Holpineville

I am Moderately Fond of Democracy

I was going to say "I love democracy!"  but then both of the candidates that I really care about ended up in run-offs.  So there are five more weeks of hard work and tension to go. 

I got up early yesterday to be a poll worker.  Yes, one of those perky people handing out cards that you try to avoid eye contact with and slip by on your way into the voting place.

By now, you probably know that I hate talking to strangers, and I also have a very difficult time waking up in the morning.  So it was a little surprising that I enjoyed myself, talking to the precinct election judge and the other corner-standers, including one of my candidate's opponents, and seeing everyone coming in. Later, I spent several hours at the election day bake sale at our kids' school, chatting with the people who live nearby about the school and the elections. Last night, I stayed late at the returns-watching party for my friend, where we all learned once again that when voter turn out is less than 20%, a couple hundred votes makes a huge difference, even in a very big city.  

One side benefit to my minor political activity in these local races is that the kids are both very interested in elections, politics, and candidates.  I like that they are seeing people they know run for office and being involved in campaigns.  On the other hand, explaining How the World Works to innocent children is not easy.  I do miss my high school civics teacher, jaded and burnt-out as the poor guy was. 

Halloween was good, from what I can now recall, four days later.  Ruby made a fab Statue of Liberty.  Carl was Skippy Jon Jones at his school's storybook dress up day parade, and then a bat on Halloween proper.  Rod was Dracula in white tie, and I was me...too tired to get a costume together.  We went to the school fall carnival on Saturday afternoon, and to a friend's party Saturday night. Sunday involved another (very loud, says Rod, who sacrificed himself and went) birthday party, and ended with Horrible Tired Crabby Kids Falling Apart Night.  Nights like that, I wonder if Carl will make it to adulthood alive and unincarcerated.  But he was all better the next day; yay! for sleep.

I keep waiting for a break in the busy, but it's not happening.  This week's special events: Ruby is taking a sewing class, Carl has a birthday party to attend, and I have meetings every night.  This weekend, there's a statewide Montessori conference at school that I need to help with, it's the 22nd anniversary of When Rod Met Andrea, I need to do some election campaigning, there's another birthday party, and a friend's art event I promised to drag my kids to. 

Also, it's my last weekend to eat in my usual fashion ever.  On Monday, I start a horrid-sounding regimen of protein drinks and nothing else for two weeks.  After that, comes the much-anticipated, carefully considered, and long-prepared for gastric bypass surgery, and food will never be quite the same. Yes, I am rather freaked out about the whole thing, and I don't really want to discuss it all here.  But I do need to think hard about what to have for dinner Sunday night...suggestions?

Five

The morning after September 16, 2004:

Today:

Yeah, I know, he needs a haircut. And really, he's much cuter when he's smiling.   

I woke my baby this morning and gave him the ceremonial re-telling of the Exciting Story of the Day You Were Born, which I was surprised to find he enjoyed this year.  He was thrilled with the Garfield balloon that magically materialized in his room overnight. 

I am amazed at how much I love this kid.  His sister, too, but it's his birthday.  His eyes, his hair, his long legs and big bony knees, the little pale splotch of skin by his belly button. When he's so excited or happy it overwhelms him, his eyes get big, his smile is enormous, and he throws himself at you for the world's strongest, wordless, hug.  (Aside: my thanks to all of you who sent the birthday presents that got me all the hugs yesterday.  Sure, he knows the gifts are from you, but I was handy.)  He's funny and tenacious and curious.  I even kind of like the whiny sobbing when he's just so very disappointed. 

There will be more about the birthday party later. I am deep into getting ready for it all, and despite my efforts at keeping it small, I've got a lot of work to do and have spent a zillion dollars at the grocery store, on party favors, and so on.  Apparently I don't do small. 

In an hour, Carl will be taking the Earth around the sun at school during his celebration of life.  Tonight, we are having a dinner party with his favorite friends and favorite foods (chips and queso and chocolate fondue).  Thursday, we're having a party for all his pals at one of those giant indoor inflatable places. 

He's five.  Wow.

Where the Fun and the Mess are Never Ending

Carl is sweet and good natured and sporadically affectionate.  However, he is not moved to perform acts of kindness and disinterested generosity as often as, say, Ruby is. Thus, I was quite touched when he spontaneously decided to make a "surprise breakfast" for Rod and me this weekend.  He started planning Saturday, when he got out a tray and loaded it up, refusing to tell me what it was for, but instructing me not to get out of bed in the morning when I "heard the thump sound."  Carl asked for help in stashing the tray in the refrigerator and obliquely asked about things Rod might like for breakfast.  

I thought he might have forgotten overnight, but no, the next morning Carl somehow managed to get the tray out of the refrigerator and all the way upstairs to the bed, without spilling the following: a cup of milk, a cup of raspberries, a cup of cheddar bunny crackers (purchased as part of the "take a child to the grocery store and pay extra" tax), a banana, and a pear.   Then he went back downstairs to get Rod a plate with a pear and a banana.  It was very sweet. 

Can someone direct me to a suitable martial arts class?  Last week I took Carl to a trial jiu jitsu class.  It was nearby, mostly conveniently scheduled, sort of affordable, and a good mix of boys and girls ages 3 to 6.  Carl was excited about trying it out, until the day it was time go.  Then he reverted back to his toddler barnacle stage, wrapping himself around my thighs and burying his head in my stomach, and being a complete nervous pill besides.   I was about to give up and go home when he finally agreed to help the teacher teach the class. 

But it didn't go well.  Carl seemed to like the individual activities (rope climb, monkey arm hang), but most of the class involved working in pairs and he either refused to be paired off or the teacher didn't pair him off, and at the end he told me he hated it.  Also, I wasn't so thrilled with the way the teacher managed the class time, and well, to me it just seemed a little....violent?  All that grabbing and pushing and wrestling? 

As I was telling Rod about this, I asked "so are there any martial arts classes that are, you know, a little less violent?  With less focus on learning how to beat people up?"  And Rod looked at me like, "well, my goodness, I sure did marry a crazy stupid person, how did that happen?"  and he gently explained that most martial arts had to do with, you know, defending one's self.  And he asked "what exactly are you looking for, then?"  To which I could only reply, "well, like yoga, maybe, with some macho power moves and yells?" 

So dear readers, what are the differences among karate, jiu jitsu, tae kwan do, capoeira, aikido, kung fu, judo, kendo, etc.? Which is best for an energetic oversized five year old with a squeamish mother? Our quest for the Right Class continues.

Carl and I finally planned his upcoming fifth birthday party, which will be at one of those indoor, giant inflated things to bounce on places.  I'm not so excited about it, because it's not a very original idea and it will cost me money, but in the pro column, let us note that it is easy to plan and I won't have to clean house.    Now if I can just figure out what to give him.  Oh, sure, there's Legos, but it seems to me Mommy and Daddy should be a bit more original in their gift-giving.  A friend of a friend offered up a chihuahua mix puppy and I thought it was destiny, or at least kismet, but Rod still says no.  Maybe the party will be the present.

Ruby opened up a bit about the things she feels she needs to work on at school: getting faster at doing basic addition/subtraction/multiplication, reading long numbers out loud, and maybe spelling.  She also thought it would help her to have a chart of things she needs to work on, including those items plus reading and piano practice, for instance.  She seems to like charts, and I know at school she figures out what she's going to do when using a chart called her "work plan" for each week. So, I need to help her pull that together.  This fall, Ruby's taking an extracurricular creative writing class, piano, and the same dance/theater class she did last year.  This is a little more busy than I originally bargained for, but we can't give up the latter two, and the first one is a pilot program we want to get started at the school, so I'm sending her to it.  Also, I have relented and agreed to let her join the Girl Scouts, so she can live out her dream of selling cookies, and that means another meeting or two each month.

In other news, the pulmonologist said that my pneumonia was indeed a weird looking case, but he thinks I'm making a fine recovery....it just takes weeks for one's lungs to clear out, sorry about that, honey.  We spent the weekend swimming, working on a volunteer project, going to sleepovers and various kid and adult parties, and doing stuff around the house.  I'm in a cleaning out frenzy, sparked by Ruby's relocation to Carl's room and an upcoming children's consignment sale, where I hope to make a million selling off the kids' outgrown clothing and no-longer-treasured belongings, assuming I can sneak them out of the house when they're not looking. 

Ruby's garden has yielded a handful of okra, one Japanese eggplant, two poblano peppers, and two banana peppers.  Rod and Ruby made fried okra last night and it was actually good.  Ruby even liked it, so score one for the garden!

I was all excited for my kids to hear the President's speech this morning, because I think the ruckus over that was completely and utterly ridiculous (and yes, I'd feel the same if it was one of my least favorite presidents from the other party giving the speech), and that it's useful to have an authority figure other than Daddy and me telling them that education is important, hard, and worthwhile.  Plus, I discount the whole "political brainwashing" argument: I know I watched plenty of Reagan speeches on school time in the 80's, and I managed not only to survive, but to become the bleeding-heart liberal that I am.  My kids are way smarter than I am and they can think for themselves.  But, I guess Carl's teacher decided the class was too young, and Ruby's class was out at one of their ancillary classes at the same time, so I guess I'll have to summarize it for them later.

Radiation Week

Back to School!!!  Do you hear the trumpets? 

Ruby is now in second grade, and Carl in the final year of Pre-K.  With Ruby, I am having one of those trite “how did my baby get so old?” moments, and with Carl, it’s more like “why aren’t you in kindergarten already?”  It’s not just me, either; one of the teachers was asking him how he liked first grade.  It’s hard being the oldest and biggest one in your class.

As per Montessori practice, both kids have the same teachers again this year, so the only drama is about the new kids in class.  Carl reported the first day that he made two new friends: “one named Michael and one I don’t know his name.”  The schedule in Ruby’s class has changed a bit from last year, and she’s reluctantly adjusting to that and the new faces.    

We are all getting used to having L, our new live in babysitter/houseguest/friend around.  Ruby is starting to feel the loss of her room.   She is happy to give L a place to stay, and she understands why we did it and that it’s not forever, but having to stay out of her former space is harder than she thought it would be.  For example, we had some friends over for playtime on Monday afternoon, and normally Ruby and her friend would have been playing in Ruby’s room, but suddenly, there was no “Ruby’s room” available, and the kids can’t run in and out of it at night when they’re getting ready for bed, either.  I think things are going to be fine once we get through the adjustment phase, though.

It is strange not having the kids at home all day, but I haven’t been home enough to miss them much yet.  Monday I had a celebratory breakfast with some other moms, followed by errands and frantic housework.  Tuesday I made phone calls, and then headed out for an afternoon of doctor appointments. I started with my regular doctor, who was impressed enough with my fever, pallor, and enduring cough to order a chest x-ray and give me antibiotics and steroids.  Then, I went on to the back doctor, who took more fancy composite x-rays like you see here from various angles, and told me 1) I can have all the steroid shots I want until they stop working for me, 2) that I should put off back surgery as long as I can possibly stand the pain, but 3) he’ll be ready to straighten and fuse the whole disaster when I finally decide it’s time. Yippee.

Later, I went to what I thought was a plain ol’ boring meeting of the bariatric surgery support group, as I’m trying to get my brain ready for that adventure sometime this fall.  It turns out it wasn’t really about renewing your diet and exercise motivation; it was about revving up your mid-life (and perhaps post-surgery and post-dramatic weight loss) sex life and it was extremely surreal.  I sort of resented the implication that my love life might need any resuscitation, although after a month of illness, I guess it might.  (The tips: Exercise.  Masturbate ten minutes a day.  Do your Kegels.  Try some of the fun gadgets the therapist brought along. There, I probably just saved you a $150 sex therapy appointment.)    Then I went to the movies with friends, even though I was yes, sick, and strictly speaking, had no business being out, but I justified it by saying it was more restful than putting kids to bed and cooking dinner.  We saw Julie & Julia, which I recommend with only a few reservations, and can I please go back to Paris now? 

This morning brought word from my doctor that, no surprise, the blood work and chest x-ray were consistent with pneumonia, and I’ll likely need a second course of antibiotics.  That was the good news.  The bad part is that there were some “spots” in my right lung that they not sure about, so I have to get a CT scan tomorrow to rule out the ominous-sounding Something Else (lung cancer, I guess? inhaled Legos?   TB?) 

Let’s pause now to reflect on what an idiot I am.  If I had found a baby sitter and gone to the doctor when it first became clear I wasn’t getting well fast enough, I might be healthy already.  I might have spared myself the weeks of feeling lousy, the massive radiation dose of the CT machine, the large financial expense, and the slight niggling worry of this whole ordeal.  But no, I waited.  Moral of the story: When it's your turn, and assuming you have insurance: don’t be tough, people, it’s not worth it.

So, I’ll let you know if I turn out to have anything exciting.  Tonight, I’m filling out 18 pages of school forms per child.  It seems a little excessive and more than a bit redundant, but I’m trying to stay positive and supportive this year.  Then, I’m going to bed on the early side, because….that’s right!  I don’t feel good!   

Vacation with Us! A Quiz

1.        An apparently healthy child is most likely to be struck by uncontrollable diarrhea:

a.       In the very long airport security line, just after checking the luggage containing all the spare clothes, and before a long flight that you really can’t miss.

b.      While visiting the lovely home of a distant relative, where there is one bathroom for forty guests.

c.       In the middle of a municipal bus ride through a less-than-attractive and unfamiliar neighborhood.

 

2.       Estimate, to the nearest $10, how much we spent on “souvenirs” (aka “priceless treasures” or plastic junk) for the kids.

 

3.       On a six day vacation to an area of the country known for good restaurants and fine cuisine, how many days does Carl eat pepperoni pizza?

 

4.       On a car ride through a beautiful redwood forest, you stop to:

a.       Take in the view from the scenic lookout

b.      Let someone pee, incidentally in a giant grove of skunkweed

c.       Photograph the kids with a giant redwood tree

d.      Administer fresh air and the “of course you are not car sick, what are you talking about?” speech.

 

5.       Describe the appropriate emergency procedures when your precious child vomits all over the back seat and you are 25 miles into a 40 mile stretch of twisty roads.  You have no plastic bags, no paper towels, no water, no extra clothes, no rubber gloves, and no cleaning supplies of any kind.  Bonus points for strategizing how to get the child back into the car for the rest of the ride.

 

6.       You are driving through wine-making country.  The weather is perfect and the scenery beautiful.  You decide to stop for lunch:

a.       On the terrace of a café advertising tasty creative dishes made with locally-grown ingredients.

b.      You don’t.  Instead, you grab a plate of cheese, charcuterie, fruit, and crackers and enjoy it with a nice half bottle at your next winery stop.

c. At the Taco Bell/KFC in the gas station near the freeway entrance ramp.

We’re back from a few days far away at a family reunion, and my quiz had nothing to do with the high points.  It was wonderful.  No one wanted to come home.  I am trying to get back into the regular life groove today, and it’s not much fun so far.

 

Answers: 1. a.; 2. $115, but I could be forgetting something; 3. Four, I think; 4. b and d; 5. We stripped him to his underwear, used a map to mop up what we could, had him swish the dregs of a lemonade to rinse his mouth, used a tablespoon of flat diet soda to rinse our hands, and it was so awful I don’t remember the rest; 6.  If you picked anything but c., you’ve never traveled with little kids.

I Should be Swimming at the Pool

But I am tired today (from a long Fourth of July/birthday party yesterday, from starting to give up caffeine, from my pharmacy being out of my thyroid meds, from just being me…) and the kids suddenly seemed just too everything this afternoon: too loud, too bouncy, too smelly, too whiny, too needy.  Plus, I had things I would like to do around here without constant noisy interruption. Rod must have been in better shape than me, because he volunteered to take them swimming alone, and I was not foolish enough to make more than a token protest.

Dear Reader, I feel no small amount of guilt over not updating this here page sooner, but the things that have happened this week have all been rather minor, as you will see when I detail them for you now:  The kids got their hair cut, finally!  I threw up one morning and felt violently ill for about two hours and then I was fine.  Weird, huh?  I broke my favorite coffee mug.  I did a bunch of knitting on a baby sweater for a friend who is due to deliver any minute now.  (However, the weather is such that the baby won't be needing a sweater right away.)  Ruby and I spent a couple of hours cleaning her room today. It’s not the showplace I thought it would be without the clutter, but it’s better.  She wants to redecorate in a Parisian theme, and I am putting her off as much as I possibly can.

Rod was off work all week, and I wish we could say we did all kinds of really exciting family bonding things, but we didn’t.  Rod spent a bunch of time fixing things.  He also built the garden we promised Ruby as a birthday present.  She has a 4x4 raised plot now, with an irrigation system and real live plants: an eggplant, a couple of tomato plants, and a couple of things I don’t remember.  I am sure the 100 degree heat and partly-shady placement of it will make growing things harder than Ruby expects, and yet it is nice to see her so excited about it.  She wants to add flowers to the vegetables, once things settle in a bit.

The kids had space camp on two days, at the actual Johnson Space Center.  There’s got to be more to it, but all I have figured out from what they tell me, is that space camp involves eating junky food for lunch and doing some crafts.  Carl did learn something, because he and I watched the fireworks on TV last night and there was a taped message from some dude on the space station and a shot of mission control and Carl started telling me all about them.  Also last week, Ruby had a piano lesson, and an online Webkinz party with her cousins who live far away.  We went swimming a couple of times. Carl had a playdate with a friend, and took a nice long impromptu car nap one day. We had people over for dinner one night, and trekked out to Chinatown for dinner and grocery shopping another.  Rod and I managed a lunch and museum date one camp day, too.

In the Sudden Signs of Maturity Department: Ruby wanted to play the Monopoly game she got for her birthday yesterday, and to my surprise, it was fun!  She understood and followed the rules, she could do enough math to get by, and she didn’t have a crying freak out when things weren’t going her way.  She’s also been begging to play Uno a couple of times a day, and working on her knitting here and there. I wish I could get her to read more for fun, but there’s been a bit of that, too.  She and Carl have also been playing elaborate games together; role playing or using the stuffed animals, dolls and Legos.  They also put on shows for us often.  And then, just when you think we’ve achieved a certain level of household peace, harmony and ability to self-entertain, they go back to fighting and yelling and begging me to turn on a video for them.  

 

How I Have Missed You, Dear Friends in the Computer

Our DSL broke, for four days.  Rod patiently spent two and a half hours on the phone with Bangalore or Delhi or wherever, on his day off, without raising his voice, and then he made two separate trips to the store, and then there were only a few more hours of tinkering, and it’s like that whatchamacallit never quit working at all.  For me, it was a strange combination of a nice break and really annoying, not being able to connect with the world in my usual way.  I am much more Internet-dependent than I had realized, or than I was the last time the connection failed.

So, you are asking, what did you miss?  It’s been hellish hot here, with no end, or rain, in sight.  Maybe it will make the next hurricane look like a refreshing change of pace.  I am just trying to soldier on through it and somehow not notice just how unbearable it is. 

My sister Carla turned 38. And, on the same day, Ruby turned seven.  In keeping with Ruby's preferences and tradition, this meant about three separate parties, all planned, financed and executed by me, so I am a little tired just now. 

The defining characteristics of age seven so far are: 1) the child is huge, by which I mostly mean tall.  Not fat, but certainly not thin, and apparently she’s in a growth spurt, again. 2) the child has learned to distinguish maternal exaggeration from the truth and must call me on it, every time (“Mommy, you really won’t leave Carl here because he's not ready to go!  That would be illegal!”)  she is also working on her psychological manipulation skills when it comes to brothers and friends, to my resigned dismay, 3) she has a major Webkinz fixation, 4) she suddenly loves to play board and card games and will even follow the rules, 5) she’s showing a slight increase in her interest level in personal hygiene and has learned to shower alone (thank God, just in time for the hot season) and 5) there is continued moodiness, especially concerning the all-important issue of who’s willing to play with her and who’s not at any given moment, and all they want to do is play tag, and she’s always tagged first and it’s not fair and why won’t they just play hide and seek, according her favorite rules modification?

Ruby likes to organize things and to be in charge.  Sometimes now, and probably later in life, this managerial talent is great and to be encouraged.  Often, though, she just comes across as a bossy control freak, and since I am also a bossy control freak, we occasionally clash.  Plus, I am never quite sure what tactic to take, when I hear my darling child bellowing orders at her playmates: mind my own business, suggest a more diplomatic approach, or let her face the natural consequences? And of course, my advice on just about everything is inappropriate and instantly rejected. 

Seven also seems to mark the arrival of guilt over what one did.  Twice this week, I’ve had to coax Ruby out of her room, where she’s been sobbing with guilt over something she did to someone else.  Once, she got carried away by her temper; another time, she accidentally hit someone in the face with something she was waving in the air.  I hate that feeling of knowing I messed up, and apparently it hits Ruby with the same devastating effect.

Anyway, the parties: the big one was Sunday.  Rod got his twenty minutes of Father’s Day glory (poor Rod.  He puts up with a lot.) and then we put him to work chopping party snacks and frosting cakes and whatnot.  Ruby had invited a cast of thousands and it was 101 outside and she had a long list of games she wanted people to play at her cat-themed party.  We talked her down as far as we could, and I was pleasantly surprised by how it all worked out.  The kids loved the drinking-milk-from-saucers race, and the delicate-kitten-walk-on-bubble-wrap game, and the search-for-prizes thing.  Ruby’s headline event was the water activities on the front porch: throwing water balloons at Rod (yes, the same 200 he had filled up himself) and a water gun fight.  For cake, there was a cute cat face one, and the surprise hit, the Kitty Litter Cake.  Served in a box with a poop scoop.  Yum.  I had thought everyone would be too grossed-out, but no!  Even the grown-ups tried it, and as it consisted of smushed up cake, pudding, ground up cookies, and Tootsie Rolls, people really liked it. And the end of the party dwindled down to all the boys playing Legos in the living room and the girls playing Twister or doing crafts in Ruby’s room. 

Of course, we also had to plan something on Ruby’s Actual Birthday, and so we invited a subset of 15 or so dear friends over for pizza and cupcakes and more Twister and mayhem.  It was also fun, and now I am tired, and probably broke, although I am avoiding checking the bank balance to be sure.  I can serve them leftover cupcakes for dinner and put them to bed at 6:30 tonight, right?

Carl allowed his inner green-eyed monster to be subdued by the application of only one mid-priced Lego set, and he and Ruby are just back from the end of a month of Rowdy Arts Day Camp, which they highly recommend.  Next week, Rod is off work, and both kids have a few unscheduled days (help me, Jesus) and a couple of days of Space Camp.  We might toss in a day or two at the beach, just because, if I can justify spending the money. 

Fever and Headache, Resurrected

Ruby is sick.  Fever of 102ish, headache, boogers, sore throat with minor gunk on her tonsils.   I think it’s a sinus infection, but the Google School of Medicine says it can’t be one, yet, so perhaps it's merely a virus?  Or is it just the sinus infection she had last month, rejuvenated?

Anyway, it made her sleep badly last night.  It used to be that when my kids woke up at night, they would just howl from their beds until someone, usually me, got up to see what the bloody problem was.  Now, they creep mostly silently into my room, and stand at my side of the bed, eventually moving on to leaning on me and poking me if I don’t wake up right away.  I guess this is better, but it scares the bejeezus out of me sometimes, and it means I don’t have those moments of stumbling to the kid’s room to wake up before I have to talk to the child in distress.  Also, it’s more likely now that Rod will sleep through the whole thing, and if I’m going to get up and deal with a kid in the middle of the night, he darn well needs to take notice and give me big gold stars the next day.

So last night I was telling stories about the Easter Bunny to two very alert children at three a.m.  (Carl apparently awoke in solidarity).  And then I couldn’t go back to sleep because of my various aches and pains, although I needed to, because Rod and I had been up late, impersonating the Easter Bunny and cooking our contributions for Easter brunch.

Selfish grump that I am, I am mostly upset that Ruby is sick because I have a lot to do tomorrow, including an appointment with the local scoliosis genius doctor that took me a long time to get.  But we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

The Easter Bunny continued with the household tradition of guiding the kids to their Easter baskets with yarn strung all over the house—and this year, into the backyard and garage.  Rod really outdid himself this time.  In an effort to not give so much candy, the Easter Bunny gives stuff instead; Legos for Carl, books, nightgown and Bella S@ra cards for Ruby.  The kids are very happy today. 

We had planned to go to an Easter egg hunt and brunch for the secular humanists/Jews/Buddhists/agnostics/atheists/church-skippers at the home of friends.  Before it was clear to me how high Ruby’s temperature was, I medicated her, and she still wanted to go, so we did, and I will feel bad if she managed to share any noxious germs.  There was a huge thunderstorm right in the middle of the egg hunt, and the dessert I made didn’t turn out how I wanted, but otherwise we had a fine time.  Thank goodness for friends.

‘Cause I’m a Natural Woman

We camped!  Three nights!  And I had fun!  Really! 

Okay, so it was not exactly roughing it, only a few hundred yards away from a hot (if yucky looking) shower and flush toilets.  The weather was wonderful except when we were close to frozen at night, it was a pretty enough state park, and we found lots to do:  we rode horses!  We rode bikes!  We hiked!  We visited the playground!  We rented a boat!  Carl swam!  (Everyone else was smart enough to stay out of the freezing cold lake.)  The kids played harmoniously together the whole time, and made friends with a girl from the neighboring campsite.  We made a fire and s’mores every night, thereby making sure that I would not burn off one extra calorie the whole trip. 

Even though we all had a great time, and probably we will go again from time to time, camping still seems weirdly fake to me—“let me leave my pampered upper-middle-class existence and go prove I can live without central air…but not without my fancy gear!  And not too far from a flush toilet!”—and I never fail to be impressed by how much hassle it all is.  It took us days of joint effort to plan, shop and pack for it.  We ended up buying more supplies than I thought we would.  Rod barely got everything into and onto his car.  To go when the weather was pleasant during the day and relatively bug free, we had to endure very cold temperatures at night, and even with the ultra deluxe old lady orthopedic camping mattress Rod got me, it was still not a comfy way to sleep.  Imagine me, eyes red from campfire smoke, stabbing pains in my back and legs, huddled into my jacket and three blankets, with one arm pinned between Carl and the cold ground,  the attached exposed hand nearly frozen solid, attempting to will Ruby’s top blanket back onto her body using my brain waves alone, and listening to Rod snore…. Then, there’s all that setting up and taking down, and a giant mountain of laundry to do back at home.

But the days were so nice.  Peaceful, even in a full-up camping area.  Relaxing, mostly.  A good change of pace.

And now we are home, and the kids are at back at school today. I am debating which termite company to hire and dealing with taxes, school committees, errands, summer plans, and many other uninspiring issues.  Rod thinks he’s heading to the UK in a few days, and I am trying to be a brave little soldier about it even though he will be gone at least a week, I’ll bet.  We signed a lease for our rental property, which is a relief.  Of course, it's not my ideal lease, but at least it’ll staunch the financial bleeding for another year.  We’ve been working on little projects around the house and there is another flock of doctor/dentist/etc appointments on the calendar.  The kids have swimming lessons in April, which will suck up a bunch of time.  Writing this all down is not improving my mood.  I think maybe I need a date night?  A fun new project?  (Free) weekend trip?

Back to Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

The birthday:  It was really, really, really good.  Shaun Cassidy did not come to lunch on Friday, but it turned out better: the big secret was that I was getting the ultra-deluxe, super-hygienic mani and pedi, complete with salt scrub in the scent of my choice, paraffin dip, other luxury touches, and bonus margarita, courtesy of my fabulous in-laws, and in the company of some of my best friends of recent years.  Most of whom are already in Club 40 and assured me that it’s fine, better than the 30’s, even.  And lunch after was sublime as well, even without Shaun.

Friday night I worked on our tax return, which was comforting in a “the truth shall set you free” sort of way, and watched a movie courtesy of the library (if you almost never go to the movies, there’s plenty to check out years later).  I found my groove on Saturday.  I was in a really good mood, maybe by sheer force of will, but whatever.  I got to sleep a little late, and then Rod took the kids outside to wrap presents and do projects or something while I took my own sweet time getting clean and dressed.

I got some lovely gifts (thank you!  Thank you!  Really, thank you!) and a bouquet of fruit “flowers” that everyone helped eat at lunch (formal thanks to follow).  Rod had my diplomas framed as a present, which apparently took months, but they are lovely and the sheepskin is no longer rotting away in the garage attic.  Ruby was pretty interested in them; she spent a lot of time asking me what lawyers do and what magna cum laude means, and why Rice’s diplomas are vase-shaped.  And, she made me a beautiful bracelet from wire and hex nuts and other shiny doodads.  Finally….drum roll…..from Rod, I got a framed, autographed Hardy Boys picture.  Yes, Shaun! in all his shaggy seventeen year old beauty (Ruby says he looks like a girl) and Parker Stevenson, too!  All my friends are mighty impressed that Rod would do that for me.

In the afternoon, I got a sappy e-mail from my dad that made me cry, in a good way, Rod hung a bunch of pictures for me, and I spent a while feeling productive, cleaning out some boxes of stuff that have been cluttering up my bedroom.  Don’t laugh; it was good to start a new decade, feeling as if I were making progress on something. 

My big surprise was dinner with a bunch of our friends at this swanky haute cuisine Mexican place.  Rod went to great trouble to arrange it all and keep it more or less a secret.  He even engineered an off-the-menu tres leches birthday cake that was really good.  Most of all, it was my kind of party; festive, with only about as many people as I could deal with at once, and no singing waiters. My friends did make me play charades at the after party, but they did let me pass on the truly hard ones (A Clockwork Orange, (the movie) oh, please!) 

This week, it’s back to regular life.  I’m working on some things for my kids’ school gala, which is next weekend, and our tenants moved out, so I’m coordinating some cleaning and repairs and basically begging everyone who calls about the house to just rent it, trust me, you’ll love it!  Today I hosted three of Carl’s classmates for a play date.  They are all older than he is, but also Lego fanatics, and I figured I should try to encourage Carl’s friendships and I should get to know their moms a bit more.  It all went fine, but it was a production for me to clean up and engineer appropriate snacks and then make chit-chat.  Why is it so hard for me to be social?

Also, today I made reservations for spring break.  Given the current ‘economic uncertainty’ (depressing stock market, weird stuff going on at Rod’s work, our need for a new tenant, some other possible looming expenses), and my general lack of enthusiasm for various options, we decided to stay close to home.  We’re going to go to the Rodeo!  We might hit the indoor water park in Galveston!  We’ll goof around in town!

 And, we’re going camping!  Yes, I am going to brave the great outdoors, and for more than one….more than two…yes, three whole nights in the wilderness!  Well, semi-wilderness; it’s not far.  Can I say that we do not live in a camping-rich part of the world, and yet there are a bazillion options to sort out; it was really hard to decide where to go.   In the end, I picked a park with horses/canoes/bike trails/swimming/fish/playgrounds/showers, and we will see how it goes.  I know it won’t be completely cheap, after horse and canoe rentals, and after I buy a few pieces of gear we need and supplies, but the reservation fee?  I think it will end up being $15 a night.   My frugal self is so very pleased.