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Monthly Archive for November, 2005

Kind of Like Baby Biscotti

My son loves his baby sister. Loves. Her. Though he’s never had biscotti, and probably doesn’t know the word (we eat scones or cookies whilst sipping our coffee and cocoa) I was tickled when he basically compared his baby sister to biscotti yesterday.

It went a little bit like this:

Joel (in baby voice): Oh Lucy! You?re so cute, I just want to dip you in a cup of coffee!
Me (giggling): What do you mean by that, honey?
Joel: She’s just so cute that I want to drink her up!

So, he got a little confused there at the end, but the message was clear – the boy simply adores his precious baby sister. Smart kid :)

Earlier today, Olivia got in on it too – I overheard her tell Lucy, “Lucy, I just wanna dip you in some coffee!”

Who knew

raising a goldfish would be so much work?

It’s been years since we had one, but I often feel guilty that “Larry Fish” is no longer here. “Larry Fish” was originally “Bob Fish” (a Veggie Tale theme here) before “Bob Fish” died. “Larry Fish” is not dead – though on at least 3 separate occasions he SHOULD have died. I tried to convince Joel to rename him, I mean HER – Lazarus. We found out “he” was a “her” after she began showering her bowl with eggs. Gross. Nobody told me girlfish do that. Her new name became Dorothy (like Elmo’s fish).

I feel guilty because Joel earned

    Bob Fish
    Larry Fish

Dorothy. When he was potty training – years ago – the incentive we gave him was a pet fish. If he went a week with no accidents, he could have a pet fish. He got two. Technically, he earned his pet, but only technically because shortly before we got in line to buy 2 goldfish and all the gear – Joel had an accident.

We came home that night with the fish, and a wet boy. The original Larry Fish died within days. I worried Joel would be sad, but as we flushed the fish he said, “Oh, well, I guess we need to get a new fish.”

On Mother’s Day morning, 2003 Larry Fish II hopped out of the fish bowl. As my husband and son began the ceremonial flushing, her lips began to move, then her body… ALIVE! She was rescued from the toilet. Soon after we learned Larry Fish was a girl – so Dorothy became her name.

We took Dorothy to be fish-sat over vacation. On the drive back home her bowl spilled, she got cut up, it spilled again, and finally I dropped her clumsily in the sink. Thank goodness for the strainer! She moved slowly those first few hours home, but she was back to her old self by the next day. That fish…

My in-laws fish-sat Dorothy at one point, and they agreed to keep her. Despite Joel’s begging to have her back, I managed to explain away why she was better off at Mimi’s. Time passed, and Dorothy thrived in a bigger home, and she grew. She grew to be the largest goldfish I had ever seen. I should have taken a picture.

Goldfish need a bit of food and clean water. That takes time and it takes effort. Again, she required more that her new family could give. Recently, Dorothy was released into a tank of lots of other goldfish… I am told she looked happy when they let her go…

Joel still asks about Dorothy, and reminds me that he should have been able to keep the fish. He’s right. I guess it is easier to live with the guilt than to live with the super-sized golfish with 9 lives!

All in the name of Progress…

Despite our best effort to utilize the best option (the shortest path, tree-free, landscape design-free), a cranky neighbor and a neighbor not willing to explore options (not as much cranky as they are affected by cranky neighbor’s cranky-influenced gossip) dash our money and time-saving hopes against a wall of hard-headedness. Cranky. I digress…

My dear husband has spent hours upon hours this past week working. The work he has been doing is especially impressive. On a Case 580 he’s been digging a 3 foot-deep trench, laying conduit for power, telephone & cable, and filling the trench back up – along all 700 feet of the drive.

He even did it yesterday in the pouring rain after I returned from my 5 am to 9 am post-Thanksgiving deal hunt. He did it early Thanksgiving morning… It must get done because no other work can be done on the property until the road is accessible! There have been a few equipment problems. We even had the original Case replaced with another, and it broke last night! The rental company is sending a new machine that has only 50 hours on it today… I try to anticipate anything and I still find surprises. Maybe I need to be more imaginative :)

Thankfully, he has not been all alone in his effort. It is with much thanks and overwhelming gratitude that our entire family thanks Bart. No, not the Bay Area Rapit Transit! Our friend Bart- a dedicated trench-and-conduit-in-any-weather-kind-of-friend. He has spent many hours with my hubby “in the trenches” – literally! Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you….

Happy Thanksgiving…


“Disco Turkey” by Joel (age 6)


“Grandma Turkey” by Olivia (age 3)

It’s A Boy

As I began reading Andi Buchanan’s book, It’s a Boy, I noticed a difference between my worldview and many of the authors. I fall in the “conservative” category when it comes to religion, politics, and of course, parenting. I am certainly different if I choose to stop and zoom my lens on “issues”. If I allow myself to refocus and view the landscape, I see our worlds come together. We are all mothers, more specifically, mothers of boys.

I see my heart in the stories that are shared about baby boys, preschoolers, and young sons. I relate to the feelings of concern, the pressures, the joys, and the overwhelming love each mother has for her boy(s). Regardless of differing opinions, the mother’s heart is same. I kind-of skimmed the stories on teen sons because I am half-afraid and half-sad because I know how soon my 6 year-old son will be there. While a mother joys in her son’s accomplishments and growths, she also cherishes the baby, toddler, and preschooler…

My son has been a handful from the beginning. He has always been energetic. During the first two years of his life, most of his “friends” were girls. I’m not sure if these girls were particularly mild-mannered or if my boy was particularly wild; but it was clear that my son was different. By the time he was 15 months old I joined a mom’s group solely for the purpose of finding moms who had boys. I was weary of feeling like I was a bad mom, incapable of “controlling” my child. It was my mission to find a place we fit. I was drawn to this book for the very same reason…

In It’s a Boy, Andi Buchanan does a wonderful job putting together stories of mothers and their sons. The authors offer an array of experiences; all tied together with one common bond – sons.
Karen E. Bender’s essay – “The Bully’s Mother” hit close to home. In it she tells of the biting, hitting and toy grabbing. Though my son was not technically a “biter” he did bite into another boy’s cheek when he was 3. I shared Karen’s feeling of horror, shame… then our first year of preschool. Everyday before sending my son off I would singsong, “Remember, Joel, helping hands, not hurting hands… walking feet not running feet.” I remember always cautiously asking his teachers, “Did he have a good day today???”

Fast forward to present-day. Just like Karen’s son, my son has changed so much from his preschool days. He is far different than I dared imagine. He is still energetic, and sometimes struggles with being gentle, but aggression is no longer his label. He comes home with the “All-Star Kindergartener” paper at the end of every week. After his first day of kindergarten… after the second, after the third, after the sixth… I asked his teacher, “How did he do?” Each time, her report was the same – “He is doing very well.”

Robin Bradford’s piece titled, “Becoming a Boy” tugged at my heart… the final paragraph was especially moving as she creatively expressed how having a son has changed her:

I push off my shoes and stuff in my socks. The water is so cold on my ankles it hurts. As green-headed ducks drift by and the sun glints blades onto the water and three boys with their pants rolled to their knees balance on mossy stones, I step in deeper and cringe. A boy can do that to you.

My son stretches me, makes me cringe. While his choice in clothes and toys and activities all shout, “BOY! – who he is reaches beyond gender. He has pieces of me and my husband and our families in him. He can’t resist light sabers and swords, but he’s been know to throw on a princess dress and snuggle his special stuffed animal – Tiger Baby. Sadly, the other night he said he was too big to snuggle Tiger Baby. However, he decided instead they could sleep next to each other… He is rich with emotion and talked early for a boy (so I hear). Verbal communication has always been one of his strengths. He makes the most incredible sound effects too.

Like the mothers who shared stories in It’s a Boy: Women Writers on Raising Sons, I don’t want to keep him in a box labeled “boy”. Yet in the same breath, I want to embrace the very things I notice that make him different from his sisters. The many things that make him stand out, unique, charming, exasperating… all boy. Thank you Andi for bringing these stories together…

New Meaning of “Hat Head”

Yesterday, while at the store, my three-year-old daughter saw a boy she knew. She excitedly pointed and squealed about the sighting. I wasn’t sure who it was, so I asked her to be more specific, “Which boy Olivia?”

On her tiptoes, finger pointed, and squealing with delight she expounded, “That boy! With the hair like a hat!”

You know, the kind of hair cut… I think it’s called a “bowl cut”. It’s so cute. My son had a modified version of it himself as a preschooler. The blond-headed boy with shiny, fine hair we saw at the market, had that cut. I just never though of it as “hat head” before…

Formation


Paul says to our neighbor, “Does this look right to you?”

The forms for the foundation walls are up. We are told “they” are going to be pouring them today. It’s good to see progress…

Foundation – Footing


County Approved – 02-NOV-2005

Victory countered with setback… neighbors unwilling to allow convenient and most affordable way for power. Cool, it’s always nice to have helpful neighbors. It’s a longer story than this short paragraph eludes to…

Light at the end of the tunnel – literally and figuratively. Another neighbor agrees to a modified road maintenance agreement. This change allows power. It’s more expensive (so much more…), but will also be more reliable.

It’s funny, but shortly before our “power crisis” I had been opening my mind to the fact that we would encounter big problems in the building process. I tried to emotionally gear-up. I tried to imagine the worst. Naive?little me. I thought since the ground had been dug (no springs of water) and the ground seemed stable, that no real big problems would arise.

My husband is at The County now filing this new agreement. I say a little prayer – it is rumored The County can be worse than neighbors…

The Secret to a Clean Bathroom

Are you ready? Here it is. It’ll change the world. Oh. The. Suspense.

Don’t. Use. It… Don’t. Use. The. Bathroom. The secret is finally out.

But there is a price. There is always a trade-off. One can never have a clean bathroom, clean hair and fuzzless teeth.

Rats. There is always a hitch.

*She runs her fingers through her fabulously clean hair*

My Shadow


By Joel – 6 years old

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