can sense when I am unhappy and say "Feel better, mommy" - and then turn right around and act like it is the absolute end of the world when he needs to put on a light jacket to go outside. Here's a kid who will eat "poos-pasas" and "mas masa" but who won't even touch the large bowl of spaghetti and meatballs presented to him at the fancy museum restaurant. Here's a guy who wants to be carried around said museum, and yet discusses the exhibit of ancient Greek vases (OK, "bases") for hours afterwards.
And here I am - bemused, a little befuddled, and ever curious to find out what's next. If all of this can happen today, what's in store for tomorrow?

Ow.

I was going to post a post today that consisted entirely of "Ow ow ow. Ow. Ow, ow ow ow ow ow. Ow ow ow. Ow. " But I thought the point would be made after only a few ows.

Today is Valentine's Day, which, if the past two years are any indication, has become a day of pain for me (two years ago - lack of sleep plus incessant baby-crying; last year - baby surgery plus baby unwillingness to go to sleep at night).

But also today, amazingly is the first day in almost THREE YEARS (counting back from March 2003) that my body has been entirely mine. And I don't want it. Hahahahahaha. No, I mean I'm just foggy from a cold, acutely sore from an infection of some sort, and generally just wanting to tuck myself into a very large bed. But Luke did not nurse this morning, which was the source of just a minor protest, and which was more or less resolved by giving him the rest of the chocolate "money milk" cake. So here I am - just me. I threw all caution to the wind and drank a glass of wine - yippeeee! I think Luke might be moderately OK with it because he didn't even mention it tonight. Now I just have to go through some other agonies for a week or so to get through it...and then it'll all be a breeze, right?

On a cheery romantic note: Today I was finally able to give Dave the culmination of my weeks-long project, our wedding album (we had the negatives and the proofs but we had never put it together as an official album). As we were paging through it, we came to the picture where we're up at the altar and Dave is wiping a tear from his face. We asked Luke, "What is Daddy doing?" and Luke took one glance at it and said, "Picking his nose!"

Two steps forward...

We couldn't help thinking, while we baked in the sun at the beach this morning, about our fellow family members stuck in the snow back East. Sure, we had a good time digging and shoveling and watching the waves crash. But there's something we just miss about the idea of being holed up in the house, no reason to go anywhere, hunkering down with fuzzy blankets, watching movies, and chowing down on mac-alicious party food meant to serve 60. I mean, sure, we had the beach. But we didn't have cake, you know what I mean? Sigh. You don't.

I'm at a point where I need to hunker down. It's just been too many battles over the past week, too much time spent comforting and reassuring, and looking for ways to kill the pain. Luke had an amazing few leaps ahead this weekend. He voluntarily pooped in the potty not once but twice this weekend (TMI? You tell me). And he strung together his first five-word sentence while watching Postman Pat ("Little girl want stay home."). Sounds like we're right on track, right? Well, we also had major regression of the I-hope-this-isn't-permanent kind. I had to resort to giving him a bottle, something he hasn't had since age, oh, I don't know, 16 months. And when dinnertime rolled around, he was too busy to eat because he was happily ensconced with a Baby Einstein video. Little did I know Dave had been preparing to ask me about why we haven't put him in the bed yet: "Are we infantilizing him?" - only to come home and see the bottle of milk in his hand. One battle at a time, he tells me, and I try to tell myself.

So as if we didn't have enough sand at the beach, we now have not one but two sand tables, courtesy of garage-cleaning neighbors who saw fit to throw both out on the curb. But they look just fine to us, so that'll be one more thing that Luke can do outside, to distract him from the bottle, and the Baby Einstein, and the pain...

Fix it

This week we've moved on from psychic pain to real, hard-core physical pain. Luke was diagnosed with hand-foot-mouth disease (just the mouth part at least) and it has involved some of the cruelest sores imaginable for me and him. In fact, most of the things I was prepared to describe this week fell under the TMI category. I kept thinking, "I should write about...oh, never mind." No one wants to read about it, maybe not even me fifteen years from now. Let's just say it's hideous, awful, painful, and making all of us cranky.

Since we've had so much lap time this week I've had a chance to observe lots of Luke the Reader. He has a great time with books, usually going from one object to another "Wha dis? Wha dis? Wha dis?" and so on. Other times he loves to name individual things: "That digger. That lawnmower. That forklift." Sometimes if he's particularly jolly he likes to mess around with Dave: "That pig. That pig. That pig" to everything on the page. Sometimes, if he's in bed, he just likes to hear the story, and he fills in the gaps where necessary. Like in Corduroy, when he creeps down from the shelf at night, "All shoppers gone home."

Apropos of nothing, today I had to miss the day with Luke. Instead I spent the day speaking at a conference...and I didn't get nervous or foul up or anything bad (woo-hoo!). It was just cool and easy, and I was so proud of myself. But I kept having this weird alter-ego thing where I kept trying to think of ways to incorporate Luke into my examples or anecdotes, just so people knew I was also a mom. I couldn't help it; I guess I didn't realize how much I thought of that as a central part of my identity, even as a professional person.

I came home to find Dave and Luke in the guest room, guiltily holding on to forbidden wires and plugs. Luke has an almost insatiable need to "fix" things, whether it be the car (see above) or the drums or the box that the rice steamer came in. His prize toys are the hammer from Grandpa, the chainsaw from Cousin Sam, and any tool at all, especially the forbidden ones, in daddy's garage. Sometimes his fixes cause more damage than the cuteness can justify (again, see photo above). Some fixes need to be done time and again (see the rice steamer box). That said, some things just plain need fixing, and we're all frustrated because we don't know how to fix them, other than to see what happens over time.

The Walla-Walla Pansies

We've gone through Hell Week and emerged, relatively unscathed. Work was horrible. Putting Luke to bed was horrible. Having Dave gone was horrible. Trying to buy Luke a bed and dealing with Ikea was horrible. But hey, it's all behind us now. Luke is semi-compliant at bedtime again, we have a new bed for him which he'll try for real one of these days, Dave is home, and I still have a job for now.

We took a break from all of the yuckiness yesterday by heading over to Suzi and Boom-Boom's house for the Superbowl. Suzi and Bill decked out in purple for ... the Minnesota Vikings? Luke decked out in a red football jersey for... the Redskins? Dave wore white in honor of...hmmm...the White Sox?...and I was in pink for (as Bill suggested) the Walla-Walla Pansies.

Luke's cold had gotten worse and even though he insisted that his nose had "turned off" earlier, it started running again, and he was even running a slight fever by the end of the night. But he was positively undeterred in having a (non-football-related) great time. He's serious about drumming on the big fancy set and the little bongos. He's very interested in any cooking that happens outside (read: grilling). And he's perfectly happy just running around doing goofy stuff.

Picture him in his blue footie pajamas, wearing Suzi's long pearl necklace, reaching into her jewelry cabinet, pulling out another necklace, carefully closing the door, trotting back into the living room to present someone with a new necklace, then heading back in to her room to repeat the process. Now picture him with the same PJ's and the same necklace, leaning jauntily against the ottoman, chatting and gesturing around the room with his big mug of milk. He's like a witty pajama-wearing raconteur, quick with a joke and easy with a crowd.

Now I'm trying to buy kids' sheets for Luke but I'm getting a little caught up in what it means I think about his personality. Licensed characters are out. I don't want him sleeping with the Wiggles. And don't even get me started on Elmo. Diggers are a possibility. Castles would be a possibility too, but he's more interested in the castle, not the dragons. Would that be too scary? I'd think bugs on sheets would be a little scary, as would dinosaurs. Ikea had some sheets with creepy one-eyed monsters that seem to be begging to be the subject of nightmares. Also he doesn't have any real allegiance to a particular sports team at the moment (except the Walla Walla Pansies) so it feels weird to force it.

If I could I would design custom kids' sheets: some with barbecues and flippers and mixers; some with guitars, drums, violins, pianos, and horns; and some with another non-gender-stereotyped subject matter that I have yet to come up with. Not to get all Brokeback Mountain on the world, but why do the boys have to have sports or train themes, while the girls get all the pretty flowers and colors? Why can't a kid just wear a necklace, enjoy cooking and music, and still be the coolest guy on the block?

Siamese family

"When you hold his hand, it feels like butter," said Friend Paul, as Luke dragged him across the grounds of the water garden yesterday. (Friend Paul, as Luke calls him, is Luke's favorite guy to look at in pictures, even though Luke is not entirely sure who he is.) I agree. I had a chance to hold the butter-hand all weekend as I helped him up and down various steps, accepted assorted leaves and weeds as presents, and participated in several rounds of high fives. But strangely, the same hand that can feel like butter can also carry out the Vulcan Death Grip, as in, when he is in the crib and I'm preparing to leave the room for the night.

Why is a little guy who used to love going to bed, and who still loves to play-sleep at various points throughout the day, suddenly resisting the crib so fiercely? Is it the crib (as in, he needs a new bed)? Is it being left alone in the dark (as in, he needs a nightlight)? Is it some kind of growth spurt (as in, we just have to deal with it as we muddle through a new stage)?

This morning Luke reminded me that he had been crying last night. When I asked him why, he said, "Luke want mommy." Well, sure. I know how he feels. But we can talk about it before, during, and after the fact, and make various promises and agreements with each other, but that still doesn't make him want to go to sleep.

Then there is the growth spurt possibility. Last night he mac'ed (macked? macced?) down a tamale and a half, and he would have eaten more if there were more to eat (mas masa? mas masa!). He also ate every single pea (a new accomplishment) in the bowl, then guzzled a few cups of milk. This morning he went to work on one and a half pancakes, plus a yogurt, or yoghurt as I like to call it. Who is this strange new guy, who looks so grown up but then looks you in the eye and begs you to carry him?

Tonight Dave got home from work early and I experienced irrational exuberance at the thought of us having more time with him. Maybe it's because we lost last night when Dave's dad was in the hospital, and we all got a sobering reminder of how life can be incredibly tough sometimes. Maybe it's because I'm dreading Dave being gone later this week. Maybe it's because I just feel better when both of them are in extremely close proximity. Dave rejected the idea of family play time in my car ("Let's find a different toy, maybe one that didn't cost more than $20,000") But when he was reading with Luke, all I wanted to do was curl up with them, a tangle of limbs, so that we could all be glued together. "I wish we could always be touching each other, like a Siamese family," I told them. Within seconds I realized how impractical, embarrassing, and ultimately gross that would be. Still, why can't we all at least hold hands most of the time?

I am a pizza

Our class assignment was to take the Test - the test of temperamental characteristics that attempts to characterize a child's personality - for ourselves, for our child, and for our spouse; then compare the results and prepare to argue. Don't worry, we didn't fight. But I'm laughing about some of the things that we just find "off the charts" about each other. For instance, on "physical sensitivity" - awareness of slight noises, slight differences in temperature, etc. - Dave rated me to the extreme of "not sensitive" and I rated him to the extreme of "very sensitive." And of course we know each other is more or less right. (Remember, we are 'cursed' in this house with those slider light switches, which means that every time Dave enters a room, he feels the need to adjust the light just a little more or less to get it right...) And on "positive or negative mood," Dave was all the way at the top of positive; and I think his positive nature actually colored his responses about me as more positive than I actually am. Where does Luke fall in these categories? With all the caveats about not pigeonholing a kid too early, and not mistaking 2-year-old traits for lifelong personality characteristics...I think it's pretty interesting that he seems to fall more or less right in the middle of us. Funny how that works.

But the real question is, how does this all relate to pizza? I'm not really sure - and I don't think I'm going to drag out some painful analogies to make a connection. Suffice to say, Luke made his first pizza tonight and it was delicious and we had an awesome time making it together. It got a little tricky when we were trying to flatten out the dough into a big circle and he realized that it was actually more fun to poke holes in it than smooth it out. But I think he thought the best part was putting on the meat. (If he truly had it his way, all of the pepperoni slices would be in a big pile on top of one another.) Oh, and it tasted good too.

So let's not get all bogged down in this adaptability/persistence/sensitivity/distractability matrix. It's a Friday night, we had some tasty pizza, and our lighting is perfectly adjusted. Life is sweet.

anchored

Dave called me on Monday from his cell phone; he had finished his meeting with the group at Marsha's beach house, then he took part in a conference call, which he did sitting on the beach with his toes in the sand. I ask you, is this a guy who could live anywhere but the beach?

We had gone through a whole period where we thought we were on the brink of selling our house; now it looks like we might be able to stay, at least for the forseeable future or at least until we have more additional kids than can fit in Luke's tiny bedroom. But if we left, where would we go? Affordability issues aside, are our roots in this little town so strong that we wouldn't want to be anywhere else?

A quick aside - Usually when I get on the computer in the morning it's on Dave's side and I get to see the last thing he was working on. I've been chuckling to myself every time I see that he's been researching the biological/chemical origins of life, while I'm gearing up to read celebrity fashion commentary. But Sunday morning I was a little jarred to get on the computer and see that the Moorestown weather forecast was the last thing he looked at. Are we getting at something here? (And yes, I know that Haddonfield is so cute you could pinch it.)

Then there was the astonishing revelation from Suzi and Bill that if Dave's parents were no longer part of the picture at some point, they would follow us wherever we went. Whatever anchors them to where they are now is not as strong as the pull of family, or Luke, and whomever else might come along. Whoa.

What anchors Luke? Up until yesterday, one thing was the absolute certainty that no matter how early he woke up in the morning, his mom would always be there to meet him. But he's clearly learned to be adaptable on that conviction. Yesterday I was in the shower, so Dave trudged in there to get him, and Luke was actually willing to cook at the Diaper Grill while patiently waiting for me to finish my makeup and dry my hair. Then when he finally heard the hair dryer switch off, he wasted no time asking for "Money miiiiiiiiiiilk!"

Other Luke convictions:

That when it's time to cook something, anything, "First, you crack eggs."
That when you're visiting a duckpond, a "reed" is NOT the same as a "weed" - Got that, mommy?
That all humans have an inalienable right to wear pajamas at least until after breakfast.
That for any sort of musical entertainment, the song people will always want to hear first is "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer."
That if you count to ten, you don't really need six. I mean, come on. Six?
That if something is broken, all it takes is a few rounds with a chainsaw and a hammer to fix it.
That everyone cries when he or she gets a haircut, but once they get a cookie they feel better.
That British people are hilarious for saying, "Cheerio!" I mean, they might as well be saying "Waffle!" or "Yogurt" - which are both pretty funny too, you have to admit.
That everything is funnier when you're running around naked.

What more do you need to be sure of in life?

hair-trigger

I actually started to worry about Luke in the past 24 hours, about how he is on such a hair-trigger for meltdowns. He was starting to remind me of the kid in "Parenthood" who loses his retainer and cries his eyes out. It's been stupid stuff, like dropping the cake yesterday, or spilling some juice today, setting him off into a tailspin.

Then I realized that we are in fact living parallel lives because I'm the one on a hair-trigger for criticizing Dave, or worrying about something, or sinking into the depths of depression because of - what? Things so minor they're not even worth enumerating.

It's a good thing Luke has other role models in his life, like Dave, or like Uncle Boom-Boom, whose arrival Luke so happily anticipated that he couldn't sleep for about 45 minutes into lights-out-doors-closed nap time. Dave and I were cracking up downstairs because for the longest time we kept on hearing him from upstairs, "Where's Uncle Boom-Boom? Boom-Boom here yet?"

As much as the events of yesterday's party, and today's crowded park playdate might have set Luke into a tizzy, I'm so grateful for the things that make him really calm and happy. Like drumming. Or talking about drumming. Or looking at pictures or videos of people drumming. Or anything related to cooking. Dave and I had a good little chuckle yesterday at the party because what finally helped Luke find some peace among the chaos was a little alcove, with a bench, upon which he could "cook" some foam frisbees.

Cooking is also turning out to be our chief occupation in the mornings in place of nursing, and in the evenings, or just plain whenever. The diaper table has two shelves underneath that are perfectly slatted like a grill, and the diapers are conveniently flat enough to stand in as pizza or tortillas. The possibilities are endless.

So Dave's putting Luke to bed and he's protesting - He wants to cook. Dave says no. He says, "One more diaper, Daddy." And goes and cooks one more diaper on the grill, flips it, and then he's back in Dave's lap, ready to wind down for the day.

Judgy Judgerson

OK - So I don't want to judge people, and I don't want people to judge me, and yet...I do it all the time. More so now since I have a kid, and there are so many more ways to feel superior or inferior, depending on the context. So I'm sure it's coming back to me somehow.

That means I can nit-pick about a way a particular party is thrown, or about a particular way people are choosing (or not) to teach manners to their kids, yet there I am on the flip side feeling really embarrassed about still nursing, and moderately embarrassed about having a kid who is clinging to me in fear while all other kids are romping around and having the time of their lives.

More specifically, one thing that really freaks Luke out is loud noisy gatherings with tons of kids running around. He's the opposite of the kid who's running up to grab the puppets or swat the bubbles - he's the one who's begging to be picked up and cowering in my arms. Why, why, why? Is it something that I did? And are other moms looking at me like, "She really coddles him way too much"? Tonight at the birthday party he ultimately settled in a little bit, but then he was on a meltdown hair-trigger, like when his piece of cake fell on the floor - total catastrophe.

And yet there we all were on the way home, yapping our gums about the lack of food, or the musical selection, or so-and-so's decision to do such-and-such and what a lame idea that was. And then we're home, and it's quiet, and we're all much happier. So Luke is possibly picking up on this introverted thing. Does that mean he's going to start being Judgy Judgerson too?

empathy

Our very wise teacher says that the way you teach a child empathy is by digging deep and giving all of yourself when it really means something. As in, sure, it's nice to reach out and give your kid a hug when everything is hunky-dory. But what really counts is when your kid has driven you up the wall and fried your every last nerve and is screaming about who-knows-what and you're able to go over to them and give them a big hug and say, "I know it's hard."

Possibly Luke is starting to get it because one of his new favorite games is asking me to cry about something (getting a haircut/dropping a pizza/not wanting to go to bed) and then patting me on the back and saying, "Feel better, Mommy."

But the scenario our teacher didn't cover was, what about when it's 3:30 in the morning, and your kid has inexplicably been awake since 2 am, and is ready to do anything as long as it doesn't involve going back in the crib? Are you teaching them anything if you just tell them, "I know you don't want to go to bed, but I need my sleep and I have to go to bed now"? Then you give them a big hug and go back to your room only to listen to the most anguished screams of "Where did mommy go?!?!?! Where did mommy GOoooooooo?!?!?!?!"

For the record, Dave, the King of Empathy, took over at that point and magically brought him down to calm, then peace, then sleep. But it's been a real test of push-and-pull. Do I worry about how Luke feels or how I feel?

I guess today we tested the limits by putting both of us through the ringer. First we had a doctor's appointment, with a shot. Luckily we had Reindeer on hand to go through most of it first - get his eyes checked, then his ears, then his tummy...Reindeer checked out OK, and happily, so did Luke. We were basically doing just fine up until the shot, then there was a moment or two of trauma, and then the shot was forgotten quickly enough.

Then Luke and I went on to have the Best Morning Ever. We went down to the "water" park and just played and talked, without the social pressure of other buddies or other moms to distract us. Then we had Special Mommy-Lukey Lunch at In-N-Out burger, involving large quantities of milkshake and very little burger. Then I successfully talked him out of nursing after his nap and the world didn't end.

But those experiences perhaps gave me too much confidence because I decided to swing a haircut this afternoon. I don't want to go into the full-blown details but let's just say it involved at least 20 solid minutes (I'm not kidding) of screaming, and me, Luke, and Pudgy Bear completely covered with hair (Reindeer wisely decided to sit this one out on the counter). I jokingly said to the manager afterwards, "Well, I hope we didn't drive too many of your customers away," and all she could manage to come back with was, "Not too many." Yeesh.

It's after a day like this that I just want to wrap him up and say, "I'm sorry. I know life is hard. We made it hard for you by doing most of the hard stuff all in one day. But tomorrow we have a birthday party, and the day after that we have Suzi and Bill, and I love you every single day even more than the last." I could be teaching him some real empathy. But he's busy running naked down the hall, singing "Shimmy Shimmy Cocoa Pop," and not even listening to me.

If I could draw myself right now, I would do one of those cartoon smiley faces where the smile is all squiggly up-and-down, glasses are crooked, and hair is askew.

Feel better, mommy.

Chairman Mao, Reindeer, Pudgy Bear, and Bocky-mooney

So it took me a week, but I thought of at least one small purpose for this blog. It happened when I was working on my will, of all things. I realized that I can leave Luke the entirety of my "estate" - hahahahaha - but what will he do if I'm not around to tell him the stories he'd want to know? And for that matter, what if I'm just plain alive and I want him to know what was going on way back when? So, for what it's worth, this is for Luke.

In the past few weeks we've entered the random and goofy world of imaginary play. Luke's favorite partners in crime are the three musketeers, also known as Chairman Mao, Reindeer, and Pudgy Bear. I wish I had a picture of all three, but they're an elusive bunch. They can usually be counted on to be reading books, taking a nap, or cooking up a fresh batch of diapers somewhere. Chairman Mao is a fluffy white cat that I bought as a "lovey" for Luke when I wanted him to stop nursing; the idea being that he would cuddle up with the cat whenever he wanted to nurse. That went out the window pretty quickly as soon as he and Chairman Mao decided that they were both pretty much cool with nursing. Reindeer is our cool new buddy who generally needs to be alerted as soon as any new action is being taken ("Reindeer! Change diaper!") And Pudgy Bear is the bear that Arianna gave to us and who lived most of his life as Arianna Bear until one day out of the blue Luke started calling him Pudgy Bear. I don't think he has any idea what pudgy means, and I think it is probably some attempt at "Arianna" but Pudgy Bear stuck and that's what we all call him now. He used to sleep in the crib, but now he watches Luke calmly from the floor at night. During the day he's another good old pal who's always up for a haircut or two.

Why these three and not some other animals or objects? I guess it's fair to say that these three have the most "personality", such as it is, but other than that it seems to be sort of random. Kind of like, why is the castle book such a hit, when "A Good Day for Up" never quite made it past the first-read stage? Or why is chicken parmesan one day the most amazing food in the universe (mas! mas! mas!) and another day a plate of it cannot even be allowed at the same table where we are eating? Or for that matter, what's the deal with avocados, which Luke won't go near, but suddenly bocky-mooney is all he'll eat? (That's guacamole to the uninitiated)...

Each night we usually close out the evening with some form of musical entertainment. Last night it was an all-star guitar-jamming tribute to bocky-mooney (see photo above). Tonight we sat down for a mellower concert video. Luke has his own idea of what he wants to see (mas harmonica? mas drums?). But I think he truly melted Dave's heart tonight when he said, slowly and deliberately, two words that Dave could only dream of hearing someday from his very own son: "Bob......Dylan."

Luke catalog

I still haven't decided what the purpose of this blog is, but, for posterity - a few of our favorites from the Luke dictionary:


Ah-put (open)
Bo-tan (broken) (also the name of our new rice)
Wha do-ning? (What are you doing?)
Wuh-waff (waffle)
Dee-deet (digger)
Sahz (inside or outside, depending where he wants to go)
Nut [pause] CHA-CHA! (nutcracker)
Too-too! (Thank you!) (said cheerily)

What is the purpose of this blog?

I've been forced to ask myself why I am writing this blog, exactly...The writing's not especially great or funny, and as far as recording events it's far from all-inclusive. What purpose is it serving, other than an occasional distraction for me and one or two others? Any thoughts are welcome.

So.... We're home and the process of getting there was not too bad (word to the wise for those who might be hesitant about flying cross-country with kids, wherever you may be). In fact, it seemed like Luke matured exponentially in the past two weeks since we flew back East. All signs pointed to a terrible trip: Not only did we have to wake up at 5:30 am (2:30 am) to get to the airport, but the plane was then delayed by 2 1/2 hours. That said, Luke was a jewel on the plane. He willingly sat in his seat, read books, watched videos, ate, got his diaper changed without a freakout, appeared marginally interested in the goings-on outside his window, and even slept for about an hour. As Dave observed, it was like he really understood where we were going, and what was going on. While we were en route I realized that being on a plane was one of the only times that the three of us are together in close proximity, forced to talk and read and look at each other. And as the flight was ending, I heard myself say those words I never thought I'd utter in a million years: "I wish this flight would last a little longer." Aaaaahhhh.

Making the transition back to West Coast time was another story. Luke woke up crying at 5 am yesterday morning, and by 9 am he was *begging* to put his pajamas back on and go to bed. Then he slept for three hours and was up by noon as if it was morning (uh, yeah, in Guam). We did our best to keep him up until 7:30 pm but by then he was so tired he couldn't even hold a guitar or sit on the chair to play it (which is saying a lot). Then when Dave put him down he did a total overtired hysterical freakout, unlike anything we've heard in a long time. Sigh. At least he slept until 6:30 this morning, which is pretty close to normal. Let's hope today was OK.

I'm doing OK, at work, but again it's an adjustment after so many days of people and happy noise. Here it's quiet and there's very little human interaction. I went to a bookstore at lunch and browsed and tried to remember the last time I had a day that was so internalized. Now the combined effects of time-zone confusion and bad eating choices have made me sleepy, very sleepy...

I like my job, I guess. I've boiled it down to something that I can do in a few hours a week, and no one hassles me, and I get paid with some cool state benefits. But I keep thinking I'll do it just until the Change happens - and I don't know what that change will be. When I publish my novel? Yeah, I have to write it first. When Dave's job takes us to Washington or Sacramento? Yeah, when global warming eliminates winter in both of those places. Will there be something that I do to make a change, or will it creep up on me slowly, without warning?

What is the purpose of this blog?

High school

Here I am, back in high school...Well, not really. Just back at the old homestead for New Year's Eve and Day. But I had a weird high school flashback last night at the First Night experience. Watching a high school garage band, then watching the crowds of giggling girls standing by...Was I transported back to my high school days, seeing the cool confident girls and the shyer self-conscious ones, all trying to fit in? Or was I fast-forwarding my own life and seeing Luke up on that stage as a shaggy-haired high school drummer and watching the girls as if they were watching him? Maybe this is middle age, halfway between being in high school and having a high-schooler.

Then there's the whole "moving to New Jersey" farce that Dave and I let ourselves get caught up in. We could get a nice house for a lot less money, and we would be closer to at least half the family, and I would be happy, but in what alternate universe would it actually happen?

Then there's saying goodbye to Joe and Sara and their little posse. I guess I can't really wrap my mind around what it means to only see them every eight months. I feel like we get close to getting in the groove with them, getting to know them and their lives a little better, and then *zoop* we're out of town and it's another x months until we see each other again. It's like just barely grasping something and then it slips out of my fingers. Will Sam even remember me next time? We'll try to come back in the spring but I don't know how that's going to fly financially...or time-wise for Dave...or in the balance of the other things we want to see and people we want to visit. It's just a sad little struggle I have.

But before I let myself get too far down, let me try to remember some cool Luke things. Like watching the symphony and waving his arms like the "con....doctor" Or knowing the words to "Rudolph" and the nose book. Or counting to (gasp) nine!!! Who knew that he even knew these things? What else is stored in that head of his?

I told Mom/Dad/Unk last night about my theories on being a "homebody" and not wanting to run around with the crowds on a cold New Year's Eve. Then I thought more about it and I realized that I am possibly a homebody all the time. I mean, my ideal Christmas vacation at this point is hunkering down on the couch at Mom & Dad's house and getting some free time to go to Marshall's and the shoe outlet. Talk about a limited agenda...

I told Dave a few days ago that possibly this vacation was too long...and perhaps it is for a number of reasons. But the good thing is I have tomorrow, an unplanned day, that will possibly give me enough time to unpack some of my former life here - my cello, some kid stuff in the attic upstairs, etc. I think I try to avoid it because I don't want to deal with it, but I love the fact that it's still there.