la petite baleen

Zuzu. Our strong willed, I can do anything you can do... and damn well better than you can daughter.  

We didn't start her in swim lessons until she was nearly three.  Her older brother was in swim classes before he could walk.  Why?  Well, I *think* we both assumed that she would just see what he was doing and jump on in.  She was going to be a fish (ok, a guppy) before she could even talk.  I was sure of it.  The girl is fearless and, quite frankly, she thinks she's the shit.  Swimming was going to be a no brainer for her especially with her big fish brother already swimming the length of the pool at three.  

But it wasn't long before I learned we were terribly, terribly wrong.

She hated swimming. Loved the pool. But hated swimming. Scared her to death. And ironically, we have one of the only two pools on our block.  They are far from common around these parts and being that her Dad and I both grew up in Florida we beat all odds when we actually stumbled upon a suitable house... with a pool.  And now this.  A kid that was terrified to swim.

We were on our fourth swim school this past Winter, early Spring, when I finally threw my hands up in the air, fired off an email to the teacher... and quit.  It was too much stress.  For both of us.  I couldn't do it any more.  When she was ready I said, she'll swim.  

And two weeks ago, at swim school number five.  She swam.  She cried her eyes out and required special attention.  But she swam.  And then again today, at lesson number two, she swam.
But today, she LOVED it. 

All in due time...

it's not pink!...

Lovin' this afternoon's fresh, cold apple juice in his new striped *water bottle* courtesy of Lululemon and Gage's serious raffle luck.  

Checkout that pinkie finger.  What's up with that?

and we have a winner!

I'm not much of a gambler.  And definitely not an advocate for raffle tickets.  I like substance. Certainty.  Especially when it comes to fund raising.  I would much rather try to sell my neighbor a $5.00 hershey bar that they can buy at the drug store for $.50 than to peddle a book of raffle tickets for free time share trips to Sweden which they will never win and probably wouldn't want to go on anyway. But I digress. Sort of.

This week we've been lavishing in the elementary school book fair.  (Mentioned subtly in last post).  Well, they've been selling raffle tickets at the fair and it's a huge hit with the second graders.  I've been trying my best to explain to Gage that I would much rather spend $15 on a book that we can read and which a portion of the proceeds will go to the school library than to simply drop $10 on raffle tickets for which we'll surely get nothing.  Didn't work.  He bought TWO raffle tickets.  With his own money.  And he made two trips to do it.  He went during snack time and bought one ticket. Then, he went back during lunch and bought a second.  Same day.  Think it just made him feel good to go twice.  Anyway, he had great expectations. "Quinn won a flip camera last year!... I might win a wii!.. We have to go to the Cafe on Thursday night to see if I win!" 

Cut to the chase?  We didn't go to the Cafe.  I spent over $100 on books for the entire family for which I have absolutely no regrets and Gage bought two $1.00 raffle tickets.  Tonight at 8pm our phone rang.  A little late for a phone call round here but it was our dear friends from up the block calling from the car.  Guess what, Gage?  "You won a....

LULULEMON WATER BOTTLE."

And. The. Crowd. Went. Wild!!!!!

He was ecstatic.  Running, jumping, screaming.  You would have thought he won a wii for each and every child in his class.

But wait.  It gets better.  (It usually does.)

Then.  "We have even better news for you, Gage", we hear from the car full of girls.

"IT'S PINK!"

Disappoinment?  NEVER.  The kid was still on top of the world.  I told him I'd be happy to take it as would his sister but NO.  He wants his pink lululemon water bottle all to himself.  And he doesn't care what anyone has to say about it.  Because he beat the odds, dammit.  And he won (snicker) a pink lululemon water bottle.

Remind me to bring the camera to school tomorrow for when we redeem our prize...

call me!

Yup, I did it.  I became one of *those moms* and Gage became one of *those kids* today.  It all started rather normally.  He greeted me outside the classroom and we spoke briefly about his day.  We both moved slowly.  But then his teacher appeared outside, which is rare, so I took the opportunity to chat with her for a few minutes.  We were discussing the selections Gage had made at the annual Book Fair and assessing the pro's and con's of buying him a Kindle for Hanukkah.  Then, we parted ways and I turned to leave.  Without Gage.  Poof.  Gone.  

The school was still bustling so I checked in at a few of his favorite haunts and with a few of his closest friends.  Not in car line.  Not at after school care.  Not on the play structure or the basketball court.  Not in the book fair.  (ok, this school is not small either so I'm covering a lot of ground here).  Then I check everywhere.  Again.  Now I'm mad.  And honestly a little scared.  What mother wouldn't be?  So I do it.  Yup.  

I enter the front office and ask the lovely lady at the front desk to please page my son on the intercom.  Which she does.  Sternly.  Both his first and last name.  And he is to "come to the front office IMMEDIATELY".  I run to check the book fair one more time where I learn that he had been sighted earlier playing by the trees.  Right outside the front office.  So, of course when I return he is sitting there waiting for me.  Looking guilty. And really sweaty.  I cry.  We leave.

But wait.  It gets better.  

It's early release week at Gage's school due to teacher conferences so, even after the last eventful 15 minutes, we still have some time to kill before we pick up little sis. We sit quietly in a corner for 20 minutes reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid before we walk into the pre-school next door to retrieve Zuzu.

Now, what's important to understand here is that Gage's Elementary School and Zuzu's preschool, at one time, were one big Middle School... ages ago.  And for some insane reason that completely escapes me, they have never separated the intercom systems.  So when the bells ring at the Elementary School they ring at the preschool.  Even during nap time.  And, when a mother loses her son after school and has him paged to the front office, he is paged in every room of his former preschool as well.  

You wouldn't imagine the royal greeting he received there today.  By the director, the teachers and even Zuzu's classmates.  I swear the little four year old girls now think he's cute AND famous.  

The teachers... not so much.

h*o*t

Tonight Zuzu told Gage he looked "hot".

Then she turned to me and told me I looked "hot".

Exactly what does a mother say to that?

"Thank you?"

Exactly what does an older brother say to that?

"Zuzu, where in the world did you hear that?"

To which she answers, whilst giggling madly, "oh, on all those commercials."

Damn those commercials.

(Hidden meaning here for father that makes *those* commercials)

football fever

Want to know what happens when a sleep walking, sleep talking, feverish boy watches 7 hours of football straight?  Well it's not all that surprising.  He passes out cold at 8pm (had to wait for game #4 to end, of course).  Then, an hour later, his mom finds his door ajar and enters.  

He is sitting up in bed.  Eyes open but very confused.  He looks at her and says, "I have to make a big..." 

He stops.  She ponders.  Does he have to poop?  Then she notices the simulated ball handling going on in front of him.  It's a play.  He's working on a play.

"Lay down and go back to sleep, honey", she says.  He lays down.

He looks up at her and asks, "So I have half the field.  Who am I against again?"  She is convinced.  Football fever.  And he doesn't remember any of it the next morning. So we'll never know who won...

the pool monster

The kids call it "the pool monster".  Two years later, Lucy still doesn't know what to make of it. This went on forever.  I'll only subject you to about 25 seconds of it.  You kind of get the point after the first two. But it's pretty damn funny and worth archiving none the less.  I'm convinced... one of these days... Lucy's gonna get that sucker.

seven?

Is this precious angel really SEVEN today? So hard to believe I almost don't want to. But at least he's still an angel. Most of the time.  

More birthday blogging to come.  Once the celebration has subsided...

My Face

My Face

By Gage Duchon

My hair

My hair is as bright as a pencil

And it is as shiny as a star

In the night

And as curly as an elephant's trunk

Swaying in the air

My eyes

My eyes are as blue as the world

Spinning and spinning

My mouth

My mouth is as red as the sun

In the galaxy

Spin, spin, spinnnnnnn!

My nose

My nose is as big as the world

Wowowow!

My ears are sooo good hearing

That they can hear a cricket

Hopping in the night

Where I live

That's my face

2nd Grade Poetry Class

October, 2010.

uno and one broken remote

Gage had just grabbed his camera to photograph Zuzu's reaction to losing at Uno for the second time in a row when he captured more than any of us had bargained for.  Fortunately mom is not only crafty.  But apparently she's handy too.  That and I've already had to repair this ridiculously expensive remote about a dozen times...

heigh-ho, heigh-ho...

I don't know why, but every time I look at this photo of our little boy trekking off to the field with his ginormous soccer bag that song repeats over and over in my head.  

Is that bad?

age is just a number...

...except when you have to pick up the m n' m and hold it 18 inches in front of your face to actually read what it says.  Seriously folks.  This is what happened.  Turns out they read, "Kristi's 40th!!!". I have the best friends ever.  And I am NOT old. Just blind.

in honor of labor day...

Might I explain why I have not been laboring on this blog...

1. The athletic son was recruited from his leisurely soccer camp to play in the local competitive league.  Somehow, after watching him play for two days, the coach managed to sneak him onto the team three months after tryouts... and two days before practice started. That was a fun scramble to get paperwork, uniforms, and schedules organized.  Oh, and it might have been nice if they'd been a little more up front about the amount of travel required.  He's six and now playing in tournaments that overtake our entire weekend... and require over night hotel stays?  WTH?  Too late now. He loves it.  And he's good. Or (since they lost 3 out of 3 games this weekend) maybe I should say, he has extreme potential.

2. The soccer player also entered second grade. Still in shock. And after attending "meet the teacher night" I'm now also a little overwhelmed.  Felt like I needed to take notes so that I could come home and google some of her lesson plans.  Between his soccer calendar and the new homework schedule I think I might have found my full time job.  Or the incentive to rush out and find a nanny to take this one while I get one that pays in cash.  I jest of course.  I think.

3. The dog almost died.  That was a shitty week.  She ate something toxic, her liver nearly failed and her blood stopped clotting.  Quick response, good doctors and an extremely willful dog were all on our side.  Several too many thousand dollars later she's back home and still a scavenger.

4. The daring daughter bought herself some plastic surgery after a run in with her scooter handle bars.  Fortunately she waited long enough for the dog's blood to begin clotting properly, but soon enough so that Grandma was still here to take her big brother.  And Dad & I had the common sense to make the drive to the pediatric ER in the city where she got top notch care.  We haven't received that bill yet.  Should be a fun one.

5. I'm busily closing the shop.  I finished my last outstanding wholesale order last night.  I'm waiting for an already agreed upon custom order to come through tomorrow and then I'm done manufacturing any new goods.  I'm completely heartbroken and question the decision hourly but I just can't justify the time that goes in vs. the money that comes out.  Heartbroken I tell you.  Enough said.  Except that if there is anything you want... come and get it while it's still there. Don't wait for me to mark it down.  That's not happening.

6. I bought a bike and became seriously addicted to paddle boarding. Both good things. Both great stress reducers. But neither is appropriate for winter in Northern California.  Trying to squeeze as much cycling and paddling in as possible now... before it starts pouring on us. I don't bike in the rain and I certainly don't paddle in the cold. I'm just picky like that.

7. I'm too tired for seven.  Kids are still adorable but at the moment Gage has a simultaneous stomach ache and a head ache and Zuzu is relentlessly asking for her dessert.  See you in another month or so...  Maybe.

post script:
After I published this post I went and sat with headachey, stomachachey son to ask him what was wrong.  He told me, in far more words than I can reiterate here, that "there was just so much going on his head that he was feeling like he really just needed to turn off for a while."  I didn't know whether to hug him or give him a valium. 

and I quote.

zuzu: (at 7am on a Saturday morning) c'mon mommy, let's go play in my room!
mom: I think I might need to make some coffee first.
zuzu: oh, right coffee. and that will rev you up?!

so long April...

It's 8pm and Gage decides he wants to organize the bulletin board in his bedroom. Mind you, his "bulletin board" is comprised of nine Ikea magnetic boards hung side by side and they span the entire wall. But, his mind is set and I absolutely detest the clutter that is up there now so I agree to do some quick purging.

The two of us (both obsessive compulsive and openly non-tolerant of disorganization) stand speechless in front of the vast expanse of two year old art projects, team photos, torn sports illustrated pages, used ticket stubs, autographs & tooth fairy notes. I honestly have no clue where to begin. Then he looks at me, dead serious, and says, "well, I'd like to start by taking down April".

He is referring to a handmade month of April calendar that is hanging in prime location at the bottom of the board. On August 10th. The boy's got smarts I tell you. Mad smarts.

how to cure the hiccups

I had nothing to do with this.  You can actually see me and my mom entering from the garage after the documentary had already begun.  I do wish it were a little more in focus, but considering the director/videographer is only six I think it's a pretty good start.  

Betcha can't guess what finally does the trick...

beeja beeja

If you knew me when I was three you will most likely find this absolutely hysterical.  But if you aren't one of those four blog readers you might just find this absolutely absurd.  Either way.  Here it is.

old maid

Gage: but I really don't want to play old maid.  Can we play go fish, or uno, or crazy eights, or war instead please???

Mom: sure but I really wish it wouldn't upset you so much to lose at old maid.  It's truly not that bad to be stuck with the old maid card.  It doesn't bother me a bit.  I kind of think it's fun!

Grandma: I know! I like getting the old maid card.

Gage: but you two are so much older and have had so much more time to deal with this issue.

religion 101. again. sort of?

Mom: I can't believe I have to put on my winter coat to take out the garbage. In July.

Zuzu: winter is my favorite because it's Christmas

Our guest for dinner, David: why do you love Christmas?

Zuzu: because I love all the presents

David: is that the only time you get presents? (sarcastically, knowing damn well it's not)

Zuzu: no, I got presents on my birthday

Gage: and we get presents for Hanukah too

Zuzu: yeah, all three are my favorites!

David: you celebrate Hanukah?

Gage: yeah, we celebrate Christmas because of my mom but my dad is Jewish...

and I am Jewish too because I've been to that place...  you know... for...

stinky foot in mouth

This morning as we're loading up into the car for pre-school our just turned four year old, Zuzu, takes a quick look at my face. 

"What's that on your chin, Mommy?" 

Great.  Like I wasn't self conscience enough.  

Mommy has a "boo-boo" on her chin, I tell her (because I'm thinking the words "zit" or "pimple" might just perpetuate the conversation).  And then, clearly without thinking at all I say, "I know, it's ugly isn't it?"

I fasten her seat belt and get into the front seat.  I start the car.

"Mommy, what does ugly mean?"

The world stops.  Really?  I just taught our four year old the word "ugly" and now I need to define it for her? At 9am on a Monday?  When I am already preparing to face the gloomy morning with more than one large "boo-boo" on my face? What have I done and how could I be such a terrible influence???

So I attempt to explain that ugly is not a very nice word.  I shouldn't have said it... but sometimes people use the word to define something that is not at all pretty.  Just like sometimes people use the word stupid to describe something a little annoying when they shouldn't.

"So ugly is like Shrek, right?  Because he's an Ogre.  So he is ugly."

But is he?

Four.