a pause in the activity

Luke is sleeping right now, Dad and Dave are shopping, Mom's reading a book, and I'm taking just a few of my available minutes right here to do the blog. I'm nearing (well, sorta nearing) the one-year anniversary of when I started this blog, which calls to mind its original purpose - to record the highlights of our great family vacation. But the flaws in that plan are evident again now, when there's just too much happy fun stuff going on for me to blog. Luke is having a ball with Papa and Bomma (new name, we don't know why, but he thinks it's hilarious). We haven't covered too much territory, just the beach and a museum and a park or two, and this afternoon we're going back to another beach for a drum circle. I could live like this. I mean, I could really, really live like this. Luke is walking around saying "So happy!" Yep.

trapeze act

Luke has started a little trend of asking questions that cannot be answered, as in, we've left the Tot Lot and he'll ask, "Where Tot Lot go?" Well, it's...at the Tot Lot. Or we'll be reading the Passover book that mentions that the haggaddahs are in Hebrew and he'll ask, "What Hebrew do-ning?" Well, it's...not doing anything, especially when I'm the one reading the book. He also has started to ask me, "What's today?" I was starting to feel like "Monday" or "Sunday" were sort of empty responses, so I made a little daily calendar with pictures to show what he does on each day: Saturday/Sunday is family day, Monday/Tuesday/Thursday is Teacher Beverly and school day, and Wednesday/Friday is Mommy/Lukey day. I decided to represent Mommy/Lukey day with a picture of me and Luke when we were opening the ukelele for the first time, but in truth, Mommy/Lukey day is an evolving work-in-progress. Last week Dave was out of town on both of the Mommy/Lukey days, and those mornings were essentially danger mornings (bruises occurring, stomachache-inducing foods being mistakenly eaten, and doors being inadvertently locked). Now how do I illustrate that? I'm thinking a big skull-and-crossbones might do it. ("Caution! Today you will spend time alone with your mother!")

I'm going to take a big risk here that Luke will never talk to me again when he hits age 12 (or whenever you get embarrassed about things) but I thought I'd mention our forays into potty training, such as it is. We've had some friends who started and had to stop when anti-potty rebellion ensued. So we definitely haven't been pushing it. But we've been giving him the opportunity to use the potty every night before he puts on his pj's. On Wednesday, when Dave was gone, he peed in the potty and came out the door triumphantly: "I did it!!!" So we both celebrated, me by cleaning out the little basin, and him by heading purposefully into his closet, closing the door, and pooping on the floor. But as I told Dave, at least...oh, never mind. That's enough on that.

Saturday night Dave and I went out for dinner and a movie - thank heavens for our babysitters Suzi and Boom-Boom. Luke was a little sad when we left, but Suzi knew that, and she made a point of calling us within five minutes of when we left to let us know that he was totally fine and laughing. On Sunday morning Luke was happy as a clam and even told us the whole story about spilling the grape juice down the front of his shirt.

Sunday night we went over to Bruce and Brandi's house for dinner so that Luke and Eitan could run around and bang drums while Dave and Bruce talked home remodeling, and while Brandi and I commiserated about the poor plight of the part-time working mom. After dinner Bruce hung up the trapeze, which seems as if it should have some great metaphoric value for this blog, but it doesn't really. It was just fun and slightly dangerous, and when you sit on it as Luke did, you can see nothing but Pacific ocean behind him. Now *that's* cool.

30 seconds

Why is Luke walking around with a long purple bruise on his face? Not because he is beaten, but, perhaps, because he is overindulged. See, I was getting dressed in my closet, and he was standing next to me, and he wanted to get up on my stepstool, which I helped him up on even though it's kinda rickety and not so safe, and he fell off somewhat spectacularly while swinging his hammer. He didn't seem to be too much worse for wear, except for the dark, angry streak down his cheek. But it goes to show you (read: me) that you can't let up your guard even for a second.

Like yesterday, when Luke and I were sitting in the playroom, and the guestroom door was open because I had gotten out some art supplies...so Luke ran into the guest room and politely asked me to leave while he shut the door. No sooner had I told him, "Do not shut that door," when he tried to open it and in the process LOCKED the door FROM THE INSIDE.

Now imagine all time freezing and the rest of the world floating around us in suspended motion. I tried to pry the lock open with my finger, and in the process ripped off a large chunk of my thumbnail. Then I grabbed the phone and made a panicked phone call to Dave (voicemail! dammit!) while trying to sound relentlessly upbeat for Luke. "Hang on just a minute, there, buddy."

Could I break through the window outside? Tricky, because the shutters were also closed. Could I bash in the door? It's pretty flimsy, but I'd be afraid of bashing through and giving Luke a matching bruiser on the other cheek. Could I call 911? How long would it be? Would Luke go into panic like me?

Then I realized that the part I turned with my thumb could be turned with a screwdriver, so I dashed to the basement and grabbed it and - whew! - unlocked the door. In reality, it was only about 30 seconds but it happened in agonizingly slow motion.

Luke, calm as a cucumber, took one look at my thumb and said, "Mommy, need a band-aid?" I left a follow-up message on Dave's voice mail..."Uh, please disregard the previous message and tone of panic."

So Suzi and Boom-boom are coming over to babysit tonight while we go out to celebrate our anniversary. (How many years is it again? Six? Seven? Paper? Iron?) I know he will continue to entertain them with his adventurous food choices (yesterday = a marinated clove of garlic). Let's hope they're more careful than I am. (Not hard, says the peanut gallery.)

Eastover

Of all of the many joys of today, nothing can quite compare with the crazy, frenetic, five-minute high of the egg hunt. I had no idea that Luke would enjoy it as much as he did, but each time he found an egg, he wanted more...to the point where I just started taking eggs out of his basket and re-hiding them as soon as he found them.

It looks like we've got a mountain of a task ahead of us in the next few years, trying to explain what is essentially a collision of cultures with Easter and Passover. Luckily, he's a guy who enjoys eating no matter what the occasion. When we told him it was time to eat the matzoh, he said, happily, "Masa?" (talk about a culture clash...) But he gamely tried (almost) everything, including a little experimental dip of parsley in the salt water. And when he learned that, after a three-hour multi-course dinner, it was finally time for dessert, he was seated back at the table in a flash, fork in hand, waiting expectantly before the cake even came out of the box.

As predicted, the Seder readings were a little too long for him but he was reasonably content to work in the workshop once he finished his hard-boiled egg. We just might have a little explaining to do in school tomorrow if he starts talking about "Lukie's wine" (the kosher grape juice he polished off).

With dessert came a sugar high and a bouncing-around-the-room guy who basically had no chance of being asleep by bedtime. So hey, our schedule is off a little bit. But it was a great holiday, with great family, and again, a long list of thank-yous to say at the end of the day.

First date

Oh, I want to blog about friends and attitudes about money and cool people and not-so-cool people, but who wants to hear about all of that? I know what you really want to hear about is how delicious California dates are. I grew up thinking that dates were something to be tolerated, perhaps tossed in a bread or a cake after being mashed beyond recognition. But that was because I had never had a *fresh* California date. I'm partial to Khadrawy dates, by the way - and there IS a difference. You could just eat them straight out of the package and they are soft and chewy, like a caramel pudding. Apparently Luke will grow up eating dates, because he's well on his way to glomming down at least three a day. In fact, he threw a near tantrum the other day because we wanted him to eat dinner (pizza, which he truly loves) before he had another date. Also, at bedtime we always run through a list of things we are thankful for, like the people who take care of us, and our home and our health. On the night of the tantrum, Luke wanted to add "dates" to the list. Hey, at least it's not Captain Crunch or something, right? (Oh wait, that's part of a nutritious breakfast.)

So we're gearing up for a big Eastover feast tomorrow - that's the holiday where Jesus died so that we could eat bitter herbs and gefilte fish and ask a bunch of questions, or something like that. We're going to hide eggs and matzoh for Luke to find, and we'll keep mentioning the Easter Bunny, just to ensure that he's thoroughly confused.

Sticky-sweet

I am still glowing from our big night out on Monday. Yes, Dave and I went together to an adult gathering. Yes, we left Luke at home to be put to bed in the care of others. Yes, we had fun, and yes, he did too. Did he miss us? I don't think so. Suzi and Bill had him thoroughly entertained, to the point where they almost had a "Code Blue" when he was laughing so hard he had to be reminded to breathe. And I have to swallow my pride and admit this, but...when he woke up the next morning, the first words out of his mouth were, "Where Suzi and Bill?" and I said, "They had to go home, sweetie," and he burst into tears.

In the meantime, we had a sparkling, twinkly-light kind of dinner with good food and wine and good comedy and beautiful scenery. On the way home down the hill, I saw the entire city shining out before us and I got one of those lumps in my throat and a feeling like, is this real, and am I floating? Once I came down from that high, I also realized - Hey! We could go out on a Saturday night and everyone would still be happy - possibly even happier! Maybe a movie? Dinner? Wheeeeee! Anything's possible!

On a somewhat related note, the three of us went to the our wise doctor this afternoon, and Luke was on his best behavior. When he met the doctor, he shook his hand and said solemnly, "Hi, Doctor." Then he offered, "My name is Luke." Yes - That's my boy! A poster child success story for that office if I've ever seen one. Dr. W., of course, made us feel like everything would be OK, and I came out feeling like we could conquer the world...or maybe just one more tiny infant. Could we do that? I mean, could we really handle that? I had a funny moment in that office where I put my hand on my head and felt a strangely familiar sticky-sweet glop. Yuck - child-sponsored maple syrup in my hair. But then I realized, exactly three years ago I had sat in that same seat and I would have done anything to have child-sponsored anything in my hair.

Dave and his political types might have us ask ourselves, "Are we better off today than we were four years ago?" and I'd have to say yes...yes we are. Covered with syrup, repeatedly sweeping up large piles of sand all over our house, and constantly picking up small plastic tools. Our lives are definitely much improved.

For the record

Hang around at our house for a while and sooner or later you're bound to hear:

Who dat onna phone?
What's happening here?
No I YIKE it (I don't like it)
Wanna go Pom Pings
Wha do-ning?
What's THAT?
Wanna see it
What dat man's name? What dat yay-yay's name? What dat boy's name? What dat dog's name? What dat cat's name?
How are you? (offering hand to shake)

Unk says a career in politics is sure to follow...

all brain and no brawn

We're having a great time with Uncle Yay-Yay, or I suppose I should say Larry, and Luke has certainly not been shy in asking him to read a book or carry him around. Speaking of carrying him around....hmm...I'm starting to think we need to have Luke develop more than just his brain. I think he'd be happy to alternate sitting on my lap and reading books all day, with hammering at the workshop and/or drumming, but there's a point where he might need to learn how to do something else, like, say, run and jump or walk up and down stairs. We went to a gymnastics class today and it took Luke a while to warm up, but once he was comfortable he had a grand old time (especially because the man teaching the class played guitar and harmonica). Still, it was painfully clear that he's nowhere near where some of his friends are in terms of climbing and jumping capabilities.

Then again, he was pleased as punch to sit for about 45 minutes at the Cuban restaurant tonight, eating tamales and rice and beans and talking up a storm, so maybe we should be happy we have a little gourmand on our hands. No one really earns a living running and jumping anyway, right?

School daze

I realize I haven't talked much about Luke being in school aside from the first few days. Bottom line is, I'm not really sure what to make of it. Except for the agonizing drop-off, all seems to be well. He seems happy and he comes home buzzing about everything he's been doing. He hasn't even gotten sick more than that one time with the pinkeye. But I have to admit I woke up in a panic the other night, imagining myself as Luke at school, feeling scared and not knowing where to turn for help.

Today I had the unfortunate duty of doing my first-ever drop-off, while carrying out the morning on my own - note to Joe - how do you get two kids out the door by 7:30? I couldn't even get Luke awake until 7:55 and it took me a good hour to get us both out the door, even without TV, books, or dawdling. Funny thing is, once I said, "Let's go to school!" he said, "Yeah - Let's go!" and ran to the door. I guess I just didn't say the magic words soon enough. But the drop-off was painful, involving lots of screaming and clinging, coupled with my own uncertainty and frustration (where am I supposed to put the lunch bag? why did some guy double-park and block me in?).

Good things about school: Miss Beverly. Miss Melissa. Miss Rubio. KJ the director. Lots of activities and distractions. Lots of cool toys outside. Drums. Miss Beverly's autoharp. Not going into debt every month because of the nanny. No nanny.

Bad things about school: The dropoff. Not really knowing for sure what he did during the day. Not really being sure that when Luke says something the teachers will understand him. Not really knowing what diseases the other sniffling and hacking kids might be carrying. Wondering during the day if he is scared or crying and not having someone to comfort him.

Happily, when I went to pick him up on Tuesday I walked in on him laughing hysterically at one of the teachers. And when Dave picked him up on Thursday he was engrossed in reading a book one-on-one with the teachers. Dave loves Miss Melissa because she has no hesitation about telling us how smart he is. I think might only be a matter of time before he's king of the hill there.

What does it take for a guy to get a drink around here?

Hahahahaha. I have tons of pics from vacation but this one jumped out at me as a good starter. It has just been a dream-like weekend, from the swimming, to the fine dining (yes, we did it with a 2-year-old), to the exploring. I don't think I've ever seen a kid happier in a pool than Luke is with Dave. (If I close my eyes I can still hear him laughing and counting, "One, two, teeee!")

We had such a good run with him that we decided to take him out to our favorite fancy restaurant last night. It really wasn't quite as bad as it could have been, but we made it as easy as possible. We got there when the doors opened at 5:30 and we grabbed a corner table in an otherwise empty room. They propped Luke up on the couch because there were no highchairs, and they had him drinking milk out of a porcelain coffee cup, but otherwise it was just like any other gourmet meal with a toddler (I spent an inordinate amount of time praying that he wouldn't yank on the white tablecloth, sending our wine and martini glasses flying). But when the spread arrived, it was all worth it. Their famous curry entree amounts to a lap-blanket-sized plate, featuring a careful arrangement of mango chutney, cucumber and yogurt, tomato salsa, sliced bananas, jasmine rice, raisins, cashews, an impossibly light fennel cracker bread, and mounds of perfectly spiced chicken curry. ("Where the beans?" Luke wanted to know). But in the end it was all OK, and we got the waiter to take a picture of us, and we made it through without having to pay for any additional stemware.

Another possibly dangerous trend that I've noticed is Luke's increasing awareness of others coupled with his ability to talk about it, which makes for some embarrassing moments. Like when he saw the lady at the zoo with the oxygen tank and tubes. "What dat yay-yay (lady) have? What dat yay-yay have?" Or when he saw the lady with the spiky gray hair at the pool - "Hey - dat Dan Zanes!" Or more embarrassingly, at the pizza parlor, when Luke saw the sumo-wrestler-sized cook in the back of the kitchen:

"Dat a big man. Dat a big, big, big, big man"
"OK, Luke, shhhh. That's enough."
"Dat a big man."
"Shhhh. We'll talk about it later."
[thoughtful pause]
"Dat a big, big, big, big man"

We lived to tell, and we even made it home in one piece after that. Luke had, once again, a joyful reunion with his tools and his drums, polished off a healthy dinner, and literally sang with happiness in the bath. Now it's just about 9:45 and Dave is still up there with him so I can't say all is perfect, but we came pretty darn near close in the last three days.

all sunshine and rainbows

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

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

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

The house of silent doors

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

out of the blue

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

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

Luke-tionary

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

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

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

horn of plenty

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

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

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

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

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

Orange truck

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

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

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

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

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

red and yellow and pink and green

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

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

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

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

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

The ambassador

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

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

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

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

Planes, trains, and anything with wheels

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

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

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

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

see-saw

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

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

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

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

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

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

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