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.

Demented

"Luke is having another party?" Zach asked, echoing all of our thoughts. Yes, it's the third time in three weeks that we've lit a candle on top of a cake and sung to Luke. What can I say? I love parties, and the prospect of throwing a Harry Potter party was nearly irresistible to me.

This party was distinguished by me setting impossibly lofty goals and Dave absolutely rising to the occasion. Specifically, he created the most incredible Quidditch game ever seen outside of a movie theater. I wasn't sure how he was going to pull it off, but he did. All of the parents watched in amazement as he patiently duct-taped his PVC piping to a series of three (spray-painted) maroon and gold hula hoops, and then hammered the pipes into the ground. Minutes later, he had a bunch of six- and seven-year-old boys whooping it up on the Quidditch field.

Next (and all of this was made possible by the most beautiful weather at our favorite park - note all of the kids in shorts and t-shirts) we had a magician do a cool show for us. This was the same guy we had seen a few weeks ago at the library and he was good despite an audience full of wise-guy kids. For his levitation act he brought up the only girl in the audience (Luke's friend's sister) and asked Luke to kiss her to break the spell. Imagine Luke being completely mortified as all of his friends chanted, "Do it! Do it! Do it!" (He did not.)

Here is the cake - I don't have much to say about it, except that it's certainly no hand-rolled white chocolate mummy cake. I ordered it from Costco and asked them to leave it blank and then I added the lightning bolts. I love Costco cakes for big parties - they're huge, they're cheap, and they have this very light and fluffy custard filling that everyone always says is so delicious. Why pay more?

Last, we had the dementor pinata, for which I have to give myself at least a little credit. I looked at a few stores and no one had any pinata resembling a Harry Potter creature, and the other choices (making my own pinata or paying through the nose to have someone make one) were unappealing. So when I saw a white ghost pinata at one store, I decided it was the best option out there. I spray-painted it black, attached long black streamers to it, and - voila! - instant dementor.

While I was reading about pinata-making, I came across the idea that instead of filling the pinata with pieces of candy, you should fill it with bags of candy so that when it breaks open everyone gets a bag (instead of kids beating each other up over individual pieces of candy). I presented the idea to Dave and he liked it, although he added, "It's so...Berkeley." I hooted with glee, "That's probably because I got the idea from the Berkeley Parents' Network!" Anyway, when the pinata broke, the kids grabbed the bags, some kids grabbed more than one bag, and it was still all good.

Last but not least I have to mention Zach. Suzi and her friend Linda were at the party and had helpfully volunteered to keep an eye on Zach, but he really didn't need it. Instead of playing with the toys he had brought to the park, he chose to spend the time decorating the table for the party. Then during the magic show, he decided that he needed to bring everyone a drink, so he trotted dutifully back and forth from the cooler, handing each adult a bottle of water.

Clearly, he is headed for a career in hospitality, because today after we were in the pool, Zach laid out his towel in my room and announced that we were having a picnic. "I'll be right back with the food from the restaurant," he said. I was picturing maybe a pile of marbles or dominoes, but instead he came back with a large plate of blueberries, strawberries, and watermelon. Then he rushed off and returned with a cheese course. Then, moments later he arrived with marshmallows and energy bars. Then a slice of ham. Next came the crudite - carrot sticks, celery sticks, red pepper spears, and tomatoes. And finally he brought out a small pile of raisins. It was the best picnic I've ever had on the floor of my bedroom, made even better because of two small boys giggling throughout.

So to recap: Me and Dave = party planners extraordinaire. Zach = host with the most. Luke = one well-celebrated kid. 

Kids today

I can't think of any other way to describe Zach's newfound abilities except to say that he is a joy to watch. He seems happier and probably even proud of himself for being an underpants-wearing, letter-writing member of society. He had his first playdate with his friend Alex and it went swimmingly - so well, in fact, that Alex and his mom stayed for a whopping 4 1/2 hours (Alex didn't want to leave). And then, in the way that little kids do, Alex suddenly declared, "I'm ready to leave now!" and started walking out the door.
Alex and Zach have many things in common, most amazingly the fact that Alex was a preemie at the same hospital as Zach - he arrived just 6 days after Zach went home from the NICU. Alex's mom had a very similar situation to mine, except her water broke and the baby just came, so Alex was a little bit earlier. Oh, and Alex's father (who is no longer in the picture) was so verbally abusive to her while Alex was in the NICU (try to imagine that) that the NICU staff volunteered to have him banned from the NICU so that she could cuddle Alex in peace. I'm only relating that little nugget to explain why I've been following Dave around for the last few days saying, "You're so great. You're so nice. You are just... the best."

Luke has been incredibly happy and proud to have finished building Lego Hogwarts (his Xmas present), and he reports to us daily on his progress with Plants vs. Zombies. And at his 7-year checkup his doctor actually told me that kids who have attention issues tend to be great at computer and video games, which means they might not be entirely a bad thing. So I'm happy to have that out there, as long as homework and other stuff get done.

Yesterday when I was volunteering in Luke's class I learned that a kid from Luke's class was having a birthday party, and lots of the boys were talking about it excitedly in class. Luke asked me, "Mom, did I get an invitation to the party?". "No, honey, you didn't," I had to tell him. Then I went home and was in kind of a funk for several hours (we had invited this kid to Luke's party), bracing myself for the fallout and depression when he got home. But instead he invited three friends over after school, they had fun, and he never mentioned it again. And he's having a great party on Saturday so I hope it's nothing more than a blip on the radar. I think I am going to have to get a tougher skin for when I have to deal with real issues.

Last but not least - a food thing that I don't seem to be able to use in Jolly Tomato. My beloved co-worker Sue, who grew up in New Jersey, swears that Hellman's mayonnaise (East of the Rockies) tastes better than Best Foods mayonnaise (West of the Rockies). I told her I didn't believe it - they are supposed to be the same thing. So she gifted me with a large jar of Hellman's mayonnaise, and I responded the best way I knew how - by setting up a mayonnaise taste test in my office. I sent out an email titled, "Mayonnaise Taste Test" to about 10 people and then, as I walked down the hall, I saw one guy literally sprinting toward the kitchen.

The results? Everyone agreed that the two products did indeed taste different (even though the ingredient lists/nutritional info are exactly the same). The Hellman's was creamier and eggier (even more yellow), while the Best Foods was tangier, with a more lemony bite. Preferences were split down the middle, with the California natives unanimously liking Best Foods best. One of my colleagues was inspired to do a little research, and it turns out that on the corporate web site they basically admit that the two mayonnaises aren't exactly the same, and they reflect regional/historical recipe traditions.

So there you have it - Haven't you always wanted to know?

The next logical thing

Zach, our high-speed growth man, has just written his name for the first time. Yes, that is Zach's honest-to-goodness handwriting. The main thing we had to practice was the letter "A," but he was extremely motivated to learn because his best friend Alex's name starts with "A." Alex is coming over tomorrow for what is essentially Zach's first playdate. That is, it's Zach's first playdate that was set up exclusively for him and someone he chooses to be with (as opposed to him hanging out with the sibling of one of Luke's friends).

Luke's social life is a little more complex - or I guess I should say nuanced. He is plenty busy with a host of boy friends, who keep him running around and begging for new playdates every day. But his "rock" throughout the school day has been his (girl) friend Chaney, the one who wrote him such a sweet note on his birthday. (Again, this is absolutely not a "romantic" relationship, this is just a happy sibling-like bond.)

Today the two of them must have chatted right over the teacher's last nerve, because she decided she needed to separate them (in the process of moving the whole seating arrangement around). This was truly devastating to both Luke and Chaney. They went together to the teacher to beg for reconsideration. No dice. So they packed up their things for the move, with Chaney whispering under her breath, "Please let this be a dream. Please let this be a dream," and off they went to new tables and new seatmates. But before they left, Luke told me, he wrote his name on a piece of paper and she wrote hers, and then they gave each other the papers to tuck under their new desks, so they wouldn't "forget" each other. Oh, and I've asked her mom if they can come to the farmers' market with us next week. We'll keep them together one way or another.

The Curious Case of Zachary Enzo

What a surprising little person we have on our hands. In the past five days, Zach has made quite a high-speed transformation. All of a sudden he is wearing underwear (with much success), he is drawing recognizable pictures (of people! with faces!), and he is writing up a storm.

He drew this picture of a snowstorm the other day, and he took great care to make four people (me, Dave, Luke, and Zach), each with a face and a big smile. This picture is noteworthy because it's the first time I've ever seen him do anything other than large circles and lines.

Then he used up paper after paper because he wanted to practice his "writing." He writes the letters C, D, H, I, J, L, O, and Z -- not bad for a three-year-old, right? Last night he showed me a picture on which he wrote several letters, including an "H." "This 'H' is for Hogwarts," he announced. Uh - OK. We'd better get those calculus books out in case we need them next week.

Head full of numbers

We're back home, trying to get used to putting a "1" instead of a "0" at the end of things, trying to stay warm during 40-degree Southern California nights, and trying to get the 397 pine needles out of my hair from last nights tree-taking-down adventure. Why do we have to make resolutions during the time of year when it's hard enough just to get situated?

This donut picture is from a five-block walk to Wawa that should have taken about ten minutes, but the boys stretched it out to an hour because they were collecting sticks, and poking and stomping at snow and slush the whole way. At one point Luke tried to eat some snow near a tree and my dad told him not to eat it because dogs might have peed on it. This caused Luke to wonder aloud if the snow might taste OK if you "washed" the snow first. To which my dad replied, "You want to eat snow that has dog pee in it, but you won't try the homemade tamales?!?!!? You turkey!" That could be why Luke has such a guilty look on his face, while Zach is just sitting there saying to himself, "Yeah...I'll eat anything."

Apropos of nothing: Zach thinks the tinsel that decorates a tree is called "brussel." He talks about it all the time, as in, "We have to decorate the tree. Now we have to put up the brussel." I don't know why.

Luke's class made a little birthday book for him, in which each kid wrote him a special note. At the front of the book was a note from his best little (female) friend, his tablemate, with whom he just has a very sweet, chatty, sibling-type relationship. She wrote (typos corrected): "Luke, you make friends grow their hearts."

Pause for a moment: Awwww.

On another page, a different girl wrote, "Luke is smart and nice." Then she drew a picture of a girl saying, "Hi" and a boy responding "Hi," and then the boy adds, "2 x 30 = 60."

(Continued on Thursday night): I had the good fortune today to have not one but two Roscas de Reyes (kings' cakes) to celebrate the 12th day of Christmas. The first one was at work brought in by my colleague; the second one I bought at the Mexican bakery near our house after my friend thoughtfully called ahead and reserved one for each of us. The boys had a great time with it, as I knew they would. They each made a careful calculation about where to cut their slices, but neither of them got the baby. Then Dave came along, and in true Dave fashion, got the baby on his first slice. The good news? Good luck for a whole year. And he said he would share it with us.

Your mummy loves you

Luke, it is amazing to think of all that you are at seven years old. You love Legos, pharoahs, magic, swimming, Harry Potter, and Plants vs. Zombies. You're a voracious reader and a tenacious debater. You have a healthy sense of skepticism and a wildly curious and creative mind. Your laugh is so contagious it has been known to make even the lamest joke seem funny. You have friends, young and old, all across the country. Could any of us have imagined this outsized personality growing out of the tiny baby whom we first met seven years ago? We could only have dared to hope.

Have a mummy cake, Luke. I love you, my seven-year-old boy.

Grab Bag

Making a mess, and some cookies.





Works of art.





Delivering some snacks and a note for Santa on Christmas Eve.





Hogwarts!





Water heater pillow!





Skype-ing Seattle.





Laughing all the way.

Mercy Mild

For all of the frenzy surrounding a large winter storm, you have to admit that the storm itself is quite serene. The tiny flakes float and drift and cover everything, from your eyelashes to the path that you just shoveled clear a few hours ago.

We had a riotous Christmas day, filled with food and cousins and big piles of wrapping paper and a large custom water heater pillow. Then the day afterwards was stunningly quiet, with no cousins, and with fluffy white snow falling steadily from 11 am onwards. It was a little too powdery to make a snowman, but apparently it was just right for running around in circles and yelling, "AAAAAHHH!!!"

Today in the forecast: Lots of snow play, followed by conditions of hot chocolate and snuggling under blankets.

Points and circles

Some of my favorite pictures from the week aren't necessarily the ones that document every minute; they're just the ones that capture a moment of happiness. Like Zach's time in the ball pit. I took him to free-play at MyGym this afternoon while Dave took Luke to a movie, and we had the place to ourselves for more than 90 minutes. Guess who took advantage of the opportunity to conduct a variety of experiments by rolling balls down inclines?

Here is Luke the other day after he and I made cookies. While Zach is a little more free-wheeling with his fun, Luke seems to get frustrated a little more easily. There's a new game on my iPad that Zach and Luke both like to play, but to advance to the next round you have to fail a couple of times to figure out the rules - and Zach is fine with that but it drives Luke nuts. Tonight Luke and I played through a level on the game and talked it through and failed, failed, failed until finally we got it right. Then we had a major victory celebration. When I see this cookie picture (which followed a few mess-ups) it reminds me of the same sense of pride and satisfaction in a job well done.

Next is a shot from the butterfly room at the Academy of Natural Sciences. What I love about this picture is that it looks like they are having a really good time together. For whatever reasons - maturity level, personality, etc. - those moments are few and far between. But I'd like to think that as Zach gets older and their interests converge a little more, they'll be able to do more stuff (and have fun memories of what they did)together.

Last is a picture of Dave sitting on the floor at Macy's with the boys while they wait for the light show to start. This picture says a lot to me about the kind of dad Dave is, as he sits on that cold, hard floor. Yesterday after our little trip into the city, Luke and I drove to Joe's house, while Dave and Zach took the train there. Of course they could have gone in the car with us, but Dave made it a point to set up a special train trip for Zach because that's what Zach loves. While Luke and I were in the car, I told him, "Just think about how great it is to have a dad like your dad. He's taking you to the movie Tron because you think it's cool, so he thinks it's cool too. He's making a special train trip for Zach because he knows how much Zach loves trains. This is a guy who will do just about anything for you guys." And that basically says it all.

Just chill

You don't see any pictures here, do you? One possible reason is that we toured the mint and the Federal Reserve today and absolutely no photos were allowed. Another reason is that I am still trying to figure out the technology end of this vacation. I love the iPad (and oh, do the boys ever love it) but it sure has been tricky trying to figure out how to do some things on here. But the only thing more boring than having technical difficulties is reading about someone else's technical difficulties, so this train of thought cannot continue.

In four days we have visited the wildlife sanctuary and hung out with alpacas, traipsed through a river park to see deer and ducks, and done two day's worth of cultural stuff in Philly. It's cold, but the weather hasn't seemed to slow anyone down. Yesterday it was a real thrill for me to experience the full Philadelphia cultural spectrum within about three hours: from watching the Nutcracker at the Academy of Music with the womenfolk (thank you, Sara) to eating pizza while standing at the counter of Lorenzo's on South Street. Dave took the boys to the Academy of Natural Sciences while I was out Nutcracker-ing, and he managed to keep them both thoroughly engaged, solo, for several hours. Tomorrow we are headed back into the city to view one of the most famous light displays in the country (voted tops by US Airways magazine at least) and then off to Joe's for a few hours.

Zach seems to be doing a little bit better; it's hard to measure but he was sure in a good mood after we baked cookies and later got a bag of shredded money from the Federal Reserve. Tonight I asked him to draw some designs on some butcher paper so that we could use it as hand-crafted wrapping paper. He spent about three minutes drawing two large scenes involving snow and cars; then spent the next two hours talking about how proud he was of his wrapping paper. Oh, and it is quite a sight to watch him operate the Trains and Jelly Doodle apps on the iPad. Makes you think that kids his age were literally born to do this.

Luke has been busy with a crystal-making project, along with cookie-baking, movie-watching, and Googling pharaoh stuff with my dad. Getting here so far ahead of Christmas has been confusing for both boys, who are certain it is imminent. Dave finally made up a calendar for Luke to hang on to that has all the milestones of our trip carefully marked. Personally I don't want to look at it because it's all going too fast for me already.

1200 pages

What is it with me? Only minutes to go until we fly, a million things left to do, and here I am blogging again. But I couldn't resist putting up a picture of Luke, having the greatest of great days. He had his holiday show, which went off swimmingly, and he and I finished the third Harry Potter book. That's 1200 pages of serious reading we've done together in the last three months, and that doesn't even count the other stuff we've read to him or the stuff he's read himself. If this kid isn't a bookworm, I don't know who is.

Now, off to fly the skies...

The Cram

These are the actual words I said to Dave before I left for work this morning: "Luke's snack is done. Zach's lunch is done except for the water bottle. His nap bag is downstairs in the front hall. I put three gifts in Luke's backpack for the EDP teachers; they each have labels with their names on it. Here is the platter with turkey club sandwiches for our class tonight; please stop by the house and pick them up before you drop Luke off at the class. I put 25 holiday cards on top of your wallet for you to drop off when you go to the mailbox. You don't have to do anything with the hummus appetizer plate because I'll be putting that together tonight after class and before I leave for the party."

Did you get all that?

The last few days have been a crazy whirlwind of gift-giving, extraordinary Christmas displays (up and down the Naples canals), cookie-making, and present-wrapping, all topped off with a massive fireworks show at the pier. We are cramming in as much as humanly possible (not necessarily by choice) before we leave for our holiday sojourn on Thursday. Everyone's got a holiday show, or presents to be wrapped, or cards to be written, and it is getting difficult to keep track of it all. Yesterday when Luke invited two friends over to our house, and simultaneously accepted an invitation to go over to another friend's house, my head nearly exploded.

Here's the final clincher: Zach's ears have been so goopy that when I took him to the ear nose and throat doctor yesterday, the doctor finally admitted that Zach's case was a little "extreme." He prescribed Zach some new eardrops that will supposedly dry him out, but if his ears are not dry by New Year's Day, the doctor is going to send us back to the hospital/operating room so that Zach can get a hospital-grade ear-vacuuming. Mmmm. Ear vacuum. One of my new favorite phrases.

Anyway, I have a few spare pictures on my cell phone sitting around, and a few spare seconds, so what the heck? In no particular order: Still photo from Zach's holiday show, Luke's delight when opening a magic kit from Suzi and Bill, the boys with the pizzas they made at the local pizza parlor's kids' open house, Zach feeding the fish yesterday at the wilderness park (note the short sleeves). We are headed to much colder climes - let's hope they are quieter too.

Pain in Debut

Dave has picked up some fancy friends as a result of his real estate blog, and as a result we got invited to a high-profile party last night. The party was thrown by the publisher of a local luxury-lifestyles glossy magazine, and the pages of said magazine are always filled with party pictures and bold-face names. "I've never been a bold-face name before," I told Dave. "Maybe if we go to the party they'll take our pictures!"

So we headed over to the party last night, trying to look appropriately glamorous without looking like we were trying too hard, and sure enough there was a photographer there, snapping pictures left and right. Then Dave saw the host, who greeted us warmly and encouraged us to help ourselves at the taco bar. Mmmm...taco bar...two words that no one ever has to say to us more than once.

We piled our plates high with the most delicious tacos you've ever tasted, and then headed up to the balcony. I had just taken an enormous bite of taco when who should come over to us but the photographer. So I held up my forefinger in what I thought was the internationally recognized hand gesture for, "Just give me a moment while I chew and swallow," but the snap-happy photographer was not in a waiting mood. I was trying to eat so quickly I swallowed an enormous mouthful of (admittedly delicious) taco, but the flash went off just as I was grimacing from the gigantic lump in my throat. So there, folks, is my debut as a bold-face name. Bulging throat and all.

The next six days are going to be an enormously over-scheduled nightmare, so don't expect too much from me on this front. I'll leave you with a link to a short video from Zach's holiday show last night (thanks, Bill). Poor Zach is down to about 40 percent of his normal hearing capacity. He managed to do the hand gestures but never sang a word, instead looking like a (very handsome) deer in the headlights for most of the show. Kind of like me, except much cuter and without the enormous mouthful of taco.

We Are the Champions

Dave and I are making latkes and chicken soup for an impromptu Hanukkah celebration tonight. This sets Zach off in a flurry of excitement as he goes off in search of our menorah: "Where's the candle trophy?"

A thrill of hope; the weary world rejoices

For the past eleven years, since Dave and I have been married, I've been carefully cultivating a little Christmas ornament collection. It's a mish-mash of ornaments people have given me and ornaments I've bought at half price after Christmas every year (come on, you KNOW me). I've amassed nice variety of fun objects, ranging from lollipops and cats and dogs, to incredibly intricate sailboats, to a chicken water jug. My Empire State Building got crushed last year, which was highly disappointing. But, as I've told the kids, "The first rule of ornaments is that ornaments break." (It's kind of like Fight Club, except you can talk about the ornaments.) "If an ornament breaks, we'll be sad about it, and then we'll clean it up, and then we'll find another ornament to love."

Each year since the kids have been around, they've helped us as much as they can manage or understand but it hasn't been a fully coordinated family effort. This year was different.

This year we finally experienced - together - the full-on joy of opening the box, re-discovering our old favorites, deciding which ones we want where, and hanging them up together. Zach is finally old enough to "get" the concept of choosing an ornament and hanging it on the tree (as opposed to taking all of the ball ornaments and running off with them). Luke is old enough to remember the ornaments he made in past years and have fond memories of bringing them home.

When we were finished, we turned off all of the lights except for the ones on the tree and sat there marveling at our glorious handiwork. "This was a very nice Christmas," declared Zach.

Of course, there is an awkwardly large cluster of ornaments right at the front of the tree at the bottom. Am I going to move them? Nope.

Brain. Moving. Slowly

Woke up on Friday at 6:30 am East Coast time. Went to bed at 1:00 am West Coast time. Kid woke me up Saturday morning, ready to party at 5:30 am West Coast time. Been awake for 24 of the last 28 hours. I'm just sayin'.

Loved, loved, loved the time with the cousins. My brain is not functioning well enough to write about it in essay form, but I'll throw in a few of my favorite moments:

Tons of pool time, with lots of water gun battles. Yesterday we spent the morning in the pool, which culminated in an East Coast/West Coast family water polo showdown.



Walking through the temple with Tony. It's about twice as big as last time we were there, and more impressive than ever. Luke was honored that Tony took a moment to open up the Torah for him.



The nighttime glowstick birthday party for Eli. He will turn three next week so we took the opportunity to have some cake and candles and general mayhem. None of the kids opposed the idea.






A hard-fought father/son chess battle. Very, very serious. Please do not disturb them while they are playing chess. And eating chips.




A lovely Thanksgiving dinner with Neil and Charlotte. This gave Zach his long-sought-after opportunity to eat "turkey with bones."




Gathering 'round to watch Tony open the coconut the boys had found. Moments after Tony got it open and the boys had a chance to sample the coconut juice, we were on the road headed back to the airport. It was so sad to leave, but it was a great finale. In fact, I think all vacations should end with a ceremonial bashing of a coconut. Thank you, thank you, thank you to our Florida family for a smashingly good time.


Today we are busy as all get-out as we attempt to unpack and then get ourselves ready for the next season. I told Luke, "Today I think we are going to put up a 'C.T.'"

Luke: "What does 'C.T.' stand for?"
Me: "I'll give you a hint: The 'T' stands for 'tree.' Today we are going to put up a 'C. Tree.'"
Luke ponders this for a moment, then says, "Conifer?"