Postcards to Paris

Good Morning Sunshine

2012-01-19T22:34:00.000-08:00

630am

Me: Good morning, Nate. Please stop working in the office and go get dressed for school so we can walk Cooper before breakfast.

Nate: Okay, but, Mom, I didn't want to tell Sam the advice from that slip of paper yesterday, (her fortune cookie indicated she would receive important advice from a child) but now I'm going to mail her this (bullet pointed list):

Inmportant edvice
*be peaceful
*Use less oil
*check your smoke detectors
*Have more fire drills
*Walk (Cooper) more
*Walk more (you)
*have communitty warnings louder
*be thuoghtful
*obey the golden rule
*obey laws and rules
*don't wake your mom up! ("this one is for Jarrah.")
*wake your mom up if a passout
*don't choose to live in Jail.
*don't choose to shoot.
*have choosing freinds (meaning have lots of friends.)
*Have Home SECUIRTY

7:30am walking the dog

Nate: Mom, do you think you will ever decide what religion you are?

Me: I don't know, I see great Truths in several of them.

Nate: Well, we are Jewish and Christian. You know, because we celebrate Christmas and Hanukkah. Eva doesn't believe in God, but I do, and I believe in Jesus Christ. I'm confused though, how is Jesus Christ the son of God, but Mary was married to that other guy? And how did she know she had a baby in there anyway?

Me: Stories from the Bible can be confusing; there are lots of miracles that really have no logical explanation.

Nate: I am not going to celebrate Islam because I am not kissing a stone, and going to that place would cost a lot of money, so I'm not going. I would rather go to France.

Me: Cooper, quit pulling me...yes, honey, Mecca would be a long way to go wouldn't it?

Nate: I think we might also celebrate Hinduism because you believe in Shiva and I believe in that elephant with four arms. But let's not celebrate the part that we can't pick our own jobs and the part about the slaves coming from someone's feet. Buddhism (pronounced booty-ism) is better for that part, but I am not shaving my head and I will shake my booty.

Me: Shake, shake, shake...shake, shake, shake; shake your booty...That sounds good, did you bring a poop bag?

745am Breakfast and packing lunches

Nate: Mom, how come white people were better than colorful people? (MLK holiday has been prominent in his awareness this year.)

Me: They weren't, Buddy. The people that thought so were wrong.

Nate: Then how come Martin had to go to jail? Did Rosa also go to jail? Cooper is kinda like Rosa because he doesn't do what he's told either.

Me: The laws were different and wrong about segregation back then. Cooper, on the other hand, needs some basic manners, regardless of his color or breed.

Nate: How do guns kill, Mom?

Me: I think we need to wake up your father. Did you see what I did with my coffee?

Nate: How do they, Mom?

Me: If a bullet enters a body, it could pierce a vital organ like a heart, causing it to stop working which would then cause death. Please drink your milk and clear your dishes.

830am

Me: Okay, teeth and hair then you have "free choice" till it's time to go to school. Maybe you'd like to watch some TV.

Nate: When I grow up, I am getting rid of all the guns. If we need to have a war, then we will use points instead of guns. How do you know when a war is over anyway?

Me: I think the points system is a great idea...Shaaauuuunnn...

Nate: How do you know, Mom?

Me: When both sides are ready to compromise. Where is your father? Is Johnny Test on? I have to get ready for work.

Sometimes I’m exhausted by the time the spray of the shower hits my face in the morning. Nate is a morning person, and he’s pretty much turned me into one too over these last (almost) seven years. I do love the very occasional morning that I am up first and get a cup of coffee in the dark and quiet solitude. I had such a morning recently, it was lovely but the best part was when my sleepy boy finally came down the steps and silently crawled into my lap for a long snug. It reminded me of the first time he slept through the night. I was wide awake at the normal 5am and so wired and excited he had slept, that I couldn’t go back to sleep myself. Plus, I missed him.

I am a lucky, lucky mom to get to be home and hang with my boy every morning. As much as it may wear me out at times, I'm honored and grateful to hear all the many directions his brain is moving. Maybe I'll figure a way to stop nagging him one of these days. Because really, it’s no wonder he can’t put his shirt on the proper direction the first time, he’s got a lot on his mind.

The luxuries in our lives have been far curtailed, but this one, this time together is one I'll hold onto for as long as I can.

MLK

2012-01-16T12:00:00.000-08:00

"We have no morally persuasive power with those who can feel our underlying contempt for them."

Martin Luther King

The Reason for the Season, Deconstructed

2011-12-22T11:35:00.000-08:00

"Mom, Hanukkah is better than Christmas."

"Why is that?"

"Because if you celebrate Hanukkah you get presents for eight days."

"Yes, but you usually get more than one gift also, you just get them all in one day."

"Okay, but I'm celebrating both."

One week later:

"Mom, Hanukkah is better than Christmas."

"Why is that?"

"Because Hanukkah is about freedom, and Christmas is just about Jesus' birthday, don't you think freedom is more important than a person's birthday?"

"Generally, yes I do. Some people also believe Jesus was the greatest teacher that ever lived."

"Yeah, the greatest teacher who ever lived...so far."

"By the way, Mom, what does Santa Claus have to do with Jesus' birthday anyway?"

"Frankly, I haven't a clue."

Tis the Season, for Letters!

2011-12-17T16:03:00.000-08:00

Santa has his work cut out for him this year.

Dear santa,

I'd Like: a tv, a radio, a gas stacin, a real car. $10000000000000000000.55, a horse, a cow, a chicken, a rooster, birds, a lab 2000 feet under ground and a elavator to go there. now faint! a radio stacion, a code bar, everybody that isn't felling good to fell better, the pepole that are in pain to fell better.

Nate

*******************

Dear rudolph,

wich story is true? the movie? the origonal? the song? the other storys? a whole other story? Did you pull Santas slay? What is your xmas list? Is your nose actully red? the storys about you are good. merry flight.

Nate

She said, He said

2011-11-19T20:14:00.000-08:00

"I'm starting to lose my patience."

"It's okay, just caaalllmmm yourself down."

Good thing I have him coaching me through the tough times.

"Proud to Claim the Title"

2011-11-10T20:48:00.000-08:00

Medal of Honor recipient, Dakota Meyer's boots, by Sgt. Jimmy D. Shea

Happy 236th!

"We Own Halloween"

2011-10-31T22:52:00.000-07:00

It was another fabulous Halloween trek through the neighborhood.

Aunt Celine had the most impressive makeup of the night, this one will go down in history right along with her leopard face.

We had the pleasure of the Goldstein Newmans join us for the festivities--a tradition I hope continues.

Halloween has quickly become my favorite holiday. Not only are the skeletons and pirates out in the crisp night, but also this very special kid who becomes a typical, carefree, happy six year old.

There's also running and being the leader of the pack. I'm so pleased for him to experience that side of himself.

The running is the best.

He may disagree.

Hmmm...

2011-10-21T10:30:00.000-07:00

When asked what surprised him most about humanity, the Dalai Lama said:

“Man. Because he sacrifices his health in order to make money.
Then he sacrifices money to recuperate his health.
And then he is so anxious about the future that he does not enjoy the present; the result being that he does not live in the present or the future; he lives as if he is never going to die, and then dies having never really lived.”

Quotes of the Day

2011-10-16T21:34:00.000-07:00

On putting his toy box back together:
"I'm better at electronic things and building things than you, because I'm a man and I've been practicing my whole life."

On parenting:
"Just say it once, then ignore, ignore, ignore, finally I might do what you said."

More on parenting:
"You scream at me and don't even treat me with care." Ouch

On the movie "A Dolphin Tale":
"I emailed them and told them their movie changed my life."

First Day ~ First Grade ~ Sept 6, 2011

Gone Fishin'

2011-10-10T20:02:00.000-07:00

"Mom, Mom, we're going fishing!"

"Great, are you and Daddy going to have a father and son day fishing on the lake?"

"No, you get to go too, and you and me will share a fishing pole, and we're getting a motor boat! Are you willing to cook the fish for dinner?"

"Sure, no problem," I said, scheming my way to the fish market. No worries, quick, easy, no problem.

Shaun, was not happy, such schemes are not in his repertoire and I'm sure he finds me derelict in my parenting duties by even considering such things. There was sighing and eyes were rolling. He was in favor of the catch and release program, while Nate was planning a full on fish fry. I quietly questioned whether this was all really a necessary conversation because wasn't it highly unlikely any fish would be in our custody anyway? More eye rolling. My lackadaisical way of going about certain things annoys him; I think because he figures he'll have to pay the price for it later. So not true, well usually not, but who's counting anyway?

The closest thing either of us has come to cleaning a fish was the hack job that Grayson and he committed against a trout with a dull ax on the shore of Mammoth Lake a decade ago. It didn't end well, and we didn't have fish for dinner that night.

I decided to give it one last shot with Nate in an attempt to appease Shaun. "So Nate, we're trying to figure out a plan with the fish we might catch. We have a couple of choices. We could catch them and then release them so they can live the rest of their lives swimming happily in the lake, (I almost made a fish mommy and daddy reference, but restrained myself) or we can catch them and do our best to clean and cook them, but I've never done it before so it may not go too well."

No hesitation from the little fisherman whatsoever, "We'll kill them and eat them for dinner." Period, end of story. I liked his decisiveness and while I wasn't surprised, it still seemed slightly out of character since he likes to discuss things at length and also tends to be quite sensitive. Just this past spring we harvested the compost from our worm bin and the task was made even more tedious by Nate's need to console each and every worm he came in contact with. Thankfully, Scooby Doo is always on the ready to save me from a difficult situation.

We gathered our supplies and made our way to the lake. We decided to take Cooper too, so I was given a reprieve from the full on fishing experience.

And so they were off.

And we were off too, it was nearly noon and hot.

The lake was beautiful as ever.

We chose a new path and made our way around.

We found the boys on the other side--fishless, thank goodness I wouldn't be learning to gut a fish on this particular day.

Finally, we found some shade.

Another first done and gone.

Financier

2011-10-09T21:32:00.000-07:00

Sentimental kid that he is, the first three teeth he lost are in a tiny jar next to the wine glasses in a cupboard. I should clarify, by his own choice, he wanted to save the teeth rather than give them up to the tooth fairy. It's not all sentiment though, there was some mistrust that said tooth fairy might just take his teeth and give him nothing in return.

This time, he had big plans and went for the cash. You see, at school the kids have the opportunity to open a bank account with Mission Federal with no fees and no minimum deposit requirements. Nate already has a bank account, but recently decided that he needs another one, you know--a business account for his lemonade and ice cream stands. He figured the Tooth Fairy would be as good a venture capitalist as any.

He carefully placed the tiny tooth in an envelope and made his request, politely even, and with perfect spelling.

my fourth tooth
Dear tooth fairy, please Give 5 Dollars to me please, nate

He checked that envelope under his pillow at least a kajillion times, telling me during book time how nervous he was that the tooth would break through the envelope and get lost, rendering him toothless and penniless. We wondered what the tooth fairy looked like, the extent of her magical abilities, if she could defend herself against Shelby, Tesla, and Cooper; and if she was actually powered by teeth.

At precisely 3:30am we got the news bulletin--bedside--that the tooth fairy did in fact come and she gave him exactly what he asked for.

"Next time, I'm asking for five thoooooouuuuuuuusand dollars!"

Hello Bright Eyes

2011-10-08T08:00:00.000-07:00

Harper Rey ~ July 5, 2011

One Sunday Afternoon

2011-10-04T16:46:00.000-07:00

We were fighting the new school year cold, but it was just too beautiful a day to stay inside. Neither of us had energy for much so we decided to head down to Target--I had intentions of adding something fun to our excursion but decided to measure both of our moods for what turned out to be a very short amount of time, before sharing that thought.

We drove south and a black laquered corvette rumbled passed us. I asked Nate if he liked it.

"Yeah, but do you want to know what my favorite car is?"

I half expected him to say a Ford Fairlane, or some other of his dad's favorites, but no...it's "a taxi cab".

"Huh? Really?"

Of course, he's a practical child and named such a vehicle as his favorite because we need taxi cabs, you see, "for when people make bad choices and need to get home". While I wondered who had been talking to him about drinking and driving, he clarified the bad choices to be bad parking choices. Such as the one I apparently made when I chose to park in front of someone's second driveway that has a huge locked gate across it and a humongous covered RV right on the other side. That gate hasn't been opened once in the last five years, plus I was only going to be there for five minutes, officer...

Whatever, I needed a diversion, and fast. Instead of exiting to buy a coffee pot at Target, we headed downtown. Seaport Village to be exact, where I found a proper and legal parking spot. I'm sure the merry-go-round would have been great, but this afternoon, I was pulling out the big guns. He jumped up and down the entire way. Given his propensity to explain things to me, pure six year old excitement is a real treat.

We were in luck, we twirled through the front revolving door a time or ten and entered the elevator for our first ride at 3:12pm. The Top of the Hyatt opens at 3:00pm. Also lucky that on Sunday afternoon the hotel was relatively empty, I truly don't think we disturbed anyone with our shenanigans. But then, I'm the scofflaw in the family.

The doors opened on the 40th floor and we exited to views of San Diego in all her glory. He ran ahead calling, "Mom, Mom, hurry, LOOK!"

"They have phones!! Let's call Daddy!!"

After a thorough tour of the hotel including each elevator car, several escalators, and the rotating front door; we took a quick stroll through Seaport Village for some jelly bellies and cheap sunglasses, then our mission was complete.

Progress?

2011-10-02T20:49:00.000-07:00

"Wind In The Willows"

2011-09-16T22:42:00.000-07:00

I recently had the pleasure of taking Nate and his buddy Isaac on a field trip. We were in for a day of trains, boats and swings. There would also be burritos, discussions, instructions and sunscreen.

The sophistication and depth of their conversations around mechanical applications seems oddly out of place coming from car seats in the back seat. Had I paid better attention I might be well equipped to start a new career as an electrician or at least light the neighborhood in our next black out with the use of generators.

I've known for some time that men often look at the world in terms of how it and the things in it work. Seeing these boys together sorta drives that point home. The simplicity of turning a steering wheel and proceeding in that direction just doesn't exist in their world.

Trying to get a smile out of Isaac, I asked what his favorite word was before snapping this shot. The response was classic Isaac..."Electricity!" Nate answered the same question in Eddie Haskell style, "Mommy" and then, "No, actually, Lunch!"

Ah, but let me assure you of their many dimensions. They were discerning and thoughtful shoppers for a person other than themselves. They loved the swings as much as they ever did and took over the playground climbing structure as a ship in search of bad guys. One of their newly made friends was only slightly disappointed when his parents picnicking in the grass were determined to be the nefarious ones.

While we drove, I overheard Nate tell Isaac, "You have really long eyelashes, I bet those will help you get a girlfriend someday." (!?!?)

"Yeah, but I already have a girlfriend." (!?!?)

Isaac observed how pretty a weeping willow tree was, saying he didn't think he had ever seen one. Together we noticed how the sunshine landed on the grand specimen and the pale green of the long leaves. I commented how lovely the willow was when a soft breeze moved through it. Such a thoughtful boy, before we reached the end of the block, he masterminded a plan to dig up the tree and affix it to the top of my car so that the wind in the willow would always be mine, just a glance in the rear view mirror away.

Nicely Done

2011-09-11T19:45:00.000-07:00

The Kook's never looked better.

I sure miss seeing these guys at Sea World.

Blackout

2011-09-08T21:23:00.000-07:00

"Mom, did everyone forget to pay their electricity bill?"

Photo courtesy of Flickr Commons

Aim High

2011-08-31T21:56:00.000-07:00

En route to swimming lessons we drive through an area of town that may have the most intersections and stoplights within one square mile of the city. Invariably there are a lot of cars lined up in every direction. Other than the fact that all of these streets converge in a confusing manner, it's a prime location for people carrying cardboard signs, looking for a little help in tough times.

Yesterday was swimming lesson day. We pulled behind three other cars, stopped and waited for the light to turn green. I noticed a man seated, with a sign, on the right hand side of the intersection. Life had folded his skin rather than creased it. His limbs were long and strong. Dead eyes looked down and around heavy lids, barely up and over the sign he held in his lap. His appearance moved me. I found him courageous.

Nate sits on the right side of the car, and was staring in the direction of the man. This seemed a better time to discuss homelessness than the opportunity we had a few days ago on the Ventura Pier with the batshit crazy drunken loon of a woman lunging toward us screaming, "Hey, where'd you get that kid?? I need to get me one of those!" I'm quite a bit less compassionate when the crazy is unpredictable, scary, and forty feet above waves crashing on rocks...

The light changed and I asked Nate, "What do you think of that guy?"

"I think I can't read his sign."

We traveled passed the man and through the intersection.

"Mom, how does he think he's going to get any money if we can't read his sign? All I can see is 'Need', plus it's all bent up and he's not even pointing it in the right direction."

Hmmm, sorry I asked. A wise woman would ferme la bouche..."It looks like maybe he's had a hard life."

"No, I think he just wants our money."

"Maybe he's having a tough time right now and could use some help."

"No, he looks fine to me; you don't have to worry about him Mom, it's just a jip."

"A what?"

"A jip. He's just trying to jip everyone out of their money so he doesn't have to get a job and actually earn money. He just takes everyone elses."

"I see." Thankfully we were almost to the pool, but not soon enough.

"Mom, the problem with that is that when I get older I think that I may not be very healthy and then no one will give me any money when I ask for it because those guys who actually should get a job are taking all the money and tricking everyone when actually, I will be the one needing the money."

Two And A Half Men (and one wild pup)

2011-08-20T20:16:00.000-07:00

We celebrated our Leo birthdays with Grayson at The Lake this year.

It's become a regular spot.

The boys rented a boat, while Cooper and I hiked, we all picnicked.

They allowed me a few pics, and then they were done with me.

It was a fun afternoon with all my boys together.

Really?

2011-08-10T21:23:00.000-07:00

One of the great things about being mom to my kid is all the great conversations we have. I admit, there are more conversations than I prefer at times. Actually, it's probably that certain conversations simply go on too long. I have not mastered the art of ending them gracefully, that's for sure. I may have even stopped trying. In diplomacy, there is always wiggle room for your opposition to get back in the game. I hope I'm not damaging my son by telling him directly, 'I am not discussing the inner workings of the (DMV)anymore, ever again, period.' Frankly, I think I need to tell him sooner in the process, because sometimes, that's exactly what it is...a long, long process. Also, I must learn to ignore him, they say choosing your battles in marriage and child rearing is key, and I believe it. Letting the battles go is tough though, particularly when all your buttons are being hammered on at once.

I went to a parenting class a few years ago and one of the group exercises was for each person to anonymously write down one of his or her particular parenting challenges and toss it into a hat. Each group then picked problems out of the hat and attempted to give unbiased constructive feedback toward solutions. Generally, a fine idea and lots of great ideas were exchanged. I did not express my challenge adequately. The solution I got to my incessant talker and foolish self imposed requirement to engage fully and answer every thought and whim every time, in every conversation was, ready for this, to give said child my undivided attention, look him in the eye, and tell him, "I care about what you have to say, and I'm willing to listen for 4.5 minutes, then I'm going to make dinner." Really? Was there some slight of hand in there that I completely missed? Does the 4.5 minute bit activate an off switch that nobody told me about? 4.5 minutes is not a problem. 4.5 hours, days or weeks is a problem, depending on the subject matter. Maybe I am a selfish and terrible mother for seeking ways to hush my child's voice, his inquisitive and bright mind, his very curiosity.

Really, I am most interested, dedicated even, to facilitating his interests, helping him find his passion, his expression. With that in mind, we may need to rework the last of the summer hit list. Do they offer summer camp or tours of the post office, DMV, or EDCO?

Drop off tours that is.

"Workin' for a Livin'"

2011-07-14T21:58:00.000-07:00

The late afternoon sun was streaming in, glowing past the sheers fluttering in the breeze. Nate was in the bathtub rinsing the sand and chlorine from his afternoon at surf camp followed by his swimming lesson at our local Boys and Girls Club. I scurried around rinsing and hanging swimming gear, trying to get dinner on the table and meeting the needs of our lonely puppy.

Before long, I heard the water draining from the tub...I took Cooper out to the front yard and when we returned Nate appeared on the steps looking down at me. He was still wet from the bath, wrapped in a fluffy white towel. His skin pink from the afternoon at the beach and eyes that shone from fatigue and tears.

"Mom?"

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

"Mom, it's time."

Oddly, I felt like he was a pregnant wife, needing to get to the hospital. "Time? Time for what?"

"It's time for me to go."

"Go where?"

"Mom, I'm going to miss you every day." Tears rolled.

By this point, I was thoroughly confused, feeling trapped in a melodrama in which one of us was surely doomed. "How about we get you dressed and talk about this some more in your room?" More tears, quiet streaming tears from brilliant blue shining eyes. Tired eyes.

"Mom, it's just time for me to go. I've supported you long enough. It's time for me to move on."

"Oh my, that sounds rough. How is it that you've supported me?"

"You know, growing potatoes and corn for our family, I just can't do it anymore." (It's true, he is getting quite a harvest this year, eight potatoes and 3 ears of corn; grown from an old potato and a bag of microwave popcorn no less.)

"That is hard work. How about Dad and I take care of supporting us from now on and you stick around a while longer?"

"No, I have to go. Now I have to say goodbye to Dad and Cooper." More tears and some wailing...Instead of exiting his room for goodbyes, he shut his door. "August 28 is when I have to leave."

"I'm glad you'll be here for Dad's birthday and our trip to Ventura. Where do you suppose you will go after that?"

He looked at his great big map on the wall and pointed purposefully to Australia, Perth, to be exact. "Wow, that's a long way, how will you get there?"

"Fly. I just have to go, I've supported you too long, I have to go find a job I actually like." (Uh, oh...)

"I was hoping you'd stay with us another 10-12 years, I'm not really done taking care of you and I would miss you very much. Besides, how are you going to afford to fly to Australia, and then where will you live?"

He commenced to pacing around the room, "Mom, that's why I can't leave till August 28, I have to do chores for you to earn money for the plane. Also, a lemonade stand, that should be enough."

"I see, that's an awful lot of chores and lemonade, but it's good to have a plan. Where will you live once you get there? How will you earn money to pay for your life?"

"I will live on a farm and grow vegetables."

"Hmmmm...You do know that Jarrah will be home from Australia by August 28th don't you? How about you just stay here for another ten years?"

"Okay, I will just go to Oregon then, and I will walk there on August 28. I can't stay here any longer, it's just time Mom. And Mom, promise you won't ever move, so I can write you letters every day." More tears and dramatic throwing of himself into my lap. Incidentally, this kind of drama worked better when he was less than fifty pounds.

Shaun came in the room, wondering what all the emoting was about. Nate insisted that I explain, and while I did, he got up from my lap and circled the room, preparing for Shaun's response. I also feared what it might be, not because I don't trust him, but because my own childhood was rearing up. I distinctly remember feeling quite stuck in my own threats of running away as a small child. My mom responded by (eventually?) packing up my flowered suitcase and depositing me on the front stoop. I remember thinking, 'Well, now I really have to go...and where is it I can go?'

Anyway, back to this decade, Shaun's first response was how much he would miss him and then he got into the details of his plan. Travel arrangements, luggage, employment and the like.

Eventually, Shaun said good night and I laid down next to our six year old little supporter. "Guess what?" I asked. "You are not going anywhere without me for a good long time. Daddy and I will support our family and you will live with us till you are all grown up and go off to college, that's it, end of story."

"Mom, can I stay here after, when I'm in college too?"

"Boo"

2011-07-13T22:26:00.000-07:00

This is a common response to my requests lately.

I prefer it to the flat out "no"s that seem to be the alternative.

Freedom and a Wet Blanket

2011-07-04T09:18:00.000-07:00

"The love of one's country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?"
~Pablo Casals

"It's sad that people had to die just so they couldn't boss us around anymore."
~Nate, age 6

I'm pretty sure I am ill equipped to cover the history discussions in this house any further. I hate that my child is grown up enough to know that war exists and that war equals death. The good news is that I am far more upset by the whole thing than he is. It reminds me of the time a few years ago when he was in preschool and told me the story of proclaiming his love to a little girl in his class, only to have her bash him in the head with her lunchbox. I was crushed. My attempts to quell what I assumed was his broken heart, were met with stoicism, "Actually, Mom, she just hates me."

Clearly, I learn much more slowly than he does.

Remember

2011-06-07T06:17:00.000-07:00

Seven years ago, Nate was conceived, in glass, Memorial Day. Not exactly a romantic tale, though someday I think I might embrace it as such, just maybe. It's that type of articulation that makes Shaun slightly crazy, or makes him think I am.

This Memorial Day, I thought of that and also my father's words about the children of today. About how they are learning to be kind and green and oh so politically correct; but are they learning loyalty, honor and love of country?

I think they can learn all of those things, but some take a little more time to manifest. My six year old can argue with me till the cows come home about how he must unplug my computer and let it run on battery, because otherwise the polar bears will surely be extinct by next week. But, I'm not sure he gets it when the occasional tear escapes my eye during most any rendition of our national anthem.

Every Memorial Day, one of the more industrious real estate agents in our area stakes medium sized plastic American flags throughout the neighborhood in the corner of every yard where the driveway meets the sidewalk. Nate checked and rechecked who exactly celebrates Memorial Day, actually he checked and rechecked exactly what countries don't recognize it, which made for an extraordinarily long day. When he was satisfied, he modified the multi-flag flagpole he made last year to include only the appropriate entities, and then stuck it in the front yard to accompany the other. The child can't remember to put his bike in the garage when he's done with it, but was most diligent about bringing his flag in each evening to protect it from ruin in the dew of the night.

We were walking Cooper and discussing the meaning of the day along with many of the freedoms we enjoy as the result of other people's dedication, their ultimate sacrifice, when Nate announced that he was glad not to be celebrating Grandpa on this holiday. Sentimental and smart, just like his Papa.

Later, he secured several precarious flags in miscellaneous yards and I lectured him on the perils of running into the street. Nonchalantly, he joined me back on the sidewalk and said "Well, if I get smooshed, there could be a holiday called 'Nathaniel Day'.

Funny too, both of 'em.

Mother's Day

2011-05-09T19:15:00.000-07:00

Mother's Day was great this year and included a visit from Grayson, lots of homemade cards and envelopes, a framed photo of Nate and Cooper at Fiesta and breakfast in bed. After coffee was delivered to my bedside, Nate requested Dad go get the food while, "I snuggle up with Mommy". Doesn't get much better than that.

And for my rule following boys, this was all kinds of awesome:

Lights Out

2011-05-06T22:10:00.000-07:00

We probably need to start and end the whole bedtime routine much earlier around here. Nate still very much wants to be read to at night, but also often takes it upon himself to do a little reading by the glow of the multi colored Christmas lights still up in his room. Very festive.

Some days he also requests to listen to books on the computer that are part of his reading program at school. His world is a whole lot bigger these days. We had a whole discussion about Lance Armstrong the other day. And this morning he wanted to make sure I knew about all the different sources to make energy. The sun, water and wind are all good sources, he told me, but it's very sad that we use the worst kind of energy that can get used up.

Yes, and when it was time to go to school he insisted that we walk. I told him I really couldn't be that late to work today. Silly me to think that could be the end of it. "Mom, don't you think it's more important to save the earth than to not be late for work?"

"Yeah, well sometimes it's just not practical to save the earth. Now get in the car and buckle up."

Pretty sure I won't get through the weekend without hearing that back at some point, or ten.

Karate Kid

2011-04-23T21:40:00.000-07:00

Of all the activities he's tried, this is the one he's been most excited about.

Zen Master or Thief?

2011-04-17T19:48:00.000-07:00

La Famille

Le Chien

Le fils qui veut apprendre au fil chaud une voiture

"Mom, you have to believe and trust that you can catch the lizard, otherwise you never will."

Run, Faster!

2011-04-17T08:38:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I had the sweet pleasure of some quiet time. Quiet time around here often involves Scooby Doo, so the sweetness is not guilt free--but not this time. This time, Nate decided to make good use out of the reams of scratch paper he acquired when Grandpa cleaned out his office. What does one do with a ream of paper, several glue sticks, scissors, ribbon, straws and miscellaneous other scrap and construction paper? One builds a kite, of course.

I declined his offers to let me help with the design and construction of the kite. I simply disallowed the use of super glue, and promptly left him to his devices.

An hour or so later, he emerged with what he said was a dinosaur kite complete with cutout spots and a lovely red ribbon. Shaun had concerns about how to handle the impending request to now fly the kite down at the bay. We decided to encourage a test run in the alley. I also decided I wanted nothing to do with it given his proclivity to blame me for all sorts of circumstances I had no idea I had control over.

He was easily convinced to give it a try in the alley, but there was no escaping my participation so I braced myself for a meltdown and asked for explicit instruction on how I could assist. Another hour later we were running down the alley and the kite was "flying", a testament to speed rather than construction, but whatever, that pile of papers was flying. A few more times down the alley and papers were flying in many directions.

Happily, Nate reported that each time the kite fell apart, he would simply glue it back together...and he did.

Construction has started on the house at the end of the alley and between kite runs he decided to sneak a use of the port-a-potty on the premises...but don't tell Daddy...what a forbidden thrill!

The next morning I was up with the puppy playing fetch in the backyard when Nate woke and joined us, holding himself. I asked, did he need to use the bathroom and he said, "Yes, but first I have to get my shoes on", (to go down the alley to the port-a-potty).

I wonder how that's going to work with the middle of the night trips to the loo.

"Believe Me"

2011-04-10T23:38:00.000-07:00

I can't believe I had never been.

We'll definitely be back.

When we left Nate confirmed that the $5 entrance fee was worth it, "I will be happy to pay next time Mom, it's beautiful there."

Such a sweet kid, so willing to share his allowance. Too bad, on the way into the park he suggested that we "trick" the attendant and say we lived in the neighborhood so we wouldn't have to pay. There's a whole lotta "trickery" going on in these parts lately.

Saturday Morning Art

2011-04-09T22:15:00.000-07:00

Losing your tv privilege for a week isn't all bad!

There was art, a much awaited trip to the bank to procure an ATM card, the library, PetCo and Fiesta Island. I'm a real disciplinarian. Maybe next time he loses his TV privilege, I'll take him to Disneyland too, that'll teach him!

Kinder Jog-a-Thon

2011-03-30T21:47:00.000-07:00

Today I am grateful for the Jog-a-Thon at school, Nate's enthusiasm for it, his teacher and Shaun who made time to cheer him on when my schedule went haywire. There was some of this:

I'm guessing a fair amount of this:

And then,

with an orange slice and a goal met, it was over.

Swoosh

2011-03-18T06:43:00.000-07:00

I don't remember this ad from Nike, but I'm glad I caught it this go 'round across the blogosphere .

You were born a daughter.
You looked up to your mother.
You looked up to your father.
You looked up at everyone.

You wanted to be a princess.
You thought you were a princess.

You wanted to own a horse.
You wanted to be a horse.
You wanted your brother to be a horse.

You wanted to wear pink.
You never wanted to wear pink.

You wanted to be a Veterinarian.
You wanted to be President.
You wanted to be the President's Veterinarian.

You were picked last for the team.
You were the best one on the team.
You refused to be on the team.

You wanted to be good in algebra.
You hid during algebra.

You wanted the boys to notice you.
You were afraid the boys would notice you.

You started to get acne.
You started to get breasts.
You started to get acne that was bigger than your breasts.

You wouldn't wear a bra.
You couldn't wait to wear a bra.
You couldn't fit into a bra.

You didn't like the way you looked.
You didn't like the way your parents looked.
You didn't want to grow up.

You had your first best friend.
You had your first date.
You had your second best friend.
You had your second first date.

You spent hours on the telephone.

You got kissed.
You got to kiss back.

You went to the prom.
You didn't go to the prom.
You went to the prom with the wrong person.

You spent hours on the telephone.

You fell in love.
You fell in love.
You fell in love.

You lost your best friend.
You lost your other best friend.

You really fell in love.

You became a steady girlfriend.
You became a significant other.

YOU BECAME SIGNIFICANT TO YOURSELF.

Sooner or later, you start taking yourself seriously. You know when you need a break. You know when you need a rest. You know what to get worked up about and what to get rid of. And you know when it's time to take care of yourself, for yourself. To do something that makes you stronger, faster, more complete.

Because you know it's never too late to have a life. And never too late to change one.

JUST DO IT

~Nike

Exit

2011-03-12T08:46:00.000-08:00

I have been fortunate enough to visit the Louvre and frankly, within a half an hour I was looking for the way out. It may be my imagination, and please forgive the sacrilege but I felt a bit captive, much like a newbie in Ikea on a Saturday afternoon; there ain't but one way in and out of that place and if you lose sight of the arrows amongst the chaos, you're kind of screwed.

I'm not sure what about large museums exhausts me so...the crowds of people to negotiate, the echo of foreign language filling cavernous rooms, the pressure to understand the significance in each piece; or maybe it's just all that art and I'm an unappreciative cretin.

Whatever the case, have you seen The Google Art Project? It's kind of amazing, and the escape route is just a click away.

photo July 2010, Tierrasanta

Grocery List

2011-03-03T11:55:00.000-08:00

Annie's Homegrown Mac n Cheese.....$2.09

5 lbs All Purpose Flour.....$4.69

Mission Carb Balance Tortillas.....$6.09

Menu planning with my six year old.....Priceless.

Compare and Contrast...

2011-02-25T21:08:00.000-08:00

"You're better than a twig."

"The only problem about being older is that I will die sooner."

"Your ring is pretty, but not as pretty as you are Mommy."

"I used to tell lies, but now I understand that lies make your life more difficult."

"Real life is better than tv."

"I love you more than the puppy, but the puppy is cuter than you."

"You're better than the world, actually, you are the world."

A Timely Gift:

2011-02-21T10:09:00.000-08:00

"As a single footstep will not make a path on the earth, so a single thought will not make a pathway in the mind. To make a deep physical path, we walk again and again. To make a deep mental path, we must think over and over the kind of thoughts we wish to dominate our lives."
~Henry David Thoreau

Harper Rey

2011-02-19T21:53:00.000-08:00

Words fail me, so I'm gonna stick with the facts.

This is my niece Harper Rey. She was born on Sunday February 13, 2011 at 12:38am. 7lbs 5oz, 20+ inches long. She is really beautiful, and not just because she's my niece.

And baby makes three. This is about 15 hours after the birth, they look great.

Three generations: Grandma, Momma, and Baby Harper.

Also three generations: Momma, Baby Harper and Grandpa.

She has a swirling hairline and her Daddy thinks she's gonna be a great tree climber because at the moment she has the cutest little gecko toes.

Harper's birth-day was two years, to the day, after Terry accepted Jeffrey's marriage proposal. Not sure how he's going to top this!

She seems to settle quickly, doesn't like to be swaddled and likes to sleep on her side stretched out. Oh, and do you see that perfect little round head? That's a story for another day, hopefully one I can get my sister to write and share. Suffice it to say Harper's mom rocks!

"Might As Well Jump"

2011-02-06T20:40:00.000-08:00

It was the Saturday before Easter, though it felt more like the Fourth of July. The air was hot and dry, but more than the weather, was the lure of possibility that only long summer days promise. My roommate, Meg drove us as fast as her little ‘89 Toyota Tercel would take us that morning. We rolled the windows down and rocked out to the classics of Gloria Gainor and the Pointer Sisters for at least two hours before we started our descent into the valley.

Later, the sun burned straight overhead while prop planes whirred against a backdrop of mustard weed and lupine. The scent of eucalyptus floated across the valley. We completed the last of the required classes and signed piles of disclaimers in triplicate. The risks were now quantified and could not be mitigated with one more off key sing-along to Gloria Gainor’s, “I Will Survive”. Even still, knowing the plane could crash, the parachutes may not open, rattlesnakes lurked on the ground, or even tandem instructors potentially becoming incapacitated during the jump—none of it seemed relevant, at least not on paper. Glassy eyed, I tossed all of the disclaimers into the trash barrel at the end of the deck. We took the first of three steps down off the platform and sat shoulder to shoulder and waited, silent.

Meg, who had recently graduated from UCSD with a Mathematics degree, was alert; her eyes darted amongst the injured and disfigured regulars that passed before us. Thankfully, she restrained herself from regaling me with any sort of actuarial hypotheses.

My focus was dulled, having drawn myself into a comfortable state of numb to deal with the dread of what I could see no way out of. I turned toward several deeply weathered guys packing chutes under an awning. They bobbled unlit cigarettes at the outer edges of their lips while calling out endearments disguised as obscenities in volumes much louder than necessary. I wondered vaguely who was responsible for the precise job of folding the expanse of nylon that would prevent me from plummeting to my death.

“We don’t have to do this you know,” I said.

“I know,” she said, “but we are.”

I stared off into the middle distance. Voices became slow and misshapen as if played on a child’s record player at the wrong speed. Splashes of color appeared in the clear blue and floated down like the last bits of confetti on a New Year’s night. Coffee and nerves rotted my gut. I wondered if people actually soiled themselves in moments of great fear and would the five pounds I shaved off of my reported weight result in certain death? When would the bead of sweat making its way across my scalp reach the last row of hair and slide down and around my neck?

I heard my name called. I presume I did as I was told because too soon I was crouched in the open doorway of a plane looking at the patchwork of landscape 13,000 feet below. I gripped the bars on either side of the doorway and leaned back into the chest of the stranger latched to my back. He smelled of Irish Spring and spearmint gum. His hands held onto the bars above mine, his body curved around me as he maneuvered himself into position. Finally, he leaned forward and spoke over the din of the plane, but still soft, almost on my ear, “I won’t ask if you’re ready, we’ll simply go out on my count of three.” I closed my eyes. He rocked back and forth and as promised, on three, we tumbled over and out.

"...my own little sign..."

2010-11-24T22:21:00.000-08:00

Nathan is quite a good reader these days and while it seems crazy that he can read most anything on his bookshelf by himself, I witnessed the progress each step of the way. It's been sort of fantastic. The writing has come on much more suddenly, perhaps because he lacked the fine motor skills previously, but he's getting there. He practices by writing signs and notes for every occasion. His spelling and grammar is amazingly accurate. These are a few recent notes we've gotten:

"thanks for playing with me"

"I read the red the little red hen today is non ficshin"

"Mommy Im wateing for you to print it"

"I have a surprise for you"

Recently he became annoyed with us and he promptly stomped into his room, shut the door, only to reappear moments later to post a sign on his door that read:

"don't come in here"

Requests to watch television or use my computer are incessant and now come in written format as well:

"Can I watch tv I am done with my bike. Love, Nate" (Watch?? Maybe Shaun helped with that one, I'm not sure.)

I suspect there was a Veteran's Day prompt at school for this one, but I still love it:

"I am thankful for my Grandpa soldier"

If you receive an emotive email from me, it may be that my five year old has broken into my email account and feels the need to express himself. Yes, and he knew exactly what he was doing. Somehow, this frightens me. Must password protect my account.

Since the conclusion of his acting class, he has started writing a play about "women going to jail for speeding and making kids fall out of the car on purpose." Hmmm... Also there is a scene about leaves falling and monsters turning children into hammers to pound on the trees, making the leaves fall--a regular nightmare. And then there was this, I sorta prefer it over children falling out of cars. (I give it to you verbatim as I found it on my printer.)

YOUYOUYOUYOUYOU
You are...You are the earth.
I can see you are the best.
Chesty is too and family.
we....we love our cats.
The leaves are falling down on Silly hats and birds
the leaves are falling down.

Parents Are People, Too!

2010-11-20T09:16:00.000-08:00

Written and directed by Jill Costanzo

These kids put on a heck of a show, and had a good time too!

Parents Are People, Too! from David Newman on Vimeo.

Scary Arrived 2010

2010-11-01T07:43:00.000-07:00

This was our most fun Halloween ever! It was the first year Nate was even remotely into the scary aspect of the day; in the past he wasn't too keen on even going into the Halloween costume stores, this year, he couldn't get enough. He contemplated the costumes, tried on all the masks, and eventually had to be pried away from a display involving robotic zombies, bloodied baby dolls and lots of troublesome audio. As much as I pitched the pirate costume, he wanted nothing to do with it. We left with his original idea of a scary ghost. Not entirely secretly, I was pleased that he still looked like my baby angel without the hideous mask on.

Auntie Celine joined us in full awesome costume regalia as is tradition. Also, Sam, David and Jarrah joined us for our first ever neighborhood trick or treating excursion with the Klingers and the gang on M Street. The kids ran at top speed from house to house, each intent on collecting the most poundage their treat bags would hold. It became hysterical to them to wish each house miscellaneous holiday greetings other than Happy Halloween. The laughter was complete joy, none sugar induced, they hadn't had a piece. One house even distributed not just full size candy bars, but the ginormous, king size bars--as if that weren't enough, this festive household also passed out jello shooters for the adults!

Eventually our group found ourselves headed home with nary a complaint from our candy laden ghost and witch.

It was quite an evening.

As an aside, please note the difference in photos taken within seconds of one another. Granted, David may be the better photographer/editor/techie, but still, I covet the camera.

Meet Cynthia

2010-10-21T00:07:00.000-07:00

A few months ago I took a photography class and while I had hoped to simply learn my machine better, the instructor had art in mind. His assignments were thoughtful and could be intense. One week was never enough time to do them justice; even for the people that could devote their entire week with little other distraction.

One of the early, less intense assignments was to use color as our subject. During the critique while viewing my image of some complementary colored kayaks, he asked if I had moved the kayaks in my quest for the colors and position I captured. Of course not, far be it from me to impose myself on a kayaking company in the middle of class, or anytime really. Hell, I was impressed with myself for trespassing the private property sign on the beach to get the proximity I wanted. He reminded us not to be afraid of boldness.

I had had occasion recently to be in the less trendy parts of downtown for several evenings. I was frightened and motivated by the community of homeless people I encountered each of those evenings. Each time I passed under that bridge I cried, my stomach tied in knots, I laid awake thinking of them for hours into the night. I felt a call to do something, but what? I wondered about social programs our city offered, I thought of starting new ones, I thought of statistics and who these people might be and how that profile has likely changed dramatically in recent years. I was determined to do something the very next week I was scheduled to be in the area, and it came to me. I knew how to make a sandwich, these people were homeless and might be hungry, they might like a sandwich. Next, not only did I need to buy a loaf of bread, I needed to figure out why I was terrified, and how I was to get over the hysteria that was quickly layering atop a firm foundation of cowardice. What if I offered someone a sandwich that was neither hungry nor homeless? Now I was going to be insulting people. Perhaps even those that did need or want a sandwich didn't want me assuming they needed or wanted one. Who the hell was I to shine a light on their misfortune by offering them a damn sandwich anyway?

I might have gotten over the sandwich fear, and also facing my own fear of homelessness. But the fear of the unknown in the darkness of the city I did not get over and ultimately aborted the sandwich mission before it ever began.

I did decide to take a drive downtown one luminous Sunday morning with my camera. Later my photo instructor advised us not to photograph the homeless for many reasons, the most poignant of which was that a portrait should be a gift of sorts from the subject, a sharing of themselves and many times, the homeless don't have a lot to give. I'm glad he shared those thoughts after I had already been, as he may have dissuaded me from going. My camera was secondary on my excursion, perhaps a security blanket of sorts. My main purpose was to face what I considered unreasonable fears, in the bright of day.

I'm no master of navigation but it didn't take long to find a few streets lined with people starting their days. I circled the area. I was a stalker, a peeping tom looking in on what I take for granted are relatively quiet, private moments in my world. There were people discreetly changing clothes, having coffee, reading, brushing their teeth, chit chatting with their neighbors and sweeping their sidewalks. I saw more than one person sitting on their bedrolls putting on bright white socks, that really connected me to the experience for some reason. I do love brand new white socks myself. Still I was frightened. There was no way I was going to stroll down that street; it would be like walking through their home uninvited, how rude would that be? Also, I reminded myself sometimes we are fearful because there is actual danger.

Finally, I parked my car, got out and walked down a side street, on the right hand side that was completely uninhabited. I later found out it was uninhabited because the building had an LO8 posted, which is basically a no loitering sign. There were a couple of people that had set up their living space across the street. My intention was to cross over and maybe strike up a conversation with one of them. I don't much like to strike up conversations with any strangers let alone ones that might see me as a threat. I stayed on my side of the street. There was a woman across the way bent over a planter in the sidewalk pouring water over her head. She cared enough to wash over the planter, her run off watering the spindly city tree trying to survive. Back on my side of the street, I passed a warehouse with a large roll up garage type door halfway up. Inside were a good fifty men busting out of their wife beaters all seated in metal fold out chairs listening intently to someone lecturing about how to further thicken their necks. I crossed over and approached who I would learn was Cynthia. By this point she had also brushed her teeth and changed her shirt. There was a faded ring worn into a back pocket of her jeans. She was an ample woman, not young, not old with clear blue eyes and a sprinkling of freckles across her face. In another time and place, she might have been pretty.

First, I walked by. She was gathering her sleep mat and putting it away in her shopping cart. I turned and asked if I could photograph her, I didn't know what else to say. She was abrupt, angry, told me about how just the night before some of the guys from the other street jumped a woman with a camera and smashed it to bits. She wasn't sure about the well being of the woman. I began to relax, just a little, afterall it could have been true. Cynthia then let me know that if she were offered some money, she might be willing to be cooperate. I had expected this and it seemed reasonable so I gave her a few bucks. Her demeanor changed remarkably. She loved to talk and told me all about the routine on the streets of San Diego. Apparently she's been here only three months and moved here (how?) from the streets of Phoenix, AZ. She knows when the van comes to distribute clean needles, knows the beat of all the local police, knows where to get an afternoon shower, the library schedule and an occasional hot meal. She's found a dead body, collects used needles for money, has two kids, likes video games and reads lesbian literature. I learned that the residents on the better streets keep their shopping carts covered with tarps neatly tucked in and sweep their streets every morning to keep things looking tidy so the cops will give them less trouble and not shoo them off.

She spoke of missing her children, they were her security. Her expression darkened and she spit the words of her daughter leaving her just when they approached the top of the list for housing. Without a dependent, she lost her spot and had to go to the end of the line. She said her son was serving our country in Afghanistan. It had been her life's mission to get him in the military. She had tried to get in herself with no success. I've always appreciated the thought that one of the things that connects us, whoever or wherever we are, is that we all love our children the same. I still believe that's true in its depth, but man oh man the business of survival is tough.

Meet Cynthia, she had a lot to give. She gave me a new perspective, helped open my mind and heart and I'm thankful to have met her.

Draw the Line

2010-09-19T22:08:00.000-07:00

Nathan is an affectionate boy, a very affectionate boy. He is quickly identified as "The Hugger" amongst his peers, and if one of his peers has a baby sibling, there is no stopping him, he really loves up the little ones. Some of the time it's sweet, more of the time it's inappropriate and it's a tough situation to parent. Nathan's behavior is not overtly hurting anyone, he wants to hug too long, kiss, hold hands and stroke soft skin--if I don't squash it all out of him first, it could be a great thing in his life someday.

I can't tell you the number of times parents of the other kids will tell Nate or me, "oh it's okay", after I've directed him to unhand their child. It's annoying on several levels. Are we, particularly as women, so programmed to politeness that we condone and even encourage inappropriate behavior towards our daughters? Even when our daughters are clearly uncomfortable? Isn't this the time we teach them to trust their instincts, to respect themselves and demand that others do as well? One mom even told her spitfire smidge of a daughter to stop being rude when the child refused his advances for a hug. I could have cried, not only was it not serving what I was trying to teach, but what about her daughter? Her body and affections were not her own to share as she saw fit? If we don't teach it now, when exactly should we start?

There are a few little girls and one or two moms that support our cause in teaching Nate to "hug and release" as Mrs L used to say. It may just be Jarrah that gets through to him someday. She certainly has affection to share, but when she's had enough, she's had enough and she let's it be known yet holds no grudges.

Whew, that was a tangent...So I've been encouraging Nate to use words or other gestures to show affection. Trust me, the high-five idea is no where near gettin' it for him, but I think he's trying out a line or two on me lately. I've been hearing a lot of "Mommy, you're so cute", and lots of extra I love yous. Tonight after he got out of the bathtub I was drying his hair. He laid several smooches on me, sighed and told me he wanted to marry someone. I responded "Oh yeah, do you have someone in mind already?"

"No, but whoever they are, they can't like pickles."

"No pickles? Why not?"

"Cause I don't like pickle breath, no pickles and no pickle breath."

Well, men too, must have their boundaries it seems.

(Perhaps I should become 'snack mom' and distribute pickles to all of the girls in his class...that might teach him...)

Baby Girl Donaldson--18 weeks

2010-09-17T20:51:00.000-07:00

"...Peace will guide the planets, and love will steer the stars, this is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius..."

"Aquarian Age is thought to bring with it an era of universal brotherhood rooted in reason where it will be possible to solve social problems in a manner equitable to all and with greater opportunity for intellectual and spiritual improvement, since Aquarius is an airy, scientific, and intellectual sign."

Kindergarten...nonfiction

2010-09-07T19:58:00.000-07:00

Nate's first day was a big success, he was even more ready, more confident than I thought he would be. Each of us had a moment, a different moment, of welling up with the traditional kinder tears but there was no sobbing or clinging by anyone.

Some of the things Nate had to say about his first day:

"They just do baby stuff."

"She didn't even pick me."

"Can you sign me up to ride the bus?"

"Can you sign me up to eat cafeteria food?"

"We didn't even get any homework."

The week went on and we've mostly fallen into a routine. I am likely having the toughest time of it due to logistics and work demands. My intention is to come to a better solution, but for now, Nate is happy and Shaun is spending good bonding time to and from school with him.

The "homework packet" has since come home and I've had to limit the amount of time we've spent on it--he's very into this new responsibility and all the "paperwork" involved. The work of the worksheets is well below his capability; the focusing and following directions seem to be worthy endeavors. I am most impressed with the calendar activities from which he is to choose two per week to complete, and the reading log that includes a column to indicate whether the books read are fiction or nonfiction. Nathan brought up a good point, often he is not sure whether his books are true or not, how exactly is he supposed to know? So far, homework has been done at the kitchen table; well, with me at the kitchen table and him climbing, pacing and swinging in the near vicinity. Incidentally, something has been going on with his development because he is has turned into quite the climber. I have found him on top of his dresser, my desk, the tv cabinet, chairs and tables. His preferred position for watching television is now upside down.

We are very grateful for what seems to be another fantastic teacher this year. Many of my concerns about Kindergarten were quelled when Nate complained that, "all we ever do is play". Fabulous.

Run, Don't Walk

2010-09-06T20:08:00.000-07:00

Though it never really arrived, it's now unofficially over. Summer that is. We celebrated with a neighborhood block party yesterday that was a kids' wonderland complete with a ginormous bouncy slide, several motorized vehicles at their disposal, and 192 pounds of sugary treats with a side of hot dog.

We kicked our summer off with a similar walk through the neighborhood, pulling our otherwise unused gardening cart to the cul de sac piled high with BYOWhatnots and Nate cruising on his scooter, while I yelled across the neighborhood for him to slow down, that this is a busy street. Ahhh, motherhood.

We planted and tended our first garden this spring and summer. I thought our harvest was respectable for a first try. We were in tomatoes all summer long, and also had strawberries, beans, pumpkins, carrots and bell peppers. Two of my favorite sights in our little garden were Nathan picking the fruits and veggies right off the vine, popping them in his mouth and the exclamations that followed; and second, a bunny nibbling at our carrot greens! A bunny sighting is not a common occurrence in our urban setting. We also started composting with red wiggler worms this summer. I'm certain they have reproduced, so I'm thinking they're thriving, but Nate and I are both unsure of "which part of this is the compost?"

Shaun taught Nate to ride his bike without training wheels this summer. He is proficient enough now not to require someone running madly alongside him. That's arguable though since when he becomes fatigued he will invariably smash right into any obstacle in his path. Not a great thing when it's Labor Day at the bay.

Nate had his first root beer in Ventura and lost his first tooth at Grandma and Grandpa's house. Sentimental guy that he is, he didn't want to give it up to the tooth fairy.

Auntie Terry and Uncle Jeff are expecting their first baby in February. Just this morning, with no provocation whatsoever Nate asked, "How big is the baby now?" He loves the baby stories.

We played our first round of miniature golf together, rode our first big roller coasters (he thought he would get to sit in my lap), and stayed awake for his first Padre game. As I was explaining what was going on, not surprisingly, Mr. Literal questioned the running around the bases to home bit. "They aren't going to run to their actual homes are they?"

Nate's been interested in earning money in the past and has earned prizes this summer and previous Summers doing the library reading program, so he definitely understands the concept of it. Another first this summer is his detour away from PBS Kids television channel. Yes, now he wants to watch vile characters doing evil non-kid things and to top it off, these new channels have...commercials...so now there's a whole new world of things that he must have. "Actually, Mommy I don't want a Pillow Pet, I need a Pillow Pet."

"You need one, huh? And how much do they cost?"

"$19.95 plus shipping and handling. And, they are machine washable and guaranteed for 60 days."

"Do you have $19.95?"

"No."

"Well, if you want, we could probably work something out, but you may not want to and that's fine; you can just put the Pillow Pet on your birthday wish list."

From there he proceeded to make his own behavior/earning/Pillow Pet chart complete with the days of the week labeled on the left and a cutout of the advertisement he found in the Toys R Us circular taped to the top. He worked the majority of the summer for that damn pillow and let me tell you, it was a proud day when he earned the final mark and knew a trip to Toys R Us was in store that afternoon. I was pretty proud of us too.

I think maybe the best first of the summer is the full blown reading. It's been coming in bits and pieces for some time, but now, there's no denying it. While the accomplishment he feels is evident, it goes well beyond cracking the code. He reads aloud with expression, appropriate intonations, questions what he doesn't understand, and especially with any Mo Willems books, there is giggling.

There are other firsts that make a mother a tad less proud and more perplexed, infuriated, and triggered but this is not the time or place...

Tomorrow begins a new first, Kindergarten.

Between rounds of Scrabble, laundry and Candyland we asked Nate if he wanted to walk or drive to school tomorrow. "Walk, well--actually run, because the bell rings at 8:58am

Oh Yeah

2010-08-18T07:12:00.001-07:00

"As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them."
~John F. Kennedy

Pirates and Pendants

2010-07-19T21:30:00.000-07:00

I was pretty sure Shaun would be stuck home working while Nate and I headed up the coast to visit my sister and brother in law in Ventura, so I decided to splurge on our room. That doesn't sound right, but basically since I wouldn't have the comfort of my usual personal navigator, I wanted the comfort of familiarity in our accommodation and location. When our regular spot was booked, I reserved a room down the street, due West, thank you very much.

I must be getting anxious in my old age because almost immediately after hitting "reserve", I began to consider the earthquakes we've had lately and from earthquakes come tsunamis and a room in the sky overlooking the ocean may not be the ideal spot to be in such a circumstance. I hoped for above ground parking at the hotel and wondered if Ventura had installed the tsunami escape route signs that dot our own beach town landscape. I am acutely aware of just how wack these new anxieties of mine are, yet somehow they ebb and flow amongst the rest of the clutter in my head.

Nate has always been a trouper on a road trip and this time was not much different, with the exception of a few cases of role reversal. I was called upon to answer the age old classic question from the back seat, "Are we there yet?" at least a dozen times. Also, on the way home, when I got lost, he informed me that he knew how to do directions better than I did. Yeah, that's not really a tough contest to win with me.

Once we arrived I could scarcely get him to leave the hotel room. The kid loves hotels, figuring out every piece of new equipment in his reach, and arranging everything to his liking. This tests my patience much as it is tested with his father anytime we rent a car. He also must test every operation of the vehicle before we leave the rental garage. I'm certain I should count myself lucky that he doesn't peruse the owner's manual before inserting the key in the ignition, but I don't. Instead, I roll my eyes, do a lot of sighing, and think how much further along in our journey we could be if only these tedious details could be figured out in the event they were actually required. Yes, this from the woman who didn't bother to bring a map with her for a road trip with her five year old and proceeded to make a seventy mile, two hour mistake en route home.

Eventually, we made it out to the playground on the beach and met Terry and her friend there shortly after. It was really cool to see Terry share her pregnancy news with a very enthusiastic friend, who is a new mom herself. Jeff met us later and we all went downtown for a lovely dinner.

Saturday was a big day. We slept in and read and watched cartoons followed by breakfast at Nona's at Nathan's request. Next we played text tag with Terry and headed for a stroll through the the farmers' market.

The Ventura Farmer's market is much smaller than ours which is great in that there are way fewer people to jostle about with in the crowd. There are also way fewer farmers offering tastes of their crops since there is much less competition amongst them. Dreads, new age hippies, and folk music made it feel just like home. We stopped to listen to two gals playing Irish country tunes when Nathan promptly demanded money to show his appreciation. I suggested he give them the dollar I knew was in his pocket. There was no hesitation, "I want to give them your money not my money."

Occasionally I know when to pick my battles so I forked over a buck and after a few more songs I pulled Nathan aside and decided it was time he had some spending money of his own. I was feeling bold and curious so I asked him how much money he would like for the weekend. He thought for a good while and wide eyed answered, "ten dollars".

"Whoa, that is a lot of money, how 'bout I give you five instead and you can add it to the one in your pocket, then how much would you have?"

"Six bucks."

"Is that good?"

"Good."

I had it on good authority that the coolest candy and soda pop shop in town was a mere couple of blocks away. Primed and ready, we were off.

There was much browsing and calculating, in the end I was pleased that Nathan chose to spend the bulk of his cash on a small toy instead of a red lacquered bucketful of sugar. It was extra thrilling when the leathery man behind the cash register gave him the candy portion of his purchase since the cash register wouldn't ring it up. Yup, .29 and a balloon made his day.

We met up with Terry and Jeff for more strolling and then a relaxing couple of hours in the park. Nathan had a blast with his Uncle Jeff while Terry and I lounged and chatted in the sunshine. She got to witness Nathan's friend making technique of silently approaching a smaller child and either gently taking their hand, or if he is really enamored, trying hug the child while lifting him or her from the ground. Usually I intervene before the picking up of children, at which time he proclaims his love. If the little one continues to hold his hand or hug him, he is most certain of their love of him.

Next Nathan and I went to the Harbor for Pirate Days, where we met Jack Sparrow...several times.

The slides and jumpers invigorated my boy.

When he ran out of tickets he did his own interpretive dance for a good 45 minutes next to this guy on the otherwise unoccupied pirate sound stage.

We ended the day at Terry and Jeff's for dinner. Turns out my brother-in-law is a good cook and an even better garage/studio designer. It was fun to see their space and some of her works in progress along with pieces from her peers.

One might think I should have been showering my sister with gifts being that she is newly pregnant with a birthday approaching and one would be correct; but this night I was to be the recipient.

Nearly a year ago, I became a certified, ordained Reverend in the interest of serving as officiant in Terry and Jeff's wedding. While I was honored to accept the job, I was terrified on many levels. Perhaps there is another post in this whole experience, but for now, I'll just say I spent a good amount of time on it--where good amount of time, means every spare moment during the month of August 2009. They had a beautiful wedding and I was relieved not to have crumbled into a blubbering mess at the top of the mountain.

As if the whole experience were not gift enough, they touched me deeply after dinner with thoughtful words and gifts, perfect mementos of the day.

Sunday morning, before we headed back home we had breakfast in a super cool courtyard restaurant in Midtown and took in the views from a hilltop over Ventura.

Nathan is a sweet affectionate boy and shall we say...has a soft spot for babies...I suspect Auntie T was getting a little extra lovin' for the peanut too.

Congratulations to Terry and Jeffrey, I couldn't be happier for you and for all of us.

Tour de Palomar

2010-07-10T19:45:00.000-07:00

photo by Michael

They made it! Maybe I should he made it! My dad and Michael have been training for a tad longer than the last two weeks, so there wasn't much doubt they would make it. Shaun showed up late to this party, but with some encouragement, sheer determination and the fact that he's a stud, he climbed a mountain today.

Grey Skies and Career Choices

2010-07-10T10:00:00.000-07:00

Determined to spend some time at the beach this summer despite the depressing weather, we packed our parkas and headed out.

It was a little odd to find the beach very much occupied. Normally when our skies are this grey, it is the dead of winter. Foolishly I expected it to be as deserted as one would expect in February. Instead of umbrellas jutting out from the sand and brightening the scene, beach towels wrapped the locals. Tourists were making the best of it, some even romping about in the ocean.

Nate made good use of the playground and I got to play around a little with my camera entirely in the manual mode which was a first for me.

Earlier that morning we had picked up a new photography book at the UCSD bookstore. Nate was very much intimidated by the campus, I'm sure because his point of reference for Grayson's school was his own preschool, or maybe the elementary school he has visited a few times and will be attending in the fall.

I'm certain he has now reconsidered the notion that he will simply attend Kindergarten and First Grade and then head off to college; but he is steadfast in the decision to attend UCSD at some point. He is clear that he will not be an engineer like his brother, that job description is a bit elusive. Nor will he be a doctor because they give shots and hurt babies. It was a tough decision between being a Veterinarian or a Zoo Keeper, but the decision is made. He has deduced that though a Vet gets to spend lots of time with animals, their owners eventually (usually) take them home, while a Zoo Keeper's animals will always stay at the zoo with him. So it's settled then.

Verklempt...A Kindergartner in our Midst

2010-06-24T18:57:00.000-07:00

Dear Mrs Landis and Ms Jennifer,

If I were more creative and a much better wordsmith, I might fashion this note into a little ditty, but instead of “Waltzing Matilda” or “Ten Little Indians” it would be to the tune of “All the Single Ladies”, and I’m thinking it would be a movement song, yes there would definitely be dancing.

I might include lyrics about all the many things you taught Nathan. I‘d sing about the conversations your lessons inspired across our extended family. I’d tell of your tireless energy, your creative and ever-changing materials in the classroom. I’d weave something in about the great fun celebrated at every holiday, the butterflies, the puppies and so much more. The refrain would have a catchy melody and would express my deepest gratitude for giving my boy a safe, happy, rich environment to blossom in so many ways.

He leaves you not only with solid footing for kindergarten, but for real life. He’s not yet the king of coloring, but he did draw a blueprint for the “every-wary” (aviary) he intends to build. His love and knowledge of animals has been more than nurtured in your classroom, if he had it his way, we would have ten of every classroom pet at home—plus a “bone” constrictor, of course.

Nate can take hours to get through his morning routine if I let him, but he can apply knowledge and logic with confidence. Recently he was having a conversation with his Grandma about potential vacation spots. He asked where she’d like to go and she responded Belize. Without missing a beat, he said, no let’s go somewhere on a different continent. That one had several members of the family whipping out their iphones!

His mind may wander, but there have been more than one occasion that I asked him if Mrs. Landis or Ms Jennifer taught him xyz and he responded no, but she taught it to Suzy Q and I was listening. He can even apply humor to the lessons; he’s been known to refer to his girl-friends as fe-mammals and informed me during a sleepover that he and his friend would be staying up all night long, ‘cause they ‘re nocturnal (insert maniacal laughter here).

You fed his passions and his desire to learn. You taught kindness, grace, spirit, and dealt with some tough real life situations. You reminded me the infamous day of the fish funeral that most often it’s best just to keep it real with kids—they can handle it. Yes they can. Sometimes I have a hard time. Did I tell you when our dog died right before the fish incident; I tried to keep it real? Many conversations about death, cremation and locations of ashes followed. He asked poignant questions and much to both our horror, I answered them. After he thought about it all for a while, he bounded back up the stairs with a few nonchalant follow up questions, “Mommy, are we gonna get cooked up when we die? Who will get the ashes if we’re all dead and cooked?” Oy vey.

Apparently Nate is not the only one who lacks economy of words at times. I guess I am trying to say thank you both for all you’ve done and for making our decision to change schools this last year, one of the best parenting decisions we’ve made.

Sincerely,

Stephanie and Shaun

Happy Father's Day

2010-06-20T20:56:00.000-07:00

Next up...Money and Politics

2010-06-02T21:15:00.000-07:00

A few years ago Shaun was reading something of Eldon Taylor's wherein he makes a short reference to Mark Twain's Letters From The Earth. I haven't been able to find the exact reference, but I am intrigued to learn more after a couple of brief strolls through it. Taylor talks about the part of the work in which the archangels are deciding where to hide God. It is suggested that they hide Him on the moon or deep beneath the surface of the sea and so forth. Each suggestion eventually leads the archangels to conclude that man is too smart for that--sooner or later they would find God. Finally, they decide to hide God within every human being; for the last place mankind will look, is within.

We thought that was pretty profound, concise, and on target with some of our own beliefs.

So tonight I had occasion to revisit that bit of history and share a new moment with Nathan. (Nate, I should say. He has requested that I let his kindergarten teacher know that he prefers to be called Nate, not Nathan or Nathaniel; it's Nate, thank you very much.)

When Nate moved from his crib to a full on bed when he was two and a half I think, I made what has sometimes been called a mistake. I started laying down with him to help him go to sleep. We went cold turkey on the pacifier at the same time; it was a tough transition. Anyway, we often still lay down with him. I like to think it's on our terms not his, as there are nights that we don't do it and it's fine. There are also nights that I am walking him back to his bed five times, but whatever... Nights when I do lay with him there are often golden nuggets bestowed on me and I am so happy that I haven't taken a hard line on bedtime. He tells me about his day, pets he wants to acquire and places he wants to go. Tonight was no different. He told me all about how much he loves Mika and Dillon from the "baby class", how to spell all variations of his name--forward and backwards and then he told me that Gabriel (his classmate, not an angel) thinks that God lives in the sky. "Oh yeah? And what do you think?"

"I think He lives right in my heart. Good night Mommy."

"G'nite Bug."

Understatement

2010-05-28T21:52:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, I want you to make me a little brother or sister."

"Oh, that would be nice, but it's not going to happen Hon."

"But I want it."

"There's this song, I think you've heard it a time or a hundred...you can't always get what you want..."

Relentless, "Why not?"

"Because sometimes a person's body won't do what you want it to."

"But Mommy, did you go to the doctor?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact I did."

"Well, I think you should try again."

Take me home, country road...

2010-05-20T21:22:00.000-07:00

We had the good fortune of spending the afternoon at a friend's house today. This is not your typical San Diego county home. I would call it New England Farmhouse in style. They have a full basement, a front porch and decks across the entire rear of the home from which to appreciate the country views of rolling hills all the way to the Pacific Ocean. Adirondack chairs, lanterns, a fire pit and thick planks of salvaged lumber make for outdoor dining and entertainment. Oh, and Kathleen and Rick have a few pets. Here is the latest addition to their family, a sweet puppy named Cassie:

Next we met Charlotte:

Molly may have been my favorite:

We fed the sheep,

and chickens.

Nate even got to check the nest boxes in the hen house for eggs. He scored and got to take home his booty.

Speaking of booty, the garden was in full production and gorgeous. We came home with a bag full of basil, onions, carrots, cabbage, and swiss chard. Delicious.

I guess I'm a country girl at heart because I love this place. I am so grateful for such a wonderful afternoon and getting to see my son running down country roads, across fields, and me being more fearful of a snake bite than oncoming traffic.

Incidentally, the next morning before I cracked those farm eggs for Nathan's breakfast he was quick to stop me..."Wait! What if Kathleen gave us the wrong kind of eggs, what if there are chicks in them? I don't want to kill the chicks, I want to wait for them to hatch!" I reminded him of a few things and pointed out there was not a rooster in the hen house...So my child is making it his mission to supply one rooster for every hen in the house so they can all get married and have baby chicks, because that would be so cute, and one could fit right in his hand dontcha know?

Many thanks to Bonny for the idea and to Kathleen and Rick for their generous hospitality.

Spa Sunday?

2010-05-05T21:33:00.001-07:00

It's been a pretty good run, but it's over now. I have been deemed the baddest, meanest mother ever made. Apparently, there is no laughing, playing or fun around here at all, ever.

I, in fact, ruin everything. He had no choice but to call off Mother's Day. There will be no more flowers for me, my garden will soon be pulled out, and rats will fill my home. Howz that for a Mother's Day greeting? When I tell him not to speak to me with disrespect, I am informed that that makes me even meaner.

On the way to swimming lessons, he asked me for another batch of caterpillars and I foolishly let a bit of sarcasm slip and responded that maybe he should ask some other nice mommy. With no sarcasm of his own, he said, "ok, I'll ask your mommy."

Fantastic, maybe she will also house the mice, lizards, and birds you want; give you your dinner right now; and let you give the cats "bathez" each morning before the sunrise. Yes, that sounds pretty good about now.

Consequences

2010-05-02T07:32:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, I am getting you a lot of new pets for your birthday. We are going to do it in steps, and today, we are going to get the food and toys. So do you want to get rabbit food, bearded dragon food, or bird food?"

"Uh, none thank you, I think the kittens we got two weeks ago are quite enough for now."

"Mommy, I gave you your choices and if you keep saying none, that means we are going to get even more pets. It's time to go to Petco, which did you choose; a rabbit, bearded dragon, or a bird?"

"I am not going to Petco and we are not getting any more pets today."

"Mommy, if you don't do as I say, there will be a consequence and I don't think you will like it...no birthday party for you. Do you understand that means no cake?"

Tessie and Shelby

2010-04-18T22:44:00.000-07:00

Approximately 48 hours after we had Chippy Fight Fight home, we were informed that Beta Fish were boring. Then we received our caterpillars in the mail which were slightly more exciting as they can be carried all around the house by their proud master watching for all stages of the grand metamorphosis, a concept and a word Nate's been familiar with for a couple of years now. Somehow the discussions started pointing towards a more interactive, pettable pet and this morning when I got out of the shower a very excited five year old barged in on me and told me all about how we were getting a cat today. He didn't stop talking or jumping up and down about it for a good ten minutes. The next time I want something, I must remember to put Nathan on the job, because moments later Shaun joined the party and confirmed it was true; we were getting a cat today.

What? Just one? That's just not how we roll. Meet Tessie and Shelby, female littermates, seven months old. So far they seem easy going, tolerant and happy.

Granted, we are the adults and parents in this house and we make the decisions gosh darn it; but the fact remains we are both more dog than cat people and Nathan was quick to ask when we could take the kitties for a walk to Isaac's house. Also, when were we getting a dog to see how they all get along?

Yeah, I think I'll take the over on that one.

Testing, testing...

2010-04-11T19:39:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, I don't love you any more."

"You do too."

"No, I really don't."

"Oh, why do you suppose that is?"

"Because you broke my heart."

"Oh no, how did I do that?"

"Because I love you too much and it broke my heart."

At this I broke into the biggest, most dramatic sobbing I could muster and thankfully garnered laughter and assurances that he was kidding. Whew, that was close.

Frogs and Snails and Puppy Dog Tails

2010-04-07T22:09:00.000-07:00

It's been pretty clear there's a little boy in our midst lately. I've found rocks in my dryer, there's been chugging of milk right from the jug, earthworm collections, pet snails, thumbs smashed with hammers, exorbitant amounts of time spent in the bathroom and new notions of competition and speed.

He still has an answer for most things, like when he explained to me months ago why "there are no more fairies, none of any kind", it seems "they were from a long time ago and they got old and they died and that's it, there are no more and never will be." This even before the constant talk of death in our home...

If we give him a direct instruction, a global rule, such as, don't climb over the stair railing. He may or may not comply, but there will always be an entire explanation of precisely when that behavior might be necessary and acceptable. I know I'm in trouble when I hear, "Except when....there's a fire and I have to jump down to not get burned up and killed..."

He has a burgeoning sense of humor with the expected knock knock jokes that usually make no sense whatsoever. Though I did get a kick out of the first joke he told us last summer, where he learned it, I have no idea.

"Why did the chicken cross the playground?"

I surely didn't know.

"To get to the other slide!"

All hilarity breaks loose lately when he burps and I remind him, "What do you say after you burp?"

"I say...fuuuuuu-nnnnnnnnny!"

The bathroom humor can go as far as I'm concerned, but the smart humor, I'm convinced can take a person places. A couple of months ago, Jarrah spent the night and when I went in to shush them well after bedtime, Nathan informed me they would be "staying up all night long because we are nocturnal!"

Our little boy has also become quite the protector. He has offered to protect me more than once when I've expressed misgivings about doing something. We went to the holiday light extravaganza at the zoo and Nathan really wanted to try ice skating. Having never been on ice skates myself, I didn't feel competent enough to try it for the first time on my own with him and on some sort of pseudo plastic "ice" to boot. "Don't worry Mommy, I'll protect you, I'll help you." Oh, okay then! This actually gave me pause, why would he offer to protect me? Have I not made our roles clear and safe for him? Am I putting some weird emotional burden on my kid? I like to think not. I like to think he's sensitive and smart and wanted to go ice skating. Too bad for him, maybe next year.

Ah yes, sensitive Nathan. "Mommy, put Puff the Magic Dragon on the cd player. I will play this song for Grandma and Grandpa's dog. It is gentle, Chesty will like how it pets him."

And if you don't happen to have a beard, he may stroke your jaw or put his soft cheek against yours and tell you he loves your face, and guess what? He means it.

His speech is punctuated with more "guess whats?" and "except whens" than even the "Actuallys..." lately. His vocabulary is vast and he doesn't hesitate to stop all conversation or story telling to ask "What means that?" and if he doesn't understand your explanation, he will barrage you with questions until his understanding is complete. Most assuredly he will utilize that new word at the next opportunity to do so. Also, he spells the answers to the simplest questions lately. I'm ready for the novelty to wear off of this one sooner than later, though I'm pretty damn happy to get a response once in awhile.

It's no surprise that his teacher refers to him as a reader, nor that the first words he learned to write on his own after mastering his own name were I love you. His fine motor skills are getting where we want them to be for kindergarten next year and he is now enjoying writing, coloring and drawing way more than ever before. The occupational therapist Nathan saw for torticollis when he was a baby pointed out what now seems obvious, that babies or kids (all of us?) simply don't do what is difficult. There are some things that I thought weren't of much interest to Nathan, such as coloring or riding his tricycle, I'm learning those may have been some of the things that were simply difficult in terms of his unique development.

Nathan remains enthralled with all babies and requests me to have many more on a regular basis. With his recent study of birds, amphibians and reptiles he seems to have forgotten our Its Not The Stork book and discussions for the moment. A couple of days ago he told me he wanted me to lay another baby.

And the music, holy cow, it never ends. Now, with his current teacher he still sings constantly, but the songs are educational and fun. I've learned about the layers of the earth, the continents and so much more. Mostly the songs he comes home with are a peek into what goes on during his days at school, and that, I cherish.

As gentle and kind as he can be, I am pleased to see indications of boundaries put in place. He doesn't try to impress me by copying my tastes. In fact, if I say I don't care for something, he will tell me he doesn't like it either, actually, he loves it! Once I told him the cool way to wear a shirt and he promptly told me he didn't care about the "cool" way, he wanted to wear it the "Nathan" way.

Emotions are running rampant for him the beginning of this sixth year, and man oh man do they swing from one extreme to the other. The rumblings are pretty obvious before he blows, but the challenge remains how to negotiate that fine line between providing a safe place to let go and disciplining unacceptable behavior, and oh yeah, not losing it myself...there's that.

Slowly, I'm learning the peace in accepting the paradoxes in life and in parenting. Sometimes it feels entirely odd and perfect that my child should be so responsible for bringing many of my life's lessons out of the dark caverns of my head and into the reality of our days. I suppose the simple notion that with parenting comes deliberate action is bound to nudge lots of stuff into the light.

I'm reminded of the night after Nathan's birth. He was about sixteen hours old, it was the middle of the night and he lay in a roll away bassinet next to my hospital bed. Shaun was in the bed across the room. Our new baby cried. Shaun slept. The birth had not been easy on either of us. I was severely limited in my physical movements, so I reached out and put my whole hand firmly across his tiny body. In the same moment I felt a fool for thinking such a simple act would be of any comfort and knowing without question it would. It was that moment that I became a mother, and then, we slept.

Seriously?

2010-04-04T22:32:00.000-07:00

A few years ago I had a discussion with a friend about how to present religion and/or spirituality to our young children. Neither of us was raised with any particular religious doctrines, but both in families that imparted strong morals. This conversation barely nibbled at the surface of what I consider to be intensely important stuff to define for myself and in turn present to my child, but that is not the topic of this post. At a minimum we agreed that exposure to the different religions of the world was a positive thing. Indeed, this practice would give our children the tools with which to make their own decisions and it would foster tolerance and open mindedness.

My friend thoughtfully followed this discussion up with the gift of a children's Bible, My First Read and Learn Bible, it is a board book designed for very young children. I appreciated it very much and certainly I must have read it many times to Nathan as a baby and young toddler. I admit, I often pay no attention whatsoever to what I am reading in those last minutes of parental duty at the end of the day. The book remains on Nathan's shelf and he chose it for the first time in a long while recently. This time I was paying attention, and my education commenced. We read the story of creation and then about Noah and all was well, even I knew these tales. And then came the story of Moses. Disney taught me to be wary of death and destruction designed for babes, so why I was aghast at this Babies Bible, I'm not entirely sure. I read a little ahead and changed the words a bit to be...what? More palatable? With less murder and abandonment? In my disbelief I didn't do a very effective job distracting him and he didn't stand for me simply turning the page in response to his questions about why Moses' mother would put him in a basket and send him down the river. Oh, because otherwise, he would have been killed...Seriously. The best I could come up with was she couldn't take care of him any more so she sent him to this other mommy who could take very good care of him. Huh? Nathan doesn't take the brush off very well and proceeded to turn the page back several times to more fully analyze the pictures that went along with the sorry job I did of changing the story. "And why in this picture the Mommy is crying and the baby is sleeping and happy when she pushes him away, and over here the baby is crying and the new mommy is so happy?" And who is the woman hiding in the bushes in both pictures stalking everyone?? Good lord, I knew I was disrespecting a lot of people's beliefs when I quelled his concerns by telling him, don't worry this is just a story, it's not true, and in any case I don't think it's a good story for kids.

He insisted we finish the book, and since my insecurities told me I was being ridiculous, I forged onward to David and Goliath. Excellent lessons to teach our children, fighting and killing in the name of god is well and good--brave even. Oh, but the coup de gras, the icing on top of the king's cake was the story of Daniel and the Lions. Are you familiar? Surely I must have skipped these pages in prior readings; how is this book still in my home? Censorship? I'm thinkin' yes; for now anyway. May I quote? Don't mind if I do. "The jealous men wanted to get rid of Daniel. They made him go into a pit with hungry lions." Seriously. I am not making this up. And the best part--I was so relieved; Daniel was spared by the hungry lions, and the wise among you know, it was his faith in God that saved him! Yes! These are just the lessons I want to indoctrinate my child with.

I find it disconcerting that the most inappropriate, violent book on my child's shelf is a Bible, a Baby Board Book Bible no less.

In the interest of full disclosure, I admit we may be a slightly hypersensitive. Shaun and I like to believe our sensitivities are in response to what is appropriate for our particular child, but we are open to the consideration that we may be a little nuts. Really though, do you know the opening line of Charlotte's Web is "Where's Papa going with that ax?" And even Beatrix Potter weaves a story around skinned and beheaded Flopsy Bunnies--it's downright disturbing I say.

Le Bavardage

2010-04-01T23:09:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, I love you, but I'm running away. Actually, I'm walking, I'm walking to France to find Grandma."

"Pinky Promise?"

"Mommy, if you don't let me watch tv, I think you're going to have very bad luck."

Le Poisson

2010-04-01T21:55:00.001-07:00

After a fair amount of discussion and one in particular in which I let Nathan know that the progress of his grief over the loss of Jake was not in fact, the deciding factor as to how quickly we would acquire a new pet, (I dread the day I cannot see through his manipulations.) we are the proud new owners of a turquoise beta fighting fish.

Meet Chip Fishy Fish, sometimes known as Chippy Fish Fish. Shaun wondered if the name was chosen with Fish and Chips in mind...no, Nathan happened to have been eating a tortilla chip during the naming process is all. Chip's name could have just as easily been yogurt or tomato or quesadilla. We're a creative bunch.

Chip is finally getting accustomed to his new bowl, or cage, as Nathan likes to call it, after having been sloshed around in the take home tupperware-like container for the first few hours as Nathan carried him around wherever he went. Little Chippy didn't come with any care instructions, but Nathan is creating his own manual and posting it page by page all in the vicinity of the Chipster's bowl, lest we forget vital tips like he prefers it quiet or that people food is detrimental to his well being. He is also concerned about the fish's emotional needs and has provided a frog for friendship and written him a love note. He's also a little concerned about gender identity and the possibilities therein.

"Mommy, if Chip Fishy Fish is actually a gwirl and she lays eggs, will she fight with her baby fish till they're all dead?"

Supporting the Arts

2010-03-27T20:25:00.000-07:00

There was a little of this:

A lot of that:

And now there's this:

A street performer is borne...note the tambourine played with his foot and of course the piggy bank...

Mary Mary Quite Contrary

2010-03-25T23:23:00.000-07:00

Grandpa Tony, my Sicilian grandfather was a produce man his entire life. He started out helping his own father deliver produce to his village in a horse drawn wagon. He and his family immigrated when he was young boy and settled in Portland. As a young man, he and two Italiano partners opened a produce store that maintains a storefront today--no longer a produce market, but the structure is still there.

When I was a child and Grandma and Grandpa came to visit, I was embarrassed to be seen with these people, my family, at the airport baggage claim--had they no cooth travelling with worn produce boxes wrapped in tattered cords? There was no escaping it. Today, I might follow an old Italian home for what that box contained--home grown citrus, tomatoes, and braids of garlic. The peppery salami was the piece de resistance and would become the subject of my dad getting schooled in the value and technique of the thinnest slices possible. The education came with plenty of tastes and no doubt a few icy brews along the way, not a bad trade.

Grandpa was the vegetable man and Grandma had gorgeous flower beds. So proud was she of those gardens, she posed with them and sent photos to us on a regular basis. I thought it curious. I also found it curious that my grandfather recorded the day's temperature everyday, probably for decades. My parents also had gardens, my interest in which was so minimal, I don't know which of them was the gardener or if it was a shared hobby. I suspect they manned their own plots. I do remember my mother announcing on a semi regular basis, or maybe just once, that all of the tomatoes and cucumbers in the evening salad were products of our own garden. Whatever, I wasn't impressed; seemed a little bitter if you asked me, but nobody ever did. I was a delightful child.

Vegetables became only slightly more interesting as I entered adulthood. Once I had my own house, non-vegetable related working in the yard became a relaxing hobby. I mostly tended what was already there, though once I tried to grow tulips--from bulbs. Did I mention that I like immediate gratification? Yeah, that, combined with my ineptitude as a gardener did not give me a bed of candy colored blooms by Easter, or ever, for that matter. First, I couldn't determine which end of the bulb was up, then I couldn't decide if I should plant them consistently, or just toss them in willy nilly and hope they would figure it the hell out. My anxiety over the whole matter became more and more clear when I made it my job to dig the damn things up every chance I had. Were they growing? Were the roots growing down and the sprouts up? What about the temperature and moisture level of the soil? Yeah, that didn't work out too well. Incidentally, I'm pretty sure I have some odd disability that turns images around in my befuddled brain, dyslexia you say? Maybe, but it doesn't happen so much with letters; tulip bulbs and turkey breasts, yes. The few times I have cooked a bird, the simple instruction to place the bird in the roasting pan breast side up has given me great pause. Perhaps my organic birds have not been pumped up to Pamela Anderson proportion, or maybe after I've manhandled the poor things in the sink, they're a tad misshapen, but still. Do you think it's typical to conjure the bird back on it's feet in order to figure out where it's chest is? Frankly that method isn't even fool proof, and the fact that they shove the chopped off neck in some random other cavity, is downright confusing, but I digress.

For Nathan's second birthday, my parents gave him all the accouterments for his very own garden. Tools, container, soil, plenty of seeds...the whole thing. We planted and tended this miniature plot and even saw sprouts come up. I didn't insist that he maintain the integrity of his garden and if he wanted to rake it all up, replant it a hundred times and water it fourteen gallons of water per day, that's what he did. He was two.

Three years later, Nathan and I were working in the teeny tiny bit of soil we have in our current back yard. We were pulling weeds and cleaning up his smidge of a gardening area. In and amongst a fist full of weeds I pulled up a little carrot leftover from the endeavor of years gone by. I may as well have found a winning lottery ticket or some such treasure, the excitement I had for this ordinary root. Let me just say that no carrot has tasted better, ever. From that point, it became my mission to plant a garden with the sincere goal of harvesting actual food from it. Recognizing my limitations, most of our crop is intended to grow above ground, lest I can't control myself to check the progress of the carrots before their time.

I may never get the fixin's for an entire dinner salad from our newly planted garden, but already, there are things growing; sweet things, crunchy things and savory things. If only I can get Nathan to quit eating all the basil and cilantro directly off the plants, we may have a chance yet.

Good Morning Sunshine

2010-03-25T07:23:00.000-07:00

"I don't want to go to school, not kindergarten, not college, or anything."

Boys and Their Toys

2010-03-24T22:48:00.000-07:00

Jake and Jasper...Last Day

2010-03-14T08:54:00.000-07:00

Tuesday Feb 16, 6am

I was awakened by words at my bedside I feared I would someday hear. "Mommy, Jake won't wake up."

"What? Are you sure he won't wake up or he doesn't want to get up? Is he wagging his tail?"

"Yes, he's wagging his tail and I want him to wake up now."

"Okay, well he is not quite ready, so please leave him alone and he'll get up when he's ready. I'll be down in a few minutes."

Before long, I heard Jake's nails against the wood floor slipping repeatedly as he attempted to get up, or was having a seizure; neither a good thing. I jumped up and ran downstairs to find Nathan laying on the couch with a blanket, something he has never done in the early morning, ever. Jake was nearby in the kitchen, legs splayed out, breathing heavily.

I was transported to a similar scene two years prior when his littermate, Jasper was at the end. I did as I did then and strategically placed two small rugs on either side of him, tucked his feet beneath his body and waited. He struggled to stand, I put myself in the heel position at his right side. We walked this way his whole life and he was great at it; stop, start, run, walk, that dog was glued to my left leg. Contending with arthritis and failing eyesight, the proximity of this position most recently brought security. The morning air was crisp as we stepped into the backyard, he trotted toward the dog run so I retreated into the warm house and to the downstairs bathroom. I heard Shaun on the steps and a few moments later slid the back slider open to find them in the breezeway. Shaun was gently lifting our dog from his own puddle.

Twelve years ago, on that first day, Shaun had held Jasper and the look from them both was full of promise. On this last day, holding Jake in a much more compromising position, the tenderness was still there; but this time my heart sank at the humiliation, confusion, and sadness I saw in both their faces.

Shaun brought in his bed, laid him on it and cleaned him up. I was first taken back by his fastidiousness, then softened, realizing his actual intentions; no one should lie in the rank of their own bodily function. Jake gladly snacked on his favorite--bread--he drank some water and wagged as he always did. This gave us hope. As I look back, I am saddened that we may have let Jasper suffer too long; we finally understood it was time when he refused water even from a syringe.

While Nate got ready for school he told me that Jake would die that day and then he would be getting two cats. Hard not to react to such insensitive words, but thankfully I remembered they came from a logical and usually tender--barely five year old. I had been the one, after all, that put off requests for additional pets with the statement that Jake was more than enough for now.

Shaun had the good wisdom to have Nathan tell Jake goodbye before we left for school; odd since he really had no awareness of what the day would hold.

Lots of phone calls were made, appointments made and cancelled, advice given, grandparents called upon, decisions made. Actually, the big decisions had been made two years prior; just one of the many gifts of Jasper.

It all happened very quickly. We arrived at the Emergency Vet Clinic. We were greeted and accommodated by the same efficient and caring staff that took care of Jasper previously. Jake was taken back for preliminary tests and examination, we waited. We signed things, flipped through magazines, absently stared at the Olympics. We watched two other families bond over the name that each had chosen for special members of their families--nevermind that one was plush and belonged to a three year old and the other was in the flesh, slobbering over anyone in his vicinity. I suppose just an odd coincidence that that name was Jasper...protector, bringer of peace and calmness.

In less than an hour we were brought to a room, the condition - life threatening, estimates, prognosis, decisions, payment and finally, finally our Jake was wheeled in on a gurney for final goodbyes.

I remembered the warm tears that fell on my wrist two years ago. I knew Shaun needed more time. I tried to be patient. I felt guilty and confused by the relief that would come also to me with this end. Odd, relief is exactly what I wanted for Jake, but that I would feel some as a result of his was somehow evidence of my lack of sensitivity. Turns out Shaun was feeling his own brand of selfishness in his desire to hold on a little longer.

Jake laid on his side, still on the gurney, at some point his tail came to rest and he relaxed. Shaun crouched at his head, stroking him, looking into his eyes and feeling the sadness of what we were doing and all that we were losing. I stood along his back; one hand planted at his his shoulder and the other at his hip and consciously breathed deep, cleansing breaths. I knew I wanted to give him the firm touch and the stillness of spirit that I find a comfort.

The vet told us exactly what she was going to do and what to expect. She gave our pup lots of strokes amongst the necessary tasks. Her words and movements slow and rhythmic, like a guided meditation in just the right cadence. She lingered a little at the very end before placing the stethoscope over his heart and confirming he was gone.

We thanked her and collected ourselves to leave. An assistant entered the room, extended her arm toward Shaun and handed him the collar Jake had been wearing, only it wasn't his--it was Jasper's.

Fiesta with Grandad August 2007

Tuff Decisions

2010-03-09T17:30:00.000-08:00

"Can I have a cookie when we get home from school?"

"Sure, you can have one cookie anytime from the time we get home till bedtime. It will be your choice when to have it."

"Hmmm, this is the hardest decision I ever had to make."

Jake and Jasper...First Day

2010-02-20T22:11:00.000-08:00

I had closed escrow on my first house in September or October 1997; finally out of apartment living, in a house with a nice backyard. My mom called the Sunday morning before Thanksgiving. She had seen an advertisement for golden retrievers for sale in Ramona and thought I might be interested.

Shaun was up for the trip, so I called, visited my secret stash of cash, and then we drove. I fully intended to choose a puppy and then return for him before the long Thanksgiving weekend.

We found the house late in the afternoon, met the breeder, and walked around the property to a garage. Along the way she pointed out the the two Mommas. Yes, there were two litters, two weeks apart; the proud stud was off winning blue ribbons somewhere. The prestige of the lineage was not so important to me, but that it suggested an experienced and responsible breeder meant an awful lot. The chances for a healthier pet with a longer life increased exponentially with a professional, not to mention the possibility of beautiful pups.

She raised the garage door and there they were, probably fifteen or twenty, eight and ten week old blond furballs contained within gold movable puppy fencing. They whined and barked and mostly wiggled and climbed all over one another, each wanting to be front and center for whatever attention was being offered. The breeder stopped us in our tracks as we stepped into the garage, she was most officious in her slightly offensive sanitizing regime, and then she may have disappeared.

I had my eye on one from the start but quickly noticed the yarn around his neck indicating he was spoken for. The next most wiggly, smiley, and gregarious one was Jake--I knew he would soon be mine; but not before a romp around the property. The breeder opened the gate and they were off. A litter, or in this case, two litters of puppies must be one of the happiest sights on earth, particularly when they are ready to play and they happen to be the best dogs in the whole wide world, but I'm not biased or anything. Eventually this gaggle of wheat colored Goldens made their way to the grassy knolls of the backyard. They were clumsy and uncoordinated in the way of puppies and babies. They ran, chased and tumbled with each other over the mounds of the property. I foolishly tried to join in their games and was outmatched every time. I lost myself in those moments, I had no idea where the owner of all of those comical animals was, I even lost awareness of Shaun and what he thought of the whole thing. Did he know, as I did, that there was no way I was leaving my dog here till the following weekend?

Eventually, the sky began to turn shades of the setting sun, the clouds spun across the horizon like cotton candy over the distant hills while the air, wet with evening dew, saturated the scene. I turned and was transported from my own happy place to one of the most vivid memories I have. He was standing against the backdrop of those perfectly rolling green hills, absently swaying back and forth as he cradled a platinum blond with deep soulful eyes. He lifted his gaze from the puppy, to me and it was a boy's sweet twinkling smile I saw. They were both looking at me expectantly, hopefully, on that first day, and it was all the convincing I needed.

Two were definitely better than one.

Photo in 2000 at our wedding and in 2005 for Nathan's first walk at Fiesta 2005

Grandma's Angel Bars

2010-01-14T07:35:00.000-08:00

This has been the first holiday season that I've done a substantial amount of baking, at least by my standards. My mom has been making some family favorites for as long as I can remember, Grandma's Angel Bars and Melting Moments being right at the top of my list.

Incidentally, while I finally put the ingredients for the Angel Bars together in my own kitchen, Terry had created art with the same ingredient list. The series of graphite drawings were recently on exhibit at the Long Beach Museum of Art. Unfortunately, the pieces will be split up and given to Terry's fellow artists in an elaborate exchange of each other's work. I'm sure her colleagues appreciate the art; I hope they also treasure the beauty of the back story and the bit of family history they have been entrusted with.

Anyway, back to the goings on in my humble abode. Nathan and I recently sat at his little table in the kitchen with a treat of Angel Bars and a couple of glasses of milk. I told him how my grandma used to make these very same Angel Bars for me, and then my mommy made them, and now I was making them for him. We yummmmmmmmed at the deliciousness of every morsel of our square inch goody.

"Where is your grandma, is she still here?" He asked.

"No, she's in heaven."

"Mommy, do they have computer's in heaven?"

"No, I don't think so, why, do you want to send my grandma an email?"

"Yes."

Often, I find it challenging as a mother to really listen without assuming I know where he is going with something. This time, I happened to get it right. I didn't allow my assumption that he wanted to extol the tastiness of her recipe be the last word. I remembered to ask. "What is it you'd like to say to her?"

"I just want to tell her how much Grandpa loves her," he said licking the last bits of frosting off of his fingertips.

Perhaps it would have been better left right there, but I felt the need to quell his (or my own) tender heart at his lovely thought.

"The great thing about love is that it never ever goes away, not even after someone dies and goes to heaven. Great Grandma carries all kinds of love with her always, she knows how much we all love her and we know how much she loves us too. Pretty cool how that works dontcha think?"

"Yeah, can I have another Angel Bar?"

Daddy's Garage

2010-01-12T23:46:00.001-08:00

"We especially need imagination in science. It is not all mathematics, nor all logic, but it is somewhat beauty and poetry."

Maria Montessori

Nathan is a very literal little boy. He's been a little slower than many of his peers to engage in imaginative play, particularly the girls. In the past, I often attributed this to his logical, very pragmatic view of the world. I'm learning, with hindsight as my guide, that yeah, I guess it is one of those developmental stages that will be gone through. It may be to varying degrees. It may come sooner or later. It may even look much different than you expected; but probably, it's gonna happen.

A month or so ago, we had several rainy days. We were en route home from school on one such rainy day after several, and we all had had enough.

"I am ready for it to stop raining," Nathan said. "Let's tell Daddy to make it stop." (Now this is an entirely different post for a different day, and it may not even be my story to tell. Suffice it to say, Nathan thinks Shaun can influence the weather patterns...)

"Yes I am ready for it to stop too, but we really need the rain." So annoying, this response from me, even if it's true.

"Why?"

"For the plants and flowers and to replenish our water supply."

"But Mommy, when it rains it just goes on the ground, how can we save it for a supply?"

Seriously...how will I answer this child's questions when he's, uh, six?!?!

"In our reservoirs, ponds, lakes and rivers."

"Well," he tells me, without missing a beat, "I am going to go in Daddy's garage and make a thing out of wood that will shoot me up in the sky to a cloud, then I am going to squeeze all the water out of the cloud and then it will be sunshiny, and we will get to have the water too. What do you think of that idea?"

"I'd say it was a pretty good one."

Oy Vey

2010-01-05T20:38:00.001-08:00

So I took a writing class a couple of months ago and haven't felt like writing since. I don't think it was the class, I enjoyed it and got a lot of useful feedback. I'm thrilled to be starting a photography class later this week and hope I don't lose my love of photography as a result.

Really, I've just been overwhelmed with the holiday season, the volume of cute memories I'd like to tuck away here, and the unending frustration that is the mortgage industry. On with the tucking of memories...

We started the holidays getting a Christmas tree and decorating the house with all the usual gear. We have a new tradition these last four years of placing a Hanukkiah by the window in honor of Hanukkah and the three years Nathan spent going to a Jewish Montessori preschool. This year as Nathan carefully put the candles in the Hanukkiah, he made an announcement, "Mommy, I am Jewish".

"Is that so?"

"Yes" he said, "there is a lot of love left for me at my old school, so I am Jewish."

"I see, and you're right, there is a lot of love for you."

Lighting the Hanukkiah is one of Nathan's favored traditions during the holidays. I will need to invest in a more practical Menorah, as the Hanukkiah(I'm not entirely sure of the difference, though I think of the Hanukkiah as smaller, less formal, in our case--child made), we have been using does not seem safe to allow burning on its own unattended. Each night after lighting the candles we asked Nathan if there were some special prayers that he wanted to say or sing, naturally he did. He would then sing and dance about the area till he felt done, and that has been our Hanukkah celebration thus far.

Running a close second to the candles in terms of favorite holiday traditions (Nathan's not mine), was the daily 4:30am intrusion on my sleep that went something like, "Mommy is it time to wake up? Is it time to open the advent calendar?" Ours is a wooden structure about eighteen inches high and twelve inches wide with little cubby holes for tiny toys or sweet treats behind a door for each day of December leading to Christmas. I found it very cute that what he most wanted was to find a dreidel in his advent calendar.

So far, I've not ever threatened him with the loss of Santa's big visit (give me time), but I did, on one foul day, threaten and follow through with the loss of a goody in the advent calendar over some misdeed. Oh boy did that make an impression. The level of disappointment and disbelief when he opened that little red door to find nothing behind it was greater than I've ever seen on him before. It was all sadness, no anger. I admit, his were not the only tears shining in the light of the moonlight that very early morning. I'm hoping we both remember that one for next year...you see it's so much worse because he believed that Santa was filling that advent calendar each night.

Nathan's current school is secular, but they do believe as we do, in exposing the children to different traditions. His teacher personally celebrates both Christmas and Hanukkah, so once again, his new environment has been a great match. Mrs L had all sorts of Hanukkah songs, they had latke parties, and a couple of afternoons of dreidel play. I'm told that while playing dreidel, Nathan questioned the Nun on the game piece...afterall, it is pronounced none, and if the dreidel lands on Nun you get nothing, yet he pointed out the "none" is not a Jewish word. Pretty sure Mrs L is better at this whole questioning 4 year old thing because she simply agreed with him. That was it, no further explanation required; hell I would have been giving him a long and involved explanation that might involve Google, checking out books from the library and a great big headache for me.

Incidentally, this past Veteran's Day, Nathan nearly demanded that we go get some Hallah bread because it was a "hallah-day". Occasionally I get it right and responded simply with what a good idea that was.

I'm not sure if my boy is learning to be open and accepting about the traditions of the world, his community and neighbors or if he will be utterly confused by the time he is six. We were getting ready to go to our friends' home for a latke party the last day of Hanukkah and Nathan asked could he bring a Hanukkah gift for Jarrah and put it under her Christmas tree. "Honey, Sam and Jarrah are Jewish, they don't have a Christmas tree."

"But I'm Jewish and I have a Christmas tree."

"That may be true, but each family has their own traditions and most often Jewish families don't have a Christmas tree. We will be lighting the Menorah for the last day of Hanukkah though and you will get to do the singing prayers with Sam if you like." With the mention of fire and singing, he was satisfied.

As long as I am on this holiday theme; Shaun and Nathan recently took Jake for a walk around the neighborhood where they encountered a Christmas themed front yard display. This family goes all out with life size figures cut from plywood that they handpaint, complete with a personal message inscribed on the Christmas tree. It is actually well done, far better than those blow up monstrosities people plug into their front yards. Anyway the scene is complete with the Christmas tree, a few lambs, and a great big Santa Claus overlooking the baby Jesus in a manger. Nathan and Shaun came upon the display and Nathan said, "look, it's baby Jesus", you can't pull a fast one on my kid, he very quickly informed Shaun that Santa Claus did not belong--"that's not right Daddy".

The questions about Santa Claus were not in short supply this year, "How does Santa know if there is a fire in the fireplace? How does he not get burned? How does he and his bag of toys fit in the chimney?" My responses were short and all referenced the magical nature of Santa. At the end of the day, he preferred his own explanation, that in real true life Santa comes through the front door.

He was also quite concerned with the exact accounting method Santa uses to track who is naughty and who is nice. Again, I fell back on the omniscient, magic that is Santa Claus. Once again it didn't fly, he lamented that if Santa had a computer at the North Pole to track such things, what would happen if it broke or he lost his Internet connection? He has a lot on his mind, the last of which was not his concerns about the structural integrity of our roof and whether it could withstand eight reindeer landing on it. In my silence, he concluded Santa would have the reindeer land in our front yard and then he would come through the front door...Luckily with all of his questions, he also has plenty of answers.

One Love

2009-11-18T08:29:00.001-08:00

We walked along the wide open beach, our senses filled with the ocean’s boisterous offer of serenity. Waves thundered onto the shore, the shrill screams of gulls somehow melted into the landscape while cool sand wiggled its way through our toes and the ocean fog lay down upon us.

Beyond the salty strands of hair whipping across my face, a woman and a couple of children approached us from the opposite direction, before we could say hello, she told us there was a pelican in trouble down the beach.

“What’s the problem?”

“It's got a fish hook stuck in its beak and it’s all wrapped up in fishing line.”

We approached tentatively. Silhouetted against shades of gray, the great bird hobbled around in circles, her squat legs trussed like a Thanksgiving turkey. She was clearly anxious, but seemed to sense that an all out panic was partly what led to her debacle and another one would be no more helpful. We drew near and could see that the hook and line had torn a small hole in the fishing pouch and was now impaled into her impressive bill.

“I don’t know if you should, it is a wild animal after all.” I said as if he were confused as to the subject of our encounter.

I might have expected his response, “I can’t very well leave her to die.”

“Is your campsite near?” he asked the woman, “I'm going to need a pair of pliers or something to remove that hook.”

"I'll see what I can find," she said and sprinted into the veil of the marine layer.

The pelican is not often thought to be a beautiful bird; but I rather like its substantial size, the many curves and positions of its long neck, and the sight of a colony gliding in line formation just above the wave break is more graceful than a troupe of dancing ballerinas. Flying solo, it trolls the ocean for an evening meal and it is there that the beast of a bird reveals the epitome of poise and power. With prey in sight, it crooks its massive wings just so, stretches its mighty neck to the sea, and then plunges straight down from heights of thirty feet to scoop up unsuspecting fish in its generous pouch and then tosses them back like a cowboy swilling whiskey.

The woman returned and handed him a pair of needle nosed pliers. He moved closer, breathed deeply and with a grace and strength all his own, he calmed that great bird. He gently took the massive beak in his hand and drew her body close to him securing her beneath his arm. With the dexterity and precision of a surgeon, he removed the hook and then methodically unwound the string that would have otherwise been her demise.

I recall that pelican giving my husband a nod before toddling off; I now realize it has taken me years to appreciate what I experienced that day. Years for me to know fully, what that bird on the beach knew of my man in a moment.

It Is The Veteran

2009-11-11T20:37:00.000-08:00

It is the Veteran, not the minister,
Who has given us freedom of religion.

It is the Veteran, not the reporter,
Who has given us freedom of the press.

It is the Veteran, not the poet,
Who has given us freedom of speech.

It is the Veteran, not the campus agitator,
Who has given us freedom to protest.

It is the Veteran, not the lawyer,
Who has given us the right to a fair trial.

It is the Veteran, not the politician,
Who has given us the right to vote.

It is the Veteran who salutes the flag,
Who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped by the flag,
Who allows the protester to burn the flag.

Charles Michael Province

Summer Lights

2009-11-08T16:10:00.000-08:00

I lay stiff, clutching the pink flowered bedspread under my chin, I strained to hear past the whippoorwills’ first calls of the night. My belly ached in that specific longing way that feels like heartbreak. My bedroom windows were open; the heavy air carried the scent of grass clippings and sweet honeysuckle in its thickness.

Outside my window, friends taunted me with their yelping to and fro in preparation for the light show about to commence. Mason jars were gathered, nails driven into lids, and strategies laid out. When the sky turned deeply orange with only moments left of light, the mysterious beetles made their appearance and lit up the night.

From my bed, within the frame of my window, I saw the swarm sparkle past. A trail of flailing Mason jars came next, seemingly propelled only by laughter and an occasional bobbing head, breathless from the chase. I was motionless, not only did I wish to be in their midst, I was incredibly humiliated that I wasn’t. I surely didn’t want to be caught bathed and in bed while every other kid in the neighborhood gallivanted about.

Eventually, the crickets joined the whippoorwills' evening chorus, kids were summoned home and against my efforts, sleep came over me.

Amazingly, the day followed night; I survived the disappointment and humiliation and sat down to a new day where the Captn Crunch was just as sweet as it had ever been.

Boo!

2009-11-02T21:19:00.000-08:00

Fabulous Four

2009-10-17T21:57:00.000-07:00

The Great Pumpkin 2009

2009-10-17T21:46:00.000-07:00

We drove, it was hot, there were pumpkins, we came home, the end.

Playground Milestone

2009-10-14T21:51:00.000-07:00

A week ago as I walked through Nathan's school entry to pick him up at the end of his day, I peered through the windows to the playground hoping to catch a glimpse of my boy before he saw me. I did see him, and he was soaring into the sky with the biggest smile plastered on his face. I don't think anyone else realized they were witnessing a major milestone, but he knew and when he eventually saw me, he knew I knew and I don't know who was more thrilled.

One of the few benefits left of Shaun's and my self employment statuses is that we were all three swinging and pumping together in the bay breeze at 4pm that very afternoon.

Falling Leaves

2009-10-14T20:53:00.000-07:00

"Mommy, when are we going to rake a lot of leaves into a pile and then jump in them?"

"When the sun doesn't shine as long and it's colder outside, then leaves stop making chlorophyll, change colors and fall off of trees--except if it is an evergreen, then it stays green and makes chlorophyll all the time."

"Mommy, what means Autumn?"

photo: Tamsen Thanksgiving 2008

Beauty and the Beast

2009-10-11T20:38:00.000-07:00

We spend a fair amount of time at the playgrounds on the bay near our home. I have had two disconcerting experiences there as of late. The first was with a boy much larger than Nathan, but also four and a half years old. This boy, Jack, was accompanied by his grandmother. At first I appreciated the way she hung back a little giving the boy some space to be a kid and do his own thing.

As yet, Nathan is not the most gracious of playmates on the playground. I have confidence he will find his way to a reasonable comfort zone at some point hopefully sooner than later. Jack on the other hand, may never find that reasonable zone. He was intimidating both in size and demeanor and Nathan was not the least bit shy in putting off his rather aggressive advances to play. I believe Nathan's exact response was loud, "No, I don't want to play with him!" followed by running far and fast. Jack was not to be dissuaded by such subtlety, he followed faster and more furiously. This dance continued through several similar exchanges. I was stupidly feeling embarrassed about Nathan's lack of social graces to this child cretin and the feelings of the apathetic old woman that followed twenty paces behind him. Finally, the boys were on either side of me, I was facing Jack, at which time he spat the words at me, "if he's not going to be my friend, I am going to punch him in the face!" Really? Now, I can feel some empathy for this kid, who is clearly having his own trouble on the playground and probably in life and could use some strong guidance, but at the time I wanted to throttle the little bastard.

As I followed Nathan's last departure from him, I was much more clear on two things: One, I need to be more in tune to the difference of social immaturity and the clarity of intuition and sensitivity, and two, how early and deep the tendencies of an a-hole can be set.

The second of the disconcerting experiences at the playground occurred today, Sunday, a big day at the bay. The playgrounds were full, there were birthdays, company parties and church socials all advertised along the way to our usual spot. Nathan noticed several birthday parties going on once we arrived at our destination and first seemed a little perplexed as to why we were not joining in any of the celebrations or partaking of any of the cake all around us. He also put up his best argument yet for ice cream from the strolling ice cream man, but I digress.

One of the birthday parties in the vicinity was clearly a princess party complete with a Disney princess themed jumpy jump, princess balloons and what I thought was even an actual live character dressed as Belle of Beauty and the Beast (yes, I had to look it up, I knew she had a name.) Upon closer observation, it seemed the character was not quite adult sized, though she was about the size of the party goers, who I would place at 8-10 years old--seemed sort of old for a jumpy jump, but what do I know? Anyway, my next assumption was that maybe the birthday girl had dressed up as Belle for the big event...with my next observation, that did not seem likely. Belle was being strung up between two palm trees. I could not believe my eyes as she bobbed and swayed in the breeze against the clumsy manipulations of the male party hosts.

I have nothing but sympathy for my friends with daughters that have to deal with the whole princess/barbie thing--but this was downright disturbing. I tried to avert my eyes, I wanted to be proved wrong, proved unfair, how little faith I had in my fellow mother. Unfortunately, this time, that was not to be the case. As soon as Belle was positioned just so, with just the right amount of tension in her noose, baseball bats were disseminated to the waiting mob and the clobbering of the princess with the porcelain face and the flowing yellow gown commenced.

I wondered, as I steered Nathan from the festivities, how many of them or their younger sisters would be dressing as that same princess in a few weeks, that same princess that got her face smashed in today, also in favor of a little candy.

Storytime

2009-10-07T21:21:00.000-07:00

Nathan's bedtime routine has long since been established, since he was two months old in fact. Pieces of it have changed along the way of course, one being Nathan's desire to take a shower on his own as of late. These showers mostly serve to rinse or cool off; he's not ready to take on shampooing quite yet, but parts of him definitely come out sparkling clean. This child is pretty fastidious without much, if any, prompting from the parental units, at least not this one. Usually less than thirty seconds after he gets into the shower, he is back out again to do his business, flush the toilet, instigating the scalding water which greets him on the other side of the curtain. Being very uncomfortable with unnecessary comings and goings from the slippery tub/shower situation, the boiling water, together with the fact that Nathan informed me that the running water always makes him have to go to the "bafroom"; I divulged a big secret to him, one I was slightly uncomfortable revealing. "Guess what? You are allowed to pee in the shower!" Oh my, you would have thought I had given him the last golden ticket to the chocolate factory!

The mainstays of the routine are the music and the reading. While maybe not entirely practical long term, I wanted him to learn music to be a source of relaxation and comfort. Nathan loves music and those roles for it are but two that fit into his life, and likely would regardless of anything I did or didn't do. The message clearly has been conveyed, because if we are in the car and he asks for a blanket and music--it is a pretty sure sign that he will be snoozing in two minutes or less.

There are evenings, for various reasons, that I look forward to the end of the day. On those days I sometimes limit our reading time to one regular book and one little book--the little books are those delightful board books that you can read in about forty five seconds. Last Wednesday, we chose one such board book. It is one of my all time favorites: Put Me In The Zoo. We settled in and Nathan proceeded to look at the front cover and tell me the the title of the book as he often does. Since he is so interested in words and reading lately, I asked him would he like to read the book to me? Yes, he said he would, and so he did. Yes he did. He was two pages and thirty words in when I interrupted to see if he might like to read the book to Daddy too. Yes, he would, and once Daddy secured a spot on the bed, he proceeded to do just that. Nathan started from the beginning and spoke each word, word for word, as it was written, for almost the entire book.

Shaun is likely as certain that Nathan can read now, as he is that he has a photographic memory (mark his words). How great to be his kid, he believes in them so. I believe in them too, but in this particular case, I know that I have read that story to Nathan for four and a half years. I know he knows the sounds of all of his letters, he recognizes and spells certain words, he is logical, he pays very close attention when he wants to, and I know he is smart. What I don't know, is the mystery of exactly how a child learns to read and when it is so. I suspect there are many paths to that destination, and I am so glad to be along for the ride.

Roller Derby

2009-10-03T22:06:00.000-07:00

Another first, well actually second time on skates, first lesson. Good thing he wore two pair of underwear! I was pretty proud of both my guys when I stopped in on the lesson before checking in at the conference I was attending today. Nathan was trying and trying again on those skates that kept wanting to come out from underneath him. He was enthusiastic, adventurous, proud and most importantly, having fun. Shaun is a wonderful father and is typically very careful. He was careful today too, it's just that he moved away and even looked away when he realized Nate was doing better when he wasn't holding onto Daddy. Simple enough, but in practice, it can be a pretty difficult task to let your kid fall on their behind numerous times even when it's for their own benefit. Nice job Daddy-O.

Mommy, are we lost?

2009-10-02T21:22:00.000-07:00

There are map people and there are not map people. For most, I suspect maps are a simple necessity to get from point A to point B, but some people get hours of enjoyment poring over them; and some can take but a glance and miraculously find the most obscure destinations, really it's quite magical to the likes of me.

Personally, I am a mapquest girl. I love everything about it, except of course the actual map part. If you're a map person that doesn't make sense. If you are not a map person, you get the genius that is mapquest. If ever I ask a human being for directions, it is a most disappointing exchange for all. Usually I am polite and simply glaze over and wait for it to be over. My father tries to accommodate my directional failings by telling me to go toward or away from the ocean. Seriously. I guess he doesn't understand how that is not one bit helpful, unless, of course, I can see the ocean, in which case, I can actually figure out all the directions if you just give me a minute! I have learned to ask Shaun for directions in such a way to remind him not to give me a slew of choices and that the most creative route is probably not the best one to give the directionally challenged. Thankfully, he is a patient man.

Nathan has been talking about changing rooms for months now, His current room is next to ours and doesn't have a closet to speak of so we agreed to the switch and are making slow progress in that direction. This giant map of the world is the big splurge which I actually quite like since I will never have to navigate highways and byways from it. Nathan can't wait to show it to Grandpa and is looking forward to learning all about the countries and people of the world.

Perhaps he is not quite ready to study the whole wide world just yet, as he has been most fascinated with our own addresses lately. En route to school the other day we were talking about our home address; he knows the street, city, state, and sometimes recalls the continent and planet. On this particular day I reminded him of the continent by singing the song about them he learned in Kindermusik, and then asked what planet we lived on. "I don't remember", he responded. "Do we live on Mars?", I asked. He laughed and said, "No, then we'd all be green!"

I C U

2009-10-02T21:18:00.000-07:00

photo by Shaun, June 2009

Rusty Nails

2009-09-30T09:41:00.000-07:00

Monday afternoon Nathan decided he wanted to go out on our deck after school. Shaun has trained him well, especially when it comes to footwear, so he put on his shoes and then commenced to convincing me to go out and play with him. The idea of our deck is much better than the actual thing, at least in it's current condition. As far as playing out there, bring your imagination, because there is about 600 square feet occupied only by about three old flower pots, some scrap lumber, and as we found out, one rusty nail.

We were out there no more than five minutes when the barefooted momma walked right into the damn thing. Nice. Not a terrible wound, but still, who actually steps onto/into a nail? A rusty nail at that?! The only rusty nail I considered I might encounter would be in the form of a drink or maybe a twisted clown, certainly not one that had to be pulled from the ball of my foot and that would cause a trail of blood!

I won't get into all the details, suffice it to say, a tetanus shot the following day was in order. Nathan was very concerned. Each time I reassured him that he was not the one getting a shot he countered with, "but I don't want you to get a shot eadder, then it's gonna bleed". I let him know that the shot was going to help me and that I wasn't the least bit concerned with one little shot. (!) He was visibly uncomfortable in the doctor's office and while the nurse meant well, it really wasn't all that helpful for her to place my well being in his little hands by insisting that he hold my hand "so Mommy would be alright". Huh? I told him he could hold my hand but to turn away so he wouldn't have to see, just like Daddy does, cause Daddy doesn't like shots either.

Can I just say, that shot is a bitch. My arm and shoulder are completely sore and I'm achy all over. I'm holding out hope that that is in fact the effect of the shot and not a case of the actual flu coming on.

This morning, the morning after the shot, Nathan inquired several times about the status of both my foot and my shot sight, thoughtful kid. Once we were in the car en route to school, the inquisition continued. Finally, I got a word in and asked him again if he had been worried because he thought he would be getting a shot, and this time he said yes. I tried to comfort him that I would never allow someone to give him a random shot, that an injection intended for me would never accidentally land in his arm. He naturally wanted to know all of the tactics I would employ to accomplish such a feat against a needle wielding doctor; but what if this, what if that? Finally, I stopped and declared, "Honey, you don't have to worry, I'm watching out for you." His, were the last words on the subject, "Thanks Mommy."

Intubation by Pasta

2009-09-29T21:44:00.000-07:00

The other day Nathan was eating penne pasta for dinner. I was going about my business in the kitchen when it came to my awareness that Nathan was probably done eating and had moved on to experimenting. A piece of penne was protruding from his lips, head tipped slightly back, eyes entirely crossed and fixed on it, and loud breaths being forced through the center hole. It was fascinating how bits of marinara were being spattered about the area, and I was a little curious to see how this scene might play out--oh yeah, no, I wasn't actually curious at all.

"Nathan, please don't play with your food."

"But Mommy, I'm just breathing so I don't die."

Aside from this display, he keeps me aptly wrapped around his little finger with his often generous dinnertime compliments, such as this evening when I tried a new recipe for Mediterranean Meatballs.

"Mommy, what did you put in these meatballs to make them so yummy?!"

Open House ECD

2009-09-27T21:51:00.000-07:00

Sunday, was Open House at Nathan's new school. It seems we couldn't have found a better teacher for our little music man. She sings with the kids everyday, he literally comes home with new songs daily! Not only does she read to them, she tells them stories and often the singing and stories are accompanied by complimentary food, for example, they tried porridge to go along with Goldilocks' saga last week and coconut cream pie in honor of my favorite song thus far.

The kids alternate "jobs" in the classroom, as in life, some are more sought after than others. So far Nathan has been 'chair pusher inner', which I am told is very boring; 'snack helper', though it sounds good, turns out your services are only needed in the event the snack table runs out; the big granddaddy of them all so far has been 'bell ringer', where not only do you get to ring the triangle, but you get the illusion of control over your classmates, what's not to love?

When asked if we had specific areas of concern for Nathan, in this last year before kindergarten, we responded that academics were of little worry--that we were more concerned that he find his way and his voice on the playground and generally with his peers. Ms L told us she was not at all concerned, that he interacted throughout the day through all sorts of experiences. She told me that he clearly makes his needs known and if he wants to join in the circle time conversation, not only does he join, but he often will stand to speak and make an announcement of what he has to say. In fact he did just that during the circle we shared at open house, and that was with plenty of extra adult strangers. (As it were, tomato worms in the garden were eating up the harvest.) So it seems the pendulum may have swung.

Ms L indicated that Nathan was more interested in the Language part of the classroom than Mathematics right now. This did not surprise us as he can not pass a sign on the street, a book cover, a piece of junk mail, or any words in his path without knowing what they say. Further, he questions the etymology. "Mommy, why do they call it 'arrow'? It doesn't have 'air'", and then as if I don't understand, "you know, like the air all around us." Then there was, "Mommy, why do they call it a lie-braree? They don't lie there." Occasionally, I am fortunate and he answers his own questions, in this case, "Ohhh, they call it a lie-bra-ree, cause you read there." Then there's the logic. I was driving yesterday, Shaun in the passenger seat and Nathan asked what the words on the side view mirror said. Shaun told him, you know the ones, "objects in mirror are closer than they appear". Shaun tried to give an explanation suitable to a four year old, it did not suffice, not even close. There is to be no joking or distracting of this child when he wants answers. It is serious business. He truly becomes angry if you put him off. He understood that the words were a warning, but followed up with the usual, "but how does that help?". Only after a thorough explanation of what the side mirrors are used for in driving and then an example of what might happen if one did not heed the warning, did he let it go. Holy cow, it's no wonder I am exhausted by 9am.

As we were leaving Open House, there were many signs to read and explain as I do everyday, but this time he noticed a new one right by the front door. One that he had never inquired about, one that, to my knowledge he has not come in contact with anywhere.
We were walking out the door and Nathan asked, "Mommy, why does that say 'PULL'?" I began to explain it in the best way I knew how, without instilling fear or worry, mentioning that the fire department was going to visit the school next week to teach the kids fire safety, blah, blah, blah. The three of us were walking along and he was listening intently and no doubt forming all sorts of follow up questions, when suddenly I realized, he just read that! He just read that. "Hey, do you know what?" "No, what?" "You just read that sign all by yourself!" To say he was pleased with himself would be a bit of an understatement. He delivered his most excited smile. The kind that push his cheeks up so far that his eyes are mashed into a squint, his hands come together up under his chin where he wrings them like a mad scientist, and there is jumping, yes jumping. It was really quite delightful, a moment I'm glad we all shared. He is on the precipice of his little world getting a whole lot bigger; I hope he doesn't leave me completely in the dust too soon, I'm not quite ready. I must admit though, the words "go look it up" may save my sanity if not my soul.

First Boat

2009-09-27T20:40:00.000-07:00

On this day, we needed a field trip and fast. I decided the hottest day of the year when everyone was cranky to begin with might be the ideal time to head out to explore a new spot in East County where it is generally at least ten degrees hotter and the air doesn't move at all except from your own breath.

Santee Lakes is nice enough and I would definitely like to go back when the weather is cooler, but it won't be the place I pack up our family for a camping trip any time soon, or ever. There are five man-made lakes stocked for fishing, great walking paths, playgrounds, boating, and even a water feature playground.

The "campground" was everything we avoided when I camped with my family as a kid. It consisted of a very large gravel parking lot with ginormously long, narrow spaces to accommodate the homes on wheels that came to park there. There was nary a tent, pop-up trailer, tree, fire ring or picnic table in sight. Oddly, there was not a person to be found either, if not for the satellite dishes carefully placed and the air conditioners running at full capacity, I would have thought it truly was a parking lot. We were not to be disappointed in the vast quantity or array of homes requiring driver's licenses to view, as next we came upon several car ports the size of football fields designed to store the monstrous vehicles, vehicles that I am certain cost more than the median priced home across these United States. Ironic though it seemed, we were happy to see solar panels atop the carports, apparently generating a great percentage of the energy needed to operate the entire park. (As far as alternative energy sources, I'm thinking miles of windmills are much more attractive, but I suppose that is just a ridiculous side note.)

Transformation

2009-09-21T21:15:00.000-07:00

"You can change without growing, but you cannot grow without changing."

For Us...

2009-09-15T23:20:00.000-07:00

Have you ever searched for just the right greeting card? The one that perfectly articulates what you feel? I have gone through rows and rows of cards over various occasions, quickly vetoing ones that don't suit me, the receiver, or that would just be ridiculous lies.

I have recently been through a similar experience of trying to find just the right words for an occassion, but this time, it was a bit bigger than a greeting card. I contributed to writing certain pieces of my younger sister's wedding ceremony. Much more on that later, but as I researched quotes, lyrics and various readings, I naturally had an awareness to the task at hand, but also couldn't help but consider which or what might be appropriate to capture the essence of my own marriage. What might I have chosen for our wedding ceremony or our now?

"It is wrong to think that love comes from long companionship and perservering courtship. Love is the offspring of spiritual affinity and unless that affinity is created in a moment, it will not be created for years or even generations."
Kahlil Gibran

This is the quote that resonated with me most about our connection then and now. I know clearly, the precise moment I felt it first.

Happy Grandparents' Day

2009-09-13T16:04:00.001-07:00

Being a daughter in a military family precluded me from really knowing very well the two people I referred to as my grandparents. My most vivid memory of them is from a time they were visiting us on Wrightwood Road from Portland, I was in high school at the time. It was morning and my grandpa had likely been up at the crack of dawn drinking coffee with my dad. I'm sure to my dad's chagrin, Grandpa was probably giving him all sorts of tips on everything from the best way to stake a tomato plant to the most efficient way to peel a carrot. I suspect my dad's smile and patience may have been wearing thin by the time the rest of us arose from our slumbers. I'm sure he welcomed the sight of his mom that morning, smelling of rosewater and donned in a fluffy pink robe. Grandpa smiled and opened his arm to her as she nestled in next to him, standing with his arm around her shoulders. She looked up at him with twinkling, sweet eyes. I don't recall what had been said, I do remember the love.

I suppose I do have a second set of grandparents as we all do, but those people I refer to as my mother's mother and my mother's father. They did not do anything to me specifically to earn such titles. They did do and not do a whole hell of a lot to my mother and her siblings though. I believe it is accurate to say one did a lot more of the doing and one far more of the not doing, but at a certain point I imagine you just stop keeping track of, we'll call them, uh, disappointments. What matters most is that my mother, for the most part, has made her peace with the both of them, one posthumously, but peace nonetheless. She was able to reenter relationships of her childhood and say things that were probably important to say. She was also able to reenter relationships and not say things that she might have wanted to, but would not have benefited anyone, not even the wounded children.

Shaun has quite the opposite experience of grandparents, at least on his mother's side. He knew them well and he and his mother even lived with her parents for a period of time when he was quite young. He credits his grandad and grandpa (great grandad)alongside his dad for being the most powerful, strong, male influences in his life. Powerful and strong not in a "he-man" sort of way, but more in that they were involved, loved him, and happened to be men kind of way. They all hold a very special spot in his heart and had a great effect on his life. I'm pretty sure I have never met anyone with a greater love for generations previous, unless of course I look in the direction of my own son.

Nathan has incredible grandparents, all four of them. I guess I am biased because not only do I not think my kid is "typical", there is not a one of his grandparents that is typical either. Shaun's parents are not geographically close and we don't see them as often as we would like, but Nathan has an uncanny sense when he is in the presence of family and his reserved nature grows relaxed far more quickly with them than in the company of others. He speaks of them with the affection and familiarity that one might expect with local grandparents seen on a far more regular basis.

One of many ways they are present in our home even when they are 800 miles away is their participation in most major celebrations around here. Boxes from Granny and Grandad are found with great delight on our front porch days before special occassions. The brown papered parcels make their way onto the living room coffee table, reminding us of a celebration approaching in the days to come. It is not at all about the gifts, but they are often homemade, sentimental and always treasured.

When people learn that Nathan is the first grandchild on my side of the family, they generally give me a knowing look, shake their heads, and mention the spoiling. Depending on how one defines that word, he may well be the most spoiled little boy ever.

Afterall, he has his very own treehouse at my parents house, how spoiled is that? Yes, my dad spoiled him with the planning process, the shopping process, the construction and engineering processes. The time spent, the teaching, the dreaming, no doubt the listening, and the completing of a pretty fantastic project will probably only serve to make Nathan treehouse entitled for the rest of his life, and that is to say nothing of the fact that it has a swing, it's own flag, and a patch of grass; the nerve! Did I mention the teeter totter they created out of miscellaneous parts from around the nursery? Good gracious, physics and fun, will the coddling never end?!?

Don't even get me started on my mother, she is the worst culprit of all, that one. First of all, a child really only deserves so much love and attention don't you think? At some point, enough is just enough. What is this child going to think anyway, that everyone is going to honor and cherish him as she does? I must have a talk with her, the sooner he learns how cruel the world really is, the better. What is she thinking, what with all the outings to nature centers; to historical, fun, interesting and even mundane destinations? The cooking together, the shopping, the endless conversations, the reading, the writing, the storytelling, the playacting, the singing, the dancing, the collecting, the painting, the walking, the playgrounds, and oh so many projects. Enough already!

If all of that weren't enough, amidst the act of spoiling him, I seem to be getting spoiled too. In the beginning, I would often come home from work on Grandma Fridays to the smells of dinner wafting from the kitchen. I think she made a game of it during Nathan's nap, to try to create something delicious out of the meager groceries I tend to have on hand by Friday. Other times she was not up for the challenge and brought or bought the fixin's for her cause. She's been known to bake up banana bread with the rotten bananas on the countertop, fill our fridge with fruit in the interest of making an eight ounce smoothie for Nathan, and leave fresh cut flowers in the kitchen window. Yeah, Grandma Fridays are a pretty good gig for Momma too. As Nathan might qualify, actually, the gig is good well beyond Fridays.

Since having a child, I have had to learn to ask for help and to draw certain unfamiliar boundaries. They have been pretty immense lessons for me, made possible by their necessity and the perceived lack of choices. While sometimes difficult to ask, it is a real comfort to have my parents close when a challenge arises. Funny, it doesn't matter much which of them I might reach in these times, each snaps to action in their own way. Dad will recon the situation thinking through every important detail before acting, whereas Mom figures it out as she goes. I hear that one may have more rhythm than the other, but in trying times, theirs is a well choreographed dance designed over decades. We have enlisted their help dealing with everything from date night to kidney stones to a dying dog. We were even fortunate enough to accept their generosity at the end of a very long journey, a journey that never reached the destination we so desired; but my disappointment will always by mitigated by the awesome gratitude for one more opportunity and greater peace of mind as a result.

I did not even know to wish for something so great as what Nathan has in all of his grandparents. What a gift, one we are all most thankful for.

1st Day of School 2009

2009-09-08T22:17:00.001-07:00

It's the first day of Nathan's last year of preschool! We took the plunge and made what felt like a huge decision in changing schools from where we have been for the last three years. We felt that while the old school had a lot to offer, they may have been missing the essence of our particular kid. Montessori philosophy seeks to encourage a love of learning while following the child in their own interests and pace, that did not seem to be occurring with Nathan. We felt he was being shut down rather than encouraged to bloom in his own unique way.

When I was introduced to the practices in a Montessori classroom; I was told that before the child was allowed to "work" with a particular material, he had to be given a "lesson" on that material (and it's intended use). After said lesson, I was told the child could "work" with it in any way he chose, so long as it was respectful. One of our first red flags was when his teacher made a point to tell us that he turned whatever materials he could into instruments. This was mentioned as though it were a problem simply in the material being used differently than its prescribed use, not because it was loud or boisterous. We were glad she told us of her concerns; we thought it was smart, creative, and a peek into the heart of our child.

Encinitas Country Day is a few miles from my office, it is still Montessori, but with a heavy play overlay and a much less strict interpretation and execution of the Montessori philosophy. The campus feels like a handful of quaint rural cottages surrounding two huge playgrounds on two different levels. A far cry from the tiny outdoor concrete space the kids are limited to at the old place. They have at least two outdoor playtimes, which may well transition to three or four depending on drop off and pick up times. It is a newly formed class so it's small and all the kids and even the teachers are all new together. A weekly gymnastics class and a music class are part of the curriculum, to which we added a keyboard class to support his continued interest in music and specifically the piano after his encounter with one in Ventura over the weekend.

We are looking forward to the Halloween parade and the Thanksgiving Feast created from all the vegetables the kids will harvest from the gardens they are tending outside each classroom cottage .

I am here to update a week and a half in; Nathan seems very happy with the change. There has been nary a tear and he's come home singing new songs, talking of plans for tomorrow, and generally happy to go back each day. So far, we are thrilled.

Stress Management

2009-07-20T22:34:00.000-07:00

I have been known to those close to me, or stuck with me, to be somewhat quick tempered. It is something I have sought to mitigate the majority of my adult life. I have seen some successes in those efforts and sometimes wonder if more label remains than reality, but whatever the case, I have been extraordinarily lucky in the teachers put in my path. Some that I have been fortunate enough to walk pretty fair distances with.

On this particular evening, we had just come home from the grocery store. I was trying to get the groceries unloaded, the fridge wiped clean, and the vittles put away just so. As an aside, is it a typical part of midlife to become particular about the direction food labels face in the refrigerator, or is this just my personal brand of OCD? Also, the matter of the proper size container to store leftovers in has become problematic. When exactly has this become even something to notice? Now, I notice. It mustn't be too large as to occupy too much space on the shelf or mislead me in meal planning, yet if said leftovers wind up imprinted with any design from the lid of any container as a result of being jammed in it, I am not happy. Yes, I'm afraid I have a lot of problems and I need help. I am quick to add that despite my many problems, I am very grateful for shared responsibilities in the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Nathan, our resident electronics expert and music aficionado started spinning discs at too high a volume, turning all the fans in the vicinity on and off repeatedly, letting the dog in and out of the backyard multiple times, all the while explaining all of these activities in detail to his "kids", and intermittently tossing random objects into the air exclaiming "catch!" to no one in particular.

Shaun who had helped unload the car of groceries, went so far as to unload the items from their bags onto the counter, then knew to step away. It was 5:30 and someone's blood sugar or anxiety level was going to incite a meltdown at any time and he knew it. He readied himself between the deep breathing (sighing?) going on in the kitchen and flying monkeys in the family room as a goalie might before his net; knees bent, arms forward, eyes darting, prepared to lunge in any direction.

I juggled and jostled items in my best effort to do too many things at once and as they toppled out of my hands, a "damn it" escaped my lips. The little boy that seems to have developed selective hearing, amazingly heard my frustration and though I expected a reprimand, from around the refrgerator door, I received a gift instead. Dolt that I am, I still am learning to see and accept the gifts all around me, but this day, I was stopped dead in my tracks at the thoughtfulness and presence of my sweet boy.

"Mommy, are you having a hard time?"

"Yes, actually I am."

"What can I do to help you?"

"Well you can turn off the music for 5 minutes, that would be really helpful, thank you for asking."

But alas, before the request was even made, it was done.

Not only is the little guy around here pretty amazing; the bigger one, I think I'll keep him too.

Tree of Life

2009-07-20T16:41:00.000-07:00

There are a thousand hacking at the branches of evil to one who is striking at the root.
Henry David Thoreau

Paraffin

2009-07-07T21:54:00.000-07:00

Tonight Nathan was helping to prepare dinner of a simple green salad and barbecue chicken pizza with Gouda cheese. He loves the Dutch delight and even more so since his preschool class was assigned Holland for International Day in May. Yes, Gouda cheese is the best and one of the things that makes it the best is the wonderful red wax that it is packaged in. A simple pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless to peel away that wax in one soft piece revealing the mild goodness within.

Nathan was up at the prep counter, standing next to me on his chair in our kitchen. The salad was made, table set, all that remained was to assemble our pizza. Instinctively, he knew the Gouda must be freed from it's encasement unmarred, whole and beautiful. He worked slowly and methodically. Deep in concentration a question came to his mind, and for me, the Gouda will never be the same. "Mommy, is this the same kind of wax that comes out of my ears?"

What else is there really?

2009-07-03T16:55:00.000-07:00

As we were leaving music class last Saturday, Nathan spotted a dandelion full of fluff, just waiting to be wished upon. He yanked it out of the ground, thought for a moment, took a deep breath, and blew that weed to smithereens. He answered my expectant look, "I wished for love."

La Tortue

2009-06-30T16:50:00.000-07:00

"Consider the turtle. He makes progress only when he sticks his neck out."

James B. Conant