Engineering degree

Zach has gone through a battery of tests in the past week to help us determine if he might have some sort of brain-wiring issue. Conclusion: He's just an unusually brilliant kid with bad ears and some strange quirks. I'm being a little bit facetious of course, but it's essentially true. He's probably going to be an engineer who has a blast doing creative pranks with his buddies in college.


Exhibit A: He came home the other day to find our big cooler sitting in the living room (a friend had just returned it). His eyes went from the window blinds, to the cooler, back to the blinds. Then he proceeded to tie the cooler to the string that pulls down the blinds, before announcing, "A zip line!" and sending his toys zooming down the string.

The whole process of evaluating someone's personality and characteristics has been fascinating for me. It's like, we all have unusual tendencies and compulsions but we don't necessarily have a label to slap on them. Sometimes when I was reading through the behavioral questionnaires I would even think, "That doesn't sound like Zach at all, but it fits Luke to a T." Another example: When I told the psych doctor that Zach had gone through a phase where he was obsessed with water heaters, the doc took extreme notice. But then I said, "That's nothing - his older brother went through a few months where he didn't want to talk about anything except hazard lights!" Uh, OK, I guess we'll just need to file that under, "The whole family is weird."

Anyhow, I just need to slip into sap mode for a second to say I really believe that we have the kids we have for a reason. We have been divinely entrusted as guardians of these little spirits because there's something about them, and there's something about us, that is a perfect match. So while Luke may test our patience with his endless questions ("How can a person wear a beard of bees?" "How long does it take for rocks to break down into sand?"), I have to remind myself that there is no other set of parents in the world that is so uniquely suited to help him flourish. And when Zach confounds us with his endless experimentation ("What happens if you put seashells in a blender?"), his mad-scientist building projects ("Mom, I am making some fireworks") or his screw-loose enthusiasm (dancing around the kitchen with unbridled joy when I tell him he can have leftover shrimp/lobster/dill pasta salad for lunch), I again have to remind myself that for some reason we were chosen because we were exactly right for him.

Zach has another round of behavioral testing next week, and the next step on the medical front is to demolish the inner ear infection that has been plaguing him for the better part of a year. The infectious disease doc prescribed such a high dose of antibiotics that it even gave the pharmacist pause. I worried about how to get him to take the medicine, but the ID doc said, "Just take the powder from the capsules and mix it with chocolate syrup." This seemed like an ideal solution until I discovered just how awful the medicine tastes -- I'm not even sure you could stir it into a chocolate fountain without tasting it. Currently we are working on teaching Zach to swallow a capsule. Not many kids can do it, but there are quite a few pediatricians who say that every kid should learn how. And if he masters it, we'll be able to add it to his growing list of unusual skills.

On the hernia front, Dave is doing much better save for the occasional wince and grimace. He's still not lifting heavy stuff, but I swear he can pad up and down the stairs faster now than before the surgery. His comedian/surgeon reported that when Dave first opened his eyes after the surgery, the surgeon declared, "You survived!" - to which Dave groggily replied, "That's really not appropriate."

Last, for my top-secret news (really, this is top secret) - I am going to be in a flash mob! I can't say when or where but I have been rehearsing and trying to make sure I don't look like a complete idiot. Luke, who is an expert at memorizing karate routines, started helping me once he learned what a flash mob was. Now he enjoys watching them on You Tube. I'm only mentioning this because the other morning he ran in to my room saying, "Let's look at flash mobs!" Then he cocked his head to do sort of an imitation of himself and added, "Twenty years later: 'Let's look at babes!'"

As they say, out of the mouths of...well...

Pain in the

I hear there's this thing called vacation, and it's something that people do in the summertime. It goes something like this: You get the whole family together, maybe some friends too, and then go off to some nice place, go out to eat, maybe stay in a hotel...

We don't do that. We do things like move, and have surgery, and recover. I'm so far beyond exhausted, and I have had so many pity parties for myself, that at this point that I'm just starting to think of our family as some sort of alien species that observes the strange and wonderful customs of others.

This week's Worst Week award clearly goes to Dave, who had his double hernia surgery on Tuesday. Surest sign that it needed to be done: He had a meeting with a potential new client at a house on Monday and after 45 minutes he couldn't even stand up anymore. This thing had literally brought him to his knees. Surest sign that if he can make it through this, he can make it through anything: He did not drink coffee all day on the day of the surgery. True, he was complaining about it even as they rolled him into the OR, but still, he survived.

I'm glad to report that he's doing much better now, even better today than yesterday. However, I'm dismayed to relay the following instructions from Dave's surgeon: "He needs to be the king of the house for at least two weeks. This means no cooking, washing the dishes, setting the table, folding laundry, or helping in any way around the house." Dave then asks, "How about settling fights between the kids?" to which the surgeon responds, "Definitely not. Not at all." I am going to assume that he bills for his comedy services separately.

All complaints aside, I have to point out one really nice thing about this summer: I am having an amazing time, individually, with each of the two boys. They each are such fascinating characters and I am having such a great time getting to know the personalities that each are developing.

I had a five-star lunch with Luke yesterday. Through my blogging group, I was invited to a special preview lunch of a new restaurant and I took Luke as my guest. The staff wasn't quite organized and it took us a while to get seated, get orders taken, get food - but Luke and I were oblivious because we were having such a great time. It's a good thing there's internet on our phones because a conversation with Luke requires at least seven Google searches. Topics of discussion included: What does Shirley Temple look like now? How much did the world's smallest baby weigh? Did we get a video of Dad's surgery? Somehow we wound up talking about the Seinfeld episode where Kramer accidently drops the Junior Mint into the surgical patient, so of course we had to line up that video to watch it at home. As an apology for the slow service, the restaurant gave us three desserts. This picture is of Luke sitting smugly in front of our bounty, feeling like the king of the world.

Zach is currently in his pirate phase (doesn't everyone have one?), which might have something to do with his favorite TV show, "Jake and the Neverland Pirates." Anyway, he is always on the lookout for treasure, usually gold doubloons. (He used to call them "gold d'balloons" but sadly, he seems to have phased out of that.). On Monday I took him to the rocky beach so that we could find some treasure or at least some cool shells or coral ("quoral"). What he found instead was a skull from a small animal (rat? gopher? ferret?) to which he developed an instant attachment. He carried that skull around with him for two solid days and nights (I banished him from the kitchen when he insisted on trying to feed it bacon for breakfast) and he wigged out his teacher when he brought it to school. Fortunately, none of these kinds of attachments last long. Yesterday I found a very shiny cowrie shell among the boys' things, and once I showed it to Zach he was smitten, and the skull was history. Last night he slept with the shell by his side so that he would have it in his hand as soon as he woke up.

The shell has "Martinique" engraved in the side. I don't think we'll be going there anytime soon, but a boy can dream...of travel, and treasure, and of long summer days in paradise.

Tooting your own horn

Jeanne: "I wonder if there are other people who say, 'I had some really great tweets today.'"
Dave: "I wonder if there are other people who say, 'I had some really great toots today.'"
Luke: "That is just so...immature."

Every day is the Fourth of July

Yeah, so I'm late putting these pictures up from our July 4th luau. So, just do more fireworks and pretend it's still the 4th of July. Even better, play that Katy Perry song while you're doing it. Because the kids really love that.



"Ewww...coconut!"

Written in stone

Tonight Dave was trying to convince Luke that gambling is not for kids because it is irresponsible -- while simultaneously getting him excited about the scratch-off tickets they were doing together. "You know what your problem is?" I asked him (famous tongue-in-cheek question of ours). "You make everything seem like fun."

In fact, from the beginning that was one of the most convincing arguments in favor of pairing up with Dave. Things that aren't that much fun are better with him, and things that are already fun are even more fun with him.

Today marks 14 years since I moved to California and six years since I started writing Beach Bucket. Would I have done any of this without his constant encouragement and inspiration? Even if his abdominal musculature is leaky, I still just plain love him.

Summer of Surgery

Zach had his surgery today and he is more than just fine; he is great. If I had been able to make and edit a film about his recovery it would look/sound something like this:

Voiceover from pediatric post-op nurse: "You can expect him to be a little wobbly on his feet as you leave..."
[Cut to image of Zach dragging me out of the post-op recovery ward: "Mom! We're going to the gift shop! Come on!"]

Nurse voiceover: "We're prescribing him this Tylenol with codeine because he may be a little bit sore today."
[Cut to Zach clambering out of the car at home. Me: "Zach, how do your ears feel? Do your ears or your throat hurt?" Zach, calling over his shoulder as he heads into the house: "Nope!"]

Nurse voiceover: "He should have kind of a sedentary day, and he shouldn't do anything that requires balance, like riding a bike."
[Cut to Zach jumping from the coffee table onto the couch: "Ya-hooo!"]

Nurse voiceover: "He may be a little drowsy or dopey through the afternoon."
[Cut to image of me, lying face down on the floor in the den. Zach marches in from the kitchen. "Mom, I cut off my hospital bracelet. Let me cut off yours now." (Snip!) Me: "Guhhhghhhhh."]

The best outcome for the short term: He is clearly hearing better after getting all cleared out. Next step: Hearing test, then an assessment from infectious disease doc to clear up whatever infection is in there, once and for all.

Ahhh...now it's time to relax. No more doctors, no more hospitals...Oh, snap! Turns out Dave has not one but two hernias. Surgery is scheduled for next Tuesday. Some people go on vacation in the summertime; we just go to the hospital. What can I say?

Guilty

Something has been wrong with Zach's ears. This I know because on Sunday he found a Honey Graham Z-Bar and he asked me if he could eat it and I said, "No, please wait until after dinner." Apparently his ears translated this into, "No, I am not going to open it, but please open it yourself." You can see where this story is headed.

Zach disappeared for a few moments, and when I realized he wasn't coming back, I went looking for him from room to room: "Zach! Zach! Where are you?" Eventually I found him upstairs in the master bathroom. There he was, sprawled out on the counter, with the nail scissors out, with pieces of Z-Bar wrapper all over the place, and with the guiltiest look you've ever seen on his face. Picture a cat caught with feathers spilling out of its mouth trying to say, "Bird??! What (mmmhph) bird?"

I have great updates from the fabulous Fourth of July luau, and from Zach's surgery this morning - all went well. I'm just too tired to post them right now. So for the moment I'm just going to leave you this picture of my favorite grinning little imp.

A chicken with its head cut off

Can the world just stop for one second so I can get a little breather? This post is going to be a little bit "poor-me" for a few minutes, but after the whole moving fiasco it should be a familiar tune to BeachBucket readers.

Issue #1: Too much going on/too short of a summer. Last Thursday the kids and I declared "International Do Nothing Day" but by the time the day was out, Luke had had two separate playdates and a karate class. All I want is some time to sit around and not have to take people anywhere or pack any lunches. File under: Not gonna happen.

Issue #2: Zach's ongoing ear issues have plagued me and worried his teachers. Yesterday I spent the whole day taking Zach to a hearing test (inconclusive because his ears were too full of fluid); speaking to a developmental specialist about possible therapies to help him get back on track socially/developmentally; taking Zach to the ENT, where they decided to do another surgery and possible adenoidectomy; and then spending two hours at the hospital doing intake and blood tests for Zach. It was fun for absolutely no one.

Issue #3: Dave's 'pre-hernia" situation, a worrisome development that has kept him sitting or lying down for the better part of the last three weeks. I've picked up most of the slack on household chores/running the kids around, which has been draining on both of us. If it actually evolves into a full-fledged hernia, that'll mean surgery, which will be fun for how many people? Again, none.

Issue #4: This one is actually a good thing - An Internet developer has asked me to take a key role in a cool new startup relating to Jolly Tomato work - and he wants to put it on a fast track. I can't say any more at all, except to say it is going to be fun, and I think I'm going to like working on it. The only problem is squeezing even an extra hour out of the day, after wrangling two kids, managing medical situations, working as a speechwriter, and writing/developing a food blog. I've been burning the midnight oil just trying to find a few extra hours for this new project. Needless to say BeachBucket has fallen by the wayside. But no one is going to give me a hard time about that, given all that's going on, right? Right?

So - happy times - the Florida cousins are in town. On Saturday Dave gave the boys a quick lesson on automatic weapons in the "man cave." Curiously, the best shots appeared to be Zach and Joanna.

On Sunday, Zach had a bike race (a neat follow-up to last week's running race), and the most notable part of it seemed to be his training regimen. All day long, on Saturday, he insisted on having someone (thank you, Joanna) hold up a "finish line" for him, and he would ride around in a big circle, repeatedly breaking through the finish line. Clearly he understands the importance of visualizing the race.

Now the race was fun and all, and he did cross the finish line (although there was nothing to "break"), but for me the most interesting part was going home. There is a very steep hill that leads down to where the race was held, and when we were heading back up the hill he INSISTED on riding his bike rather than walking it. It's almost like he knew it would be harder so he wanted to do it. As he grimaced and pushed the pedals all the way up the hill (and refused help), Dave and I looked at each other and agreed, "Now there's an endurance athlete waiting to be born." (Preemie, schmeemie.)

On Sunday Joanna and Suzi had the greatest inspiration ever and decided we should do a family fiesta. This was good news for me, because having just moved I knew exactly where to find our "fiesta box" of party decorations. And it was good news for Dave and others because it meant an excuse to go to both El Indio and La Venadita for tortilla/meat supplies. Add some of Suzi's rice, Tony's tilapia, and Bobbie's guacamole, and pretty soon you've got a fiesta.

A second great innovation was to have a pinata. Sure, there were only four kids, but what kid would turn down an opportunity to whack a papier-mache creation and have candy fall out of it? Not any of ours, apparently.

Zach picked out the pinata because he wanted a baby chick, but I think most of us agree that this pinata looked more like a chicken, if not Big Bird himself. (Note: the boys' shirts are off and pants are wet because they just finished having a massive water-gun battle, another key element to a family fiesta.)

The good news: It didn't take a chainsaw (a la Steve Martin) to cut open; Luke finally cracked it in half with a power swing learned in Little League. Joanna and I had tried to minimize the amount of candy, but even still the boys were excited about rubber balls, paratroopers, punching balloons, applesauce, and fruit leather.

As for what happened after that, I have no further comment.

In the green time

Many moms pack child-appropriate picnics and then take their kids out for lunch at a park. Zach and I like to go to the Argentine butcher shop in a nearby strip mall, buy the fresh-baked empanadas while they're piping hot, and then eat them right outside the shop. Beef or spinach, it doesn't matter. My kind of kid, right there.

Speaking of eclectic food situations, Dave brought us all to a Nathan's hot-dog-eating contest last week. I tweeted about it with a twinge of regret - would I lose followers who are committed to my otherwise nutritious cause? But I decided to lighten up - I even ate a hot dog - and I didn't lose any followers, at least as far as I know. Oh, and Luke got an autograph after the fact from the up-and-coming star named Mega Toad (a skinny little teenager). After watching the (gross) competition, however, none of us has any aspirations to be competitive eaters.

Luke has spent the last two weeks inviting practically everyone he knows to his belt test at his karate (well, technically tae kwan do) class. It's curious because he absolutely refused to take part in the talent show (he was dreading the thought of dancing) but he wanted everyone to see him doing karate. So with Luke's fans filling up half of the cafeteria yesterday, he performed beautifully in front of the crowd.

Dave has some video of it, but I don't think even that will capture just how sweet it was when he finally knelt in front of his teacher and she said a few words quietly to him about how he had gone above and beyond, and she had decided that he earned the right to skip over the yellow belt. As she carefully wrapped the green belt around his uniform, a few folks (you know who you are) even got a little teary-eyed.

Dave and Zach just got back from the Father's Day party at Zach's school, and one of the presents for the dads was one of those questionnaires that the teachers help the kids fill out about their dads. Excerpts from Zach's include: "My dad is as tall as...a crocodile." "My dad is stronger than...a building made of big wood." "I love him because...he's nice and charges the iPad."

Point of curiosity: The other night at dinner I asked everyone, "If you could change anything about our new house, what would it be?"
Dave: "I wish all of the construction on the street was finished" (two new houses are being built and one is undergoing a major remodel)
Jeanne: "I wish we had more pictures hanging on the wall so it really felt like our house."
Luke: "We should have an electric television built into the dining room table, so if you're just sitting here eating and you're bored, you can push a button and a TV rises up right here and you can watch whatever you want."
Zach: "We should dye more eggs."

Friends and neighbors

We have neighbors. Boy, do we have neighbors. The street is crawling with kids of all ages. But our most significant neighbors are the ones directly across the street from us who have two kids, ages 4 and 7. I've actually known the mom and kids somewhat distantly for a while, but we haven't seen them much in our regular circuit because the kids go to a private school. But that hasn't stopped Luke and the older boy Alex from being Instant Best Friends. Here is how the conversation went the first time they met:

Luke: "I just wanted to know...Do you like Legos?"
Alex: "Yeah."
Luke: "Do you have any Alien Conquest?"
Alex: "No, but I really want some. I was just looking at them on the computer." [Editor's note: Total. Luke. Clone.]
Luke: "Well, I was wondering... I just got the new Alien Conquest, the big one, and I wanted to know if you want to come over and build it with me?"

After a week of friendly greetings every morning (when they see us leaving, they stick their heads out the window to say hi), Alex and his sister Ella came over on Sunday with a big bag of homemade "welcome to the neighborhood" cookies. The boys built Legos all morning and they acted like long-lost friends: they independently worked out a system for how they were going to take turns with each of the building steps so that they would get an equal amount of turns to make stuff.

Yesterday they continued building a little more until Alex had to leave. But when he saw Luke leaving the house at around dinnertime, Alex stuck his head out the window and called,"Luke, how is the Lego going?" "Not too good," reported Luke glumly. Then, later, when he got it figured out, Luke stuck his head out the door to report to Alex, "Hey, I fixed the Lego! It's awesome!"

It's like having soup cans attached by a string, except we don't even need the soup cans.

We could be imagining things, but Dave and I both agree that Luke and Zach seem to be getting along with each other much better in the new house as well. There's a long center hall that they love to run down. Plus there's a massive shower stall in their bathroom that is just too much fun for only one kid to take a shower at a time. And the gymnastics mat in the garage seems to be just big enough to contain a 7-year-old's kata and a 4-year-old's somersaults.

On Monday at Author's Night at our downtown bookstore, Luke had a chance to read from a book he has been working on for most of this semester. It's an extremely detailed book with heavy Harry Potter themes. He had been very nervous about reading it in front of all of the parents, but he managed to conquer his nervousness and he did an amazing job reading to everyone.

Afterwards they announced that they were serving cookies in the courtyard, and there was a massive kid stampede out to the cookie table. Zach wasn't quite quick enough or bold enough to muscle through the crowd, so I held him on my lap and told him we would just wait to get a cookie. But seconds later...Luke emerged from the crowd holding two enormous cookies, and presented them to Zach: "I got one for me and one for you - You can pick which one you want."

What mature alien has invaded Luke's body?

Last, since we're on the topic of Luke - Last night I had the opportunity to bring Luke and his friend Eitan to a special cookie party-slash-movie premiere of "Judy Moody and the Not Bummer Summer" in Hollywood. The premiere was swarming with kids of all ages, but somehow all of the seven-year-old boys managed to find each other. Luke wound up becoming instant friends with this kid named Sawyer, and they sat next to each other and giggled throughout the movie, and we all went out to dinner with each other afterwards. Now Luke and Sawyer are begging for a playdate, which is insane, because even though Sawyer's family technically lives in the L.A. area, they are 50 miles away from us. I'm just putting it out there as one thing that amazes me about Luke - He can make friends with anyone, anywhere. I mean, who makes a friend at a movie? And more importantly, do I really need to set up a 50-mile playdate when I could just...take him across the street?

Scenes from a Day

Time: 7:00 am
The scene: From the upstairs master bedroom, I step out on the balcony to see...Luke and Zach on the karate mat in the garage (both in pajamas) and Luke teaching Zach karate. Dave watches while holding a cup of coffee.

Time: 5:45 pm
The scene: Dave and Luke are at baseball practice; Zach is helping me get dinner ready in the kitchen. He is singing, at top volume, "My Favorite Things," except he is making every word start with "B" - as in "Ben buh bog bites, ben buh bee bings, ben bi'm beeling bad..."

Time: 7:45 pm
The scene: On Fridays, when Dave tours open houses, the agents sometimes give him leftover food or treats. Today he came home with the Holy Grail of open-house treats: a set of four cake pops. Dave got called off on a conference call, but he told Luke and Zach they could go ahead and enjoy the treats without him. No further invitation needed.

Silent Move

Just a small observation: Bike-riding with Luke has always seemed like more of an obligation ("Maybe we could go and ride your bike for a little while?") than something he begs to do. But Zach, who now has his little training-wheel bike all put together, wants to ride his bike every spare moment. And we're not just talking about gingerly riding in circles. He wants to ride at top speed; he wants to cover territory. So he and I have gone all over the neighborhood and all around the school, getting as much mileage in as he can. Sometimes he takes a turn too fast and topples over onto the ground - no matter, because he dusts himself off and scrambles right back on. Our elementary school is built on a hill, with one main incline that connects through four rows of classroom buildings - and Zach insists on riding all the way up the entire hill without any assistance from me. Again, we're talking about one of those little kiddie bikes with training wheels - no gears or anything. You can see him gritting his teeth and grimacing to get the pedals moving, but he refuses to let you so much as touch him to give him a boost.

Luke has been into karate - I mean really, really into it - for a few months now and he is truly starting to look like an expert. Today in the Whole Foods parking lot he was carefully practicing his little routine (kata) that he needs to earn his first stripe. He is determined to earn a black belt before he turns 8, or possibly by the time he is 15. Part of the appeal of the man-cave is that it will house some karate mats and a mirror for home practice (and maybe a slumber party or two). We are happy for this new diversion, and we're pleased to finally direct some money somewhere other than the Lego Corporation.

Dave has been through a hard couple of weeks, so we're all going to be very nice to Dave. And I love him. Except I have to say just one thing: Of all of the quadrillion items in our entire house, for some reason he packed the CD player and all of our music first. So I have been at home most of the week packing in silence. Or singing the alphabet song, or something equally annoying, to myself.

Pray that this weekend goes quickly.

Stacked

All packed and ready to go!

Kidding, of course. We are nowhere close. Last time we moved we had one less person and 250,000 fewer Legos. If I could just pack us all up and magically transport us into next week I'd be happier. But still, despite my occasional lapse into despair and self-pity. the boys have maintained a good attitude about the whole process. This picture personifies their viewpoints pretty well: Zach: "Woo-hoo! This is the best thing EVER!" Luke: "Yeah, this might be fun but I'm going to wait to see how it all shakes out."

Oh, and here's the front of the house. It's on a hill so it's hard to get a good angle where you can see what the second floor looks like, but this will have to do for now. There's a long driveway along the side of the house leading to the garage Man Cave in back.

C'mon over before we get it all messy!

Sheltered

And...we have a house. It's a little blue Cape-style house, different from all other houses we've lived in because it does not have a garage front (this is a good thing). The garage is tucked away in the backyard, where it will afford ample space for a karate/gymnastics/recreation room, a.k.a. a Man Cave. The boys will share a small bedroom on the first floor, which is adjacent to a much larger family room, where we will have the TV and all of their toys. They get their own big bathroom too. The kitchen is nice - not enormous - but bigger than what we have now, which is almost impossibly small. Dave and I will be on the second floor in a nice big master suite with a balcony; and Dave will move his office to the second floor, where there is a huge sunny office space with a second enormous balcony (I suspect Dave will make out better than any of us on this deal). It's clean and pretty, and we've resolved that it will be a shoe-free house. Best of all, it is within Luke's school district so we will not have to change schools.

For all of these reasons I thought that telling Luke would be somewhat straightforward and pleasant, as long as we kept a focus on making this a positive new adventure. MAN was I wrong. It is far too painful to recount, but suffice to say that Luke was absolutely devastated. I hadn't quite prepared myself for how bad it would be - except in retrospect, I should have realized that he would be experiencing the same feelings that I did when I first found out. I thought that I had already experienced the low point of this whole process, but we truly hit a new low yesterday while talking to Luke.

The strange thing is, he seems to have gone through all five stages of grief with lightning speed. He did denial, anger, bargaining (told me he would need a new Lego set to help him cope), depression, and he seems to have arrived at acceptance already. He is still mad that we won't be next door to school, and that we won't have a pool, but he seems to be focusing on the good stuff (he'll be a block away from one of his best karate buddies, his bedroom closet has a super-secret hiding space). We're still going to keep a close eye on him. Oh, and it's going to cost me a Lego set.

Zach, on the other hand, could not have been more blase about the whole thing. I sat him down and explained that we were moving all of our stuff to another house and we were going to live in that other house from now on. He kind of raised an eyebrow and said, "Today?" "No, in a few days," I told him. "OK!" he said, and that was it. I assume that he probably doesn't understand all of the implications and the magnitude of it, but later we went to visit the house and he wanted to bring all of our stuff over. He's ready to go.

One small concern that Luke had about the new house was that the backyard might not be big enough for Lukeball. Fans of Calvin and Hobbes will probably remember Calvinball, an insanely complex game that only made sense to Calvin. Luke has taken it upon himself to invent his own game, which is similarly complex but at the same time highly entertaining. The backyard is divided into several areas, which he helpfully labeled with signs pointing out the Drop Area, the Invisibility Zone, the Vortex Center, the Jump Line, and a few other points that I can't even recall. It involves a lot of running around, tagging, spinning, and awarding of points in increments of 1,000. Zach likes it because he enjoys just hanging out in the Vortex Center and spinning. I like it because it's one of the wordiest ball games I've ever played - you can't get through a round without lots of discussions and negotiations.

As far as I can tell, the backyard in the new place is reasonably big for Lukeball, and there's also a nice front yard that might make for a little game space as well. But as I told Luke, the best part of Lukeball is that you can change the rules as need be. At our old house we had to work our way around a pool cover. Now we have a wide-open yard. Plus we can add an extra degree of difficulty when someone decides to hide out in the Man Cave.

Going through the motions

I haven't written in a while because I am absolutely just Not Feeling It. Most mornings in the last three weeks I've had to scrape myself up off the floor and zombie through the must-do list, so Beachbucket-ing pretty much falls by the wayside. We do not have a housing solution yet, and we aren't going to tell the boys anything until we do, so I am just going to leave the subject there without further comment.

In the meantime, people have actually had to live their lives, so let's talk about that. Dave has added "soccer player" to his multi-faceted list of talents after playing in an all-dad soccer tournament fundraiser last week. Notice how in the picture he looks like the kid brother compared to all of these enormous guys on his team. They defied all odds to make it into the final game, and then lost in overtime - but they put up a valiant effort.

Dads' soccer is funny because when someone gets hit or falls down there's a collective groan from the audience, especially from the wives who know they are going to have to hear about that particular hurt for the next week or two. But despite that (because of it?) the whole thing was enormously entertaining.

Last weekend we had the annual family campout, for which Dave's and my enthusiasm was about a 1 out of 100 (with 100 being the enthusiasm level of our friends, who plastered us for days with emails about what kinds of camping equipment, foods, and diversions they were bringing to the event). We first decided not to stay over; then Luke was completely distraught, then I volunteered to stay over with Luke, and then Dave finally decided he would do the camping. After an 11pm bedtime, and waking up to the rainstorm at 5am, it wasn't his best sleep ever.

But when the sun came out at around 8am on Sunday morning, everyone was raring to go for the fishing derby. Zach was the picture of determined cuteness while holding his fishing pole, and since the photographers were all taking pictures of him from every which angle, I expect to see him on the cover of one of our city parks and recreation brochures any day now. Luke staked out his own territory with a single-minded focus to catch something besides a sneaker.

As it turned out, Zach won the top prize in his age group (a new kids' fishing pole!) for catching two turtles. Luke got an award for the most unusual catch - an orange - which netted him a new bait and tackle set. And then after all of the camping and fishing equipment was finally wrapped up, we packed everyone in the car and went off to look at another house. If we don't find one, maybe it will be a tent.

Sad Face

Most people buy a house and live in it. Then there are people like us who buy a house, sell a house, buy another house, sell that house, rent a house, plan to buy said house, and then get metaphorically hit by an earthquake/tsunami. That's a flippant way of saying that our house's owners have decided to move back from Japan and we are getting gently booted from our house as of July 1. I'm trying to be all cool like, "Yeah, it's a bummer," but to be honest I'm devastated, confused, and completely stressed out. I don't know where we're going to live, and it doesn't look like we're going to buy again right now so wherever we move is almost certainly going to be temporary, which means yet another move. Hence the sad face.

In better circumstances, this post would have been all about my inspiring weekend with a camp full of food writers. I learned to work with fondant, met some of the movers and shakers in the food blog world, and came home with a goodie bag full of everything from a humongous chef's knife to some white truffle spray. Here you can see my very first attempt at making fondant flowers, and you have to admit that it looks decent for a pure beginner (even with this dark picture from my phone camera). I emailed this to the boys while I was gone and they were THRILLED to hear that I was bringing home all manner of fondant, pastry equipment, and three vials of edible glitter powder.

Sunday afternoon and Monday were very strange because while I was wallowing in self-pity about our living situation, I was also buzzing around thinking about all of my new connections and trying to reach out and build on some of that energy. I had a little email conversation with one of my favorite writers, Cheryl Sternman Rule of 5 Second Rule, and later that night I learned that she had written this incredibly touching post that mentioned me, among other bloggers, in it. Within a few hours of being published it was lighting up the Twittersphere and I was feeling all warm and fuzzy.

Am I trying to keep perspective? Yes. Am I still walking around with a big pit in my stomach? Yes. Do I feel nervous watching the kids and knowing there's a big bomb we're going to have to drop on them any day now? Yes. Did Zach get on the phone while I was gone over the weekend to tell me that he had gotten married? Yes. So as you can see, things are just weird all over.

Merciful Endings

The cruelest thing about the Easter egg hunt is that the older the kids get, the faster it's over. I hid 39 eggs total and I told Luke that once he found 20 eggs he would have to stop to give Zach a chance. Exactly 90 seconds later, Luke was done for the day.

We spent the next 15 minutes coaxing Zach, giving him massive hints, and messing with him a little bit to get him to find the remaining eggs. There was one hidden under the chair that Dave was sitting on, so Dave pulled it out and balanced it at the end of his foot - which turned out to be high comedy once Zach actually found it.

In the end we only found 38 eggs. Did I count wrong? Will we find the 39th egg sometime in August? Will I find the 39th egg in my coat pocket when I reach for a Kleenex in the middle of church one day? These are the questions that haunt me every year.

So, twelve years ago Dave and I gathered all of our family and friends at a scenic perch overlooking the Pacific Ocean, made some important promises to each other, and then took everyone out to a nice Italian restaurant by the water. Twelve years later we decided to commemorate the occasion at another scenic perch overlooking the Pacific Ocean. We tried to avoid making any overt promises to our offspring. Then we took everyone out to a family-oriented Italian chain restaurant, where our kids, who had had way too much going on over the weekend, basically fell to pieces while Dave and I grimaced at each other over a glass of cheap Chianti. Ah, sweet memories. One of these years when the kids are older we will celebrate for real on a scenic perch overlooking the Adriatic Sea while eating actual Italian food. For now, we're just grateful for each other, our shared commitment to family life, and the relief of early bedtimes.

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.