DVDevious

Step One: Empty entire drawer of DVDs and scatter around room.

Step Two: When busted for trying to climb into empty drawer to then step upwards and into armoire, flash disarming smile that will surely get you out of trouble for many years to come.

His First Slumber Party

Last week was spring break for us--a week when many mothers across the country spent the entire week with children who are otherwise usually in school, a week that serves to foreshadow the long, hot summer to come.

Since nobody had to get up to go to school, we decided to celebrate by having our very first sleepover party and invited sweet Daisy as our honored guest. It was a great success--everyone was asleep by 8:15pm and up by 6:30am--and not one tear! Daisy was a real champ, especially at bedtime in a new place, and Finn and Shea were delighted to have a third party participating in their dinner/bath/bedtime routine.

Bring it on, summer -- we're ready for you!

Cousins

Three cousins together in 2004...


And baby Shea's addition evens the score on the bench

Happy Easter!

A Picture's Worth A Thousand Dimes

As you may have noticed, I take a lot of pictures. (And now, ladies and gentlemen, the award for Understatement of the Year goes to....)

It's pretty rare that I go anywhere without my camera. As such, I've got lots of photographs in my computer. What may not be so obvious, however, is how many end up in my computer's trash can; for every shot you see on this blog at least five get dumped. My shooting strategy is based on the sheer law of numbers mixed with a pinch of instinct: if I take enough shots I just might get a good one.

I took an embarrassing number of pictures during our trip to Hawaii, partly because I knew it would be a long time before we would be there again, but mostly because my daily shooting mantra is "my kids will never be this young again." Before leaving the island, my Mom suggested I submit one of my favorite images to a photography contest being held in the free island guide magazine we received at the rental car checkout desk at the start of the trip.

(Before I go any further, it must be said that I'm lucky to have one of those moms that thinks pretty much anything her kids or grandkids create is nothing short of legendary. If Finn colors a picture or spells a word, the Guinness World Record folks are likely to hear about it. If there were a contest for the Best Poopy Diaper, she'd surely submit one of Shea's most spectacularly soiled Pampers, confident in her granddaughter's super poopability. This is why I always take her well-intentioned compliments with a grain of salt the size of Gibraltar; she's completely biased.)

That said, I still took her advice and submitted four of my favorite shots to the magazine's "Share Aloha" photo contest. And guess what? A month later, I learned that one of my images--a shot of two rock stackings we saw at sunset while visiting Ed and Amy in Hilo--had been chosen as the first-place winner for the month of February for the Big Island.

And the best part? A cash prize of $100--just enough to cover the cost for some extra computer memory capacity to be able to handle the next 5,000 photos I'm sure to take this month.

Oh yeah, one more thing: Mother knows best.

From Bad To Worse

Shea's a great eater. What Shea is NOT, however, is a great lounger. When she's done with her meal, she wants out of her high chair immediately, if not sooner. Forget hanging out with a few cookies while Mom and Dad finish their meals, I've got toys to play with, brothers to follow, and floors to traverse.

See, below, what happens when Shea's forced to sit in her chair just one moment longer than she'd like.

Ever Watch A Three Year Old Primp?

In The Name Of The Father

Lean On Me

It's official: less than a month from her first birthday, Shea's finally been weaned from her attachment to breastmilk. She's also getting her third tooth, standing on her own for a few seconds at a time, walking with her walker, climbing up the stairs, and even saying "thank you" (and even though it was only once, it was a sweet, sweet song of gratitude).

Check out this fun new blog feature: VIDEO!

Locked Up: A Study In Stripes

That's Mat

A shining day in modern literacy, indeed: On Tuesday, Finn read his very first book--"Mat"--from cover to cover.

I thought I felt pride when he wrote his name for the first time, but the experience of watching him focus on the individual lines of text and listening to him wrap his mouth around the various consonants and vowels to string them into a progressive storyboard for his audience (he read it to Shea and me as I spoonfed her green beans and sweet corn puree for lunch), blew my previous reaction out of the water. This one swelled up into a lion's pride worth of pride.

I'm excited that Finney's eager to learn to read and is drawn to books on his own, without John and I having to "sell" their benefits to him. I'm also relieved that he's getting a head start on this critical piece of academic development so he'll find school to be more enjoyable overall. But, mostly, I'm delighted to watch him discover that, by getting to know 26 little letters and the sounds that they produce, he holds the key to opening a whole new world of communication around him--on street signs, on maps, on mail, and even on product packaging. ("That spells 'NEMO' on the cereal box, Mom!" he screamed yesterday, with an urgency and decibel equivalent to what would be used to inform me that a pack of bears were tapdancing down the street wearing tutus.)

The little guy's joined a new club and is tickled to flash his glossy membership card whenever any series of letters come together to form a word he can phonetically assemble. He's learning about confidence, too--and pride in himself.

All this in 12 little pages.

I guess it's true what they say: books are magic.

The X Factor

Let There Be LIGHT

It's been a busy few weeks here, with the kids finally getting over their sicknesses, multiple freelance writing assignments with rapidly approaching deadlines, and numerous weekend trips to LA. I hope to be able to post more about the latter two topics--as well as some other funny stories--sometime soon, but you may be seeing lots of photos in the next week or two. In the meantime I'll let you know that:

1) It's raining like crazy here
2) Finn's gone #2 three days in a row for the first time since he started using the big boy potty and if you know his bathroom history you know that is a BIG F---IN DEAL
3) My Dodgers and my Bruins both lost, but I'm OK with it because of a beautiful little thing call Daylight Savings time. Holy Hector ~ it was light until almost 7:30pm last night!

Riffing

K: "Finney, what did you do in school today?"

F (absently): "Ummm..... [pause] ....... hmmm....."

F (vaguely): "We did some projects."

Perking up at the mature-sounding nature of his response and noticing his mother's distinct surprise at getting a response other than the stock answer of "nothing," he creatively embellishes:

F: "Yeah, we watched Project Runway."

A Big Day For LA

Not only does today mark opening day at Dodger Stadium, it's also the day when my UCLA Bruins will take a stab at winning their 12th national basketball championship by trying to best Florida for the NCAA title game. A day to wear your blue, for sure!

Our Girl Friday

Eleven Months Old Today

Like Watching Fireworks Detonate In His Mind

We've been spending some time this week visiting with John's brother, Eric, and his family, who are in town from Albuquerque. Cousins Finney and Will have been getting to know each other for the first time, really, as the last time they were together they were way too young to acknowlegde another human's permanent existence.

This time, it's been fun to watch the boys gradually warm up to each other. To explain to Finney that Will is his cousin. To point out that Will's dad, Eric, is Papa John's older brother. He smiles and nods, but doesn't seem overly impressed.

But what clearly blew his little-boy mind is when he discovered that he and Will, as sons of brothers, have -- brace yourself -- the SAME....LAST....NAME.

That one stopped him in his tracks.

Anatomy Of A Recovery

Healthy, happy three-year old

Begins to feel a little woozy, a little weird

Turns into conjunctivitis, which looks at bad as it sounds

Add lots of medicine and naps on the couch

And some banana shakes and TLC from Grandma

And, before you know it, boy is back to his old, crazy self

Sometimes She Reminds Me Of John Goodman

Still On The Mend

Just as I predicted, it's been a long week of recovery, with lots of time indoors together. We've done every last puzzle, read the same books a dozen times over, and watched all our favorite DVDs an embarrassing number of times.

(Quick aside: Have you ever had to answer this question every week: "But why did Anakin turn into Darth Vader?"* It's an answer as loaded and complex as Truman Capote, one filled with subtle shades of giving in to the dark side, embracing his anger and hatred instead of following the nobility and honor of the Jedi order, and not finish his vegetables at dinner, by the way, depending on the mood I'm in when asked.)

To make matters worse, the sun came out yesterday in a full springtime blaze, beckoning us to walk to the park. Within minutes of Finn scaling the jungle gym I knew we weren't quite ready, as his still sickly lungs caused his little body to convulse in coughing-fit spasms. We quickly retreated, defeated, back to the loft, where we settled back into Day 6 of Getting Better.

Needless to say, I'm looking forward to the weekend.

* Finn asks this question repeatedly because, 1) he's three, and the three-year-old rule book clearly states that all questions directed to your mother must be posed a number of times equal to the number of minutes she was in labor with you, and 2) although we've allowed him to see, with a parental chaperone with him on the couch at all times, the original Star Wars (Part IV) in its totality and parts of V, VI, I, and even II (he tells us to forward past the scary parts, like when Darth Maul fights with his double-sided light saber or when Hayden Christiansen, bless his pouty lips, tries to act too much), we've deemed part III to be much too violent and graphic and will probably hold off on letting him view it until he's about 26.

What this means, unfortunately, is that his narrative cycle is completely fractured because he's never seen for himself how/why Anakin becomes Darth Vader. We keep hoping our descriptions of the metamorphosis from dark to light, from good to evil, will suffice, but his curiosity keeps this subject close enough that we discuss it constantly. He also wants to know if Darth Vader gets sick, which makes me giggle because I imagine Mommy Vader leaning over her boy, feeling his masked forehead for a fever, then trying to somehow fit the dropper full of bubblegum-flavored antibiotics through his sleek mask into his pie hole.

And Then There Were Three

Overcome with sneezing fits, the chills, a stuffy head, and fitful, restless sleep, Papa John stayed home sick from work yesterday. It can never be said that we don't share in this family; even with our germs and sickness, it's share and share alike.

Not Enough Energy To Fight Over Who Gets Mommy's Lap

Sick And Tired

Bleeccccccccchhhh! Both kids have been sick since Saturday. Finn was his worst so far on Monday, just before his pediatrician officially identified his ongoing misery as Bacterial Conjunctivitis and Otitis Media. (He's got a nasty, runny case of Pink Eye and an ear infection.)

Baby Shea's coughing like a barking seal and sleeping like a newborn, in maddening little two/three-hour stretches.

The top shelf of the fridge is filled with prescription meds and plunger droppers, while Finn's magic eye drops are nearby on the countertop. John and I have been gathering everything within Finn's reach to be laundered in extra hot water or wiped down with antibacterial solution. He's extremely contagious and won't be back to school for many days.

It's gonna be a loooooooooonnnnnngggggggggg week.

But Finney Has MUCH Better Hair

My Mom, bless her New York-born-and-raised heart, thinks Donald Trump is "real classy."

(I, however, beg to differ.)

She'll be glad to hear, then, that Finn said this to me last week:

"Mom, I'm going to fire you."

(Don't be too indignant on my behalf about this, by the way. Twenty minutes later, he told me, "You're the best, best, best Mom." I'm quite used to the bipolar party that is a three year old's emotional landscape by now.)

I've got to admit, though: The Donald would probably admire the little guy's fortitude.