Frenzy

Zach's birthday yesterday was...[searching for the best single word to describe the day]...exuberant. We went from event to event, each one as happy as the next. Was it happy because it was all fun stuff, or because he just happens to be a very happy kid to begin with? Hmmm...Decisions, decisions...

The day began with the Cooking of the Pancakes, followed by the Opening of the Presents - one of the first of which was a large fluffy Angry Bird, which is a new house favorite. (Zach has declared that the bird, named RedBird SuperBird TreeBird, will be celebrating its birthday on Monday.)

Next he had a grand time opening all of the trains and tracks from Helena and Antonia, as well as the cooking package from Mom and Dad. Each of the little utensils was individually wrapped, making for a present-opening, wrapping-paper frenzy.

Zach's pizza party was a fast-paced thrill. Zach was adamant that he only wanted his four best friends there (one couldn't make it), and as it turned out, the group was a perfect size. The kids (including Luke and Zach's friend's 7-year-old brother) 1) decorated their pizza boxes; 2) made their own pizzas; 3) decorated their own aprons while the pizza was cooking; 4) ate the pizzas; and 5) decorated their own cupcakes with a sugar-induced frenzy of M&Ms, gummy worms, and gummy bears. Do you think a bunch of four-year-olds had a good time? Uh, yeah.

Then we went home, and after we opened some more presents, Luke helped Zach build his new Lego Toy Story train. Let's put that another way: Luke had fun, because he was building a Lego, and Zach had fun, because someone was building a train for him. Pretty sneaky, eh?

Overwhelmed by all of the thrills and chills, Zach conked out beyond comprehension on the drive down to the deli for dinner with the family. It was only the gentle wafting of the smell of matzoh ball soup that finally stirred him back awake. And then, when he realized that he had more cake and more presents in his future, he bounded back to life.

At Grandma Bobbie and Granddad's, he happily chowed down on M&M chocolate cake, and then had fun opening even more presents. Zach is now the proud owner of a new space shuttle and a new "laptop computer" which somehow gives kids the ability to blog. So I'll be hanging up my hat here soon, and you can expect to be hearing more from Zach in this space from time to time. Hope you like reading about trains.

I love you, my sweet, curly-haired four-year-old boy.

Big Dippers

On the eve of Zach's fourth birthday, one of the speech issues that continues to confound him is "he" and "she." It's like, if he thinks about it hard enough, he's able to get it right, but it doesn't roll off his tongue very easily. Last night as I was tucking him into bed we were talking about Patches the cat ("He shakes his leg when he is finished eating") and I wondered aloud, "Is Patches a boy or a girl?" Zach responded, "He is a girl," which brought cackles from Luke in the top bunk. "Add an 's' and you'll be on the right track," Luke advised from his lofty perch.

Is it possible to have a weekend crowded with too much joy? We are looking ahead to not only Zach's birthday but also another Passover celebration, Easter, and Dave's and my anniversary. I'm not sure if there's any one cake you could design that would cover all of those events. And if I tried, it would almost certainly wind up on Cake Wrecks.

Zach came home from school today wearing bunny ears and carrying this little Easter basket. (Nice effect with the Halloween-themed shirt, right?) He made quite the scene ("Look how cute!") when we arrived to pick up Luke from school. Funny, Luke remembered that he had done the exact same craft when he was in the three-year-old class but of course he wouldn't have dreamed of wearing the bunny ears out in public. Zach, on the other hand (see: green glitter bowler hat on St. Patrick's Day) gleefully wore the bunny ears until bedtime.

So - who's got egg recipes they can share? We are poised to have way, way too many hard-boiled eggs in the house. Once the boys started dyeing them, they just didn't want to stop. I'm not big on doing things to excess, but somehow I was so happy to see the boys having a good time that I didn't want them to stop either. Egg-dyeing is one of the few activities I've seen them do together where they don't fight and they actively take turns with the little wire egg-dipper. Our dead-plant-nurturing friend Katie lets her boys color eggs all throughout the year. She might be on to something.

Yes, Grasshopper

The wit and wisdom of Luke:

On books: "When it starts with, 'Once upon a time,' it means it's not true, but it's going to be a good story anyway."

On activities: "Grownups think that if you call something an 'activity' it's going to be fun. Like in Be-Bop with Aesop [the play that the 2nd graders perform], getting up on stage dressed up as a grasshopper in front of, like 85 people -- How is that supposed to be fun?"

On potentially performing in the 2nd grade play next year: "Let's try to make sure we're on vacation that week."

Portraits

Dave went up to Sacramento for the day yesterday to pitch a campaign idea to the political powers-that-be. Will they jump on it? I'm keeping my fingers crossed, because he sure is excited about it. Plus I just wanted to say "pitch" while I used this picture that Bill took of him at the Little League game on Monday night. Dave is manager, coach, and pitcher - and he endures the catcalls of the crowd whenever a pitch goes astray. Like politics, baseball requires strategy, patience, and an ability to tune out the nay-sayers.


Luke seems to enjoy baseball, and according to Dave, he is doing pretty well. There's no tee to bat from this year; you have to take your coach's pitches as they come, and you have to go through the learning process in front of the crowd. But he doesn't seem to mind, and he almost always hits the ball sooner or later. In the outfield he's at his most impressive, parked in ready position, staring down the opposing team. Suzi and Bill came to the game on Monday night and they agreed: The way the boys are playing now, it really is a different game than it was a year ago.


This picture (again, taken by Bill) has got to be one of my all-time favorite photos of Zach. Here he had decided to put some leaves on a plate for Grandma Bobbie and Granddad to cook with their eggs. Zach is continuing on his giving streak: Today he insisted on bringing a "present" (one of his trains and a little plastic track) to school for his friend Brensan. The train caused a great deal of excitement among the three-year-old-boy crowd, and the teachers decided to put it away for Zach to take it home later. But when it came time to leave, Zach refused to leave with it - he was absolutely determined that it should go home with Brensan. We'll have to see how that plays out tomorrow.


It's curious to see how much is really in those little heads of theirs. At dinner last night I asked the boys where we should go on our next vacation. "Seattle!" crowed Luke, who has spent at least 1/2 hour on the phone with Helena and Antonia in the two days since we've been home. "What do you think, Zach?" I asked. While I was asking him I was thinking, Little kids don't know what to say other than the places we've already been, so why am I bothering with this question? And to my complete and utter surprise, he answered confidently, "San Francisco." So there you have it. He could be right. By the way, this is yet another Bill picture; in this one we are reading Richard Scarry's "What Do People Do All Day?" Even after the 100th time, this book never ceases to fascinate them.

Last but not least, this self-portrait is from Helena. She emailed it to me (before we had even left Seattle) along with a note: "Thank you for coming! I made this aspeshlly for you." Could you just weep from the cuteness?

Gang of Four

What a terrible trip to Seattle. Nobody got along, everybody fought all day, there was nothing to do, the older kids picked on the younger kids, the weather was dreadful...Ha! Completely, 100 percent kidding, of course. It could not have been a more beautiful, joyful, or harmonious visit. I can't even remember the last time I saw Luke so consistently happy and laughing for so many days straight. And I can't remember the last time Zach was so consistently treated nicely and cared for by a bunch of older kids. I think it's safe to say we all found our happy place. Now Luke is insisting that we go back in the summer and stay "for three weeks." I'm not sure where he got that arbitrary amount of time, but he is convinced that that's the very least amount of time he needs in Seattle.

So - weather? Fantastic.  We started out the first day with shamelessly beautiful weather at an incredible park/garden with 20 acres of gorgeous scenery and countless secret pathways. The girls know the ins and outs of the park and have nicknamed some of their favorite spots ("Orange Juice Falls" "Toilet Bowl Lake" "The Base"). With the girls leading the charge, the four of them set off on a wild and winding adventure while the grownups struggled to keep pace.

Inter-kid relations? Perfect. If you haven't already heard me mention this, the girls prepared for our visit by watching all of the Star Wars movies, and then took us to a Star Wars exhibit at the science center. We also took a ride on a monorail, which was something Zach has talked about for months. When we saw what a tourist-trap rip-off the monorail was, we almost decided not to do it, but Julie said, "I really want to see Zach ride the monorail" - and the rest of us agreed - so we all waited 15 minutes and paid $2 each for two minutes of watching Zach in rail heaven.

Sharing of toys? Of course. Zach enjoyed the trains; Helena and Antonia joined him and made a three-part chorus of high-pitched train whistles. Luke and Antonia enjoyed Wizarding World; then Zach joined them on the iPad playing air hockey. And so on.

Luke-Helena relations? Superb. Antonia kept telling them they looked like twins, which Luke didn't necessarily want to hear, but there was no bickering or quarreling; just hanging out like old friends. And Luke-Antonia relations were great as always; they held hands just about everywhere they went, and stayed deep in conversation throughout.

Zach-girl relations? Breathtakingly sweet. The girls are both such good care-takers and protectors. At our favorite Greek restaurant Helena sat with him in the kids' play area; at the playground Antonia supported him while he hung from the monkey bars. And he happily held their hands as we walked all around town. It's nice to have some big kids who have your back.

The only down side is that very little sleep was had by all. Both Luke and Zach dozed off on the 15-minute bus ride back from the Pike Place Market yesterday; Luke stumbled back to consciousness when we got to our stop, but Zach stayed asleep, almost comically so, for the better part of the next two hours. No matter where Dave carried him or moved him around the house with the hope of him being awakened by the noise, Zach continued snoring obliviously. "Looks like we've got a Weekend at Bernie's situation on our hands," Dave observed. Ultimately Zach woke up and stayed awake, chatting cheerfully, all the way until the plane landed in L.A. at 11:15 pm; while Luke zonked out on the plane and had to be awakened to walk to the taxi. Somehow we can never get the timing exactly lined up. But look at it this way: In the past six months, we've been lucky enough to have great times visiting cousins in three different corners of the country. So who cares if the kids lose out on a little sleep? We must be doing something right.

Happy birds

Dave is 43 today, and I actually believe the world has been a better place over the past 43 years because he's been in it.

In typical Dave style, he had no problem with Luke having a boys' sleepover tonight, even though it's his birthday. Once you have two boys, what's the big deal about throwing in a few more? And who better to get really excited about a birthday than a bunch of kids?

So I rushed home from work today to make sure we had dinner for the boys, a nice dinner for Dave, and most importantly, a cool cake. The boys and I settled on an Angry Birds cake, and clearly I didn't have time to do it the way the professionals do it (with fondant and happy comic shapes), but it was good enough for a bunch of kids. As we sat at the table, enduring the toilet-related jokes, Dave observed, "I haven't had this many kids under 8 at a birthday party of mine since I was...under 8."

Happy birthday to my partner, my good-luck charm, and my very best friend. Life may have its ups and downs, but everything - everything - is better with you by my side.

Jewels

On Saturday night, Luke headed over to a friend's house for a sleepover, and Dave and Zach and I somewhat unexpectedly became a party of just three. Sure, we missed Luke and all, but once he was gone we realized...We can go wherever we want for dinner! Freedom!!!

Zach is the restaurant kid I've always wanted. It would have been too much to hope for all-star eaters like Antonia and Helena, who happily polish off a crispy whole fish. But as kid eaters go, Zach is right up there with some of the best. After we were liberated on Saturday, the three of us enthusiastically headed off for a somewhat nice Thai restaurant we've always wondered about. It was wonderful - and an incredibly refreshing change of pace. No kids menus; we all ordered off the regular menu. No dumbed-down foods like chicken nuggets or hot dogs; just tasty, fresh Thai food in a beautiful setting. The funny part was that the server presented the menu to Zach on an iPad so he could flip through pictures of the food. He thought that was reasonably entertaining, but he very quickly quit out of the picture program to look for the YouTube application. Good thing we caught him in time, too, because he came close to sending an email from the restaurant.

Luke is lucky; he's always been good at engaging people, and making connections comes easy to him. The only thing that could possibly make me sad about that is that it makes the road a little tougher for Zach, who has a few extra layers you need to peel before you really know him. But here's the thing: Zach is just so great. I have tons that I could say about Luke, but I feel like I really want to say more about some of the more little-known things about Zach:

• He worships Luke, and no matter what kind of abuse Luke doles out, Zach is constantly making things for him ("Luke! I built you an Angry Birds tower!"). While Luke was gone on the sleepover, Zach made two paper airplanes for Luke, painstakingly wrote "L-O-K-E" across the front of each one, and then spent the rest of the evening discussing how the paper airplanes were sure to become Luke's favorite toys. 

• He loves to make food, serve food, and share food. He's earned a reputation at school for being quite the snacktime helper, doling out cups and plates and even treats. Last week he built a tower of fruit (a "fruit cake") that he decided to bring to school to share with his school friends. Also last week, when he was the only one to get a cookie with his kids' meal, he oh-so-carefully broke it into pieces to share with each of us. And yesterday at Grandma Bobbie and Grandad's house he spent a good half-hour picking up all of the leaves from the front lawn because he was preparing a "salad" to feed to a neighborhood cat. 

• He can keep himself amused for hours, with just a few trains and some tracks. Today Luke and I actually had some quality time together because Zach was just so busy with his trains that he did not want to be disturbed. 

• He is the ultimate loyal friend, especially to his two best friends from school, Alex and Brensan. If you ask Zach what he wants for his birthday, he'll say, "I want to get Alex a slinky dog and I want to get Brensan some Chuggington trains..."

Why am I going on and on about Zach? Probably because we've just been through a lot today. At 5:30 this morning, I dragged him, snoring, out of bed, and put him straight into the car to go to the hospital. As he groggily came into consciousness, he knew where we were going, but he was somehow relentlessly...cheerful. By the time he and I got out of the car, we were cracking each other up as we walked to the main lobby. And throughout the day - even though it should have been a miserable day - he was just ridiculously happy. I'm not big on taking pictures in the hospital, for obvious reasons, but I couldn't resist taking this shot of him with such an impish grin in his cheery yellow hospital pajamas. My heart has been stolen.

On a different topic entirely, I started the compost a year ago, and what a beautiful mixture I have now. It must have done something special to our garden because we managed to grow a bumper crop of these incredible jewel-like radishes. Luke and I had a great time picking them because each one was bigger and more vibrant than the next. Quite a change from the anemic crops we got last year, when our soil was little more than sand.

Now...um...what do we do with all of those radishes?

Airborne

Luke is great at so many things, but (deep breath) he does not seem to be the biggest sports guy around. Sure, he's good at baseball, and he loves his team, but in this sports-crazed town he doesn't seem to have the interest or coordination to become part of the basketball or soccer cliques. This is a little sad for me to write about, but when I took him to a birthday party on Sunday at a big indoor sports training facility, he recoiled when he realized that it was basically one big basketball game. "Why did we come here? I don't know how to play basketball, Mom," he whispered, trying to hide behind me. "This is so embarrassing." Eventually he got out there and hovered around the outer edges of the court, and he seemed to start enjoying himself once they started doing soccer, football, and dodgeball. It was only after the party that I was crushed to learn that some of the kids were teasing him while they were playing basketball. What is wrong with people? If you're 7, it's too late to be a beginner at something? Now I'm afraid Luke is going to carry lifelong scars when it comes to basketball. There is a camp this summer that has a morning dedicated to Legos, chess, and basketball, and Luke declared there was no way he was going to do it because he didn't want to be involved in basketball at all.

When Luke and I got home from the sports party, we decided to unwind a little bit by playing badminton together. I found some really nice-quality racquets and birdies at the 99-cents store, and strangely enough, this is our new "thing." It only took him a few sessions to get pretty good at it and he gets a real thrill when we can have a volley that lasts for more than three consecutive hits. He started tallying our consecutive hits and announced that when we got to 100 total hits, we would have a huge party. And sure enough, when we got to 100, we whooped it up and danced all around the yard. Luke is very excited about our progress and keeps talking about how in about "eight weeks" we are going to be so good we're just going to stand there hitting it back and forth to each other for hours at a time. Maybe there's a racquet sport in his future; or maybe (like when I was a kid) just some long summer nights of badminton.

Last night my friend Andrea (Declan and Chloe's mom) and I took an intro "aerial fitness" class. It came about by way of a Groupon; I wanted to try the class but I didn't want to do it alone, and Andrea was a willing volunteer. We both agreed that we weren't exactly in top gymnastics shape, but the class sounded like fun, so we'd give it a whirl. As I was getting ready to leave the house, Luke said, "Mom, are you nervous about it?" and I responded gaily, "No - of course not! I love trying new things!" But when Andrea and I walked in to the class, it was another matter entirely. The facility is basically a wide-open, high-ceilinged gym with long silks hanging down from the ceiling, and all of these Cirque de Soleil muscle-bound gymnastics-type people standing around. "Now I know how Luke felt walking in to that basketball game," Andrea muttered.

There were seven of us taking this "intro" class, with Andrea and I the only pure beginners. There was at least one other student who was absolutely an expert, whirling through the air with incredibly graceful and athletic stunts. Was it fun? Er...Let's just say it made me a little more aware of my own limitations. I didn't quite have the upper body strength or coordination to do some of the most basic moves or shimmy up the silk. But I was able to secure my foot in the silk and do this one move that kind of made me feel like I was the mermaid at the front of a ship (pictured, although not me). Does that count for anything?

As we were leaving, the instructor and one of the students were talking about how they were going to be auditioning to be aerial artists for Taylor Swift's upcoming North American tour. Andrea and I had to stifle a laugh; we were happy enough to have made it through the hour without breaking anything. But we agreed that we both must have some pretty healthy self-esteem to have put ourselves through that. Next time we'll take a yoga class. And maybe our kids will pick up on some of our (clearly outsized) self-confidence.

Ev-ry-thing's coming up purple

Ohmigosh, we hosted the Best Shabbat Ever on Friday night. No, wait, it isn't a competition. But still... it was so great I somehow feel like I won something. I spent all day cooking an entirely purple feast ("purple" turkey, purple wild rice, purple potatoes, purple cabbage, purple beet salad, blue cornbread, purple grapes, and purple blackberry cake) and it was magnificent, I am proud to say.

Why purple? No special reason, just a sudden inspiration. And it's been five years - five years - since we've been doing Shabbat with this particular group of friends, so we've already cooked just about everything else in our repertoire. The best compliment of the night was when Julie groaned, "How are we ever going to follow this up when it's our turn?" - followed by much discussion of what their "color" should be.

From Zach's perspective, the best part was the fact that we had Turkey With Bones for dinner, something he hasn't had a chance to enjoy since Thanksgiving. In fact, when dessert was over, he asked for more Turkey With Bones (the drumstick). Then in the morning, when he woke up, he wanted Turkey With Bones for breakfast. Clearly this is a kid who knows what he wants. And all day long, whenever I kissed him, I could smell the turkey on his face.

Yesterday when I was skating I slipped on a sandy patch and tore up my elbow a little bit (Mom - don't panic! I'm fine!). When I got home, the boys all rushed to my rescue. Dave got me the Neosporin, Luke cleaned the wound and got me Band-aids, and Zach soaked the blood out of my shirt and brought me a full bag of dried cranberries. Do I have the best urgent care center in town, or what?

I spent most of the day today working on a video project (more details to come soon!) for the Jolly Tomato. While I wrote the script and did the storyboarding, Dave did all of the splicing and editing. Then I picked the music, and Dave wrapped the whole thing in to perfection. It turns out, even though he's never really done this before, he is a video GENIUS.  So right now we are watching the little video over and over again and patting ourselves on the back. Now it's off to the wrap party...

Ray of light

Did anyone happen to hear that Dave absolutely killed it yesterday in the marathon? At 3 hrs. 43 minutes, he destroyed his personal best by 17 minutes, and he ran a full 40 minutes faster than he did last fall. Not to mention that he did it all in the pouring, freezing rain. As Dave observed at the finish line, "When you run faster, it's over faster." Today he is justifiably basking in great feelings and somehow that has propelled him to make it through the day without a single complaint except for the occasional wince. I would say this could be the beginning of a whole new marathon career, except that he's sworn off marathons for a while. Probably for the best. Oh, and I don't have any pictures because it was pouring so hard it wasn't even possible to put down the umbrella long enough to take a picture.

Well, OK, I do have one picture. This is from the lobby of the Georgian Hotel, which graciously opened its doors to the chattering runners, and I took this shot after Dave had dried off and changed into warm clothes. After I took this picture we looked all over and could not find any explanation for what would have cause this glowing white orb to appear on his chest. I actually believe it is some sort of otherworldly mystical spirit that he carried with him, allowing him to finish the race. I am willing to entertain alternate explanations, but that's what I'm going with for now.

Yesterday afternoon after a little R & R we all packed up and went over to Katie's 40th birthday party. Katie is Luke's best friend Shane's mom, and her vision for the perfect party is something like what Dave's would be: a house full of happy kids, and a taco truck pulled up to the front of the house. Even though he had every right to bow out, we had no problem luring Dave "You Had Me At Taco" to the party.

The front room at Katie's house has been totally converted to kid use: The floors are covered with mats, and there is a swing, rope ladder, set of rings, and a hammock all hanging from the ceiling. Oh, and tons of toys too. At any given point during the party it was quite literally a three-ring circus, with kids hanging from the ceiling and flying through the air. Toward the end of the party the boys turned on the CD from Luke's birthday and all of a sudden an elementary school version of slam-dancing broke out. They were all jumping around, singing along, happily bouncing off each other, and for a few moments it was total kid paradise. When we got home, Luke told me, "Shane and Ty and I are going to be rock stars. We're going to have a band called 5-7-7 because Ty is 5 and Shane and I are both 7."

The day before I had taken Zach to the nursery to buy a plant for Katie for her birthday. After we found a pretty lavender plant for her, Zach noticed a small dead plant in a half-gallon container under one of the tables. He immediately glommed on to the idea that it was the perfect present for him to give to Katie. So he carried it up to the checkout counter, they shrugged and gave it to us for free, and then Zach proudly carried it home. All day long he talked about his present for Katie, and how it had "grey sticks, brown leaves, and green balls" (in the potting soil). When it came time to leave for the party, he made it clear that he wasn't going anywhere without his special present for Katie.

Now if it had been for almost anyone else, I would have tried to talk Zach out of it. But the great thing about Katie is that 1) she is the kind of person who would totally love it; and 2) if anyone could bring it back to life, she could. When we got there, I gave her a little warning about the d-e-a-d plant she was about to receive. But Zach wanted to give it to her in person, so he did, and she showed as much joy about that present as any she had received that day. "It looks just like Charlie Brown's Christmas tree!" she cried happily, and thanked him profusely. She thinks she can bring it back to life, and frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if she did.

Little Green Man

Dave: "There are just some people in the world, who, when presented with the opportunity to wear a glittery green bowler hat, say, 'Sure, why not?'"

Well-worn path

If anything happened over the past week, I don't know about it. I may have driven my parents back to the airport at some point, but I was in such a feverish haze I don't remember it. Being a sick parent is the worst, because your kids still need stuff from you, even if you've lumped 98 percent of the responsibility on to the other parent. They know you're around, even if you're permanently face down in your pillow, and they seek you out for insanely trivial things that they know only a mom can provide.

So, moving right along, since yesterday was the first day that I was moderately human, that's where my memory begins. I was supposed to run the 5K with Luke while Elizabeth hung out with Zach, but Elizabeth gamely offered to run in my place while Zach and I cheered from the sidelines. To say she and Luke "ran" it was a little bit of a stretch. This year we decided not to put any pressure on Luke to run at all; only to make sure that it was fun for him. So he and one of his buddies brought up the absolute end of the pack, walking, chatting, and collecting sticks along the way. The irony is that Dave was on the completely opposite end of the spectrum, and he would have won the whole race except that he wisely let a speedy 5th-grader, a crowd favorite, come in ahead of him. The final race results will show Dave in second place and me (Elizabeth wore my number) in second-to-last place. Dave was such a whirlwind yesterday; he sponsored the race water bottles and brought them all down to the race first thing in the morning, ran the race, nearly won it, and then helped with post-race activities and cleanup, then took home the box of money for counting. Meanwhile all I could do was rub my temples and mutter, "So many people..."

Later in the afternoon (yes, the day dragged on), Dave and Luke had a baseball game. This one is the first I've seen in the coach-pitch league, and I have to say that Luke was quite impressive. He hit the ball every time he was up - and he made a play that ended the game in dramatic fashion. The last batter hit a ground ball that Luke stopped, scooped up, and threw right into the first baseman's glove to get the batter out. It is such a routine play in the major leagues that you don't think too much about it, but when you see a kid doing it for the first time, it's just electric. And of course our team went wild.

Today we resolved to have a day where we just did nothing, but wouldn't you know stuff just happened. One of Dave's friends gave him a pair of great tickets to a UCLA/USC baseball game at Dodger Stadium, and Luke almost simultaneously reminded us that we had promised to take him to the grand opening of the new Lego store in Orange County. So Dave headed off to have a great time watching some baseball with Zach, while Luke and I piled into the car to make the pilgrimage to Lego Mecca.

The featured activity was helping a Lego Master Builder construct an 8-foot Yoda. I didn't really know how they would pull off the group involvement thing (picturing all sorts of kids sticking random Legos on at different spots while the Master Builder groans, "No - not there! Wait - not that piece!" and so on). But the reality was completely organized and surprisingly fun. They modeled the 8-foot Yoda after a smaller Lego version, so they used regular-sized bricks to build mega-bricks that would create an exact replica, eight times the size. Your job as a participant was to follow the (easy) instructions to make mega-bricks in various shades of brown, green, and tan. It was easy - and fun enough that everyone from kids from Zach's age to grandmas were all sitting there making bricks to hand to the builder. The only bummer was that once it was finished at 5 pm, they only had until 8 pm to enjoy it, and then they had to take the whole thing down. I should have asked how many bricks were involved - maybe 50,000? - because it was amazing to see so much work go into such a detailed project, only to have it then disappear entirely. Hey wait - hasn't that happened at our house before?

Speaking of projects, Luke and Zach both enjoy Angry Birds, but given that their iPad time is limited, they've turned to other outlets. This morning Luke built an incredibly cool Lego structure with dominoes balanced on top to be the "pigs" that would be shot down by marble "birds." But then Luke got furious when Zach later knocked the whole thing down. Zach must have been feeling guilty about it because later tonight while Luke was in the bath, Zach painstakingly built his own version of the pigs' castle for Luke, and he carefully lined up "birds" on a row of domino platforms. Then he ran to get Luke -- "Luke! I built you a new Angry Birds tower!" -- and he watched proudly while Luke shot bird after bird into the structure. And tomorrow it will be all knocked down once again.

Comfort

Oasis

What is it about Palm Springs that keeps us going back again and again? Clearly it's not the heat alone, because on this trip it didn't go above 70 degrees. My vote (and I think many in Dave's family would agree) would be that it's the feeling you get when you pull off the 10 freeway onto Highway 111, and you start seeing the palms coming into view, and you just throw all of your cares away. It's like a drug; you need to come back for more and more.

What made this trip great was that (despite the threat of rain) we spent almost the entire time outside. The boys set the tone as soon as we arrived, when they discovered a prolific olive tree in the front of the house, matched by fruit-heavy orange and grapefruit trees in the park-like backyard. Tip: If you balance a kid on your head and they manage to pick a grapefruit successfully, there's a good chance that they will immediately drop it and the grapefruit will come down and BAM! you right in the eye. So I saw stars within minutes of arriving. Lesson learned.

I guess it's no secret that I'm not much of a hiker. Looking at tree after tree in a forest doesn't do much for me, and desert hikes just make me tired and thirsty. But doing just about anything with a kid automatically makes it more interesting. "Look at that rock! Look at that stick! Look at that lizard! HEY - Don't climb on that - Aaaaagh!" Plus there was something about the hiking this time (not too hot? good company? interesting, changing views? plenty of snacks?) that made it much more tolerable, perhaps even...er...fun?

On our first day we did an "easy" one-mile loop. On the outbound route, it followed uphill along a mountain stream and under the shade of palm trees; on the return it was a wide-open descent with spectacular views. Between us we had a "real" camera, an iTouch, and a BlackBerry, so a wide variety of media was used to record the event. (Here is my dad getting a closer shot of a cactus). Even though the terrain was rocky at times, no one had too much trouble with the hike - my mom was OK, my dad was thrilled, and Zach was fine, even though he straggled a little bit with all of the rocky distractions.

On the second day Dave took us out to the San Andreas fault, which turns out not to be a single big crack in the earth (as I was secretly hoping for) but more of a series of weird ridges where tectonic plates bumped up against one another. Again, the hike started out through an oasis. We kept saying it felt like we were on the set of some cheesy pseudo-prehistoric Land-of-the-Lost-type movie, with big clearings, droopy palm trees, and ridiculously chunky walls of rock. I like to call the pic on the right "Snacktime at the O-a-sis..."

At the end of all of that time on our feet, we headed back to the house and enjoyed the heated pool, even if only for a short time. I have a great pic of my mom sitting out in the sun, wrapped in towels from head to toe, but I will not post in in the interest of family harmony. 

"How come when we go somewhere we only ever go for two nights?" Luke complained. Workin' on it, bud. Workin' on it.

Last and completely unrelated: I took the boys to a new dentist on Monday. I was just getting tired of the old dentist and the cranky hygienists and the waiting room with one kids' book that Luke read over and over again. So I took them to a new dentist at this swanky kid-friendly office and the difference was incredible. It was the fanciest, most well-appointed place I've ever seen, down to the exquisite bathroom tiles. The waiting room had a movie going, along with plenty of toys; plus there was a separate video game room. They brought us to a "family" exam room where two hygienists worked on the boys simultaneously and talked to me while they were doing it. They had a separate kids' brushing area with free toothbrushes and big mirrors for them to practice their techniques. The dentist was nice, thoughtful, and took time to answer my questions. And the boys got their choice of a toy at the end. How to gauge if it was a good visit? Zach came out the door crowing and running in circles: "Teeth! Teeth! I LOVE this place! I LOVE this new toy!"  OK, then.

Oh, and moderately related, in terms of health and hygiene, Zach is headed back to the hospital on Monday for a surgical-grade ear-vacuuming so the doc can clear out all of the mess in there and figure out what's going on once and for all. Let's hope he comes out of that with the same level of enthusiasm.

Aurora Borealis

It's ski week here in town, and even though we're not on a ski vacation, we're currently enjoying a slower-paced week off from school. That should be a good thing, right? Well, it's nothing like over at my friend Kari's house, where her two young girls regularly sleep in until 7:30 and then play quietly in their rooms until 8:00 am, which is when Kari and her husband usually get up. (WHAT?!?!) In our house someone is always up by 6:15, and if it's not a kid, it's one of the grownups getting up for a morning run. All household members are awake by 7:00 am, and the inter-sibling bickering has usually started by 7:05.

On Monday Suzi and Bill spent the day with Luke, which was great because it enabled me to have my regular special Monday with Zach. Since we were down south, we went to his favorite amusement park ("Special Other Legoland"), where he befuddled the mini-train operator because he kept trying to lean his head over to watch the train wheels roll on the tracks. Incidentally, I got Zach (pictured here) this mohawk sweat jacket because I thought it was funny, but I didn't necessarily think he would get the joke, so I told him it was a cat tail. Now he wears it all the time and meows. Am I cruel or kind?

On Wednesday I did another self-serving thing; I took Luke to the Santa Monica farmers' market so that we could research and explore bizarre and rarely-seen fruits and vegetables. I should give Luke some credit for being reasonably adventurous; he tried the watermelon radish and four varieties of carrots, and he even attempted to play baseball with a parsnip. But I was disappointed when, after picking out three beautiful multi-colored varieties of potatoes and some fresh oregano with which to roast them, he completely lost interest in actually eating them. Did he learn anything? Well, yes. He has now learned about homeless people and insisted on giving change to every one of them we saw ("so that they could save up to buy a house"). His heart is definitely in the right place.

Although our brains are usually reduced to slush by the end of the day due to a combination of kids and multiple work projects, Dave and I occasionally try to do something different. On Friday, for instance, we broke the mold a little bit by heading downtown to grab some dinner and see a cello soloist play with the L.A. Philharmonic. By the end of the night we had actually started to feel like grown humans.

The other night we went out to dinner at Dave's favorite place for hamburgers, which is sort of an upscale pub near his office. Everything on the menu is eco-friendly, locally sourced, etc. etc., and all of the beers come with extraordinary pedigrees and backstories. Although it was most unusual for me to do this on a Wednesday night, I ordered a beer, which happened to be called "Aurora Borealis." Now this seems like a weird thing to say about a beer, but there was literally so much going on in that glass it was hard for me to process all in one mouthful. It was a pale ale with hints of mint, lemon, anise...after the first gulp my first reaction was, "Wha...?" It was just so...interesting...and complex. Even by the last sip I still hadn't gotten used to it. There may be one or two lessons embedded in this experience. Could life have become so complicated that even drinking beer becomes something that I need to break down into multiple layers? Or does it just mean that I need to get out more?

Constellation

Yet another episode in "What I said/What I should have said":

The backstory: Last week I had to assemble and get both of the boys to sign valentines for two different classes, for a total of around 80 valentines. Then I had to remember to bring various things for the various parties. (All of this while planning a ladies' night to host at our house on Monday.) For Zach's school party on Tuesday, I was supposed to bring strawberries. All weekend long I made myself mental notes to remember to get the strawberries, which I did on Monday, and then I wrote on the white board, "Strawberries for Z" so we'd remember to bring them to school. Then on Tuesday morning as I was rushing to get out the door for work, I saw Dave making the kids their breakfast, which included two plates of neatly...sliced...strawberries. Aaaaagh!!!!

What I said: "Why did you go out of your way to open up the package and cut up the strawberries?!?! There are freshly washed grapes right in the front of the fridge!!!!!

What I should have said: "Thank you so much for making breakfast for the boys."

Yet another reason why I should be restricted to written communication alone; leave the speaking to other people.

Regarding the mom party; my brave friend who fought off lung cancer two years ago has it back again and she's preparing for another round of chemo and radiation. She has been through so many things that I would not wish on anyone, and yet somehow she always emerges gracefully, with her head held high. We have a little group of mom-friends who meet once a month or so; Sarah's impending treatment called for an emergency meeting of the group. As it turned out, Valentine's Day was the only day we could all swing some time together without needing babysitters or crazy childcare arrangements. So Dave and the other men willingly gave up their evenings and the ladies came over to our house, where we sat in the hot tub under the stars and tried to have as normal a time as possible. Dave was of course our knight in shining armor; staying up late to help with cleanup and dishes.

Speaking of Dave, he did one of his 20-mile runs on Sunday and then afterwards he had a ... nap? No, don't be silly. He had a choice of taking Luke to a birthday bowling party or hanging out with Zach. Perhaps it was no surprise that he decided to hang out with the Z-man rather than mix it up with 30 six- and seven-year-olds. So what did they do? You might have guessed soccer or beach time, but what he did was even cooler: He took Zach to the art supply store and bought black posterboard and glow-in-the-dark stars. Then he helped Zach make a nighttime constellation poster, which they hung up on the "ceiling" of Zach's bunk bed (i.e. the underneath of Luke's bed). And it really glows in the dark! And it really has a Big Dipper!

As previously discussed, Zach loves helping to get ready for a party, so he fully embraced the idea of me having a "mom party." All weekend long he was contemplating what to serve for the mom party, and somehow he latched on to the idea of a "whipped cream cake." The strange coincidence is that I had just been thinking of what to make my guys for Valentine's Day, and I had been thinking about making my mom's creme de menthe torte, which was my favorite dessert when I was a kid, and which involves quite a bit of whipping cream. So Zach was thoroughly excited to carry out the plan. He helped me pound the graham crackers to make the crust, melt the marshmallows, and then finally whip the cream. We wound up making two tortes, one for our family and one for the party - and then it turned out we had so much other food for the party that the moms never even got to it.  Needless to say, we have all been enjoying lots of nice minty, creamy dessert all week long.

I had a chance to volunteer in Luke's class this week for the harvest from the garden they had planted back in October. That morning as they were getting ready to head out to the garden, the teacher announced that they would be picking and sampling lettuce, snap peas, radishes, and carrots. Luke raised his hand and said, "Uh...I already had breakfast." To his credit, he did try a little of each thing, but it was nothing like a few of the other kids who asked for seconds. On salad. At 9:00 in the morning. Go figure.

For all of his various foibles, Luke is unquestionably good at at least one thing: reading. We just got a mid-year report back from the school, and it says that the goal for first graders at the mid-year point is to read 30 words (aloud) per minute with 95 percent accuracy. Then it showed Luke's test results: He reads 133 words per minute with 100 percent accuracy. I don't think I can even read 133 words per minute.

Now here comes the burden of having a kid who reads everything he can get his hands on: Luke was asking me about September 11 the other morning. Why? Because there was a reference to it in Doonesbury, and Luke had been reading Doonesbury as part of his Sunday morning comics ritual. It really caught me off guard, in the same way the "Kevlar boxer shorts" joke in Baby Blues did the other day. File that under: Not Ready For That Whole Talk.

Now where was I? Stars. Yes, stars. I am wishing on one for each of us, especially Sarah, tonight.

Dogged

No one should have to go through the process of raising kids without a good coach or mentor, and we are so lucky to have a great one. Teacher Lynn has been our parenting teacher for more than three years, and she is absolutely the kind of person you want to have around. Name any kind of parenting concern and she can come up with some creative and positive approach for solving it, or she knows which book to refer to in her impressive library.  Her kids are in their mid-20s and have moved out of the house, so she stays busy doing an amazing array of things: airline supervisor, parenting teacher, community activist, surfer, dog trainer... the list goes on. As we just learned last week, she has for years volunteered as a "catcher" at the L.A. Marathon - as in, she's one of the people who stands at the finish line and catches exhausted runners as they collapse. The volunteer coordinators know that they need to have at least one other person volunteering alongside Lynn because she tends to get so wrapped up in talking with her runners she doesn't have time to catch all of the ones who cross her path (I picture Lynn chit-chatting with her runner while a stack of other runners piles up around her.)

All of this is a long way of saying that we have been playing with her dog - well, one of her dogs. Scout is a 1-year-old golden lab who is exuberant about life, and loves nothing more than to catch balls. This is a great coincidence because we have at least two people in the house who love nothing more than to throw balls to a dog. Scout was supposed to have left for doggie police academy last month but Lynn and the trainers decided that Scout wasn't quite mature enough, or possibly didn't have the temperament. So until they decide what might be a good career path for him, he's staying with Lynn and is available for play dates.

Lynn brought him over on Saturday and we spent the better part of an hour tossing a dirty, grass-and-saliva-covered ball to him. Then Luke went to get him a bowl of water. Then Zach went and got him a cup of crushed ice. And for even just a short time, the boys were in dog heaven.

Are we going to get a dog? Uh... It would be great but it's a project that I'm not quite ready to take on. So if we can borrow a dog on the weekends, we've got a pretty good deal going.

Speaking of boys and dogs, Luke's friend Blake has a dog that looks just like the "Otis" dog in Zach's favorite movie, Milo and Otis. So when we were getting ready to pick up Luke from Blake's house last week, Zach packed up his toy cat and his train book, which he told me he wanted to "show him." Since Zach doesn't quite get the difference between "she" and "he," I assumed that he was planning to show his toy cat and book to Blake's little sister. But when we got there, Blake's sister took a grab for the cat and Zach howled in protest. He took the book and his cat and went off to find the "Otis" dog. Then I found him sitting in the corner with the dog, very quietly reading him the train book, just as he had planned.

Yesterday Dave had a meeting in downtown L.A. so Zach and I drove with him and Dave dropped us off at Union Station. There Zach and I checked out the trains and hopped on the Gold Line for a little joyride. He sat on the train absolutely transfixed for the entire 45-minute round trip. When I told him we were going to Olvera Street for lunch and maybe a treat, he decided that he was going to buy a train. So we walked up and down the narrow alley lined with all manner of Mexican toys and treats, but we didn't see a train. Then Zach spotted something that he wanted even more: a basket filled with tiny kittens. And for the rest of the time there was no other treat that had any ability to distract him. He named them Fluffy, Snowball, Otis, and Joyceandjoyf. Joyceandjoyf is Zach's mangled reference to the cat named "Joyce" in Milo and Otis. I can't explain it other than it's just one of those kid things that you say, "Oh - OK," and move on. Kind of like how you should react after you read this.

Nom nom nom

Even though our days can be as varied as going to the beach or stomping in the snow, one constant throughout every day is that we cook and we eat. This thought has been most prominent in my mind over the past six days because even though I have been reduced to misery by some kind of stomach virus I have still had to be in charge of all sorts of food coming and going through our kitchen. (Ick, I know, but I have been insanely fastidious about hand-washing with hot soapy water and wiping surfaces down with sterilizing wipes.) Kids gotta eat, you know.

Although Zach can be picky, he is definitely my food man. He went to town on the spinach pesto I made on Monday night (although for whatever reason he rejected it when it showed up in his lunch bag today) and tonight he downed two enormous pieces of gefilte fish. And if we go to In n Out Burger (like we did on Friday night), he has no desire for some namby-pamby kids' hamburger with just a bun and some meat. He wants the whole deal, lettuce, tomato, sauce, grilled onions, cheese, and all. Talk about a man after my own heart.

Oh, and have I mentioned his increasingly adorable desire to pack picnics? For the past two Mondays (my special day at home with him) we have gone to the beach (the first week I took him rollerblading and last week we just walked down on foot) and he has insisted on packing and setting up a special picnic for the two of us. Perhaps the sweetest part is seeing just how proud he is of his handiwork. This Monday he packed a bag and he handed it to me to carry while we walked down to the beach. I didn't realize until we were just out the door that he had put an open cup of water in there as our beverage - it hadn't spilled because it was so tightly packed in with all of the other food.

Luke is a little more of a puzzle. Dave and I have been at our wits' end trying to find some healthy protein that he will reliably consume. When I took him shopping the other day he agreed that perhaps he would eat ham for dinner; by the time we got home he realized that he really preferred Grandma Joan's honey-baked ham, not the thin-sliced ham from the deli counter. And tonight he decided he might like peanuts and sunflower seeds, but by the time they reached his plate, he decided that he really didn't care for sunflower seeds at all. You can see why this becomes exasperating. They say that you have to look at a kid's diet over a three- or four-day span to get a good sense of how well they are eating. In his case I think we'll have to look over three or four years to remember that he at one point ate like a reasonably normal person.

Today I was feeling better and I decided it was time to make something fun with the kids with no ulterior motive for the blog. We decided to bake snickerdoodles (all of that flour and cinnamon and sugar - the perfect thing to make in the kitchen just after the housekeepers have left! Not!!) and at some point we decided that since the cookies were the same color as a furry little groundhog we'd serve them as a special groundhog dessert, putting eyes on them and making them pop up out of some ice cream. So we did. And, sure, they were no homemade pasta or anything, but to a stomach that has only eaten plain bread since Friday, they tasted downright delicious.