Enough to send the very best

Scene: The locker room at the Y, one of my very favorite places evar.

OPIE: Do Crocs care?

ME: Do they care? About what?

OPIE: No! Do they care!

ME: Um. About what? Do Crocs care ... about what?

OPIE: NO! Do. Crocs. care. You know! Do they care about this foot or that foot?

ME: Ohhh. Yes, they need to go on the right feet. This one goes on this foot and this one goes on that foot.

OPIE: Why do shoes care and socks don't care?

***

Back from a weekend away. The score: 12+ hours of driving, 1 unnecessary detour, 0 (!!) potty accidents, and 1 hour of kid car napping. That last was due to the portable DVD player, which I alternately want to marry and throw out the window of the moving vehicle, preferably when driving over a large body of water.

***

Driving along in my automobile. Well, someone's.

Last month Nancy reminisced about cars in her past, and I commented that, even at my advanced age, I've never had my own car, not counting the ones I now share with my husband. In high school I had to walk, borrow from my parents, and even (horrors!) had a babysitter whose main job function was to drive me and my younger siblings around after school.

I went to college in West Philadelphia where a car was unnecessary and expensive, not to mention a certain target for theft and destruction. Then I moved to Manhattan--same situation, multiplied a few dozen times.

Apparently I moved in with my then-boyfriend, now-husband, just to get my hands on his car keys.

Still, when I was a magazine editor I went on two trips to test-drive cars. The first one was for Buick Regal and GM put us up at a very swanky hotel (no wonder they are out of money now). I spent a couple of days driving the car around a parking lot with all kinds of simulated hazards. During an evening cocktail party with the GM PR people I let slip that I lived in New York and hadn't actually been behind the wheel of a car in four or five years. PR man almost choked on his hors d'oeuvre.

That one trip made me an expert in test driving, apparently, so my editor also sent me to Alaska to preview a Volvo station wagon. And just to emphasize the ruggedness of the car which is now, in fact, my own mommymobile, I also learned how to shoot a rifle and go salmon fishing (with hip waders and everything). Besides seeing Alaska for the first and so far only time, I also got to meet a lot of blond Swedish dudes.

These days, the blonds I share my car with are the ones I gave birth to; and I will be happy to trade my four wheels for two as soon as it's warm enough to get out my bike again. But if anyone wants to send me to Sweden (or Santa Fe, or Seattle, or frankly, Stroudsburg) to check out the latest offerings, my bags can be packed in a matter of minutes.

The busiest travel day of the year

And I am always one of the ones traveling, every year of the *ahem*twenty*ahem* since I graduated from high school. As a kid, I spent every single holiday at home, not just in my hometown but in our house. My mother was the designated hostess for every Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, birthday, Mother's Day, Father's Day, Fourth of July and regular old Sunday meal, and the guests were always my grandmother (who lived a few blocks away) and my aunt, uncle, and cousin (who lived around the corner). In the usual kid grass-is-always-greener way, I envied my friends who got to go somewhere and do something for holidays instead of staying home which is so boring.

Be careful what you wish for, as they say. Since I turned 18, I've never been in my own home for Thanksgiving. Not that I ever wanted to cook a turkey in my dorm room or my Manhattan studio apartment, but you see what I mean. It feels a bit Peter Pan-ish to always be the guest and never the host. Like I'm not a Real Mom (hi, Motrin!) until I've stuffed the turkey and mashed the potatoes my own self.

(The reality is that my husband cooks the turkeys around here anyway.)

Truthfully, I can deal with Thanksgiving travel, even when it's on a crazy day like today and even with two travel companions under 7 years old. They may be young, but they are experienced. Thanksgiving doesn't have quite the baggage Christmas does (in the form of gifts, for one, and more firmly entrenched traditions, for two) and I'm above all thankful that we have families who love us and with whom we will enjoy sharing a meal.

I'm thankful for all of you, too, and hope you have a wonderful day and weekend, wherever you spend it and whatever you eat.

A mile-high high

If you've been to Julie's, you know we've been to Julie's this past weekend. There was much eating (thank you Kyle!), musical beds, walks around the neighborhood, cooing at the baby (OMG the baby. He is edibly cute), an intense game of Taboo in which Nancy's name was invoked (how else could I explain "hat trick" without saying the word "hockey"?), and not nearly enough picture-taking--partly because I left my camera at my brother's overnight. (Ask Julie about how he returned it on his motorcyle, fully decked out in leather and chains.)

Once again, Jo and Tacy picked up without a moment's hesitation and didn't leave each other's sides, awake or asleep, for the entire length of the visit. Neither did Jo wear any of the clothes we brought for her, preferring instead to raid Tacy's closet. I don't know if it's the fact that they spent so much time together as infants (nearly every day from three months to two years) or the fact that we parents do our best to encourage their continuing relationship, but these girls have a strong bond that's now weathered four years apart. I hope it never breaks.


Goodbye Denver--we'll be back as soon as we can.

Ready for takeoff

A boy, his vehicles, and one shark.
SFO, July 2008.

There's Victorian, and then there's VICTORIAN

Photo Week, III: For the first part of our San Francisco adventure last month, we stayed in a lovely flat in Cole Valley that I'd found on Vacation Rentals By Owner.* It was tastefully decorated and conveniently located in a nice little residential/retail district (there was a wine and cheese shop directly across the street ... what more could you ask?). The plan was for our family to stay there from Saturday through Thursday, and then I'd decamp to the W for BlogHer and Jeff and the kids would head home.

When we had to extend their stay because Jo was in the hospital, we couldn't remain at our nice apartment, since it was already promised to some other lucky vacationers. The children's hospital gave us a list of hotels to try. We eventually found a room at a place near Japantown. It was small, clean, friendly, reasonably priced, and apparently had been decorated by a refugee from Lady Mildred's Victorian Theme Park and Former Brothel.

A sampling (with apologies for the poor quality--my husband went snapshot-crazy):






That last one was on the ceiling. Thankfully not in the bedroom. Be sure to notice how the "gold" "leaf" is flaking off.

*Highly recommended. If you are going away, with kids, for more than a few days, and won't be staying with friends or family, consider renting a house or apartment. For the same price as a hotel (often less) you get a full kitchen, separate bedrooms, a living area, and sometimes even laundry machines, a yard, and extra bathrooms. We've done it successfully in San Diego, San Francisco, and even Paris (before kids).

Preschooler on a plane (in 3 acts)

I.



II.



III.

Appendectomy vacation: Not recommended!

Well! So that was a fun trip. Jo was discharged on Friday. That's five nights in the hospital, most of it hooked up to an IV and some other unpleasant tubing; five days without solid food; and at least five tantrums over medicine (taste thereof).

We have been so lucky up to this point with healthy kids. In 6 years we'd never been to the emergency room and the only medical procedure they'd had was one set of itty bitty ear tubes. Now I know it's true that everything else just falls away when your child is sick and really, really needs you. Jeff and I almost fought over who'd be the one to sleep in her hospital room--we traded off staying there and taking care of Opie. I hated being away from her, even when Opie and I were off having little adventures around the city (taking the Muni to the beach: best $1.50 I spent).

She's never been so sick, and she's still not better--she's achy and tired and sad. I'm afraid she's lost any faith she had in doctors and medicine and possibly even the power of her parents to make things right. Not exactly the souvenir I'd hoped to bring home from San Francisco.

In the end, Jeff and the kids got one day of sightseeing and I got one day at BlogHer. I missed the keynotes and the parties and seeing many of you, but I'm grateful for those I did get to see, and for all the warm wishes and good thoughts for Jo.

Cue Tony Bennett (and why I might miss BlogHer)

Except it wasn't her heart Jo left in San Francisco. It was her appendix.

Instead of Chinatown and the Golden Gate Bridge we are touring the emergency room and children's ward. My big girl has an IV taped to her arm, plastic bracelets on both wrists and three small, heart-shaped bandages on her belly. She hasn't had a bite of solid food since Friday evening.

Yes, our child had a ruptured appendix and instead of taking her to the doctor, we put her on a plane and flew her halfway across the country. You can line up right behind us for the Jerks of the Year award.

She needs four or five days of intravenous antibiotics and recovery time. It's been 24 hours since the surgery and she can barely stand to move an inch or be touched anywhere on her body.

Which is to say: I may not make it to BlogHer. And the thing is, I don't even care. I've been looking forward to it since the minute I drove away from the W last year, and I have lots of new friends I really wanted to meet this time (not to mention old ones to see again). But right now, the only place I want to be is next to this bed, in this vinyl-covered recliner, waiting for my sweet girl to smile again.

If it's Sunday, it must be San Francisco

I didn't really mean to leave that birthday-wish-soliciting post up for so long. But since July 1, my calendar has looked like this:

2 nights home
3 nights away
3 nights home
2 nights away
1 night home
8 nights away

I'm now about to start #1 of those last 8 (up to and including BlogHer). So I'll remain scarce, especially after the geesemice descend in a few days. I've never been very good at planning ahead with blogging. It feels too much like work, after years of writing about Christmas every June in my magazine days. So later, gators!

Again with the waterparks

I believe I mentioned at least once (maybe twice) that we recently traveled to the Waterpark Capital of the WORLD. You can read all about it in a two-parter at The Full Mommy. It's multimedia, baby -- includes a mini-review performed by the kids on video.

And that'll have to hold you for a few days. Off to the in-laws' for the holiday weekend. Have a good one!

They came, they saw, they primed and painted

After more than three days with two extra adults in the house, I'm ready to move to a kibbutz or some other communal living situation. Sure I enjoy privacy but damn if it isn't nice to have extra people around to cook, clean, play pretend, and the like. Plus we have time for extracurricular projects:

Jo's new room color,
with (a sop to the 6-year-old girlie) one pink wall;
and Opie's new color(s), chosen to complement his "baseball guys"
and his two auntie-made quilts.

Yes, Grandma and Grandpa put down their crackberries, picked up some brushes and rollers, and helped us give both kids' rooms a makeover. Opie is still grousing that he doesn't LIKE brown, but I do and I am the one with the credit card so I won that particular fight. The fish (see pink wall) had a near-death experience--accidentally poured down kitchen sink into disposal--but was recovered and now is back in its rightful home. As are Grandma and Grandpa, who we'll miss very much, but they have businesses to run and banjos to play so we'll see them again another time. And a month from tomorrow we leave for San Francisco!

To infinity...

At the Milwaukee Art Museum. For Wordless Wednesday.

Happy birthday to my dog

I am a total goody-two-shoes. I am a rule-follower and a risk-avoider and always have been. Very boring and sensible.

But I did once hitchhike 200 miles through the south of France, along the Route Napoleon. I was studying in Grenoble and three friends and I decided to go to Nice. We split up into boy-girl pairs and set off on a chilly day in February with a couple of backpacks and a cardboard sign. It took us a full day to reach Nice, but we got there, in the company of several nice ordinary people and a few harmless wackos. Plus a priest, who picked us up about 50 miles from Nice and took us to a nice convent he knew about, near Grasse. He (and the nuns) insisted that we have dinner there and then they put us on a bus for the very last leg of our journey.

Somewhere, I still have that cardboard sign reading "Destination Nice s'il vous plait."

*

And while we're taking this walk down memory lane: The story of how we got our dog, eight years ago today. Jeff and I were living together and engaged but not yet married. He had wanted a dog for a long time. I hadn't grown up with any pets but being all starry-eyed and goo-goo over my man, I started getting starry-eyed and goo-goo over all the cute doggies on Petfinder too.

One day we found an adorable little terrier there. We contacted the foster caregiver and scheduled an appointment to drive out to the boonies and meet this dog. The caregiver assured us that he was extremely sweet and gentle and would make a delightful pet. She encouraged us to take him out for a get-acquainted walk. We did and about 200 yards from this woman's house, stopped to play a bit with the dog--at which point he decided to sink his teeth into Jeff's arm. Not just a little puppy nip but a full-on chomp. We ran back to the house with blood gushing all over, handed off the terror terrier, and headed straight for the nearest ER. Jeff needed 6 stitches but did manage to avoid a series of rabies shots.

The next day we went to an animal shelter near our apartment. There must have been 50 dogs there, all barking like crazy trying to get our attention. The one who didn't bark, but just shyly gazed at us from behind the wire fencing, was the one we took home.

*

You know what today is, right? So which one of these is a true story?

For more fact vs. fiction:
My Life As It Is
The Mummy Chronicles
The Hip Mom's Guide

Updated Wednesday April 2: The dog story is about 60% true. It all happened except for the bad bite. The France story is 100% true. And here's a bonus story about my travel companion that day. A couple months ago I Googled him, since I am nothing if not nosy, and found that he is a spokesperson for the U.S. State department. Because his statements were similar to those of his colleagues with different names, some bloggers accused them all of not actually existing--just being sock puppets for the department. Surreal, since I can assure these bloggers that I spent several months seeing and talking to this person every day.

Togetherness Tour '08

So, the trip. It turns out that a full week of 24/7 kid care was a leeeetle bit hard for me. I am ashamed to admit that. But by the end of those 7 days I wasn't really the nicest mom in the world. It took a lot of effort to hold myself together. Part of the problem was that I overlapped our trip (me + kids) with my husband's business trip, so that when we arrived home there were no reinforcements waiting. Thank god the kids were exhausted enough to sleep very late that first morning at home.

We went to Washington, D.C., because it is halfway between the cities where my brother and his wife live and my sister lives. Coincidentally, one of my closest friends happened to be traveling there that same week. (I'm sorry I didn't have the strength--or child care--to coordinate any bloggy get-togethers.) And I thought -- D.C.! Tons to do! Public transportation!

Yes, true; tons to do. If your kids are into museums. By day 3 mine most certainly were not. And yes, public transportation. A half-mile from the hotel, so that before you are 20 minutes into your day out both kids are whining because whichever one's not in the stroller insists that he/she neeeeeeds to be in the stroller and by the way don't you have any snacks? (I always did, because that is my A#1 tip for traveling with children. Just keep feeding them.)

Since a certain someone has a history of vanishing from my grasp I brought a leash. Oh yes. My husband was horrified but I pointed out that he would be much more horrified if I came home with one less child than I started out with. It was a critical piece of equipment and I'm so glad I had it. Of course, Jo wanted to be the one to hold the handle which pretty well defeated the purpose, but we soldiered on.

Highlight: Left with two kids. Came home with same two!
Lowlight: Jo asking me "Why are you sad and mad?" (see camera, below).

Highlight: Letting the kids take a long, loud, messy, splashy bath in the hotel bathroom.
Lowlight: Going into a "family" bathroom at an airport, discovering it had been most recently used as a smokers' lounge.

Highlight: Jo wanted to take pictures of fossils and skeletons to show Daddy.
Lowlight: Lens now jammed on brand-new camera (she dropped it). Hence no photos accompanying this post.

Highlight: Snuggling in a king-sized bed with the kids.
Lowlight: Sharing a mattress with The Windmill and The Slurper--the noise of the thumb-sucking would absolutely wake the dead.

Highlight: Homewood Suites, you rock. Spacious, nicely furnished, complimentary huge breakfast and dinner, friendly staff ... who looked the other way when I had three extra people sleeping my room (sister, brother, sister-in-law).
Lowlight: Caving in and allowing the kids to have root beer with dinner one night. One, having downed about 8 ounces in 6 minutes, turned instantly manic, bouncing in the booth, darting over to the window, and crawling under the table. The other one turned insomniac and couldn't fall asleep until 10:30 p.m. (there went my sanity-saving "alone time" for that night).

Highlight: No work, cooking, cleaning, or other household responsibilities.
Lowlight: Every single poopy diaper was my job.

Sightseeing highlight (kids): A panda scratching its butt; the "pee cup" in the Skylab Orbital Workshop; poisonous frogs.

Sightseeing highlight (mom): A mini college reunion with 5 close friends (including the ex), one spouse (his), and 6 little kids, who, with an assist from the TV, entertained themselves well enough that the adults actually had time to talk and catch up.

Overall? Not sure I'd do that again. But getting to see family and old friends meant a lot, and even the concentrated kid time was almost always fun. I kind of like those two kids. I'm glad I brought both of them back with me after all.

A total tease

I'm back home.
Alive.
Barely.

Much more to say but for now, I point you to my latest Full Mommy review--of the DVD that did, in fact, get me through some of the hairier moments of this trip. I mean, produce a brand-new Bob the Builder DVD and you are bound to buy yourself a little bit of time and maybe even a few words of thanks to boot.

(It didn't, however, earn me the title "Best Mom Ever." That I got when I offered up ice cream for dinner in the Detroit airport. Bribery will get you everywhere.)

Haiku Friday: Hiatus edition

The vectors of germ
and I are hitting the skies
tomorrow -- look out

Yes, it was daunting yesterday when 50% of the household was puking, the dog had a seizure, and I started feeling that telltale dry throat that always portends a vicious cold.

But the tickets are purchased, the hotel is booked, the aunts and uncles and friends (even an ex-boyfriend!) are waiting, so we are off tomorrow.

I'll be gone until next week but I am leaving you with three movies still to be identified (now with hints--get on that!). And over at the Full Mommy, you can read another travel story: My review of a brand-new water resort.

And please I beg you
Don't post too much while I'm gone
Spring break for us all!

Homecoming haiku

Four nights away from
home, husband, kids. Each day seems
longer than the last

In the airport on the way home I walked into the ladies' room behind a little girl and her mom singing the Hannah Montana theme song. Then the girl asked her mom to come in the stall and help her wipe.

Ah yes. I'm almost home.

(Composed on Friday for Haiku Friday but didn't make it to the big screen until today.)

Wanderlust-ful

New mama Julie (not to be confused with Other New Mama Julie, or Word-Using Mama Julie, or do I have any other bloggy friends named Julie?) tagged me for a Top-5 meme. I am to tell you 5 things about myself, and then list 5 places in the world I'd like to see (or see again).

I've already revealed many miscellaneous things about myself so I'll just make up my own rules. Here are 5 random things I have been wondering lately:

1. How I manage to entirely fill the dining room table with crap every day between the hours of 8 a.m. and 2 p.m., only to have to clear it off completely by 2:45. Right now: 4 piles of work papers; 1 cloth napkin; 1 binder clip; dirty lunch dishes; a bottle of tea; the phone; a ruler I found on the floor; a photo that fell off the refrigerator; two invitations to events I don't intend to attend; the recipes from last night's soup swap; my planner book. And the laptop.

2. If there are any "virtue" names for boys. I encountered a family recently with children named Hope, Grace, and Christian; the mother mentioned that the last one would've been Faith if he'd been a girl. Ever since I have been racking my brain trying to come up with alternative boy names. This is neither an attempt to name a child I'm not having nor a need to make some kind of point about the virtuousness of girls vs. boys. I'm just cat-killin' curious.

3. Why, if you invite me (see #1) to a fundraiser to be held at your home, you don't offer some kind of hint as to who on earth you are and how you know me or got my name.

4. Whether it's far too late to get a babysitter for this weekend, or to get my roots done before my next trip to New York.

5. If winter will ever. Ever, ever. Ever, ever end. (Forecasted for Mayberry for the next 5 days: Snow, clouds, snow, snow, clouds.)

Now, for part two! Oh, the places I'd go. Here are my top picks from the list we compiled last fall (fairly high on the conventional/cheese factor, but too bad; and I also cheated and added some that weren't on the list).

• Hawaii
• Spain
• Turkey
• Iceland
• Patagonia

Oh, and here's another list of 5: The soups I now have chillin' in my freezer. How's that for meme miscellany?

• Vegetable with meatballs
• Chicken chili
• Curried butternut squash
• Wild rice
• Potato-leek

Care to play? Join me in the comments or on your own blog.

Thank goodness for Sheila

I'm still cold but I spent the better part of the weekend embracing the weather instead of fighting it. We took the kids sledding on Sunday. My friend Sheila is a class-A rounder-upper and event planner and she put together a cross-country ski outing on Saturday. I hauled out the skis that I haven't used since my childfree days (they still fit! yeehaw) and we spent the afternoon gliding through a nature preserve. As we were setting out on the trail a fresh-mouthed 8-year-old asked me if I had ever been on skis before. I refrained from answering "Yeah, before you were born, ya little twerp" or from otherwise letting her comment crush my groove.

My best/worst ski outing (I'm still talking about cross-country here -- all of my downhill outings have been "worst." I am not cut out for that), mentioned briefly here, was in Moosehead Lake, Maine. The lodge we stayed at had yurt-to-yurt trails so the idea was, you ski around all day and then sleep in a yurt at night (your belongings having been magically transported there by snowmobile, about which more later). I soon learned that a canvas tent, even one equipped with a wood-burning stove, was not really ideal for a February night in Maine.

The trails, however, were amazing and so was the people-watching in the lodge. Snowy trails attract two diametrically opposed groups: the cross-country skiers and the snowmobilers. The skiers wear natural fibers (corduroy knickers and knee-high wool socks: hot!), eat granola, and probably listen to NPR. The snowmobilers wear space-age synthetics in space-age colors and I'm guessing they like the country music. Seeing these two groups mix (or at least occupy the same room) is a fascinating character study.

*

Segue on the word "character": my lovely cousin's mother-in-law just died. Doesn't she sound like a remarkable person? I'd never met her, and really hadn't known much about her (Ozarkian jigs! Fishing! B29 bombers!). I'm sorry I'll never get the chance now.

Photo from the Utah Ski Archives via fasterskier.com