And the band plays on

Who camps out in their own backyard? Let's see... people who have three-year-olds who don't quite get the concept of camping? People who aren't that into camping and are looking for an easy out? People who want cheap thrills without putting out too much of an effort? You're getting warmer and warmer.

Saturday afternoon we pitched a tent in the back nine and got ready for some home-grown thrills. Luke was beyond excited and promptly brought down just about every book in his (extensive) library so that he could read there all afternoon. Zach was excited, although he didn't quite know why or what to do about it.

As it turned out Luke and Dave were the only ones to sleep in the tent. Zach expressed an interest in sleeping outside, not in the tent but on the concrete patio; but when push came to shove, he decided that he'd rather go upstairs and be in his own bed. Fine with me. Luke and Dave managed to do just fine in the tent even with the somewhat loud shindig going on at the house next door.

Sunday we had an afternoon at the pool and then a celebration of Suzi's birthday with the family. Zach was a little loopy because he outdid himself at the pool and then never took a nap; by 6:30 pm he was a certifiable basket case. But he knew that we had brought frosted brownies for dessert, and for that reason he rallied himself to stay awake for the magical chocolate moment. After he had one serving he had his head on the table and was actually slurring his words but he managed to get out, "Mommm, I need more choc-o-late..."

Monday was our beach day and we gave Luke permission to have a drink sale down on the beach, on the condition that he pay for the supplies up front. He and I bought juice and water together (total $5.50) and then walked down to the corner store to buy some ice. When the total came up as $2.18, I heard him murmuring, "I'll need to get 68 cents." What? Turns out he had already calculated in his head that he owed me a total of $7.68, and he was holding on to seven dollars, and he realized he'd need to go back to his piggy bank to count out the change for me.

Down at the beach, after he got over a little initial shyness, he made a reasonable haul of $24 (after he had paid for all supplies). I sat next to him the whole time, and I didn't mind, because we were stationed right near the little ragtime band that was playing at the beach, and because it's fun just to listen to what he has to say.

The space between

My heart has just gone through what it must be like when one of the boys' stuffed animals goes through the wash. It's been hosed down, tossed around, and then wrung out at high speed. It came out all choppy and wet-looking, and then it got tossed in the dryer, where it spun around and around in the heat, and eventually came out fluffier and dizzier than before.

Zach had his little front tooth pulled this morning, and he seems to have made it through with only a few hiccups, but it was complete agony for me. I tossed and turned all night last night, wondering if we were doing the right thing and mourning the loss of his perfect baby smile. I fretted while they gave him the medicine and he flopped groggily in my lap. Then I agonized when they took him away and I heard some muffled whimpers. Twenty eternal minutes later, they let me come back to see him, and he was snuggled up in a blanket, limp and completely spaced out, asking for balloons.

He's sitting here watching "Cars" now and he's perking up, but he's been poking around in his mouth at the new space and probably trying to remember what the heck happened. As for me, I'm still a little wobbly and spaced out, because clearly, it takes adults far longer to recover.

I have a friend who has two girls and something about her life seems so ethereally pretty and sweet. She is always creating beautiful salads and eating healthy food, and the girls are happily playing unicorn and pony games. The other day I dropped something off at her house on a Sunday afternoon, and even though I knew they were tired from camping the night before, she still looked amazing, the house was clean, and a wonderfully fresh lemon smell wafted out the door, as I could hear the girls cheerfully playing in the background. My point is, that's not my life. The boys wear ski hats while they play with water guns (see Exhibit A). Things are messy. There's fighting. Clothes don't match. Crayons go down the bathtub drain. Legos sit under the dining room table for weeks. And after I come through a rough patch, I'm not fresh and pretty; I'm dizzy, rumpled, and left wondering what happened to that tooth.

Rude awakening

As the boys and I lounge on the beach, I slide my foot slowly into the soft speckled sand, toes wriggling until they find a cool and comforting spot. The fading rays of sunlight stream through the rafters of the lifeguard stand and filter onto the two small faces in front of me, illuminating streaks of blond hair that blow in the warm afternoon breeze. I close my eyes and hear sounds of laughter amid the crashing of the waves, and as I lift my hand, tiny grains of sand cascade onto the - HEY! Stop throwing sand on my head!!!!!

Whew, sorry about that. For a minute there I thought I was over at ticklecookbreathe. Let me go pick some of the sand out of my scalp so I can get back to the business of writing about the ridiculous, low-brow adventures that you've come to expect around here.

Yesterday was the last day of t-ball season, which is one of my favorite days of the year because I love hearing Dave get all of the accolades he so richly deserves. He's really one of the very best coaches out there, and I love the fact that our players and families appreciate him so much. This year as a coach's gift they gave him a fancy beach chair with "Coach Dave" monogrammed on the front - which is fitting, because he that's what the kids call him throughout most of the year.

We followed up the final game with a trip to a real Dodgers game. Luke was in absolute heaven watching baseball with all of his best buddies and his dad. Zach and I decided to skip the game due to some extreme irritability and crankiness on Zach's part, which was fine, because we wound up having a great time with our friends Julie and Madeline, eating pizza and ice cream. ("That was a GREAT party," Zach declared on the way home, even though it had only been the four of us.)

Today the boys had an AWESOME (actual quote) time going out on a friend's boat. It's a 29-footer and it has enough room for their family of four to sleep inside, so the kids had a great time playing in all of the cozy little nooks down below while the grownups braved the windy upper deck and watched the scenery. I have a few pictures but they're tied up in my new phone right now and I have no idea how to get them out. If I had the chance to write some florid descriptions you might be able to picture it. Heck, I'll give it my best shot: Here's Zach's yellow hair blowing like crazy in the wind as he pops his head out of the skylight from down below, here's a huge toothy grin on Luke's face as he chows down watermelon on the windy upper deck, and here's a gang of sea lions lounging in the sun without a care while the rest of the world drifts by.

If it bleeds, it leads.

Picture me, sitting in the doctor's office today with one sick kid (Luke). Then my cell phone rings. It's Zach's school, letting me know that Zach is sick, complaining of an earache. Urgh.

Then Luke and I get home and my cell phone rings again. It's Elizabeth, letting me know that Casey the dog is very sick and is going to be put to sleep today. So I have to break it to Luke, and he is predictably heartbroken. He had been counting the weeks until Casey was scheduled to visit us again.

Are you thinking what I'm thinking? Exactly. I am so not answering my cell phone anymore.

It's been a week in which everyone has been so sick (don't even get me started on Dave) that I'm not even sure if I'm sick or not - I haven't had time to think about it. Dave has basically been a basket case for the last six days, feverish and wobbly. He pulled himself together just long enough to make me a beautiful Mother's Day breakfast, and after that he was back in bed. I think (hope?) he's better now, but he's in Sacramento at the moment, so we can only hope he's not running himself down too much today.

One of Luke's homework assignments this week was to write a family "newsletter" about all of the goings-on around his house. He and I talked about some possible story ideas, and he settled on the biggest attention-grabber for the lead story:

"My brother cut his foot. It was scary. I saw a lot of blood. I thot he was going to haf to go to the hospital. Lots of other people helpd."

Every part of this story is true, except Luke probably understated his own reaction. Zach cut his foot while walking barefoot in a little fountain, blood went everywhere, and while Zach was just mad about all of the "red paint" on his foot, Luke was absolutely hysterical. "Is going to have to go to the EMERGENCY ROOM?" Luke sobbed. "I think he's going to DIE!!!!!!"

Now normally I maintain an extremely calm facade in these situations, because I don't want the injured party to freak out. So I was just trying to be all casual about using baby wipe after baby wipe to mop up the blood while holding Zach in my lap. But I finally just snapped at Luke: "Luke, I am going to need you to HOLD IT TOGETHER right now!!" If I were in a 1940's detective movie I would have smacked him across the face and said, [p-shwap!] "You'll be alright."

Once we got the bleeding under control, we decided to call it an afternoon and pick up Dave at his office. I pulled up outside his building and waited... and waited... and waited... until I realized - wait a minute! He's not coming out of his office because this isn't his office anymore. He moved to a new office more than a week ago.

I guess I should be thankful for small favors, and my mom will nod knowingly at this: At least Luke didn't start out his family newsletter with, "My mom tried to pick my dad up at the office. But she went to the wrong building."

'Cause He's a Stick House

Luke has been sick on and off for the last five days... starting with feeling icky on the day of his school play, the Three Piggy Opera (in which he played the role of the Stick House). He had a fever, then it was gone, then it was back again. Then he had an earache, and a goopy eye... You get the picture. So now he's on antibiotics for an ear infection and he was home from school again today. But of all the complaints he had today, I was mystified as to why he kept saying his mouth hurt. "You mean your throat?" I kept asking, while I inspected his tonsils and inside his cheeks. No, he insisted, it was his mouth, on both sides, on the bottom. Finally he opened as wide as he could and pointed to the exact spot.

Ohhhhhhhhhhh. Now I get it. It's his first adult molars popping out! That explains so many different things. I went back and checked the schedule, and whaddya know, they're supposed to start showing up right around the time you start losing your front teeth. In fact, the exact age they give for the first adult molars is 6.3 years old. Which is funny, because here at Exhibit A we have a 6.3-year-old. I know he was supposed to be on sick rest today, but he asked for ice cream to make his mouth feel better, so of course I took him out. What's a mom for, anyway?

I'd feel remiss if I didn't mention at least one Zach-ism every time, so here's one for the books: At the farmers' market, the flower peddler has a bucket of stray and damaged flowers with a sign saying, "Kids Pick One For Free." In the past I've had a hard time steering Zach to the kids' flowers, but today when I said, "Zach, let's get a flower," he headed over to the kids' bucket and said, "I guess we should get one of these sad little flowers over here."

Perhaps I haven't said enough about the new work I've been doing, but there's no good reason for mystery; in fact, I'm getting ready for a big unveiling. I've started a web site called The Jolly Tomato about kids' nutrition, and I've been back-filling the content while I have a team of web designers working on building a great site for me. This week my good friend Julie finished the logo, which I'm really excited about, and I'm hoping to have a big launch of the official site, jollytomato [dot] com in two or three weeks. Stay tuned...

Rock/Star

At times lately it seems like Luke has been lost in a fog of crankiness, and I'm not exactly sure what's going on in that little brain of his, but I like to think he's going through some important developmental stuff. Every now and then I get a little glimmer of hope when he breaks through and comes up with something amazing.

Last weekend at the pool with his second cousins Jessie and Alex, Luke was pretty scared about going down the two-story water slide by himself. But (unlike the water slide in Palm Springs) you can only go down one person at a time, so he had to either face up to the pressure to do it alone, or skip it. And would you believe, by the end of an hour, he was joyfully sliding down and even swimming to the ladder by himself, under the watchful eyes of his older cousins. Feeling even more proud and independent, he went off with them to the hot tub while the boring old grownups (and Zach) sat around and talked at the other end of the pool area. Sometimes I think he just needs to be around other kids (especially older kids) to get that extra boost of self-esteem and confidence he needs.

Also this week it was Luke's turn to be Star of the Week at school. Among the many things that the Star gets to do is to bring in a bag filled with "favorite things" and do kind of an extended show-and-tell in front of the class. I know his teacher and most of the kids expected it to be an all-Lego presentation, so they must have been pleasantly surprised to hear him talk about all of his rocks and crystals. I sat in the back beaming with pride as he went through his little bag. "This is hematite... and this is quartz... and this one is amethyst... and here's a geode..." He got special oohs and aaahs from the girls in his class when he showed them the pearl that he and I plucked out of an oyster last weekend. "I could do this every day," he told me later. That's a vast improvement over the stage fright he's been having lately.

As promised, here is a picture of Zach and his enormous rocket balloon. You can save your jokes about the big black balloon that is the centerpiece of the whole thing, because the balloon "entertainer" already made most of those jokes while she had me hold it for her.

Also, here's just one of those amazing little things that happens on a daily basis: Zach was quietly building Legos on the floor, when he held this up and said, "Look, Mom, I built a satellite." [Pause for silent expression of shock and awe.] Luke said, "Maybe he should go in the Guinness Book of World Records for 'Best Lego Creation Built By Someone Who Is Only Three.'" Yeah. What he said.

Zach had his first dentist appointment today and did it all by himself - literally. They shooed me out into the waiting room before I even had a chance to say goodbye. I guess it was a good thing, because he rose to the occasion, was super-brave, and I never really heard a peep out of him. Now for the sad part: One of the teeth that he chipped is starting to show signs of abscess so he will have to have it pulled. Yes, for those keeping score at home, it's the EXACT same thing that happened to Luke. I haven't scheduled the appointment yet because I'm in a little mourning period for his sweet baby smile. However, as Dave pointed out, "Now they'll look even more like brothers."

Three Days of Three

Here's our three-year-old star, off and wheeling. (The bike is currently configured as a pseudo balance bike, with training wheels but no pedals, so he's just kind of scooting along on it.)

Instead of having just one, boring old birthday, Zach had three days to savor the treats (Panda Express for dinner! Costco balloon cake!) and open presents. (Of course I'm being a little facetious, but I'm trying to hide my guilt about not doing a party-party for him.)

On Friday, the actual birthday, we all went out for Chinese food and inflated more than a few a few balloons in the house. On Saturday he opened his new Automoblox from Uncle Joe and had a great time building, racing, and rebuilding with Luke. Then on Sunday, we dropped Luke off at Suzi and Bill's and then took Zach to "special other Legoland," his favorite kiddie amusement park. I'm sure there's some special thrill for the second kid to get full-on attention from both parents at one time, but as it turned out, Zach only wanted to go on rides with Dave. And really, who wouldn't?

After dinner we all reconvened back at Grandma Bobbie and Granddad's house for cake (meant to serve 25 to 30) and presents. Speaking of Costco cake, I'm currently battling some inner demons that are telling me to GO EAT MORE CAKE in the refrigerator. I don't know what it is about that cake (well, I do know, and it has partly to do with the chocolate mousse filling) but it is absolutely addicting, which is great news for Costco and bad news for my abdomen.

Anycake, Luke was having a little bit of a hard time watching Zach get all of the treats, but he did manage to save a small amount of good will for Zach's present-opening time. He stood behind him, offering assistance, ooh-ing and ah-ing, and applauding when necessary. Luke also had a little flash of maturity when it came to letting Zach win the battle over who is "six." "OK, Zach, you're six," Luke conceded. "But if you're gonna be six, why don't you USE THE BATHROOM INSTEAD OF A DIAPER!?!?" Can't really argue with that logic.

Of course there were a whole mess of other things that happened this weekend, from a great afternoon at the resort pool with Cousin Jennifer, Jamie, and the girls; to a romantic date with Dave to celebrate Anniversary #11, facilitated by Suzi and Bill's babysitting services.

But today I was still feeling sort of Zach birthday-ish, so when Hatcher's mom offered to take Luke, and I found myself alone with Zach for an hour, we went to the farmers' market and took another train ride. And wouldn't you know it, the balloon lady was there, and Zach went bananas. He wanted her to make a blimp, and although she didn't have an exact plan for a blimp, you could tell she really wanted to make something work. So a whole bunch of kids sat there with amazing patience while she inflated... twisted... bent ... tied off... assessed... scrapped and started over... inflated... twisted... bent... and finally completed the most enormous black rocketship thingie you've ever seen - it's at least four feet long. I guess this is a time when a picture actually would come in handy. But I'll just leave it to your imagination while you try to picture a three-year-old boy, holding a rocket bigger than he is, and ZOOMing it through the sky.

Three

"I am sick," Luke announces.
Zach: "No, I am sick!"
Luke: "No, you are not sick. I am sick."
Zach: "No. I am sick and you are three."

Hahaha. We've had some recurring theme on that conversation going on all week. Dave even had to explain to Zach's teachers that when they sang "Happy Birthday" to him on Thursday, not to be alarmed if Zach told them he was "sick."

Speaking of funny stuff the kids said, I had been mentally collecting all sorts of "Kids Say the Darnedest Things" type quotes to use in some future blog. Then Luke's friend Hiyasmin did one better than any of the boys today. She came rushing up to the front door of kindergarten this morning, breathless with excitement. "My dog got pregnant today!" she announced. Now imagine all of the parents exchanging concerned looks. Turns out she meant that her dog had puppies today. Ohhhh. So, anyway, never mind about the other funny stuff my kids said.

Zach is three today, and it's like he's always been three. He's full of interesting observations, thoughtful questions, and yummy-gummy sweet goodness. He has a refreshing blend of maturity and sweet innocence; he insists that all he wants for his birthday is a black balloon. I just love three. In fact, sometimes I'd like a little more "three" in the house and a little less "six." But we'll get to six soon enough. For now, we're just happy to have a weekend-long celebration of this little blond angel who happens to live in our house.

I love you, my three-year-old boy.

The Ick

I want to get the credit for having been the first to say it this morning, "I'm not feeling so well." So the boys and I kind of lumped around for the morning, with me trying to lead as many stationary activities as possible. Then we took Luke to kindergarten, and less than two hours later I got the phone call: "Luke threw up in his class. Please come pick him up." So of course I called Dave to tell him about the misery that was piling on my day, and he came home, ostensibly to "help" (sorry, Dave) but wound up crashed out in bed with his own sickness for about two hours of the afternoon.

The weird thing (fingers crossed) is that Dave, Luke, and I are all down and out but Zach appears to be just fine for the moment. I don't know whether it's something only the three of us ate, or whether it's some virus that passed Zach by. But before I get tempted to go into any more details about our respective illnesses, here's what Zach did yesterday after his racing triumph: Dave took him down to Long Beach for the Grand Prix and wound up getting a $125 grandstand ticket at the finish line for only $25. Then they got a personal escort to their seats via golf cart (and a personalized ear plug fitting) by some race official. (This is the kind of accidental VIP thing that happens to Dave all the time, by the way.)

Then on the way home the two of them stopped off at a local carnival and Zach threw some darts at a pop-a-balloon game (with some assistance), winning a new dog he calls "Poppy." To finish off the day, he ran a few laps around the track, with Poppy in his arms of course. Keep on truckin', Zach.

And in Second Place...

There was a local kids' running race this morning, and we signed up both boys to run in their respective age races. Luke didn't want to run the half-mile race, and by the time we got there and he saw the crowd, he was even more sure of it, so he sat it out on the sidelines (whoops, that race t-shirt just cost us $25). But Zach didn't know enough to know he had a choice, and the two-year-olds almost all seemed to be running with parents, so when the time came for his 25-meter race, he happily took off with Dave.

Turns out if you have a bunch of two-year-olds running, it's generally chaos, and who knows who really finished first. But Zach made it through the chute, got his finishers' medal, and everyone was happy, so we were ready to call it a day and head back to the car. But then I heard them announcing the results for the kids' races, and just on a whim, we decided to wait.

A few minutes later we heard the announcement: "And for the two-year-old boys, in second place...Zachary - " and we whooped with joy as we helped Zach up to the Olympic-style podium. There he stood as they gave him a special 2nd-place medal to wear around his neck. Did any of the kids have any idea what was going on? Of course not. But it was oh-so-picture-worthy.

Of course these stories should always come with a real-life footnote: This time, the irony was that Luke was driven mad with jealousy about Zach's medals; and Zach was singularly uninterested in the medals. All he cared about was the fact that he had found a deflated, dirty blue balloon, which he hung on to for the duration of the race and afterwards. Because it's a balloon. So there you have it. Race over.

"Will you take a picture of me next to this butt?"

The best day ever: a t-ball game, followed by a hot dog party for the team at our house. Then we clean up and go to the California Science Center, look at airplanes and spaceships, run around in the Rose Garden, and visit the beautiful human body sculptures outside the Coliseum.

Can today be as good as or better than yesterday?

Station Stop

Here is Zach's new way of trotting down the street: Run run run run run run run run STOP. "Station stop!" he'll announce, face impassive. He pauses for a minute, then says, "Beep!" and continues running. Repeat.

Here is Zach's eating strategy for Passover: Eggs? Nom nom nom. Apples? Nom nom nom. Matzoh ball soup? Nom nom nom. He looks around for more food, looking, looking, and Dave slides a plate of gefilte fish in front of him. Zach shrugs and digs in. Nom nom nom.

Here is one of Luke's latest schemes to earn money: He's making posters to advertise his new security service. Pay $25, get a bomb. Pay $200, get an army tank. "It'll help protect people," he tells me. "It will save lives. I think it will save so many lives, people will want to elect me president. But I don't want to be president. I just want to be the head money guy."

It's probably a little bit trite, but I'll say it anyway: Things are rarely boring around here. It can get ugly and even violent at times (think pounding, pinching, biting, and head-butting), but it's almost always interesting.

We just survived Luke's week of spring break, which featured, among other things, camp with puppies and reptiles (not on the same day), a trip to the science center, and an excursion to my old office (Why is this interesting for the boys? Candy in every cubicle). We celebrated Bill's landmark birthday with a huge crowd of friends and family at a restaurant on Friday. We journeyed up to the new Angels Flight on Saturday. We did our traditional Eastover celebration (egg hunt in the morning, Seder in the evening) with Dave's family. We went out to our local gourmet brew-pub to celebrate Dave's birthday. And now I need a vacation. (Kidding!) (OK, only sorta...)

Right now I am sitting on the couch while Dave is curled up with Luke and Zach on the recliner, watching YouTube space videos on the computer. I am subdued; a former colleague of mine died this week and I can't stop thinking about him. He was just an all-around good guy, maybe a little quiet to those who didn't know him well. But he lived his life almost entirely at work, for all we knew. He had no spouse, no siblings, no kids... and though he was well-liked and could have certainly had a life surrounded by people, he for whatever reason spent most of his life alone. And sadly, that's how he died in the hospital on Wednesday.

For me, this is almost entirely too hard to comprehend. I lived alone for a year or two, and while I enjoyed it, I also had times when I craved any kind of human contact. Somehow I managed to cure that feeling to the extreme. These days, even if I'm doing something ostensibly private like taking a shower, there's almost always some small person wandering in the door looking for me. Life is messier this way, but it's definitely the way I prefer it.

So I don't know if my colleague was happy with the way things were in his life -- if he had chosen to be alone or if he had simply become resigned to it. But looking at him through my (admittedly skewed) prism, it seems almost incomprehensibly sad. I feel better knowing that he is in a peaceful place now. And again, although it sounds trite, it's the kind of thing that makes me want to give the kids a little extra attention and a few extra hugs, because I need and want that kind of contact, and I hope they continue to need and want it too.

J/K

Yeah, we celebrate April Fool's Day. You got a problem with that? Right here you've got your meatloaf and mashed potato "cupcakes" for dinner, courtesy of my friend Chelsea's Breezy Mama site.

For dessert you've got your "grilled cheese" sandwiches, courtesy of CakeWrecks. (Slices of pound cake with yellow frosting in between.)

If you can possibly read the words on the green paper, these are the place cards that Luke made: "Happy Birthday," "Happy Valentine's Day," "Merry Christmas," and "Happy Election Day" (for Dave). And of course, they all say "April Fools" on the back. Heh.

What would George eat?

If you're wondering what runs through Luke's mind as he is going to bed at night (and I know you were), here's a little insight: Last night as I was tucking him in he told me that he told his friend Lucy that he would marry her someday.

Luke: "...And then Lucy told me that Eve is her best friend. But she can't marry Eve, because Eve is a girl. And a girl can't marry a girl. You have to be a man and a lady marrying each other. That's the law, right? Who made that law, George Washington?"
Me: "Uhhhh...."
[thoughtful pause]
Luke: "Mom, what does bald eagle taste like?"

We are currently lizard-sitting for our friends' bearded dragon named Lizzie. Lizzie is odd, prickly, cold, and somewhat smelly. And you have to feed her live mealworms. And she naturally carries salmonella, so after you touch her you have to scrub your hands with warm soapy water. In other words, not my ideal pet.

The boys were thrilled to bring her home last night, and Zach couldn't wait to touch her this morning, but now that the initial spark of interest has faded, it's basically my pet for the rest of the week. I guess it's OK, but in theory I don't love the idea of any pets in cages. I always feel bad for them, like they really would rather be out there in the world than stared at through glass by the rest of us. And every time Lizzie looks at me with her beady little eyes, I think she's plotting her escape out the top of the case, over the counter, onto the floor, -smoosh- under the door, and then off into the great sandy mealworm-y beyond.

We're also feeling a little sad in the void left behind when globe-trotting Grandma and Papa left for their glamorous train trip up the Pacific coastline. Fortunately, we had a long list of things on our to-do list, so Dave spent the day in the garage with Luke building a light saber and the "JB K-9 Walker" (an impressive machine for which Luke had spent days drawing up the plans); while Zach and I did some planting in the garden.

Zach seems to have moved one or two maturity levels up from last year. Example: Last year during our t-ball games, I spent the whole time chasing him around and holding him back from running out on the field. This year, he seems content to sit with me for the games and/or play with toys or explore. Oh, and we watch and commiserate with one of the other moms on the team, who spends the game chasing after her two-year-old boy.

Happily, this maturity extends to our work in the garden, where Zach has become super-serious and task-oriented about planting the seeds and watering the dirt. (I think back to last year, when he might have flung the seeds and watered himself or his brother.) After we put the seeds in the holes, he took extra-special care to pat the dirt gently on top of them ("putting the seeds to bed") and stood the markers exactly where we put the seeds (parsley, dill, carrots, zucchini, cucumbers, and melon, in case you're wondering).

Our compost pile is abuzz with decomposing-type activity, and even though it's smelly and covered with fruit flies, it's kind of fun to look down into it. It's kind of like going down memory lane and reviewing all of your past meals. Pretty soon we'll spread all of that richness over our garden. I've also sprouted an avocado pit in the kitchen and am hoping to grow a giant avocado tree as well. We are gearing up for an incredible home-grown feast at some point in the future, with fresh fruits and vegetables galore. But no bald eagle. Or mealworms, thank goodness.

26.2

If I mention that I feel completely spent, imagine how Dave must feel, after running more miles than I drove today (which is a lot).

But he did it, and even though it wasn't pretty, who cares? He put his mind to a goal, became incredibly self-disciplined toward reaching that goal, and crossed through the finish line in a blaze of glory.

I'd love to say more about how emotional it was to see him at the end of the race, about how the marathon is a good metaphor for many of the things he's got going on in his life right now, or about how my heart was so completely bursting with pride that it did this cartoon-like pounding outside of my chest as I walked alongside him after the race. But I won't. For now, I'm happy to just offer some pictures, and to say how proud I am of the hardest-working guy I know.

You rock, Marathon Man.

The human body

It's less than 48 hours until Dave's big race and I am sitting here contemplating how many calories we can stuff into him before he leaves. Those of you who haven't seen him lately probably wouldn't recognize him - he's a shadow of his former self. That is, if he can cast a shadow at all. He's mostly just skin and bones. But in a nice way. (Although just try to imagine what it's like living with someone who comes out of the bathroom in the morning saying, "I just cannot keep the weight on!")

In fact, in his fat-less state, I'm wondering how much collapse time he's going to need after the marathon. After my marathon (please stifle your yawns) 15 years ago, I had a nice lunch with everyone afterwards and then slept for four hours. With so many different demands on his time, Dave doesn't exactly have that luxury. Actually, Joe had a great idea about how Dave can use his marathon time most effectively: He's going to be running 26 miles anyway; he might as well do some errands along the way. (Cue the picture of Dave crossing the finish line carrying Trader Joe's and CVS bags.)

So on Sunday after the race we're going out to lunch and then everyone will come over for cake. Plus Elizabeth, who we can count on to participate in just about any adventure, is running the marathon too, so if she can drag herself over here she'll join in the cake-eating. Oh, and I'm going to make sure that it's extra high-calorie cake so that all of our intrepid runners can put some meat back on their bones.

If I talk about how great it is to have Mom and Dad here, it will sound like I am exaggerating. But try to imagine being able to have two weeks where you have two of your favorite people in the world with you at all times serving as helpers, confidants, and consultants. For example, last week I decided, somewhat out of the blue, to start a real garden in our backyard, where I had done some half-hearted plantings last spring. I also decided to start a little compost pile. Who knows why I haven't done it before. But all of a sudden I am filling up my compost bin daily, and I have two of the world's foremost compost experts at the ready. Mom points out - and I have to agree - that it is strangely exciting to watch the little pail fill up. Anyway, so I dug out our little garden area last week, and today they came with me to Home Depot to buy soil amendments and a new compost container for outside. We bought 88 cents' worth of seeds from the 99 Cents store (which is actually a lot of seeds) and I am now ready to have the most beautiful beans, melons, carrots, squash, and herbs in town - thanks to my expert consultants.

Odd little aside: Zach seemed bothered when he heard me calling my mom "Mom" earlier today. "Mommy, that is Grandma Joan," he told me. "You are you."

Luke is just a bundle of little surprises lately. My parents got him a copy of "Diary of a Wimpy Kid" and although it's just a level or two above what he's been reading lately, he's happily engaged in it (and Dave and Dad both love reading it to him, which is great). Also yesterday we all went over to the second-hand bookstore and Luke picked out a book on World War II, a book on castles, and a book on the Titanic. Yes, he is completely immersed (so to speak) in the story of the Titanic right now. Go figure.

This morning (continued after I wrote too long last night) we were all involved in the neighborhood 5K fun run for the school. Luke made the surprising decision to run rather than help at the water station, so he and I ran the race while Dave and Zach and my parents served as safety monitors at stations along the course. Amazingly, most of the other kindergarteners we knew were running too. And amazingly, they all (including Luke) made it 3.1 miles to the end of the course.

Of course, Luke took on the voice of someone 50 years his senior by complaining most of the way through the run/walk ("You know, my back is starting to hurt..." "I have this pain in my ribs..." "My knees are sore..." and by the end: "This fun run is not so much fun!"). But he made it to the finish line, got a medal, enjoyed some gelato, and then went on to play a great t-ball game and play at the park with his friends afterwards, so I'm pretty sure he'll survive. And if Dave makes it through tomorrow with flying colors, which I'm sure he will, we'll all have something to celebrate.

Rocky Road

Let's just get it all out there because I can't think of any really clever way to put this: Zach has been home sick for the past week with yet another sinus infection and I've been home with him, hands tied as far as getting anything else done. (The doc says we are about 3/4 of the way through the process in terms of deciding that antibiotics won't help any more and they will start talking to us about taking out his adenoids or tonsils. Not to get too far ahead of ourselves or anything.) We have planted Kleenex boxes in every room, and after having gone through about four boxes in the last four days, are regretting our decision not to buy stock in tissues sooner.

Fortunately, Mom and Dad arrived late on Thursday night, providing a new source of entertainment and two extra sets of hands to help out. And we had an over-loaded Saturday, with the first t-ball game, St. Patrick's Day parade, and a birthday party.

Luke's Tigers team, with Coach Dave at the helm, had a banner day on Saturday. Luke had a couple of great plays in the outfield plus a few good hits off the tee; Dave is once again poised to be Coach of the Year; Dad got some amazing pictures; Mom and Zach had a grand old time at the lake feeding the ducks; and I actually got a chance to watch most of the game. Oh, and Zach loved walking with his brother after the game, helping out the coach by carrying the first aid bag. If this is how it's gonna be, it's a vast improvement over last year.

Ninety minutes later, at the parade, the boys had the time of their lives because they got candy, saw a green dog, got candy, watched a giant green hat driving down the street, got candy, saw a Star Wars troop and some Irish setters marching (not together), and oh, hey - did I mention they got candy?

Yesterday we reveled in having nowhere to go by a certain time, so we took our time heading out to our favorite rocky beach, a.k.a. the dog beach, sans dog. Mom and Dad survived the hike down the cliffs and then we enjoyed a free-wheeling afternoon filled with interesting rocks, colorful parasailers flying by, and all sorts of creatures from anemones to starfish.

When it got to be about 5:00 (or was it really 6? Or 4? Who can tell on these time-changing days?) our tummies were rumbling so we ambled slowly back up the cliffs and packed our things back into the car. Then we jetted off to our favorite Croatian pizza place and had our picnic at the sea-cliff park.

This is the second time we've gone there just in time for sunset, when the wind is blowing like mad, and we're hopping around trying to stay warm. But we keep doing it for some reason, and it's still the best pizza in town. We hung around just long enough for the sun to touch the water so that Dad could get some good sunset pictures in, and then we packed up the cars once again and headed home.

Face time

Has anything happened since we last talked? Well, yes and no. I'm completely wrapped up in work for a new project, so I haven't been budgeting much time for Beach Bucket. Also, I was more than a little conflicted about whether or how to recognize March 2, the third anniversary of my Worst Day Ever (the day I was admitted to the hospital). I sort of want it to be forgotten, but each year I seem to feel this big March 2 pressure hanging over me. It was weighing heavily on my mind on Tuesday, so I actually mentioned it to Luke, and although he remembers me being in the hospital, he really has no recollection of that particular day or any other specifics. Which is almost certainly for the best.

So I just kind of spent the day doing lots of hugging, wistful sighs, and teary-eyed glances at everyone (in other words, pretty much a typical day for me). That night Zach woke up at 4:30 am, which is extremely unusual for him, and I was trying to get him to go back to sleep quietly without waking Luke up, but he kept cracking himself up about something funny that had happened earlier in the day. So it was impossible to be "mad" at him about waking up; and in fact my half-asleep mind was confused about how to feel: I want to go back to sleep, but I just love listening to this guy.

Thanks to Bill-o for the pictures. Hard to believe, but they're even cuter in person...

Indeed.

Most ill-advised homework assignment ever given to a bunch of six-year-olds:

"What rhymes with heart? Write the words inside heart shapes."

Pick Your Plague

Just for kicks, let's count how many outfits I had on yesterday:

1) Nice dress for breakfast at the hotel club room;
2) Desert hiking clothes, which Zach then threw up on, leading to
3) Desert hiking clothes #2; which I was wearing when Zach fell in a mud puddle and then wanted to be carried, so I changed into;
4) Swimsuit and cover-up for swimming at the hotel pool, and then as we got ready to check out I changed into;
5) Long pants, sweat jacket and boots for lunch and drive up the mountain; changing when we got there into
6) Extra sweat jacket, snow boots, and snow gloves for impromptu snowball fight at the top of the mountain; and then back into
7) Regular boots and one sweat jacket for the drive home to the beach, after which Zach threw up on me again so I changed into
8) Pajamas and a sweatshirt, which Zach threw up on again, so I finally changed into
9) One last set of pajamas.

Still with me? It seems that our house has been visited upon by several plagues. The first plague of Lice was discussed earlier and I don't think there's much more to say about that. Throughout the week we battled Excessive Mucus and Diarrhea. Yesterday we were up against Vomiting and Car Stuck On Check Engine Light. Have I missed any? Can someone let me know what might come next so I can be prepared for, say, a whole lotta frogs?

(Plague-related aside: When Dave first met me he was absolutely horrified to learn that my parents lived on Locust Street. He had no idea it was also the name of a tree.)

Just to be clear: Yes, I love the fact that we were able to take a (free - woo-hoo, Hyatt points!) trip to the desert mid-week in February. I love the fact that we can hike in the desert and then head straight up the mountain and play in the snow two hours later. I love being with Dave and the boys. I just wish the whole trip had been a little less vomit-y.

While we were sitting at the restaurant on Wednesday night I started getting a little weepy and nostalgic about times past in Palm Springs....when days would be spent blissing out at the pool, getting spa treatments, checking out new restaurants, or shopping for hours at the outlets; and nighttime would mean a trip to the casino or just hanging out in the hot tub and staring up at the stars.

These days we find ourselves on a quest to discover a whole new current of desert life. We'll choose a hotel based not on whether we can walk to the downtown restaurants, but on what kind of water slide they have. We've been scouting out the local miniature golf courses. We have to go to restaurants with kids' menus, or at least restaurants where it's acceptable to bring your toys and books along. There's no outlet shopping, for now, and no casino time, but there's really no point at the moment because it's not much fun without any money to spend. But even despite all of this, I can't imagine going to the desert without the boys - I'd miss them too much, and besides, I'd have nothing to complain about.

I continue to be astonished about how much Zach remembers from the last time we were in the desert (nine months ago). As soon as we got to down to the pools he made a beeline across the pool complex to get to the "hot" pool. He and I are alike in that we love love love sitting around in hot hot hot water. Also as soon as we parked at the Mexican restaurant he announced, "This restaurant has candy in front!" and went straight for the candy bowl in the lobby (and visited it again numerous times throughout the meal).

Now here's something even more curious (although perhaps only interesting to me): He slept for most of the drive up the mountain. When he woke up, we told him that we were going to stop at a little town and then go play in the snow. He thought about this and then said, "I'd like to get a nice donut with blue frosting and sprinkles." Huh!?!? Then I remembered that before we went up to the snowy mountain last February (a whole year ago), we stopped at a little donut shop and he got a donut with blue frosting and sprinkles. It's amazing what memories make lasting imprints on a mind.

Luke has had a banner week for his week off. He went to a day camp on Monday (theme day: puppy party) and he had such a great time he begged begged begged to go back on Tuesday. So we sent him off in the morning before we left for the desert. I wasn't thrilled about spending the extra money, but I was happy to see him happy about anything that did not involve new Lego sets. (Activities included watching The Clone Wars, playing Wii bowling, doing spin art, playing with the aforementioned puppies, being entertained by a magician -- in other words, just a typical day at Joe's house.)

I don't think I can match that level of excitement today, but the boys and I are just going to chill out while Dave goes for his run, maybe go on a post-rain worm hunt, and do the last round of lice shampoo. And while I'm at it, I think I'd better check to see if anyone has developed any boils.

All Creatures Great and Small

We had a week of happy dog-lovin', thanks to Elizabeth's visiting dog Casey, who came over to be with us in the afternoons this week. Casey is a gentle giant, a 100-pound beast of a dog who literally would not hurt a flea. Even when boys stumble and fall on her head while she is sleeping (ahem), her response is to open one eye, look around, say the dog equivalent of "eh?" and then go back to sleep.

When we first put Casey in the car to bring her back to the house Luke was literally shaking with excitement. I thought he was going to cry. And who knew he would be such a good dog walker? Walking a dog allows him to be the boss he always wants to be. But he's gentle and encouraging, and it really seems to bring out the best in him.

Zach loves Casey too, but in a different way. Casey just seems to fuel his excitement for the day, and gets him running around in circles. When Casey first came upstairs, the boys were set on creating a dog bed for her out of pillows, and Zach enthusiastically contributed his blankets and all of his stuffed animals to the collection. And who knew it would be harder to walk a two-year-old than a dog? Casey will pretty much go wherever you want her to go, but Zach will gleefully run off without a care, giving the rest of us a minor heart attack. Luckily Casey will pretty much just hang out in one place if you let go of her leash to chase down your two-year-old.

And then... beach day. What a great afternoon we had, hiking down to the dog beach, collecting rocks, throwing sticks to Casey, and watching Casey make friends with an impossibly small, fluffy Maltese.

Later, after we had said goodbye to Casey, I was washing Luke's hair and I noticed all sorts of creatures living in there. I spent nearly an hour combing and plucking them out (and if this makes you feel itchy, imagine how I felt). I assumed they were fleas left over from a day at the dog beach, but Dave saved one and studied various pictures on the web, and shortly after we finally got Luke to bed, told me, "I hate to break this to you, but..." Yep. Head lice.

So today, Valentine's Day, the blissfully lice-free Dave and Zach are off at a train show, while Luke and I are doing loads of laundry and getting lice shampoo. I don't think I have any, but I feel just itchy enough that I'm ready to jump in a vat of lye if that's what it takes to get rid of this feeling. De-lousing: It's every woman's fantasy Valentine's Day, and I'm living the dream.

Bath/Mud/Bath

Ahhh, a rainy Southern California winter morning. Just me and the boys, hanging out, cozy inside while Dave was on a training run. Toys, TV, art projects, science experiments...The boys were such happy campers they decided it would be fun to have a shower/bath together. So they got all shampooed, conditioned, and squeaky clean; then we put on fresh dry clothes so we could go on a few errands.

And then, we stepped outside, and looky here - the rain had stopped. "I want to go stomp in some mud puddles," Zach announced. And that marked the official end of anything clean that happened today.

Zach got so completely wet and muddy... How muddy did he get? He got so muddy that he actually halted the peewee football practice that was going on at the field. "Look how muddy that little guy is!" declared one boy, and the others all stopped in their tracks to stare. (That's right, a bunch of nine-year-olds playing football on the field after the rain stopped to look at Zach because he was such a sight.)

After we got home Zach decided to lie down in the driveway - note the puddle of water beginning to form around his right boot - possibly because the sheer weight of water was dragging him down. And yes, that's Luke's nice new oatmeal-colored shirt from Grandma Joan, instantly transformed into... er... cinnamon raisin oatmeal?

This afternoon (after we got clean again) while Dave wrapped up some t-ball business, Elizabeth and I took the boys out for frozen yogurt. Chocolate yogurt. Which means you-know-who got you-know-what all over his you-know-what again. Sigh. My washing machine never stops.

Last night at the arcade Luke won a little packet of capsules that you submerge in water and they expand to turn into safari animal sponges. We had a great time watching them all grow according to the pictures on the back of the package - cheetah, rhino, zebra, elephant, wildebeest, giraffe, monkey, and then... what? One of them came out looking like no animal I've ever seen; like a camel with a thyroid condition. We are still scratching our heads over that one, though it gave us some good chuckles.

And now for today's moment of Zen: While we were watching the capsules expand in the water, Zach started to make a swishing noise with his mouth. "Zach, did you drink some of the water? Did you? Did you?" I asked him. He didn't answer at first, then he looked at me solemnly and said, "Mom, we are flashlights."

(But no, he didn't drink it.)

Par

Stop me if you've heard this already: Zach is beginning to enjoy "grown-up" time in the bathroom. He strips himself down, completely naked, then stands in front of the toilet for as long as 30 minutes at a time, waiting for something to happen. I'm not sure if anything happens or not because he flushes multiple times while standing there, so who knows? The point is that he has the intent, the determination, and the enthusiasm to do what he needs to do. (That little strangling noise you hear is the figurative sound of Teenaged Zach reading this and dying from complete and utter mortification.)

Luke is quite the little personality study. Here is a guy, for instance, who has only a marginal amount of enthusiasm for riding a bike, but who would happily spend an hour taking apart and putting back together his bike bell. So you can understand why I seized the opportunity to sign him up for an after-school science enrichment class. But who knew - the class is centered around a "detective" theme and for this week they asked the kids to dress up in spy gear (trench coats, sunglasses, hats, etc.). Few things are more abhorrent to Luke than the idea of dressing up in a costume (except for one night of the year on Halloween when large amounts of candy are involved) or performing any kind of unnecessary clothing change, so he begged me to switch him to a golf class that is running at the same time.

Golf? Yeah, turns out he got a little intrigued when he heard Dave make some reference to Tiger Woods having made a billion dollars playing golf. A million, a billion - soon you're talking about a lot of Lego sets. He also played a round of miniature golf last week, and it convinced him that it was definitely a sport worth pursuing. So he did the little golf class today, reported back that it was pretty good, and is preparing for his new career. Tonight when I was tucking him in I told him that my grandmother loved golf and one time won a special prize for getting a hole in one. What was the special prize, he wanted to know. Ummmm.... Anyone? I think it was a free meal at the clubhouse. So, OK, even if there's not a billion dollars, there might someday be a free lunch in it for him.