The Sky Is Falling

I’m starting to wonder about my husband. Last night I found him sitting on the closet floor attaching bits of Velcro to his new combat backpack, the same one he was wearing when he fed the dog. Either he knows something about Doomsday that the rest of us don’t, or it’s a prolonged midlife crisis. His stash has been growing increasingly strange over the last few years, and I think I’ve narrowed it down to three contributing factors.

1. Too Much Talk Radio. James listens to talk radio from the time he gets up until the time he comes home in the evening, and I get the sneaking feeling that it's addled his brain. While he’s driving to work, he might call me once or four times with salient tidbits of news – such as Tom Cruise building a 10-million-dollar shelter to protect his family when the aliens invade the planet.

2. Hanging Out With Bad Influences. James and his friend Ken go to the electronics flea market every so often and come home with things like Russian spacesuits and Geiger counters and items that every family needs. They are, I think, trying to “outgear” each other, even sending pictures of their collections of stuff, like proud parents. It’s funny, how with 200 flashlights in the house, we can never find one when we need one.

I tried the can’t-beat-'em-so-
join-'em approach and went to Disaster Preparedness training and got my 72-hour earthquake survival kit, but I can’t possibly keep up with these two guys. When they go on an overnight camping trip, it looks like they’re building a refugee camp for 10,000 people. Every unimaginable necessity is provided, including the martinis. My portable potty simply can't stand up to the competition.

3. Reminiscing a Lost Childhood. Turns out that James spent a great deal of time in his youth hanging out at his Uncle Val’s Surplus Store, stocking up on every possible piece of army gear. I think James is trying to relive his childhood, because he now owns enough camouflage and equipment to hide and defend a small country.

I only got a little bit upset when I got a camo scarf for Valentine’s this year; I thought it was just a joke and James assured me it wasn’t: “It’s Multicam, honey, it’s been featured at the Museum of Modern Art.” What, is he hoping I’ll disappear? I tried to explain to him that raw diamonds blend nicely into their surrounding environment and make a much better gift, but I don’t think he got the hint.

Whatever the reasons for James’ never-ending acquisition of survival gear and combat fashion items, one thing I’m sure of is that we’ll have to build a bomb shelter just to store all this stuff, because the basement and the garage are already completely full. At the very least, when the aliens do come to inflict the End of the World, we’ll be ready.

The Great Pumpkin

Halloween is one of those over-the-top-in-America holidays that I just love to hate. Anyone who has seen four kids in action after all-you-can-eat candy can empathize. And I think life is already scary enough without adding more ghouls, goblins, and horrific monsters to the mix. But I do love the pumpkins.

In past years, the kids have gone to the pumpkin patch on a farm up in Petaluma with their grandparents for a day of frolic in the corn mazes, with hay rides and hot dogs and pumpkins for miles. Sadly, the place has gone downhill, so this year we resorted to a couple of local sources.

It’s such a delight to see the kids ponder their jack-o'-lantern designs and to have the whole family around the table having fun and enjoying each other’s company. Last year’s designs were all elaborate works of art, but this year everyone opted for traditionally simple. Claire picked a pumpkin that is the largest one we’ve ever brought home, and it weighs as much as she does (40+ pounds!).

Luckily, I know a lot of great pumpkin recipes.

Tiny Talk Show

The kids like to sneak off with the camera to make pictures and videos of their own, and I often don’t discover them until I’m uploading things to the computer. This one really tickled my funny bone. The guest on this tiny talk show didn’t actually do any talking, but a picture is worth a thousand words, they say. And yes, he does know all the body parts, he was just a bit groggy from his nap…

Sunset Serene

The hour before dinner is the craziest time of day at our house, no contest. Tummies rumble, the little ones are tired and cranky, and everyone anxiously awaits James’ arrival. Getting us all around the table at the same time is becoming a challenge, but it’s the unspoken rule; you eat dinner with your family unless you have a really creative excuse.

Last night I was in the kitchen battling with a partially frozen fowl that finally acquiesced, and I could tell by the lengthening shadows that the sun had dipped behind Mt. Tamalpais. I went to open the front windows and was greeted by the stunning sight of an evening sky strewn with color.

“Come look at the sunset!” I said, and they all came running. We went out on the front porch for a better look, and the cool air seemed to calm everyone on contact, even the antsy almost-two-year-old. The western horizon puts on a brilliant display almost every night at this time of year, and none of us ever tire of watching the show. No one ever wants to go back inside, either.

There’s magic in these moments, so hold on tight
As day gives way to starry night…

All Upon A Saturday Night

Chloé had her first performance at a real “gig” on Saturday night, singing a cover of Norah Jones’ Don’t Know Why. She had backup from James on keyboards and a handful of professional musicians from the headliner band, the Water Brothers. Not only does she have an amazing voice (and that’s not just a mother’s pride speaking), but she blows me away with her poise on stage. She’s just got it so together for someone her age (please don’t tell her I said that; she’s already impossible to live with!).

It was a real family affair, with Wynham in charge of video; I was assigned to get the still shots. That didn’t work out too well because I had a couple of adorable but very persistent groupies hanging off either arm, but the video work was great. Needless to say, the crowd went wild!

On the long road back, we passed a Coco’s restaurant and made an impromptu stop for a photo op (Coco is the nickname that Claire gave Chloé, and it stuck). I’m really glad I didn’t mention that they make the most wonderful chocolate cream pie (childhood memory peg). If I had, we might still be there…

Kodak Moment

Getting everyone appropriately dressed and ready to go out the door in the morning requires clockwork timing and good delegation. Chloé had just combed Claire’s hair, and then Jack’s, and he must have been thrilled to be looking so spiffy. He's always been an affectionate little guy, but he's only now figuring out the hug thing, and loves to sneak up and bestow them on folks. He just grabbed Claire and squeezed her with all his might. There are so many times when I wish I had a camera around my neck, and in this instance, luck was with me. Click!

Run, Run, Run

It's true, there were some pretty long faces in class the day the Gingerbread Man ran away. Luckily for the kids, Mr. GM is a reliable correspondent and has been sending postcards from each stop in his extensive travels. There have also been a few sightings, but no one even gets close before he's off and running again... Every day Claire comes home with a new installment of the Continuing Adventures of the Gingerbread Man, and most recently he wrote from Outer Space! His progress is being charted on a big world map in the classroom, and they're running out of space for all his missives. What I would really like to do is climb into his suitcase, but I guess I'd have to catch him first, and he's a very elusive character...

(top photo graphic design by Debra Turner)

Boyz N Da Hood

Jack is reaching an age now where he wants to do everything like his big brother Wynham. They growl, they tussle on the floor, they won’t stop playing ball in the house (for heaven’s sake!), they leap fearlessly off the furniture, and they’re wearing a trough in the carpet where they run circles around the living room and dining room chasing each other.

Jack hangs adoringly on Wynham’s every word (and all the other noises he makes, but never mind…). And Wynham has found the perfect rapt audience for all of his shenanigans. It’s a match made, maybe not in heaven, but for the long run.

You can't top the delight on Jack’s face when his brother comes through the door after school. And there’s no joy greater than watching Wynham get down on the floor to play with little Jack. If it gets a bit loud and rambunctious, well, we wouldn’t really want it any other way. There’s simply no replacement for their brotherly love.