Archive for the ‘Breaks’ Category
As I was saying, It was an amazing minus tide late Friday afternoon in Santa Barbara, coinciding with (or because of?) the Super Moon. I forgot my camera, but my sister had her phone and all its very cool, super smart apps. The wind was up, so we couldnt stay longT still has a lingering coughbut we enjoyed what we got.
Whether shes wild or crazed or placid to the eyes, the ocean never ceases to inspire me with her colors and moods and artsy puzzles when she gathers up her skirts and takes a break from old beach. To see my son delight in tide pools? I meanI hoped he would at least like the ocean and visiting the beach, but that he would squeal and yell I SEE ONE, MAMA, I SEE A HERMIT CWAB and get so excited by anemones and mussels and barnaclesperhaps we share an ocean gene. That for his bedtime stories he reaches for books ocean-related? That he can say Architeuthis Dux (archisus ducks) and know that it’s a giant squid, that he can point out a weedy sea dragon (dwagon) or anglerfish—okay, yes I buy him these books, but he also requests them in addition to and usually more than his Dr. Seuss collection and Brown Bear, Brown Bear and Quick As A Cricket. He likes his ocean books. They interest him. And—I admit it—this thrills his mama no end. Following him as he raced from tide pool to pool, sharing his excitement when he discovered sea-bits, traipsing around the living museum of beach, wind blasting our cheeks, ocean air filling our lungs—bliss.
I don’t know about your house, but THESE are the kind of Christmas shenanigans going on around here:
Not to mention early Christmas presents from Semi-Secret Santa Mommies:
Or Christmas caroling to the dog:
But this, THIS is really what’s going on around here—every—single—second:
O perfect, metaphor-catching picture! Yes, I vacuum up dog hair twice daily, rise at 4:00 a.m. to allow the child into our bed, awake every 5 minutes until 6:00a.m., when it’s time to get up for the day because T wakes with his headlights on BRIGHT and is ready to rock and roll and eat pancakes I’ve secretly stuffed with carrot puree and applesauce, yes I’m still a sleepless mother despite preschool, but I can honestly say: I am enjoying the season. He is enjoying the season. My currently snoozing husband, too.
Who knew the end of the year could be jam-packed with so many changes? New dog, preschool (!!!), Thanksgiving at our house—well, that happened last year, too. I guess I mean: HOLIDAY SEASON (MADNESS)!!! In addition to us all waking up at 4a.m. (at which point little boy comes and gets in bed with us and plays tag with my kidneys with his heels), 5a.m. (at which point Dadda takes the dog for a rollerblade/walk), 6a.m. (at which point the youngster among us is up until naptime). I am also editing/revising my novel. And mopping floors and finishing Christmas shopping THIS WEEK and organizing a booked calendar and hoping I’m not forgetting anything, anyone—like this blog. And—well, see picture below. ‘Tis the season! Let us Hallelujah. Until the next post.
There are reasons for all the blog breaks I have posted of late, instead of writing meaningful material. Ha ha! Place your mouse over each photo to receive an explanation. Or—not…
(One sister is not featured in photo as she lives in Iowa—however, we missed her greatly, although the Pater HAD TO ACT as if overwhelmed by female offspring invading his household. Could not cooperate and just smile normally for camera…
Which means I’m writing/editing.
And my son—
turns 3 in 5 days. November is a busy month! And it’s Christmas at Target. Ouch.
This year’s lil’ pirate.
Two years ago: lil’ pirate.
Picture comparison is all the BOO I can take this year!
The only problem with coming home is leaving the above behind. And allowing for a day of fatigue, in which mother and son are flattened by all the gallavanting they’ve done the week before. Once breakfast concludes, we take eons to dress and whatever else and get our bottoms to Trader Joe’s. Plus, it’s 90 degrees by the end of T’s naptime, so forget Gaga-walking around the neighborhood with T in the stroller, forget piling into the broiling minivan and driving anywhere, forget it. We read books in his room, color paper plates, wash dishes, I teach him how to put the folded laundry away (this includes many drawer openings and shuttings and a slew of high-fives). We roll out the pizza dough and he presses the pulse button on the food processor, not knowing that the spinach and beets and creamy Swiss cheese he is mashing together will comprise the base of his pizza dough, disguised with cheese and olives (and, later, he eats it, still oblivious—a Mama is victorious). We hibernate in stifling September, in the cool of the A/C. And I think fondly of the beach we traversed and mucked about on only yesterday—the perfect playground. It’s good to go away and it’s good to come home, but I have to say that most of all: It’s bloody darn pinchy good to have energy. Vital, even! Ha, ha!
THE OTHER BLOG (it’s very quiet over there tonight)
We have been away for a week—‘we’ meaning myself and my son—and, yesterday morning, bright and early, for the first time in 6 days, D.A.D.D.A. arrived and became instantly on retreat with us. We were very glad to see him. Not that we didn’t do fine on our own—we did beautifully (helped to have grandma and aunties and beach close by)! But of course life is more fun with Dadda around, too. Plus, he showed up with pirate eye patches and telescopes, thrilling T. For news about the retreat, visit my other blog. Until we meet again, I will be reacquainting myself with suburbia, dealing with the appalling “no ocean” aspect of living in the San Fernando Valley and hopefully attending some playdates. Cocktail, anyone? (cue Phyllis Diller laugh)
Cue the Muzak—again! Ahhhhh. Hello Naked Ladies. It really is summer.
These resilient flowers (I don’t know where they came from, did not plant them myself) are perfect to ponder when one’s brain is a brick, one’s creativity having run off with one’s sleep having run off with one’s “buck-up, Buffy!” approach to certain worries. Flowers, arriving. Flowers thriving in cement-hard dirt. Overnight: flowers. Voila! I stop, study them, sniff centers, sneeze. Thank you for choosing my rose garden, Naked Ladies. Give me a poem, stay awhile. Breathe.
What’s not to like?
Much stimulating fun for the toddler—
and his parents.
Fascinating California history, such as Zane Grey’s Pueblo Hotel (haunted by the author, I was informed—I can see why he wants to stay—he never missed a dawn if he could help it, watched the sea come alive).
Put the toddler to bed? No, no, no. Put him in his pajamas, then put him in his stroller and meander the waterfront to the pavilion, to watch the night divers and the bonfires on Descanso Beach. Once the toddler is lulled to sleep by the stroll, snoozing peacefully, covered by his favorite blankie, stop for ice cream, sit, watch boat lights twinkle, relax, holds hands, be happy.
Return to wonderful Catalina house and drink champagne with good friends (on Catalina, the toddler can be transferred from stroller to bed with no wake-ups whatsoever)—champagne so smooth and Cadillac it doesn’t give you a hangover and you can rent those several golf carts in the morning with your bloody-mary’s-in-plastic-cups-toting-friends and utterly enjoy your last hours on the island.
Hope you had a wonderful 4th of July! I made a berry cobbler that actually wasn’t burned on the bottom. A first! If you run your mouse over the picture, you’ll get the story, in his words. A beautiful day at Baby Beach and good for the Gdad to be out in the sunshine and fresh air (not to mention the toddler!).