Too Darn Hot

Jack was scheduled to start preschool next week, and I spent the last few days fantasizing about what I would be able to do around the house with those precious few hours alone. Most unfortunately, those dreams went up in smoke yesterday -- literally.

It took the fire department over an hour to put out the blaze, but luckily the 60 children in attendance were all evacuated safely before the blaze got out of control. Wynham went here for after school fun while I was still working full time, and Claire graduated from her Pre-K class in this building last year.

I know our townfolk will rally around in support of the kids and all the programs that are now without a "home". Hopefully it won't take too long to rebuild. I just can't believe that a sparking light socket could gut an entire building in such short order, but that's the official cause. Either that, or Jack really didn't want to start school...

All In the Family

Last weekend we enjoyed a relaxed mini family reunion. My uncle, who was ten when I was born, came down from Seattle with his wife Mary to visit my beautiful young cousin Laura, who goes to university in Santa Clara. My dad and Debra joined the fun as we congregated at the beach house in Santa Cruz. The February beach weather was still a bit nippy, but we were graced with one sunny day: football was played, kites were flown, holes were dug, and waves were chased.

The highlight of the day, though, is having all those sandy toes under the dinner table. Nothing warms the heart like a simple meal with family -- a big pot of stew, a green salad, and some crusty bread to sop it all up. Dinner table conversation topics always surprise and delight. Mark can tell silly stories about how I pestered him when I was four, Mary always has a knack for getting folks to reveal some before-unknown fact about themselves, and my dad's encyclopedic knowledge lends itself to marvelous tales told with great descriptive detail.

I'm so happy to have these moments with everyone all together. I cherish this more and more as life goes by, and feel sad that we're all spread so far across the country. But for now, I savor the laughter and the smiles, the unexpected glimpses into my own heart. This time with family is so sweet, I forget to serve dessert.

To Serve and To Protect

I was happy to learn yesterday that the officers of our town's fine police department are rapid responders. I was less happy that they showed up on our doorstep in rapid response to the 911 phone call place by a certain five-year-old member of the the household, whose name will not be mentioned...

Imagine the scenario: downstairs is completely dark, because we're all snuggling in the upstairs bedroom watching the boob tube (I'm sorry; it was raining and I finally gave in). I've told a certain five-year-old about twenty times not to play with the phone. There is a train full of people screaming bloody murder as Spiderman saves them from plunging to inevitable doom at the end of the line. Jack screams "WAHOO!" loudly too, as he jumps off the headboard, practicing for his career as a superhero.

At this moment the phone rings, and it's a dispatcher asking if someone has placed an emergency call from this number. No, why? Then would I mind going to answer the door for the two officers on my front porch? (Who have been ringing the doorbell I didn't hear because it hasn't worked since -- but never mind, that's an entirely different story all together...) No, I wouldn't mind. I'm now glaring at a certain five-year-old.

I run down the stairs, flipping on lights as I go and answer the door, apologizing profusely. Jack has stripped himself of his diaper (too bulky for superhero wear) and is hot on my heels. The dog is going completely nuts in the kitchen. The living room is an absolute disaster because there's always a point where I give up when four kids are out of school for the week. I'm trying to pull a certain now-hysterical five-year-old out of the closet where she's hiding, so she can explain to these patient guys just exactly what happened.

It's like watching a slow-motion improvisational farce being played out in my front entryway. What will happen next? Will our heroine regain her wits? Will a certain five-year-old mini-villian see the light and change her wicked ways? Will the naked superhero save the day? The best part will most likely be the epilogue: in every issue, our local paper prints a detailed copy of the weekly police log, complete with whimsical headlines for each incident. I can't wait...

Plane Ol' Fun

Whale Riders

What trip to Santa Cruz would be complete
without a stop at the Boardwalk?!

(photos by Mary Preuss)

Pigheaded

Well, as the old adage goes, "there's one in every family...", and no family reunion would be the same without Wynham's never-ending antics...

All You Need Is Love

LOVE YOUR MOTHER!

'NUFF SAID!

Life in 3D

I'm a multidimensional dude!

The Cookie Chronicles, Vol. II

On Saturday, all the kids participated in mixing, rolling, baking, and taste-testing a couple hundred cookies so that we could get some friends in on the decorating act on Sunday afternoon. The royal icing is still giving me anxiety every time I make it, but it didn't stop us from having a lot of fun and making some gorgeous cookies.

Claire was absolutely beside herself because her kindergarten teacher joined the festivities. She sat by the window for nearly an hour saying, "Is it time yet? When will everyone be here?" When the honored guest arrived, you would have thought it was the Queen of England herself. I mean, Claire even cleaned her room for the occasion!

I'm more convinced than ever that there's something magic about cookies -- they just seem to bring out the best in everyone. Apparently people have thought this to be true for a long time. The history of cookies is a pretty fascinating read! To see more pictures from our sweet, sticky Sunday afternoon, have a look at the YouTube slide show.

Playing the Part

We had to coax and plead to get Wynham to try out for the school play this year, but now that he's got a supporting lead part (Chad, the guy with the afro) I think he's pretty psyched about the whole thing. I finally watched the movie with him the other night (neither of us had seen it before).

The main character is struggling to achieve balance between his commitment to a basketball team with a hard-driving coach and his desire to sing in the school musical. I was struck by the irony -- Wynham has exactly the same problem -- he's bummed out that he often has to sit out at his basketball games because his coach doesn't want him missing practice for play rehearsal, so he doesn't get as much time on the court as he would like...

He's got just over two weeks to learn all his lines (and there are a lot), juggle that with the basketball schedule, and still keep up with his school work. But if I know Wynham, he'll deliver a star performance in all categories. Like Claire loves to say, "Wynham, Wynham, he's our man: if he can't do it, no one can!"

Big Blue Bad Day

Some days, everything seems to go wrong. You know it's a bad day when:

• sibling death threats start flying before breakfast
• the kid who's allergic to peanuts took the PBJ lunchbag, which means the kid who hates salami got the salami lunchbag, and there'll be $%#& to pay after school
  
• the other kid's lunch was an entire pan of brownies
  
• you discover that someone squeezed a whole tube of toothpaste into one of your favorite shoes -- after you put it on
• your blood pressure is 160/90 and you're completely exhausted by 8am
  
• yes, that smell is dog poop, and yes, it's on the carpet, and yes, the 2-yr-old is finger painting with it, and no, you didn't leave the room for more that 20 seconds
• you take the dog to the dog park and he pees on someone's leg
• coincidentally, that guy's 200-lb St. Bernard lunges at you, knocks you flat, and proceeds to drool unbelievably slimy slobber all over your face
• you decide to console yourself with a fresh cup of coffee, then someone bumps your elbow, you accidentally squeeze the cup, and end up wearing your brew
• you sigh "que sera" and smile, because some cute guys at the coffee shop are grinning at you and (you think) checking you out, and you're happy about this until you pass a mirror and discover that someone stuck a post-it on your rear that says "Mom has a big butt"
• your rip the sticker off and feel relieved that not too many people have seen it, it's early in the day -- and then you get home to find out that your 5-yr-old videotaped you from behind (from an uncomplimentary angle) and someone else (let me guess) posted the video on YouTube (don't look for it, I already took it down)
• you nearly fall asleep at lunch
  
• you make a comprehensive grocery list, fold it up, put it in your handbag, and when you get to the store you discover that some scissor-happy artist has made a snowflake out of it and put all the pieces back in your purse
• your 14-yr-old daughter asks, "But what's WRONG with thong underwear, Mom?"
• you interrupt your 12-yr-old jumping off a 5-ft high dresser onto his sister's bed, narrowly missing decapitation by the ceiling fan (just when you thought it was safe to leave them alone...)
• your turn your head for 10 seconds, the 2-yr-old goes missing, and you find him in the dryer
• someone has eaten the dog food, and it's not the dog
• someone has been eating the chicken you were going to cook for dinner, and it probably was the dog
• your 14-yr-old (who swears it was by accident) teaches your 5-yr-old to say,"I'm gonna kick your @$$..." (wait -- do I detect a theme for the day?)
  
• someone decides that Lost is great bedtime entertainment for toddlers
• you don't discover until 11:55pm that you've been wearing someone else's underwear since you got dressed in the dark at 5:30 this morning (well, that explains the weird bunched-up problem you had all day and -- wishful thinking -- maybe even the "big butt" sign...)
• bedtime falls on a different calendar day than when you got up; maybe tomorrow you should stay in bed
  

It's MarbleOus

A boy and his marbles are not soon parted.
(Which is a good thing, since his mother lost hers years ago...)

Tending the Garden

Yesterday was not only the 100th day of school, it was also Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent. Jack and I went to church in the morning and, for the first time, I had the ash cross marked on my forehead. I've never been a liturgy loving type of churchgoer, but Chloé chose an Episcopal church for us to attend, so I'm learning; trying to grow.

The crazier life seems to get, the easier it is to take comfort in the history and mystery of all these rituals. An individual learns to be so self-enclosed in this modern world, and church is one last bastion of true community: a large family bound by foibles and fidelity. And accountability.

Which gets me back to the ashes thing: why did I do it? To be reminded that it's good to be humble, great to be forgiven, and wise to make occasional sacrifices that remind us how good we've really got it. As the rector said, we come from the earth, we return to the earth, and while we're here, we have to work the earth. The ashes tell everyone else that I'm trying to remember that, at least for the next forty days.

My butcher asks, "What are you giving up for Lent?" and my dentist exclaims, "Oh, thanks for reminding me to go to church tonight!" A few people cast sidelong glances. James just says, "Did you know you've got something on your face?" And I reply,"Yeah, honey, I'm tending the garden..."

The 100th Day

Today was the 100th day of school, and in kindergarten, that's a really big deal which merits a full day of festivities focussed on the number "100". Each child had to do a project that included one hundred of some item, and Claire's first thought was -- you guessed it -- cookies!

Luckily, she did a poster with 100 heart stickers on it, so the cookies were just an extra and we decided to count by fives and I only had to make twenty. Which was exactly one for each child in the class. They were apparently pretty happy about them, as the picture Claire's teacher sent might suggest. Have I mentioned before how much I love kindergarten?

Super Fool Sunday

I'm not ashamed to say that I'm a Sports Illiterate. The bookshelves in the background are mine, the GIANT TV on an elevator lift at the foot of the bed was NOT my idea of the best Valentine's Day present ever, but that's what happens when you marry the AV guy (but I still love you, honey!).

Anyway, there's this thing called the Super Bowl that people apparently get really worked up over -- all I know is that Wynham and his friend Max knocked loose some of the paint on the kitchen ceiling with the wild mayhem that ensued after Burress made the winning touchdown. Wyham says, "GO GIANTS!" (whoever they are...)

Runs With Scissors

There once was a girlie named Claire
who wanted to cut her own hair;
so she snipped and she snipped
'til her poor mother quipped,
"Why Claire, your head is quite bare!"

Of Thee We Sing

Claire can be such a wild card sometimes. So I was surprised and impressed when she stood straight and tall and got all her cues right as her class performed their first concert last week, in honor of Martin Luther King Day. She looks so grown up and I remember two seconds ago when it was our teenage daughter, up there, that age. For one moment I want to stop the clock so that time doesn't slip away so fast. When you have your whole life ahead of you, you're in such a hurry, but lately I've wanted to slam on the brakes more and more often. Of course, having kids gives you the luxury of living vicariously...