doubleOHthree

The Quiet Before the . . . I Don't Know What

2009-12-18T13:46:00.000-08:00

My house is so quiet that it is eerie.

It's eerie because two of my three boys are home. They just had their last day of school before the winter holiday, a half day, and they are home. And they are quiet. I mean SILENT quiet.

My oldest is busily, obsessively, and quietly on his way to solving the 5x5 Rubik's cube I gave him for his birthday two days ago. I'm guessing he will have it done by the end of the day or tomorrow at the latest.

My youngest is reading. Yes, reading. The reluctant reader is in his room reading a book and does not want to go anywhere or do anything, he wants to stay home because he is reading a good book. He is actually choosing to read rather than cruise the kitchen for any holiday sweets that might be lurking in drawers.

Even the dog is quietly lying at my feet and not jumping up every few minutes to see what I'm doing.

The quiet is so strange that I am slinking around trying to figure out what to do. I am just more used to trying to drown out noise so I can form coherent thoughts. With the absence of the noise, I still don't have any coherent thoughts.

I'm not going to waste this kind of tranquility on doing laundry. I'm going to enjoy this quiet because I know I will never again have it after I give my youngest son his Christmas present; an electric guitar.

What the f#%@ was I thinking?

I'm Not That Old!

2009-12-16T17:24:00.000-08:00

My oldest son is thirteen today. A teenager. I am the mother of a teenager.

We are going out to dinner as a family to celebrate.

I have an uncontrollable urge to make sure I DON'T look like the mother of a teenager tonight. I want the chef who will cook our dinner at Benihana's to think, as he throws knives and slaps shrimp around the tepan grill, I want him to think DANG she is way too young to be the mother of this teenager.

In three years my son will be getting a driver's license. In ten years he will be two years past the legal drinking age.

If my dermatologist was really smart, she would start blasting clients with all kinds of youth-enhancing treatments when their children turn thirteen. Having a teenager makes you venerable to youth-enhancing promises.

Mom, I know you are going to call me when you read this and tell me that it is even weirder to have a grandchild who is a teenager. Then again maybe you didn't think it was weird until now.

These Holiday Blues Are Not Mine!

2009-12-10T09:02:00.000-08:00

Talk about the holiday blues! This morning I got out of the shower and grabbed one of my favorite pairs of jeans from my closet. I went to put them on and they were a little more difficult to get over my thighs. As I started wriggling and pulling, I thought "I am going to kill my friend Tali who made those EVIL pretzel-Hershey kisses-M&Ms things. I ate a whole bunch of them and now my jeans don't fit!"

Then rrrippppp went the belt loop as I tried desperately to get the jeans over my hips.

SHIT. Not good.

I look down at the jeans. How could this be? Yes, they DID fit me last week.

Then I looked again.

They were my son's jeans. My eleven-year-old son's jeans.

Thank god.

First, but probably not the last, time that will happen. And perhaps soon they will even fit me!

Holiday Help

2009-12-09T21:16:00.000-08:00

Getting out all the Christmas decorations can really be a pain. First of all, they are stored where I cannot retrieve them by myself. In the past I have had to rely on my husband to get them down, which usually occurs about ten days and eighty-seven reminders after I would actually like to have them available. Second, we have an artificial tree which requires at least two people to assemble.

One of the most awesome things about having three boys who are getting very strong is that they can get all the decorations and the tree down for me and I only have to ask them once and bribe them with candy.

OK before you write me off as one of those "fake tree" people, let me just tell you that my entire family used to be sick for the entire month of December, from the day we put the tree in the house until the day it went to the trash. Yep, allergies. Fake tree equals no sniffling, no sneezing, no sinus infections, no ear infections, no trips to pediatrician, pharmacy, no antibiotics. So I don't care what you say, it's worth it.

When I bought our fake tree eight years ago, it was a marvel. Even my mom was jealous. It's twelve feet tall, with thousands of tiny white lights. It came with a VHS video demonstrating how to assemble it, starring a very effeminate man who overly enthusiastic about Christmas trees. The first time we watched it we were crying so hard with laughter we couldn't follow the instructions.

Eight years later this tree is dusty and only three of the thirty (?) strings of lights still works. It's the old-school lights where if one goes out, the whole string goes out. So it sat in our living room for the last five days looking very dusty and very pathetic, lit at the top, middle left, and part of the bottom. My husband INSISTED he was going to fix it.

I gave him a deadline and an ultimatum. If the lights are not fixed, or mostly (partly?) fixed by a particular date, the tree goes away and I replace it. As the deadline neared, he completely avoided the tree, not looking at it, talking about it, even being in the same room as the tree. I knew there was no way he would test each and every little bulb on that tree, but he was breaking out in hives at the thought of having to throw something like that away. I certainly wasn't going to fix the lights myself. Finally tonight the deadline arrived. He let out a deep sigh as he prepared to go in and face down the tree.

My oldest looked at him and said, "Dad, do you need a Christmas tree pep talk?"

After much laughter my husband admitted that he just didn't have the time or desire to work on the lights and maybe we should replace it. At the ready, I brought in the cheap tree I bought at Home Depot. We set it up, all the lights work. But it is half the height of the old one, didn't come with a funny video, and will only hold about one-eighth of our ornaments. It looks pretty bad. On this new tree, if one light goes out, the others on the string stay lit. But it's not really a big deal because I think this tree has only two strands of lights on it. My middle son put a positive spin on it. "Mom, it will look like we have a TON of presents when we put them under that tree."

Now I'm the one who needs a Christmas tree pep talk. I'm thinking about going back to a real tree, sinus infections and all.

I'm going to bed to dream about my secret fantasy of having Kren, the florist who created stunning flowers for our wedding almost eighteen years ago, coming to my house to deliver a very tall beautiful perfect tree, setting it up, lighting it, and decorating it for me. A girl can dream.

In reality I'm going to have some interesting negotiations with the boys about which ornaments we put on the tree and which get left out this year. Hey, at least we won't need the ladder.

One Hundred Years

2009-12-02T22:17:00.000-08:00

This is my husband's beautiful grandmother, the day before her 100th birthday. She was born in, and still lives in Juneau Alaska. It was a pleasure and an honor to be there to celebrate with her and the many relatives who traveled to Juneau for the occasion.

Her words of advice? Live a healthy, outdoor lifestyle.

Alaska Gathering

2009-11-28T21:19:00.000-08:00

Here in Juneau Alaska, the sun rises at 8:17 am and sets at 3:15 pm this time of year. The difference in temperature between day and night is two degrees. It's raining a lot, snowing just a little.

There is a woman, born in Juneau 100 years ago, who is completely used to the short days in the winter and the very long days in the summer. She was born here before Alaska was a state. She raised six children here and sent them all to college, despite the fact her husband died when she was pregnant with her last child, and she has never even had a driver's license. She is my husband's grandmother.

Her birthday has drawn about 50 people to Juneau, all of them related to my husband. Many of us are in the same hotel. It's close to the airport. So close that when you get out of the shower you have a great view of the control tower and the people in it. So close that when we arrived, we just walked across the street and checked in.

Juneau is a popular stop in the summer for cruise ships and for people sightseeing and hiking or fishing. The only way to get here is by water or air. The road only goes so far. You can drive out to the end of the road, from one end to the other, in less than an hour. In the winter, many of the stores and restaurants are closed.

Dark, chilly, wet. Lots of cousins. Not really anywhere to go. I'd say couped up would describe it. We have the room above the office, which contains hardly-working persons who do not appreciate the fact that there are at least five people above them, walking, stomping, jumping, wrestling, and occaisionally tossing a baseball around. We've gotten a phone call asking us to quiet down. Um, didn't they place us in this room? Didn't they see we have three boys?

So we decided to use the conference room at the hotel for a game night. We invited all the relative over, and we gathered dominos, cards, a jigsaw puzzle, and a couple other games. We were ready to occupy tonight, when the ever-so-attentive staff (oh I'm sorry, do I work here? I'm watching TV!) told us OOPS someone just rented it out. So while a bunch of ladies are trying on lingere and learning the ins and outs of all kinds of different sex toys, my husband's relatives are piling up in the tiny lobby and we are trying to figure out where to put everyone. I had the idea of going across the street to the airport where there is lots of room to run around, but no one seemed to take my suggestion seriously. I could hand-signal the control tower staff and ask if it's OK.

I better go down and see what's going on. I want to be there if one of the relatives wanders into the conference room.

Broken Wrist 2.0

2009-11-23T23:17:00.000-08:00

Broken wrist 1.0 was middle child careening down a ski slope on a mountain bike this last summer.

Broken wrist 2.0 was oldest child playing all-out basketball at school and falling down. Just today.

We got to the doctor's office, waited and waited, then got to the radiology department just after they no longer accept wet-read orders. Meaning they could xray it but could not read it right away and tell us if it was broken. Huh. Hmm.

Time was of the essence. We've got a holiday staring us down here people! We've got plans! We've got non-refundable tickets!

Not to give away any secrets of having friends who are doctors or orthopedists, but when you need to call in a favor, you do.

No cast, just a brace, thank goodness. And we owe someone a couple bottles of really nice wine.

Boys, Baseball, Train and Bad Coffee

2009-11-23T22:47:00.000-08:00

I brought my laptop but never even got a chance to open it up.

Between eating ridiculously large pancakes, trying to sleep with a train going by all night long blaring it's horn, four baseball games, and driving 760 miles, all in two days, there just wasn't time.

It was a lot of fun though. Fun games to watch, great parents to hang out with, it was a good road trip. I am becoming a real baseball fan. I'm scaring myself.

I'm not a fan, however, of the pervasive culture of crappy junk food that permeates baseball. If they had anything decent or healthy to eat at the baseball park, I wouldn't mind not being able to bring my own snacks and drinks. It wouldn't be so painful to pay exorbitant prices to eat there. But it is nasty nasty crap. The coffee cost more than Starbucks, there was no cream, only non-dairy creamer, and each time I took a sip I involuntarily winced it was so bad.

On the other hand, you can buy a beer, which is perfectly good because they don't make it there, and sit and watch your son play baseball. I personally would prefer a glass of wine, but I shudder at the thought of what selection they would offer.

OK, I'm a bit of a food snob. I admit it. But my son didn't want to eat anything there either. Why does it seem that so many baseball people have no taste buds?

I'm thinking that I'm going to invent an illness for my son, like gluten and free-radicals intolerance, so we can bring our own food into these places.

Off again!

2009-11-20T14:19:00.000-08:00

I am off again.

Off to a U11 Baseball tournament in Riverside California. That's right, a weekend road trip with my son.

This time I am leaving my husband with instructions to put ointment in the dog's eye twice a day and to leach the ground-up acorns in the refrigerator once a day.

In exchange I am leaving him with a freshly roasted turkey breast and homemade cranberry sauce. I'm not sure if he will see this as a good trade or not.

I look forward to posting over the weekend about being immersed in this very testosterone-infused weekend. Should be fun!

Note to my husband: Don't eat the acorn stuff. It's not ready until Monday.

We Saw 13

2009-11-19T22:42:00.000-08:00

We took our boys to see the musical Thirteen tonight. It was put on by our local Children's Musical Theater, CMTSJ. There were about ten kids from our school in the production. I really enjoyed the show, both the story and watching children I know singing and dancing on stage.

For the first few minutes of the show, I almost had a heart attack though.

We were sitting rather far away and I mistook one of the lead girls for one of my son's friends. A friend of my eleven year old son, with whom he has been exchanging enough texts to fill a monosyllabic novel, or alternatively, makes us very very glad we got the unlimited plan. I'm not sure they talk to each other at school though. But they are masters of the three word question and answer exchange. I digress. Anyhow, I was having heart palpitations watching this girl on stage singing and poised and, well, kind of sexy and grown up-looking, tossing her hair and hips around and looking just like a teenager. I thought, my god, this cannot be the girl my ELEVEN year old son texts constantly! I am not ready for this! My husband was having a similar reaction. We clutched at each other, rather panicked. Then we realized that it really was a teenager and not the 6th grader we thought it was. Big sigh of relief.

My youngest son was literally at the edge of his seat for the whole show. His favorite line from the show was, "We all have a little more homework to do." He said that is one of the truest lines he has ever heard.

Toward the end of the show the actors and actresses say what they did on their thirteenth birthday. There were various things, then one girl says, "I signed a virginity pledge!" There was a rather long silence, when my nine year old turned to me and asked, "A WHAT?" in his not so quiet voice. Getting no immediate response from me, he thought I didn't hear. "A WHAT? SHE DID WHAT? WHAT DID SHE SAY?" Trust me, I heard him and so did everyone sitting within three or four rows. While my husband cracked up beside me, we shushed him and watched the rest of the show. I know that was a temporary reprieve and he will bring it up again soon. Like when we are standing in line at Starbucks or at the grocery store. Or hanging out with his younger cousins at the Thanksgiving table. "Hey mom, what is a virginity pledge anyway?"

After the show, we stood outside and congratulated the friends in the show. The aforementioned friend who is a girl (but not a girlfriend) was there, and my middle son awkwardly mumbled something to her, trying to look at her while trying not to look at her and not sure what to do with his body that was telling him to run away and stay put at the same time. Well, at least I know he will tell her "great job" in a text. Yes, we all have a little more homework to do.

Find more videos like this on 13 The Musical Fansite

I'm Back!

2009-11-16T22:17:00.000-08:00

I am back from my trip.

I had a great time. I am relaxed. I am tan, but not too tan. I have done a cranial flush and have forgotten when basketball practices are and that I was supposed to be in science class today helping to grind acorns. I feasted on Hawaiian fish and indulged in fruity drinks with umbrellas, some very weak and one very strong. I picked kohlrabi on the side of a volcano. I spent more time in the hot tub than is recommended on the sign nearby. I visited my favorite kooky coffee place, Java Jazz, and was happy to see the depraved Barbie-themed decorations are still there. I saw tattoos that were not right, and I talked to honeymooners still in shock that they just got married. I got briefly trapped in the back room of the Peter Max gallery in Lahaina with a saleswoman who enjoyed using the dimmer switch way too much. I watched every sunset and none of the sunrises.

And I came back to . . . three boys and a husband who were very glad to see me. Nothing suffered while I was away, everyone did just fine. But each boy found a moment to tell me it was nice to have me back, and I know they meant it because there was a little extra squeeze in the hug. Everyone appreciated me just a bit more. And I appreciate them just a bit more.

So I think I should go to Hawaii a little more often.

Halloween 2009

2009-11-16T22:08:00.001-08:00

Click here to view these pictures larger

Elvis on a bad hair day, a hippie, and a referee! This is a very clunky way of putting a photo here of Halloween but I was a dumbshit and forgot my own camera, so this is what I get. I have to share this photo because I'm not sure how much longer all the boys will be dressing up. The older two were less interested in Halloween this year. I'm not sure what it is, too much effort?

A Twinge of Guilt

2009-11-08T19:22:00.000-08:00

I have a twinge of guilt.

I am off for a tropical paradise, leaving my husband to manage the boys.

I'm not saying he can't do it. Not at all.

It's just that usually it takes BOTH of us to get everyone where they need to be. We have a change over of sports this week too. Flag football has ended and basketball, both NJB and school teams, are starting practice.

What I'm Getting Out Of, By the Numbers

6: Days I will be gone
14: Number of basketball practices
3: Number of soccer practices
1: Number of baseball practices
1: Number of soccer games
2: Number of baseball games
10: Trips back and forth to school in the car
6: Dinners I will not be cooking
8: Number of times the dishwasher will need to be unloaded
0: Number of "people" my family has working for us to help with all of the above jobs
500: Number of times I will not be asking someone to stop bouncing a ball in the house
15: Number of times I will not be yelling at someone to go to bed
0: Days that I will wake up at 6:30 am

Oh god, now that I look at this list I hope that my husband will not read this. At least not until my flight leaves. Maybe I have more than just a twinge of guilt. As a mom there is just no getting around it, the guilt is always there when we shirk our duties to do something for ourselves. It shouldn't stop us from taking a break once in a while.

So I am going to do my best to not feel the guilt, have a great time, and come back to a very appreciative family with a rested and tan smile on my face.

Not too tan, or I'll feel too guilty next time I see my dermatologist. Oh there it is again. Stop it!

Kale Chips

2009-11-06T14:35:00.001-08:00

This is not a cooking blog, but I must share this snack that has become a recent favorite in my house.

Who doesn't need an easy, quick way to get your kids to eat kale?

Kale Chips
recipe from Bon Appetit

Ingredients:
1 bunch Tuscan kale leaves (also known as lacinato kale in my area), rinsed, dried, cut lengthwise in half, center ribs and stems removed
1 tablespoon olive oil (I use garlic-scented olive oil)
kosher salt and fresh ground pepper

Preparation:
Preheat oven to 250°F. Toss kale with oil in large bowl. Sprinkle with salt and pepper. Arrange leaves in single layer on 2 large baking sheets. Bake until crisp, about 30 minutes for flat leaves and up to 33 minutes for wrinkled leaves. Transfer leaves to rack to cool.

I have made these several times lately. My boys scarf down two bunches of kale made into these chips as an appetizer. I recently brought them to a cocktail party. They are vegetarian, gluten-free, dairy-free, and almost fat-free, pleasing just about everyone. If you have a three year old, you might want to rename this recipe Green Potato Chips, as one faithful reader of this blog did the other night. I hate to tell people how easy they are to make but I've had too many ask for the recipe so the secret's out.

Let me know how you like these.

Oversporting

2009-11-06T11:05:00.000-08:00

I am drowning in the deep waters of sports. I'm blaming my lack of ability to update this blog on that at the moment.

Select soccer, tournament baseball, flag football (two teams), competitive tether ball (ok that one's only during recess), basketball practices (five different teams, don't ask), lacrosse clinic, timed-mile running in PE, football games on TV, World Series games on TV which seem to justify staying up late to watch or at least listen to the games. And mom, I might want to try out volleyball. Sports Illustrated magazines everywhere.

AARRGHHHH!!!

And that's not all, it's the endless discussion that we must have about each of the above, the review of each play, the analysis of each game or practice, the details of each point scored or lost, what each player was doing and what they could have done better.

I feel like I am living each day in preparation for the sports; the laundry, the food, the trips to the gas station. The shoes, the balls, the constant organizing of the right equipment in the right place. My car and my husband's car both smell like locker rooms.

Yes, I am drowning. But my boys are quite happily swimming around in this sea of sports. Not literally, thank god. That is one sport we are not participating in at the moment. Shutter. Those weekend-consuming swim meets are a no go.

So while some parents might think we are nuts, and I wouldn't disagree, what I CAN tell you is my boys are healthy, they are having fun, and they are NOT out at the local elementary school on weekends experimenting with Malatov cocktails. Which some 13 year olds in my town are doing. They are NOT taking marijuana with them to the school fair. Which some 13 year olds in my town are doing. And they are not sulking and sitting around playing violent video games. They don't have time for any of that shit!

Oh thank goodness, a life preserver has been thrown to me. A trip with a girlfriend. And no sports for a few days. It just might save my sanity.

Here is a little test for you. How many pieces of equipment are shown in this picture? (Answer: 13) How many pieces of equipment are necessary but not shown here? (Answer: 5) Can you name them all? Can you organize them all? Can you clean them all? Can you find them all when no one else can?

Brace Yourself

2009-10-20T10:17:00.000-07:00

My oldest gets braces later this week. In anticipation of this teenage right of passage I have done something completely contrary to my personality.

I bought him a whole bunch of candy.

He doesn't even have much of a sweet tooth, but I felt like he should be able to eat a bunch of the stuff that will soon be forbidden fruit. I have this faint hope that he will get tired of those certain candies and not miss them for the next year or two.

So we have Starburst, Laughy Taffy, Airheads, gum, Sour Patch Kids and kettle corn around the house and his brothers think his getting braces might be the best thing that ever happened because MOM BOUGHT CANDY. I'm sure in the backs of their minds they are compiling a list of all the candy they want before they get their own braces. Damn, I think I've set a precedent.

And you must not know my boys very well if you have to wonder about Halloween coming up. No costumes yet but candy-trading negotiations reminiscent of Wall Street are starting: shares, unit trusts, derivatives, pooled investment products and bonds are being issued and discussed. Wouldn't surprise me if someone broke out a spreadsheet to track it all.

Future Careers

2009-10-17T19:06:00.000-07:00

What if one of my sons ended up as an artist someday?

What if he became an artist like this?

It would be really cool but what if as a mom I had to describe to people what he does for a living?

I was thinking of selling all those little Lego people on ebay but I may have to reconsider JUST IN CASE.

A Test of Patience

2009-10-13T12:34:00.000-07:00

I was looking over the contents of my son's Friday Folder last night. You know, the folder that comes home on Fridays with his completed work and tests. One test caught my eye, a vocabulary test where he missed five of the questions. My youngest son certainly has a pretty good grasp of the English language so I looked over the questions he missed.

Here is one of them:

A person needs be patient in order to

a. eat dinner.
b. wait for a delayed train.
c. play in a band.
d. go into a hospital.

My son chose a. And let me tell you, this shows me he absolutely understands the meaning of the word patient.

In his lifetime of experience, he has had to be patient many many times to eat dinner and has never once had to be patient waiting for a train. He has had to wait at crowded restaurants, while ravenously hungry, to be seated. He has had to wait, while ravenously hungry, for me to finish cooking dinner.He has had to wait, while ravenously hungry, for food that has been ordered in a restaurant, to be served to the table. He has had to wait, while ravenously hungry, to eat his food until others at the table have been served. He has had to wait, not hungry but perhaps bored, to be excused from the table until others are finished with their meal.

Another question he missed:

Good baby-sitters are always alert. In this sentence, alert means

a. watchful and wide-awake.
b. fun and energetic.
c. not easily upset.
d. trained in first aid.

He chose b. I absolutely know that he would say a good babysitter needs to be energetic and fun and that means they are alert, awake. He would say, why would they need to be watchful?? That's not a good babysitter in his mind!

Yes, for a fourth grade boy, it requires much more patience to eat dinner than wait for a train. And an alert babysitter is fun and energetic, not watchful.

Are these tests written with fourth grade boys in mind??

Record(er) Breaking

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

My youngest son has just passed a milestone that has been memorable for each of my boys. He has reached the point in 4th grade when he starts playing the recorder. It's a shrill, squeaky little thing which has the huge benefit of at least keeping the mouth and fingers of the player busy while assaulting the ears of anyone within 3 miles.

Like my other two boys when they first got their instruments, my youngest is obsessed with his recorder and practices a lot. Unlike my other two, he has the few simple songs he's learned so far down pat, they actually sound good, and he is trying out playing them with feeling. This is after just a couple days of playing. He is even experimenting with trying to play Smoke on the Water on the recorder.

I think he might have a talent for the thing.

That is what I tell myself as I wake up at 6:30 am to the sound of recorder music echoing around the house. I hope he learns another song very soon or I'm going to go insane.

Oh Boy It's Time

2009-10-05T20:56:00.000-07:00

We got the word today. Says the orthodontist to my oldest son: IT'S TIME!

Here is where we see the transformation from cute boy to awkward teenage look with acne and braces. Here is where we start making payments to the orthodontist, and by the time we are through, we will have contributed a large sum of money toward his children's college educations.

To my son, it's no big deal. Many of his friends have braces already. To me, a much bigger deal, I'm not sure why. Maybe because as a teenage girl I was always horrified at the thought of kissing a boy with braces on. I don't think I ever did. You see, I never had braces myself, I just remember the slobbery metallic smiles of friends, with ropes of spit clinging to those rubber bands, food stuck all over their teeth, the weird lispy speech caused by too many foreign objects in their mouth. I also remember the frequent garbage can dives to retrieve the retainers, often mistaken for Jolly Rancher watermelon candies. Ick ick ick. Yuck.

Maybe braces are better now. At least his teeth are not this bad.

Hello Forest

2009-09-29T21:12:00.000-07:00

The boys had Monday off school. We needed to take advantage of having no school and no sports commitments, a real rarity! We needed what the boys and I call an "adventure day" where we go and do something fun and adventurous together. We usually go alone but this time my oldest son brought a friend.

We headed up to Big Basin, where we went last year for a camping trip. This time, we did the big Berry Creek Falls hike, a strenuous 11.5 hike through the redwood forest. A solid 5.75 hours of brisk hiking with few breaks.

No cell phone coverage, no people, no video games. Just the forest and lots and lots of snacks.

All the boys, even my 9 year old, were impressive hikers. A few times they patiently waited for me as I made my way up the steep long slopes, and most of the time I was bringing up the rear. My oldest even said, "Mom, you are a trouper!" Oh please.

We all enjoyed the hike for different reasons. I enjoyed the quiet of the forest, the beautiful scenery, the clean air, and the chance to chat or just listen to the conversation. The boys enjoyed the challenge and they love, even crave, being in the forest. I really do believe it is just good for boys to spend time in the relative wilderness. They felt responsible and independent, carrying what they needed, reading a trail map, estimating distances, helping each other when someone fell, peeing on a tree, spotting poison oak. I really got the feeling they could have done the hike without me, until my youngest fell and scraped up his leg exactly at the point where we were furthest from the ranger station. Then they were glad I was there with my first aid kit and LOTS of bandaids. It was my youngest who was in reality the trouper, finishing the hike without complaining until the very last quarter mile, when I was tired and sore myself.

But at the end of the hike, they were not too tired to climb the root structure of an enormous sequoia that fell more than thirty years ago. I had to force them back to the car so I could sit down.

On Being Gay (Child's View)

2009-09-29T14:02:00.000-07:00

Shared by my nine year old recently:

"Mom, you know what would be good about being gay? You never have to go to the mall with your wife! And you can do manly stuff together like go dirt biking."

Other than stifle a guffaw, I wasn't sure how to react to that. There are just so many things to say, so many of them not appropriate for a nine year old level of understanding. So I just let it go. For now.

I'm not sure where the aversion to the mall came from. One thing's for sure, being gay does not give you a stay-out-of-the-mall card!!

Spare a Quarter?

2009-09-25T10:44:00.000-07:00

My son the quarterback. You have no idea how weird this is for me.

Will Work for Food

2009-09-24T14:34:00.001-07:00

Many of you may not know my assistant. He sleeps on the job but that's OK because I don't pay him much.

Again!

2009-09-24T14:09:00.001-07:00

IT HAPPENED AGAIN!!

Now I'm suspicious.

I can be patient and get the most out of this.

I wonder what he wants.

I hope it's not a car.