If I May...

I rarely make recommendations when it comes to other blogs (not intentional, I just forget to do it), but my darling friend Christina recommended this recently, and I'm so glad that she did. Read Nella's birth story and be prepared to (most likely) cry and (absolutely) fall in love with this mother's precious story. I don't know what moved me more- the heart-wrenching story or the stunning photographs. It all touched my heart and took my breath away. I promise- it's a story worthy of your time.

Thursday

Today is a tough one.

Ella was up from 2 a.m. til 4 a.m. with a gnarly case of the throw-ups. Though she seems better this morning, it's not completely out of her system (let's just say I'm VERY grateful we buy diapers in bulk at Costco).

The dishes are piled up and out of control. This might not seem like a big deal, but it's like I can SEE all of the old food turning to stone on my beautiful plates, right before my very eyes.

Ben doesn't have school today (thank you, Veterans!) and is going nuts with the lack of socialization and stimulation around here. Mama is consequently going nuts-ier.

Ella is (understandably) grumpy & exhausted and wants to be held every 5 minutes. Which is hard when you're trying to stay on top of throw-up (etc.) laundry from early morning hour.

I have somehow managed to injure my knee. It's swollen and puffy and feels like someone injected it with Jello.

Somehow I suddenly turned OLD.

In the 2 minute window I was granted to sort through vomit laundry, I found the world's largest potato bug in our washing machine. Let's not even try to figure out how in tarnations this landed in my house, let alone my beautiful washing machine. Let's just sit for a moment and soak in its monstrosity. Please note the furry hair pricklies and claw like toes. Holy creep fest, Batman.

I screamed and shivered so hard I almost threw up. Also....I mistakenly thought it was a large piece of lint or paper, so I actually PICKED IT UP. Like, in my hand. A giant, dead, wet, limp potato bug. Is it possible for things to get worse around here?

Dan is supposed to be gone all weekend on a retreat. Leaving me alone to tend to The Littles. One of which may or may not still be barfing. Who knows; by then, we might ALL be barfing.

My morning coffee is untouched; cold and depressed. Not even 30 seconds in the microwave can fix this.

We're still a whole day away from Friday.

The almond-scented raspberry cake with cream cheese frosting that Auntie Favi made for birthday girl Ella is now officially gone.

I see no reason to leave the comfort & warmth of my pajamas today.

How, in heaven's name, do single mothers DO IT?

What this day needs is a Starbucks double tall Eggnog Latte. First person on my doorstep with this drink wins unconditional love forever. And a dead mammoth-sized potato bug.

Reason # 276,345 Why I Love Being Married

Me: You know what I haven't done in a long time?
Him: Um.....kegels?
Me: Wow. I was actually referring to Ben's asthma inhaler, but thanks for the reminder.

Our Favorite Soup

We had a wonderful wet, stormy weekend- the kind that I live for and dream about all year long! I know many people get inspiration from warm, sunny days, but I am a girl who draws upon the power of Cozy. A rainy grey day that calls for wool socks, hot cocoa and lazy afternoon lounging is pure magic in my world. On days like these, I know no other way to warm and fill our tummies than to make a large pot of soup to feast on all week. Partner it up with some homemade bread, and I feel like I've given my family the biggest hug they could ever wish for.

A very close family friend of ours passed away about 8 years ago after battling cancer. Her name was Kathy, and if you don't know her directly- trust me, you know someone who probably does. She was the most loving, generous, outspoken, hilarious, good-hearted woman I knew, and she was an inspiration to me in more ways than I can even count. And good heavens, the woman could cook. She loved to feed people, and people loved to be fed by her. Hers was the house that everyone wanted to come to for parties and social gatherings. She was an Italian genius in the kitchen- she left behind an incredible legacy, and lucky for us, one of the best recipes for soup I've ever had. 

While I was enjoying the rain yesterday afternoon, I had a surprising wave of grief come over me, as grief often does, suddenly deeply missing Kathy. Couple this with not a clue for what to make for dinner, and suddenly the inspiration came together. I would make her soup and make some bread and cook my way through my temporary moment of grief. As we were eating dinner last night, not only did my family fall in love with the soup (Ben had 4 bowls), but I was able to explain where I got the recipe, and tell my children a little bit about who Kathy was. I can't help but think she was smiling down on us- heavenly tears of joy filling her eyes, seeing my little family around the table, eating her soup and cherishing her memory. There are no words to express the imprint she's left on our hearts.

Thank you, Kathy, for this soup. And for everything.

Photo courtesy of Nicco Zuffanelli

Kathy Z's Sausage & Vegetable Soup

*NOTE: Being the crazy Italian woman that she was, Kathy cooked "loosely"; meaning, every single ingredient listed is an approximation. You can add or take away any ingredient to tailor it to your specific taste. That's the beauty of this recipe. My personal notes are included in parenthesis.

Ingredients:

-1 zucchini, sliced

-1/2 lb. green beans, halved lengthwise (I used about 3/4 lb because we love green beans)

-1/2 lg. onion, chopped

-1 can crushed tomatoes (I thought this meant a smaller, 14 oz. sized can, but when I went to the store, the only can of crushed tomatoes that were available were the larger 28 oz. size. It's definitely a stronger tomato base & flavor, but it was to die for.)

-6 c. chicken stock (I ended up adding at least a cup of water to thin out the crushed tomatoes a bit. Again, this is all to taste! Typically I use the low-sodium stock so I can control how much salt we're having; however the store was sold out of low-sodium so I used the regular stock. According to my husband, this  actually MADE the soup....go figure....)

-Big handful of mini cheese ravioli (Trader Joe's carries these, but I didn't have time to go out that way. Instead, we used a small soup pasta, called "Stelline ". They are these cute little star shapes and they were excellent in this soup! I used 1/2 box, or 1/2 lb.)

-5 cloves garlic, minced

-1 lb. Italian sausage- sweet or spicy

-*I also added 2 carrots and 2 celery sticks for additional flavor, both chopped

-Salt & pepper to taste

In dutch oven or large soup pot, saute sausage until beginning to brown over medium high heat. Add onion, garlic (and in my soup, this is also when I added the carrots & celery), until vegetables soften. Add all other ingredients EXCEPT for the pasta. Bring to a boil, and turn down to a simmer to cook the rest of the vegetables until al dente (approximately 10-15 minutes). While the soup is simmering, boil pasta (ravioli or other) according to package directions. Add the cooked pasta to the soup just before serving. Season to taste. Serve soup with hearty serving of parmesan sprinkled on top. It also tastes wonderful with a shot of olive oil on top. Enjoy!

Rainy Nights

Image via WikipediaOn a chilly rainy day, some people like to warm themselves in an ambiance of coziness by building a fire. But my husband (read: fire builder) is away, and I'm here to tell you: in a pinch- a large glass of hot sake does the trick exquisitely. Cheers!

Ode to the Night Owl

A few weeks ago, Dan woke up to the sound of our dog Truman, barking from his dog cave (which by day doubles as our laundry room) at the god-awful hour of 1:30 a.m. Since we live somewhat in the stick-ville countryside, we tend to get all sorts of wild creatures in our neighborhood at night. Often times it's nothing more than an obnoxious kitty who's trying to throw a late night party in our yard, intentionally driving our dog bonkers. And therefore ruining our circadian rhythm. This is why I hate cats. Also because I'm allergic to them and they make my eyes red & itchy. And because they have the most presumptuous egos, rubbing up and down on my leg, assuming that surely I'm just DYING to pet the darn thing. Gross. Apologies to all my feline-loving pals, but I can't do the whole cat hair thing. They make my knees wobbly and my tummy nervous.

Anyway, this particular evening (and by evening, I mean very early morning) Dan opened the door and let Truman run out into the backyard and do his watchdog "thing" and thoroughly investigate any unauthorized activity that had taken place moments before.

That's when Dan walked back into the bedroom a few minutes later and said, "Um, babe? I'm pretty sure Truman just got sprayed by a skunk."

To which I growled, "What do you mean you're PRETTY SURE? Did he or--- OH DEAR LORD IN HEAVEN! THE SMELL! THE EYE WATERING STENCH! GET OUT OF THE BEDROOM! IT'S ON YOU! MY NOSTRILS HAVE BEEN SINGED! WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DOOOOO?"

So yes. Truman had indeed gotten sprayed by a skunk.


Being new to the dog-skunking world, we were completely clueless as to what to do. Sure, we could Google step-by-step directions, but how does one sort through millions of people's opinions when time is OF THE ESSENCE? Also, firing up the computer sounded like a lot of work, and I was right in the middle of some serious REM sleep that may or may not have involved John Mayer dreams.... maybe if I just close my eyes, this will all disappear.....


Oh, wait. It's really difficult to fall back asleep when there's that annoying SKUNK SMELL PERMEATING THE HOUSE. (I'd like to take a quick detour here and pose the question: do skunks do anything that contributes to our society/earth in a positive way? Seriously. Is their only job to spray other animals and ruin perfectly wonderful early morning dreams? Please tell me they have another purpose in this world.)

This is when a Night-Owl best buddy comes in handy. Whenever something happens in our lives and we don't know quite what to do, or how to handle it- particularly between the hours of 11pm-5am, we call our awesome friend, who also happens to be named Dan. If you don't have a Dan in your life, you should get one, because generally speaking, they bring about tremendous things. Sometimes having two Dans in my life gets confusing, but I'm not complaining. For the purposes of avoiding any further confusion, we'll refer to my non-husband Dan as Dan2.


Please meet Dan2 (+ the ocean):

Over the years, Dan2 has helped us in many late night urgent-but-not-quite-emergency types of situations. There was the time we heard gunshots. There was the time our neighbor insisted on driving his tractor at 2 a.m. There was the time we needed a marriage therapist. There was the time we were bored, or had a rare case of insomnia. Naturally, Dan2 is always wide awake, so over the years he's become our go-to man when we need something from the outside world. 


Night Owls are quite handy.


As my Dan was stripping off his skunk scented PJ's, I didn't know what to do other than reach for the phone and call Dan 2. Being a dog owner himself and having had multiple dog-skunking experiences, he was full of suggestions. We were instructed to make a potion of tomato juice, baking soda, and hydrogen peroxide. He stayed on the phone with us, walked us through the process, and helped us create a shopping list of necessary items. Oh, that's right. A grocery store visit was necessary because we didn't have any large cans of tomato juice on hand. Not just any grocery store....the one about 15 minutes away was the only one operating 24 hours.

It's hard to be a dog owner.


So my Dan was off, residual skunk smell and all. Moments later, as I was prepping the scene for dog-washing and deskunking, I heard a car pull into our driveway. It's now probably around 2:30 a.m., and the only thing that comes to my mind is, Great. Dan just got in an accident on the way to the grocery store while retreiving tomato juice. The cops are here to tell me he's been taken to the hospital. My house reeks of skunk. This is officially the dumbest night of my life.

But really, it was Dan2, ready to save the day.
You guys....he showed up with (are you ready for this?): every necessary de-skunking ingredient, rain gear attire, gloves, breathing mask, dog washing potions & equipment, and even a dog-washing bench to sit on. I was in my unmatching PJ's with bed head and morning breath, grateful but speechless.


As if this wasn't enough, he walked in with his game face, ready for battle and said, "Where's the dog? I've got this." AND THEN HE PROCEEDED TO WASH AND DE-SKUNK OUR DOG. I'm telling you: y'all need to get yourselves a Night Owl best friend. But I'm not willing to share ours; you'll have to go find your own.
Anyway, I love a good 3 a.m. photo op:

Don't be scared; though it looks like blood, really Truman is just covered in tomato paste. That stuff works magic.

Here's Dan2, the only person I know who can de-skunk a dog WITH A SMILE.

Here we are, approximately 3a.m. Happy to have a clean puppy. Even happier that somehow we avoided getting our pretty little hands dirty & stinky.

After repeatedly thanking Dan2 for his above & beyond helpful services, he replied with,

"What? That's just what friends do. It's no big deal. You'd do the same for me."

I don't know how to break this to you, Dan2, but I'll try to do this gently. I'm pretty sure that if you ever called me at 2 in the morning to tell me your dog got sprayed by a skunk, the chances of me getting out of bed and driving to your house to help clean up the mess are slim to none. I don't even think I would hear the phone ring at that hour. In fact, I can say with the utmost confidence that I would definitely NOT show up at your house ready to bathe your dog.


But please take note: we love you dearly. We'll just have to find alternative ways to show you.

Summer's Finest

Many months ago, in the early days of Spring, Dan & I took a hot date to Costco and bought a three pack of already happily-blooming tomato plants, which included three different varieties. We were so excited! Time for tomato planting & harvesting, sweet family of mine! We eat a plethora of tomatoes around here- almost every night in our salads, always on burgers (remember these sliders? Still a family favorite), and often just drizzled with olive oil & kosher salt on top. In fact, I've been known to spend half of my weekly Farmer's Market budget on gorgeous (and the not so gorgeous, but cheaper and still just as tasty) heirloom tomato varieties, so the thought of going out to our own backyard to pick them was a concept too exciting for words (that is, for Mom; not so much for everyone else).

But I was nervous. I've been known to kill almost every plant we've tried to grow around here. I don't know what I'm doing wrong- I water, I whisper to them, I wait, and I give them space. Inevitably, they die because apparently finding the balance between too much water and not quite enough is impossible when you're me. My basil plant is in a complete state of rebellion- constantly trying to reflower itself and will only give me basil leaves the size of my thumb nail. How am I supposed to make pesto with thumb nail sized basil leaves? It's a disgrace to my Italian ancestors. Maybe basil rearing skills skip a generation. This is my defense.

Anyway, we were left with no choice but to forge ahead! Mom's non-green thumb was not going to keep us from trying. Even the kids got involved in the watering process. No amount of stubborn green tomatoes could kill our hopeful little spirits!

Watering tomatoes is really so much more fun in a swimsuit. Here, Ella is proving that point.

Ben takes his tomato watering quite seriously. So sometimes I "accidentally" spray him with the hose to get him squeling with sheer deight.

In defense of the green tomatoes, we had an unusually cold, gray summer here in Santa Cruz. Apparantly this does not mesh well with tomato growing. Plants really do need sunshine- who knew? And then suddenly, one day, the tomatoes all got together and decided to turn red. The most beautiful deep tomato red you've ever seen! Even though the army of snails had their way with my plants over the course of the summer, we must have done something right. Because we have more tomatoes than I know what to do with. So for now, I line them up on our kitchen windowsill and show them off like they're my personal trophy collection. Who's suddenly in the mood for a Caprese salad?



Good Stuff

Oh, how I needed this today. Perhaps you do, too.

“All that is necessary to break the spell of inertia and frustration is this: Act as if it were impossible to fail.”

– Dorothea Brande

Footloose

Back in the day before I was married and had kids, I always pictured myself having spontaneous dance parties with my family, the kind where everyone genuinely lets loose and displays their inner dance genius. Then, once I met and fell in love with Dan, I knew these future dance parties would be inevitable. The man is a dancing machine, one I can hardly keep up with. On the dance floor he's been known to steal the show, particularly at weddings. There was the time he wore his tie around his head, bandanna style, while moonwalking. There was the time he used the trees at an outside reception as dance props. There was the time where SEVERAL people grew suspicious that he might be a "wedding crasher", given the way he moved with such uninhibited freedom. There was even a very animated T-Rex impersonation during the toast portion of our own wedding, but I digress.

So it should come as no surprise that our offspring have a deep passion for dancing, and find ways to incorporate it into our daily routine as often as possible. Example: After a long, tiring day, Ben might offer this gem of advice: "Mom, we should probably just go home, and have a dance party." And of course, we usually do because nothing can melt my anger or stress or frustration like seeing my babies trying to imitate their crazy parents on the living room dance floor.

I am beyond thrilled that I was somehow able to capture this mini mid-day dance party with the kiddos. Make sure to keep a close eye on Ben- all the way up to the very last second of the video.

Oh my.

Smitten

Image by Gabriela Camerotti via FlickrI love that, even after nearly 6 years of marriage, it still gives me goosebumps and butterflies to hear my husband on the phone say, "Alright, I'm packing up here at work and coming home now". I imagine that I might evoke the same feelings in him when I put a really big plate of pasta and a glass of wine in front of him after an exceptionally long day. I guess in our own little ways, we're learning what to say & do to keep this marriage alive and exciting. I'm so grateful I married a man that's as committed to the "long haul" as I am.

Preschool

So I'm a bit behind in the blogging, and now stories and events in our lives have gotten majorly backlogged. I feel like we went from not a whole lot going on to everything is going on in the span of a couple weeks. I was overwhelmed with how many things I've been wanting to blog about, and didn't know where to begin. And then, the wise words of Fraulein Maria to the Von Trapp children entered my brain and I realized, Duh. Let's start at the very beginning. A very good place to start.

So we'll start with a whopping two weeks ago, a.k.a. Ben's first week of Preschool! This has been a landmark 4 years and 4 months in the making, and I cannot tell you the joy that the separation of 4 hours, twice a week has brought to my relationship with my boy. We actually have time now to miss each other, time to look forward to spending together. He wants to cuddle more than ever before, wants me to hold him on my lap after dinner and hug and kiss him. It's like he just realized that I'm not just the chef & housekeeper around here. I'm a mom with squishy parts that are probably really great to cuddle up to. Sometimes I wish I could cuddle up with me, too.

However, don't let all this cuddling fool you. This child did not show one second of sadness or separation anxiety when the big day arrived. Just because he's all lovey dovey on his days off does NOT mean he isn't enjoying preschool every second that he's there. The pictures from his first day of school depict this perfectly. Who IS this overly confident, Mr. Too Cool For School extrovert?

(Are you kidding me? The thumbs up and the squinted cool-boy eyes? Did I mention that he insisted on posing before I snapped any of these photos?)

Nope. No lack of confidence issues going on here.

Sissy never likes to miss a great photo op.

In front of the preschool, which just so happens to be the cutest little red chapel building you've ever seen. And yes, there's even a white picket fence around it.

In the classroom, ready to play with the tools. It's a shame he's so introverted and holding back his first day, don't you think?

And in closing, I leave you with the mother of all photos. There is so much to love about this picture, but let me point out my favorite's: 1) Ben. It's probably hard to recognize him, because clearly he's been transformed into a superhero with his new-found superhero cape, and his new best friend, Maizie. Maizie is awesome because she's always willing to play superhero games AND cars. This is obviously a match made in heaven. 2) Ella, my little mini-me multi-tasking wanna-be Mama. I love her. And at just under 2 years old, I am very impressed by her abilities to hold a conversation on the phone and keep her baby happy. She screams EVERY SINGLE TIME we have to leave preschool and doesn't get to stay. 3) Since it was his first day, Ben is wearing a name tag so his teachers could learn the new students names quickly. HE IS NOT THE ONLY BEN IN THE CLASS! I was shocked and slightly taken aback. We've never met another little boy named Ben! We've met grown-up Bens and have seen celebrity Bens on movies, but never another real life little boy Ben. According to his teachers, I needn't worry; he's already made quite a name for himself around there.

Caliente

The other day Dan received a gift at work. This is not completely out of the ordinary, as people generally enjoy giving teachers gifts every now and then. Usually there's a card attached expressing something to the effect of "sorry you get paid so terribly, thanks for all you do". It's awesome. We love it, and it only validates our choice to continue having Dan stay in the education field. And while we're here, might I make mention of those Starbucks gift cards that are thrown our way every now & again? GOLD MINE! Am I right, fellow teachers or teachers' wives? I'm telling you, it's the ultimate pick-me-up perk. And yes, I'm usually the one who ends up with those gift cards. What can I say? My man loves me. All the way to Starbucks.

But yesterday, this is what Dan received:

Some fairly authentic looking spicy peppers. 

Apparently the word got around his campus that his wife has a thing for spicy foods. And it's true, I do occasionally declare "MAS CALIENTE!" from the stove when I'm feeling extra saucy. Except nowadays I cook for two kidlets who aren't the biggest fans of spice, so I rarely indulge. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled with this gift, and I want to use them wisely. But what are they exactly, and what am I supposed to do with them? And should I mention that Ben thought the green ones were green beans, and was caught milli-seconds before taking a giant bite through one? No, I probably shouldn't mention it because I'm certain we would've ended up in the E.R. And the doctors would have asked me what type of pepper he bit into, and I would have no idea. And eyebrows would have been raised suspiciously.

So, cyber-world. What do I do with them? (And seriously, what are they?) And just so you know, I'm extra interested if the suggestions involve cheese.

Those Were The Days

This morning I got a good laugh while recalling the youthful days of 11 years ago, when I would secretly anticipate- dare I say wish- to get carded. I would proudly whip out my legitimate photo ID, displaying a young, freshly legal 21 year old who could buy any bottle of alcohol desired. Finally! A real ID! I was of legal age! It took 21 long, agonizing years, but I had arrived, and I was most likely buying cheap wine to celebrate.

Fast forward to today, just days before my 32nd birthday, and not much has changed. I still like to buy wine, especially if it's cheap and delicious (Trader Joe's Coastal, at $3.99/bottle, you never disappoint). I like to spare the cashier the awkwardness of having to ask, so I still get excited to whip out my photo ID and have it ready before even prompted. The only difference now is...9 times out of 10, the cashier usually responds with, "Oh, that's ok, sweetie. I don't need to see that." ROUGH TRANSLATION: Let's face it lady, you are obviously over 21. Just put the card away nice & easy, and stop the wishful thinking. And perhaps it's time you rethink your moisturizer routine. And while we're at it, is that an entire patch of gray hair growing on the side of your head?

So today when the grocery checker asked me if I remembered a certain character's name from the 1970s hit show, "The Waltons" I may have accidentally used an "outside voice" to announce the fact that I wasn't even born when that show was a raging hit. And when he raised his eyebrows in utter shock and said in his "outside voice", "REALLY?", I might have thrown my pork tenderloin at his forehead. (Just kidding, you know me; I would never ruin a perfectly good pork tenderloin.)

The Best Age...Really

I'm sure I've said this to myself with the turn of every month, but Ella really is the best age right now. At 21 months old, she is bursting at the seams with personality, smiles, mostly coherent words, deep belly laughs, love for her baby dolls, obsession with shoes & her daddy. As much as I loved (and admittedly, slightly miss) the major milestone months of baby tricks such as crawling, walking & talking, the tricks that Ella can perform now are so much more exciting and meaningful to me. She can pucker her lips for a kiss. She can listen and follow through with 2-step directions. She can put her shoes on & off (and on & off, and on & off). She runs to her Mimi & Papa and screams their names when we arrive to their house. She asks me to lie down so that we can cuddle together. She loves getting her toenails painted. She apologizes to me when she accidentally hurts me or frustrates me. But tonight she showed off a new trick just moments before I laid her in her crib for bedtime. She spotted the moon outside her window, and wide eyed and full of giddy squeals, she blew it kisses goodnight.

There is such a rich abundance of 4 year old testosterone filling the house right now that demands so much of my attention and energy. As wonderful as that is (and by wonderful, I mean exhausting), it feels terrific to have a girl that I can throw a tutu on, and whose hair is the perfect length for pig tails and flower clips.

A Cliff's Notes Guide: Gender Roles

This (early) morning while I was having "cozy time" in bed with the kids, Ben, who must have had some serious ants in his pants, kept "accidentally" kicking or bonking me in the gut. Ella & I were perfectly still, lying cuddled up close, and this crazy person next to us was somewhat ruining the moment. I was doing my best to handle the situation with patience, but he should really know better then to mess with his mother before she's had her first cup of coffee. First, I thought I could simply scare him off with my less-than-fresh morning breath. After that failed, I asked him to please stop wiggling around so much or he'd have to leave the warm cocoon of my bed, and this is what went down:

Ben: Well, Mama, did you know that I can't really sit still right now because girls just really like to be loving. But boys really like to be brave. So you & Sissy have to be loving, but I'm being brave right now.

Me: Um, okay. But Ben, girls aren't the only ones who like to be loving. Boys like to be loving, too.

Ben: Well..... sometimes they like to be loving. But FIRST they like to be brave, and THEN they can be loving. Because that's the truth about boys.

If you've never read John Gray's best-seller Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus, don't bother. Ben just did you a favor and summed it all up for you. And yes, for those interested, he'll be available to provide couples counseling for a nominal fee.

Grief

I've been laying low the past few days, sorting out some events that have recently taken place in our lives. One of Dan's colleagues- a wonderful, loving, and sweet man who has done nothing greater in his role as vice-principal than support Dan beautifully- just lost his 21 year old son in a small private plane crash last Friday. When a tragedy of such magnitude hits this close to home, it's difficult to get through the day without feeling incredibly selfish. So, I got stuck in traffic for 20 minutes. So what? I have a 4 year old who is driving me nuts. So what? It's the reason I haven't even dared blog in a week, because suddenly I've gained a whole new level of perspective. When someone you know and love is enduring the most painful moment in their life, somehow it just feels wrong that our lives get to continue, and that such trivial everyday events continue to unfold.

Right now I'm just completely overwhelmed at the juxtaposition of life and death; this family, mourning the loss of their precious son, a fact I am reminded of 1,000 times a day with every moment I get to spend with my children, and with every new memory we are lucky enough to create. Now that I'm a parent, the thought of losing a child takes my breath away. The possibility alone stings my heart. I cannot fathom anything more painful, and I'm left feeling helpless and unsure of how we can support their family in this time of tremendous grief. I find that I'm putting myself in their position multiple times throughout the day, asking, "What would I want from friends & family? How would I want to be comforted?" And so, I've made them a loaf of homemade bread, which will be hand delivered by Dan this afternoon. He'll go to their house to sit with them, to perhaps cry with them, to just be with them. That's the thing about grief- it strips us down to the fragile, vulnerable core, and bonds humans together in a way unlike any other. All we can do now is pray, and let our flood gates of love open wide. I know they'll be taking baby steps towards finding peace. As for today, I just pray for an ample dose of hope.

"Earth hath no sorrow that heaven cannot heal."

-Thomas Moore

Social Graces

Now that Ben is a little over 4 years old, we're entering a new phase in our parenting where we are forced to teach him some basic social graces. (Insert weary sigh of fatigue). The kid has the vocabulary and annunciation skills of a 10 year old, so when he says something to a stranger (or even worse, a non-stranger) that makes Dan & I blush and laugh nervously, chances are he was understood and heard on the receiving end, loud and clear. When you couple his innocent 4 year old curiosity with his extroverted social personality, things come out of his mouth that either make me laugh or break out in a sweat. Sometimes, it's both.

A few weeks ago, we went as a family to our favorite park in the late afternoon. We got to talking with a man who was there walking his dog, a friendly though fairly rough-around-the-edges kind of guy, probably in his late 50s. (We'll call him George). Ben was off in the distance playing in the sandbox when he looked up and realized that there was some form of socialization going on without him, so he came barreling over to join the conversation, and relentlessly show off his Spiderman-like moves, muscles, and sound effects. This is usually the time in the conversation where I would introduce Ben to the 3rd party stranger (i.e. George), trying desperately to model good etiquette. But lately, I'm just trying to show Ben that there are ways of interacting and impressing a stranger other than shooting phantom "webs" at them or insisting that they feel his giant Spiderman biceps. (You might think I'm joking; I'm not).

However, right after George was finished talking about his own personal system for graffiti control at the park, I introduced Ben to this new stranger. After an enthusiastic hello Ben immediately declared something along the lines of,

"Hey, my Dad is way bigger than you."

Dan & I both laughed- because it really was funny, especially considering this was not a small man we were talking to. On the contrary, I'm pretty sure he was bigger than Dan & I put together. But then, trying to segue from a statement like that is nearly impossible. There is no good response deemed appropriate for a situation like that one. So aside from laughing nervously and feeling more awkward than a girl at a junior-high dance, what did I do? What did the Mother and Teacher of social etiquette say to her son?

"Hey Ben, did you want to show him your awesome Spiderman muscles?"

Camping, Revisited

Alright, let's be honest. Nobody thought I'd EVER get around to this post, right? Even I am filled with more self-loathing than ever before. Shame on me for taking two months to write about this major life event! I mean, this alleged "camping trip"was practically a whole lifetime ago, and it's not exactly fresh on my brain now. It's like the meat you see in the grocery store that has a special fluorescent orange discount sticker on it because of its rapidly changing color and interesting smell. (Which makes me wonder, who buys that meat? Here's what I say: if I'm in a position where I don't have enough money to buy fresh, un-rotten meat, then I vote going without. But that's just me.) Anyway, that's my brain when it comes to this little trip. Once I lost the original camping posting due to some freak computer glitch, I sort of lost the will to blog about it ever again, but I feel I owe it to my kids to have it properly documented for their sake. Otherwise, they may never believe that it actually happened. Nothing like a little crazy Mom guilt to light a fire under my ass. 

Alright, buckle up! Here we go:

Here, we have a very handsome & robust Dan, modeling his camping backpack from the days of his camping bachelorhood (he's a man of SO many talents, that husband of mine). He was very excited to show me how much crap this thing could actually contain. If you look below his elbow closely, you can see that there's even a compartment for toilet paper. Such a smart backpack! Camping learned lesson #1: it's really helpful when you go camping with a husband who is so giddy to be reunited with nature, he'll even pose for backpack pictures.

I realize my awesome photography skills didn't capture much else but glare in this photo, but if you strain to look through that, you will see our very jam-packed car. Camping learned lesson #2: Camping with children requires a whole lot of stuff. What you see in this car is basically everything we own. I was nervous I'd forget SOMEthing and then be miserable for 48 hours, but in reality, I don't think we utilized half of what we brought. Rookies!

Here the kids are strapped in & ready to roll, but not unlike dogs, could probably sense Mama's tense nerves and were probably experiencing a tummy butterfly or two themselves. On second thought, maybe they were just scared things were going to crush them, because please notice the mountain of cargo behind them.

Here, Ella is like, "You guys are crazy and make me want to jump out of this dang car seat, but you do always feed me, so therefore I'll stick around and surrender to this chaos." For a baby under 2, she really is wise beyond her years. Also, aren't her rag-a-muffin pigtails the cutest you've ever seen?

Here, Ben is like, "Doesn't this blue shirt bring out my gorgeous blue eyes? Also, are we there yet? WHY DOES IT LOOK LIKE WE'RE STILL PARKED IN THE GARAGE?"

So fast forward the fairly uneventful 60+ minute car ride up to Big Basin, and now we've arrived. Except timing wasn't our greatest strength that day because we didn't have much daylight left, and I won't lie; there was some panic as the fellas set up camp. The realization of- wait, there are zero light switches we get to flip when it gets dark- slowly set in. Nobody wants to set up a (ginormous) tent in the darkness. So the boys huddled up, devised a plan, and got to work. My Dan is on the left, our dear friend (the "other" Dan) is on the right. Please notice his kneepads- this is serious camping business. 

They saved the day! Tent assembled! Number of injuries: 0. Sounds like the perfect time to open a bottle of wine! 

Isn't it breathtakingly gorgeous? Those giant wonderful trees! The delicious fresh air! Even the dirt was sort of pretty. Side note: our Mercedes-of-a-tent came fully loaded with a "front porch" area. I was sort of hoping it would be equipped with electricity as well, but I guess we had an older model.

This is Ben's semi-new favorite person in his world, and his name is Gavin. If you met him, you would want to hug him and squeeze his cheeks because he is hands-down one of the sweetest little boys on earth and has the voice of an angel. He's one of those kids who I'm hoping will forever infect Ben with his sweet, innocent boyishness. I love when they spend time together, and basically, camping was one big Ben & Gavin fest. I've never seen two boys so happy to be together, and so happy to be downright dirty.

Ben, being a scary jungle animal of sorts. And sweet Gavin- even when he's trying to be scary he's just exudes cuteness.

So remember how one of my big camping concerns was what the heck to do all day long (specifically, #6 on my top 10 list)? This was it! We sat and  learned to play a new favorite game, Mexican Train. I don't even play dominoes in any form, but this was great. Then of course, there was some beer drinking.

Then we went on a big group hike, which was lovely....until Ben's legs got too tired to keep moving. Then it got tricky. Learned camping lesson #3 : 4 miles is about 2 miles too many for a 4 year old hiker who hasn't napped. But it was gorgeous, and I got in touch with my inner hiker. She's a tigress!

Ben was thrilled to find a real-life fuzzy caterpillar:

Ella was thrilled to learn that Auntie Liz was willing to carry her a heck of a lot more than Mommy was willing. So they had some quality girl time so that Mommy could continue in Operation Laziness, and drink her beer in peace.

More friendly camping nothingness. Camping learned lesson #4: doing nothing and sitting outside is wonderful.

Here we are on our 2nd (and final) night, preparing a feast fit for a king. You might think I'm joking, but just wait for it...

Well hello perfectly marbled, gorgeous salmon! You're so cute with your pretty lemon slices-- but wait! What's this I see? Are you stuffed on the inside?!

Why yes, you are! What on earth did I do to deserve this royal treatment???? Guys, it was like manna pouring down from the heavens. Being the sushi junkie that I am, I had to stop my hand from picking it up and just eating it raw. Can you blame me?

And all I had to do was provide a black bean salad! (Don't get me wrong- the black bean salad was rad....anytime a recipe includes onion, mango & cilantro on the ingredient list, you KNOW it's going to be scrumptious. I don't even think this is a matter of opinion- it just is). The salmon (a.k.a. manna) was provided and prepared courtesy of our new friends, Rikki & Jack. (Hi Rikki & Jack! Want to go camping again?) Here is where I will mention that Jack is a real life chef...how could I NOT fall in love with camping??? Camping learned lesson #5 : Always go camping with a chef. Here they are, our Salmon Sugar-Parents:

Here's the full spread. Not too shabby for a camping trip, eh? If I was to caption this picture, it would say: Melon salad, veggies and bread, beautiful manna-salmon, three bean salad. AND WINE. Yes, as I recall, the wine was deeeeelightful. We even set up a separate table designated as "The Bar". 

This is the part of the evening when our bellies were full of salmon and wine, so we just smiled and took a bunch of photos. Here: the Findricks & Stublers

Me, Christina & Rikki. Don't you dare look at my camping greasiness!

Dewigs (minus Ben- where did Ben go? Oh right- to Gavin-land) + Findricks:

The night ended as any quintessential camping trip night should: with s'mores (Ben's 1st, my 1,001st)).... 

...And with glow stick swords! (Thanks for this picture, Kasia!)

Overall, what do I think about camping? Let me put it this way: my birthday is coming up in a month, and I'm thinking a camping trip might be in order.I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship...