13 posts from September 2008

Yesterday morning, I saw something that I have not seen since we moved here 49 days ago: someone carrying an umbrella!  I was in Whole Foods with a cart full of stuff, but I couldn't resist the urge to run outside and look heavenward -- so I parked the cart and did just that.  There were white clouds in the sky, moving quickly, and I said: "Look, Dash, CLOUDS!" 

And the elderly lady passing me paused.  She tapped me on the arm.  "Excuse me, you're not from here, right?"

"No, m'am," I answered, "we just moved here."

She looked heavenward.  "Just so you know, dear, that's the fog blowing away, not clouds."

"Oh," I said.  "I thought maybe it was going to rain."

She actually chuckled at me.  "Not yet, hon.  'Bout another month."

I smiled at her.  "Well then, back to our shopping, Dash," I said to him, and to her, "You have a nice day."

It is very, very, very strange to live in a place where there are never clouds in the sky-blue sky and where it goes months on end without raining.  The Guv claims to have seasonal affective disorder -- which is part of the reason we're here in Silicon Valley and not in Seattle.  But now I think I have developed that disorder... I miss the freakin' rain!  I think I have a psysiological need to be watered every so often (by God, not by the shower)!  The other thing missing from our town in Silicon Valley, by the way, are African Americans.  We're definitely in a more diverse environment -- there are a ton of every different race of Asians, lots of Mexicans and Latin Americans -- but there are very few black people.  I wonder why... (Seriously, why?  It's weird.)

In any event, we're still loving it here in California, more than ever, really... Like the nice lady from Whole Foods, we're finding a lot of helpful, nice people here -- people who lend a hand or information without seeming rude or imposing, except maybe for this one crazy preschool co-op lady, but that's a story for another post... or not, so they don't kick us out of there...

Since I am Californian now, I have to up my tech game and am aiming to have my next post appear on the new and improved Rox and Roll... I'll announce it here when it's ready to roll!  'Till then, hang loose...

(For Thoughts on California and Californians: Part One, click here.)

Here's the latest SNL skit. 

I agree with one of the commenters on the NBC site; the only way this "interview" could've been better is if they'd used Palin's REAL answers.  For the two people reading my blog who are thinking about voting McCain/Palin, please watch the REAL interview and ask yourself: Really?  Is someone so undereducated and inarticulate running for VP?  And then go and vote for Obama, because at least HE can speak in complete sentences.  I predict a landslide in Obama's favor delivered by Katie Couric.  Thanks, Katie, for getting Palin to talk with you and show America just how unqualified she is.  You -- and she -- did a banner job.

Dash was nearly nodding off in the car, but he can no longer be transported inside while sleeping since he wakes up; and it was too hot to leave him in the car, even in the garage with all of the windows down.  As I took him out of the car, I told him that it was time to go inside to take a rest.  Here's how that went down:

Mama: Okay, Dash, now we're going to take a little rest before we pick up Petunia from school.

Dash: No!  I don't want to take a rest!  I don't like sleeping!

Mama: Today, you need a little rest because you went to bed late and woke up early.  Just a little one.  I'll read you your favorite truck book!

Dash: I want chocolate coins.

Mama: Okay, you can have one chocolate coin after you rest.

Dash: I want one chocolate coin before I rest and one chocolate coin after I rest.

Mama: Okay, okay.  One chocoate coin, and then you rest.

Dash: I also want a John Deere gator.

Mama: Well, if you rest, we can talk about that.

Dash: I don't want to talk about that, I want to drive one.

Mama (warning: little white lie coming): Okay!  We'll go and drive a gator after nap!

(We enter the house, I give him a chocolate coin, and we head off to the bedroom.)

Mama: Time for the truck book!

Dash: Here come the trucks!

(We read the book.  He drinks his milk and lies in silence for a full minute.)

Dash: Time to wake up!

Mama: Dash, you haven't rested yet.

Dash: I did rest for one whole hour!  Now it's time to drive the John Deere gator!

Mama: Seriously, Dash, the deal's off.  You didn't sleep.

Dash: Mama, I rested for one whole hour.

Mama: You rested for only one minute.

Dash: Yes, Mama, for a long time!  Now it's time to drive it!

Mama: Oh, no.  No, no, no.  You have to nap or I'm going to go crazy.

Dash: No, Mama, you'll go batty.

Neeedless to say, he didn't nap.

(For Dash 1, Mama 0, click here.)

Petunia turned 8 today, which is already yesterday to my East Coast friends.  It was a banner day, though non-stop for me.  This morning, my sweet girl was greatly looking forward to the day ahead.  She and the Guv woke me at the crack of dawn for present-opening ceremonies, after which we discussed the day ahead: Pajama Day at school (sporting satin PJs purchased last-minute, thank you Target) on "early release" Wednesday (school lets out at 1 instead of 2:30 every Wednesday).  After school, a three-girl playdate with friends we'll call ZeZe and KiKi, beginning with Rick's ice cream and ending with late-afternoon soccer practice.  A brief interlude would be followed by picking up birthday cake to take to the "potlick" (my kids, they get right to the point of the gathering) at Dash's preschool.  The day was jam-packed, and my only break would be in those precious morning hours of Dash's preschool.

Or not.

For at our crack-of-dawn session, while reviewing the day ahead, Petunia pulled me aside and said, "You do have party games for the afternoon, right, Mama?"

Naturally, I smiled and said, "Of course!  I not only have party games -- I have AWESOME party games!  You'll have so much fun with ZeZe and KiKi!"

Petunia: "Does Dash have to play with us?"

Mama (who never answers a question posed by a child unless she's certain of the answer): "Do you want him to?"

Petunia (shocking me): "Of course!  He's my brother!  We can't leave him out of my party!"

Mama: "Then play, he will."

Now, there are lies (Santa, the tooth fairy, etc.), and there are damn lies (weapons of mass destruction, dangling chads, etc.), and then there are birthday lies (yes I have party games, yes your brother can play too, etc.).  I fear the birthday lie going awry the most, because the last -- the very, very last -- thing that a parent ever wants is even a slight hint of disappointment on a child's birthday.  This is why we go to such extremes for parties, gifts, special moments (telling that birth story yet again), homemade favorite meals, cake... We want our kids smiling all day on their day, because they made us who we are: Parents.  And no matter what we achieve in life aside from the titles Mom and Dad, nothing else will ever seem quite as great.

So...

I did not ever drink my coffee today, I didn't curl up with a book as planned, I didn't work on my next blog post, and I didn't collapse from exhaustion (okay, that was a wee lie, because I just woke up from putting Dash to bed).  I'm also pretty sure that I forgot to eat lunch.

Instead, I dropped Dash at preschool, and Mission Last-Minute Birthday Party began.  First stop, Costco, checking for cake for tonight's "potlick."  No dice: almost all Costco cakes have nuts, a no-no at Dash's school.  Picked up Dash's "unbirthday" present, the Tonka garbage truck of his dreams, and snacks for Saturday's 8 am soccer match (damn it, there goes more sleep).  Saw PetSmart across the way; remembered that the guinea pigs are out of pretty much everything: hay, food, bedding.  Stocked up.  Took the 101 to Toys R Us to pick up a globe, another last minute request from Petunia.  (Note to all: globes in Palo Alto are $60; the exact same globe is $20 at Toys R Us in Redwood City.)  Marvelled at how Toys R Us has no party games.  Also marvelled at how I couldn't see beyond the "party packaging" and come up with something there.  Returned to car at 11:15 -- half an hour from preschool and an hour away from pick-up time.  Punched "Party" into the navigation system -- and voila!  Found a Party City a mile away!  Picked up party hats, a couple of inflated balloons, picture-based party bingo, an inflatable cake ring toss game, and Sarah Palin's favorite game, shoot the tail off of stick the tail on the donkey.  Grabbed some spider and bat rings and chocolates in case Petunia also expected party favors. 

Made it to preschool just in time to pick up Dash, who was naked down to his diaper and painted green.  I am not kidding.  The kids at his preschool are allowed to be in skivvies with body paint, which, in my day, was not allowed until one hit college age.  Yet I had a freakin' Oompa-Loompa before me, and he was suddenly no longer happy to be naked and dirty. 

Returned home, bathed a very unhappy "I want my pants I want my shirt I want this paint off of my face" Dash at top speed, picked up the party girls, fed them ice cream, and played Ryan Seacrest to their party games for the afternoon.  Here's an excerpt from the bingo game: "Oooh, I want a sun next, please!"  "Please let there be a sailboat next!"  "Call an apple, please!"  "Please can we play again?"  Yes, Petunia has actually made some friends why might be more polite than her -- and that's really saying something!

Squeezed in an impromptu meeting with a landscaper, with whom I'll be spending a day and a mint grooming and learning about my garden, including planting the coolest thing I've ever heard of: an espalier along my alley fence.

Bought nut-free cake at Safeway.  Made it to potlick after the Guv due to horrendous traffic -- the first time the Guv has ever beat me anyplace.

And these are among the many reasons why I fell asleep with Dash and am going back there right now.  Tomorrow's forecast is sunny and in my jammies.  Birthdays come but once a year because that's all a mom can take!  Phew...

Or not. 

Petunia's REAL birthday party involves bowling with her entire class, plus a few, two weeks from now.  Dash has his own lane.  Perhaps I'll paint him green for the occasion!

In the last 24 hours, Dash has injured himself just about from head to toe.

First, yesterday afternoon, he caught his finger in a plastic hanger (that part where you hang those hangie-things for dresses) and snapped the hanger freeing himself... resulting in only a minor scrape and a demand that we throw out all of the bad hangers.

Next, he raised a new lump on his noggin.  This is what happens when you try to make a slide out of mover's art wrap paper (very soft and slippery), a rocking horse, and a race car bed.  Mom was in Petunia's room, next door, putting away laundry; Dad was in the kids' bathroom, also next door, washing Petunia's hair.  We all came running, strewing soap and clothing, when we heard the thud -- and learned that the moral of the story is that Dash must be put in a straightjacket before he even plays in his own "safe" room.  Seriously -- who the heck tries to ride a rocking horse off of a bed???!!!???

This morning, he was playing in his room while I started putting his laundry away when he tripped over his own feet and fell teeth-first into a chair -- staining my "Vermont: We were green before green was cool" favorite shirt with blood in the process.  Amazingly, he still has all of his teeth intact and has only a slightly fat lip now.

Lastly -- and it's only 3:30 pm when I'm writing this -- I just looked at his face and he has about 15 small splinters in his cheek.  I have no idea from where they came.  Dash chased Petunia and two of her friends (also boys) around for about twenty minutes after school; my thought is that he passed a tree a bit too closely.  So now the real fun begins; I e-mailed the Guv about hot packs, tweezers and some certain bodily injury (to us, that would be) that are on the docket tonight for splinter removal.

Petunia's reaction to all of this...?  "Mom, he's a boy -- what did you expect?"  My real answer isn't fit to print, but  the foremost thought in my mind is that David Blaine hanging upside down for three days in Central Park is nothing compared to what my boy can do in a day -- nothing at all.

Barista to Mexican lawn guy: "May I have your name for the cup?"

Mexican lawn guy: "My name is Democracy.  My name is America."

"She should have died hereafter;
There would have been a time for such a word.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury
Signifying nothing." — Macbeth (Act 5, Scene 5, lines 17-28)

The soliloquy above is Macbeth's reaction to his wife's death.  He's come unravelled; he's seen so much death that he's become numb to it.  I guess I have a dark side, because I've always loved that passage.

Fortunately for me, though, tomorrow (September 20) marks the day of my birth.  I will be 35 years old.  Perhaps it's the election/Obama fervor that's sweeping my new hometown, but I'm feeling hopeful about the coming year.  I've spent a year restless, waiting for the next move, the next job, the next best thing.  And I think that it's time for me to stop that -- to embrace this California mellowness that takes each day as it comes and worries about later later.  That said, I am setting out this new year of my own life determined that no one will describe the rest of it as "full of sound and fury signifying nothing."  To that end, I've publicly endorsed Obama, and I'll be writing some more posts on my soon-to-be-launched "new" blog as well as on the Silicon Valley Moms Blog that involve standing up for something important to me.  That seems like a good goal for my first year as a Californian and my thirty-fifth year of life... And if I seem to be floundering at times, throw a little Macbeth at me.  We'll have a laugh, and then go and do some good in this world together.  Someone has to; why not me?

Petunia: Mama, why did Hillary get kicked out again?

Mama: You mean, why did Hillary lose the primary election?

Petunia: Yeah... wait, she lost because Obama won, right?

Mama: More or less.

Dash: Boo for Hillary!  Boo for Obama!  Yeah for Buttcrack!

(Obviously, the kid's been talking politics with the Guv again.  Or else he's a Republican already... wait, that's against the law in Texas...)

Here's a link to the Saturday Night Live skit featuring "Sarah Palin" and "Hillary Clinton" -- just go potty first and don't watch it while drinking or you're sure to snarf!

In remembrance of our friend, Todd Isaac, and in tribute to all people whose lives ended tragically on September 11, 2001, I offer my favorite prayer, the prayer of St. Francis, in their loving memory today:

World Trade Center

Make me a channel of your peace,

Where there is hatred let me bring your love,

Where there is injury your pardon Lord,

And where there's doubt true faith in you.

Make me a channel of your peace,

Where there's despair in life, let me bring hope,

Where there is darkness, only light,

And where there's sadness, ever joy.

O Master grant that I may never seek,

So much to be consoled as to console,

To be understood as to understand,

To be loved as to love with all my soul.

Make me a channel of your peace,

It is in pardoning that we are pardoned,

In giving to all men that we receive

And in dying that we are born to eternal life.

++ This is the prayer of St. Francis in hymn form.  It is sung every November at the Service of Remembrance at the Royal Albert Hall in London.  My favorite version is by Sinead O'Connor; it is haunting but beautiful.

***
I told my 9-11 story last year in this post.   The Guv is flying on 9-11 this year, and I'm trying not to be sick about it.  Business as usual doesn't work for me on this day.  I'm trying to figure out why this isn't a national day of remembrance -- a day off, when families can just hold each other and be thankful to be alive and together.  I'll hug my kids and the Guv, when he gets home, a little more tightly.  We are so lucky, so very, very lucky.