"Stumbling into fun"

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

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

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

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

Freeze

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The sky popped open"

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stymied

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I am Five

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

Backfill

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Time it was, and what a time it was

It's hard to imagine a week with more transitions or changes than the past seven days. Looking back, I'd have to say we're just not the same people we were a week ago. For starters, we don't have a kindergartner in our house any more. Luke had a great last day and a great last-day party (here he is signing autographs for his friends), and now all that's left of his kindergarten year is an enormous paper bag filled with projects and workbooks sitting in our front hallway.

This time last year we were filled with uncertainty about what the year ahead in a new school would be like for Luke; almost all of his preschool buddies were headed to a different elementary school. Now he is surrounded by great new pals (at least four different boys have announced in recent weeks that Luke is their best friend) and is bolstered by that confidence for a great year ahead in first grade.

Dave went from being an online mystery to a local sensation. We were kind of bracing ourselves for a certain amount of animosity when he unmasked himself, but mostly it's just been fun, hearing from various friends and acquaintances who want to give Dave recognition for all the hard work he's done anonymously over the past three years. Last night we got invited (through one of Dave's real estate connections) to an amazing dinner party that somehow managed to combine delicious food, thoughtful adult conversation, and plenty of things to keep the kids entertained and happy. And Dave has plenty more offers in the hopper from appreciative readers: Can we take you out to dinner? Drinks? Pancakes?


The boys and their Florida cousins have gone from being practical strangers to best buddies in a matter of days (well, hours, really). Luke and Samson are, of course, off in their own little Star Wars world. But even Zach, who most emphatically does not like to share his toys with anyone, has opened up a little place in his heart for Eli. And of course Eli wormed his way into my heart the minute he called me "Uncle Jeanne" and gave me one of his trademark enormous smiles.

On Thursday we all went to Special Other Legoland together, which is always a treat for Zach but I wasn't sure how it was going to go for Luke. Turns out the slow and easy rides were just his speed and he and Samson had a field day riding the planes, driving the police cars, and cracking each other up with jokes from the day. Luke's favorite ride was the plane ride, and he went around and around, over and over, as an ace pilot who rules the skies.


There's another big change afoot and I don't know quite how to characterize it, but it's something like 'boys being generally more grown up.' (Here are all the cousins at their own table at In 'n Out Burger.) I'm enjoying summer vacation because the boys are almost getting to the point where their interests are matched up enough for us to do stuff together. We're enjoying lazy mornings where we curl up and read books (as opposed to Luke being uninterested in the book because it's too little-kid, or Zach running away to create mischief). We sold our double stroller because Zach didn't fit in the little seat in the front anymore, and now we just walk places. And I can do things like take both boys on a paddle boat with me (OK, that's still a little dicey) because they're both old enough to understand the simple concept that you have to stay ON the boat. My point is, it's good - and I can see clear to a time when we'll have even more fun together.

The last part is not about us, it's about a dog on the other side of the country. For most of my adult life, Satchmo has been a part of everything I know about Joe. He is the exuberant yin to Joe's stoic yang; he is the happy black shadow that follows him from place to place and curls up with him at night. Come to think of it, he's witnessed just about every family event that we've shared with Joe and Sara, from holidays and christenings, to Dave's proposal to me one cold Christmas morning. The boys have a picture in their room of me and Dave sitting with little puppy Satchmo. It was taken not too long after Dave and I first got together, and not too long after Satchmo came into Joe and Sara's life. In my eyes you see a look of hopeful expectation; in Dave's eyes you see a bemused what-am-I-getting-myself-into look, and in Satchmo's eyes you just see, "Wahoooo! People with warm laps who are about to give me food!"

Satchmo passed away quietly earlier this month, and my heart has been heavy since then thinking about Joe without his shadow. But in a curious little twist of fate, a beautiful Mastiff puppy named Agent Buttersteve was born earlier this month and announced almost immediately that he needed to see a guy named Joe about a place to stay. Of course there will never be another Satchmo. But it's comforting to know that we can honor Satchmo's memory by giving some of that leftover love to a new little guy. Rest in peace, Satch. You were the best of the best.

Whole lotta lovin'

There's all kinds of lovin' going on around here, starting with some good old-fashioned Dad-lovin'. Sure, we made cards and all that for Dave, but what better way to say "Happy Father's Day" than getting identical hand tattoos with hearts and gelato spoons on them? Am I right?

Next we've had a lot of cousin lovin'. Now that's the kind of lovin' that's fun to watch in progress. The Florida cousins are here, and even though it's been two years, it's like they haven't missed a beat. Luke and Samson are off in their own little Lego/Star Wars/DS world, and they don't really seem to notice if we're around or not. (Last night at the restaurant Dave had the idea to let them sit at their own table, which thrilled both of them, and they spent the dinner fully engaged in conversation and oblivious to everyone else around them.)

Zach and Eli are completely wrapped up in cars and trucks together, and even if they are only just starting to know each other, Zach is sure happy to have Eli around. On Saturday Zach inflated a balloon (who knew he had the lung power?) that he declared was for Eli, which is about as big an act of love as he will grant to anyone, and Luke helped him decorate it with an "I [heart] Eli" illustration.

On top of all that, we've had a lot of family lovin'. Bobbie and Jerry turned 75 this week, and we had the whole family together yesterday to celebrate along with the dads. Now I ask you: Who is lucky enough to have the whole family together to celebrate not one but two 75-year birthdays? And Father's Day? And with four happy, healthy kids running around underfoot? And with beautiful weather all weekend long? Someone must have done something right, that's for sure.

I, Hypocrite

Go ahead, mock me. I write a blog about kids' nutrition when my first kid won't eat any protein besides hot dogs and bacon, and my second kid essentially had potato chips for dinner tonight. My lofty ideals are so very, very far from reality. I'm like the armchair travel writer, or perhaps the child psychiatrist whose kids are messed up. So, yeah, I'm writing about vegan spirulina/cacao cookies, but we're not actually making - or eating - them.

Today Dave took Luke to a baseball game, which left me and Zach alone with a lot of time on our hands. But Zach announced that he wanted to go to "Special Other Legoland," his favorite little kiddie amusement park, and that wasn't a bad idea, really. So we hopped in the car and sped down to our destination.

Here's the thing about me: If you're looking for someone with whom to, say, make chocolate fondue or shop for new shoes, I'm your parent. But if you want to have barrels of fun at an amusement park, Dave is the one you really want. Maybe Zach was in a weird mood, maybe it was too hot and crowded - who knows, really - but he didn't seem to want to go on any rides with me. Dave has that magical power of persuasion to turn any mood around, but I didn't have the special touch. All Zach wanted to do was go to the gift store.

So we browsed and browsed, and I said "no" multiple times to items like the $29.99 "breathing" stuffed puppy. But then Zach lit on a crazy laser gun that was only $5, so I said yes. It required four batteries, which weren't included, but we were excited to see how it would work. The top of the package promised mysteriously, "A Dead Shot: Deluxe Music Gun," while the inside of the package described it as "Deluxe Flash Gun." Inside, the instructions left us even more baffled: "Press down the switch gun head turns to move and become the floral shape and 32 kinds of different light flickers. Will send out the light and voices. Imitate to fight the scene voice really." Uh...yeah. OK.

Zach wanted to leave shortly after the gun purchase, in part because I told him that Suzi and Bill might have batteries at their house. So we headed over to their house, caught them just before they were leaving for an evening out, and bummed some batteries off them. Then, to my dismay, I heard the sound that it actually makes. While the pink flower tip opens up, the lights spin around, and a voice shouts at top volume: "DON'T MOVE! DROP THE GUN! FIRE! FIRE! BAM-BAM-BAM-BAM!" It's loud. And horrifying. And this is my nice little non-violent household now.

Luke, meanwhile, seems to have had a banner weekend. He took the lead for our family at our neighbor's garage sale, and deftly managed numerous transactions, ultimately netting about $60. He spent the day with Dave at the baseball game, and then watched the Laker game on TV at home. He got a new Lego Indiana Jones game to play on his DS. And wouldn't you know it, as he was getting ready to go to sleep tonight, he asked me if he could go to "Special Other Legoland." Because he wants one of those guns too.

Reunited

Remember how there was a time when we'd see our college friends every six months or so when someone was getting married? A group of guys I went to college with realized they hadn't seen each other in years - since the last wedding, in fact. So they did the next logical thing. Three of them, one of whom was unmarried, cooked up a plan to create a fake wedding for the last single guy in the group. They wrote up a whole dossier on the fictional bride-to-be so they'd have their facts straight. They talked her up for months. Then then had invitations printed out to invite the whole gang to the "wedding" at a local "tavern" (read: dive bar). Everyone fell for it, and everyone showed up. They had a great time, and a few laughs, and, well, a few of the wives were a little peeved, but they got over it. And then they all got together again four years later when the single guy got married for real.

My point is, why do we need a fake wedding, or a real wedding, or a landmark reunion to see some of our best and oldest friends? I had my 20-year college reunion this weekend, which was amazing, wonderful, and just a total whirlwind of fun. And it's been way too long.



The best part about old friends is that you can pick up right where you left off and it's as easy and wonderful as it always was. We met up at 1:00 in the afternoon, and we didn't stop walking around and talking and laughing until 3:00 in the morning. That's 14 straight hours of fun and laughs, if you're keeping tabs, which I wasn't. *Sigh* It's not even possible to sum it all up without countless stories of friends and lives intertwined.

Among my discoveries: There are a whole bunch of new buildings I've never seen before on campus. The dorm room that my sister and I both had during our respective senior years is now an office. Eighty-six degrees is fine for a hot summer day, but bad for a temperature inside a non-air-conditioned dorm room when you're trying to get to sleep. The big grassy front lawn of our college was great for sitting out and drinking beers with friends 20 years ago, and it still is now.

Between me and my three closest buddies, we've had four weddings, nine kids, and thousands of miles between us, but it's still good. Regrets? Only maybe that we didn't quite appreciate what we had while we had it, and that we've gone so long without seeing each other.

The other remarkable thing about the weekend was that it was my first without the boys. The first night I had a little lingering sadness, despite Joe and Sara's best efforts to cheer me with margaritas, good company, a fantastic event to celebrate (Lily's preschool graduation) and a whole mess of jumbo shrimp. But by the second night, I (oops) didn't even call home to say goodnight to the boys. (Hey, I was having a good time! Whaddya want?)

Dave did such an amazing job with the boys all weekend I can't even begin to sum it all up. They went places, did things, and had great "dad" time without appearing to miss me much at all. (And Dave didn't even have to open the "emergency present drawer" that I alerted him to just before I left.) I think Luke was most vocal about missing me, and was most enthusiastic about welcoming me home. Zach was a little shy around me when I got home, but we had a great day together, and by last night he was completely wrapped around me. (He had a little 4 am wakeup where Dave tried to intercept him but he made a beeline straight for "Mommmmmyyyyy!!!!") It was a little bit hard to peel him off when it was time to go to school this morning, but Dave managed to do it, skillfully, the way he always does. If I've learned anything in these past 20 years, it's that you should surround yourself with good, good people.

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.