With the girls away at camp, the boys and I went climbing at Frustration Creek, near Forest Falls, California. This is Quentin on “Delusions, 5.11d.” Parker’s climbing day ended when he disturbed a nest of Daddy Long Leg spiders. I’m surprised you didn’t hear him screaming.
I’m always amazed at how much quieter the house is when any one of our four children is away. It never seemed to matter which one of the kids was a sleepover, visiting family, or attending camp…until this summer. Our youngest, five-year-old Olivia, has been at my sister Francine’s house since yesterday and it’s practically silent. This is remarkable because her older sister, Reiley, has been away at camp since June, but we never experienced the characteristic quiet associated with having one less child at home. But now, ah…what a difference!
At first, I thought that maybe Olivia just escalated her contribution to the decibel level to compensate for Reiley’s absence. I ran my hypothesis past the boys and they said no. Their explanation? When Reiley’s here, Olivia “shadows” her. They explained that Olivia’s demanding, sometimes defiant behavior, as well as her whining, is held in check to some degree by Reiley’s company, if not also attentions. With Reiley, gone, it was up to them and they just don’t entertain Olivia as well.
They may be onto something. Now that they arguably are not preoccupied with tag-a-long Olivia, the boys have become best buddies – practically joined at the hip in Nerf gun battles, video games, and trips to the park with the dog. And I’m smiling…both because my sons are getting along again, and because I can attest to the possibility that two boys are quieter than a single, miniature princess.
My daughter Olivia spent the weekend with my sister and her family. She wants to be a big sister (a desire that I assure will remain unfulfilled!) SO badly that she insisted on dressing like her cousin Samantha Jo, including squeezing into this Size 3 swimsuit.
When traveling – especially while traveling internationally – I always try to stay away from the trendy restaurants…with the exception of McDonald’s and Starbucks, which are always good for a clean and free bathroom. I spent this past weekend in Las Vegas, and, though I say this everytime, next time I really am flying. We were stuck in 2.5 hours of traffic in Ontario on our way to Vegas because of an accident!
On our first night there, we decided to stay away from the high end restaurants and go for something the “locals” would eat. We ate at a restuarant just off the strip called Battista’s Hole in the Wall. Out in front is a huge gaudy neon sign letting us know it serves Italian Food. The restaurant was large, but broken up into small rooms with half walls. We were seated within five minutes, which is great for a Vegas restaurant on a Friday night with no reservations. We all laughed once we saw the menu. All meals come with the following: salad (garden salad with italian dressing) or soup (minestoni only), bread sticks, side pasta, cappuccino, and all you can drink wine! We read it a couple of times to be sure. The waiter arrived and put down a carafe of white and a carafe of red wine on the table. The white was a chablis and the red was a cabernet. If I weren’t pregnant, I really would have enjoyed the wine! Both tasted great for a FREE table wine. The cappuccino was a complete surprise. I was told it tasted like sweet hot chocolate, but there wasn’t a single hint of espresso. On our way out we picked up a card with the ingrediets to their famous espresso. What’s in it? Mostly, coffee, chocolate, cream and…a shot of brandy. The waiter never even mentioned it was alcoholic. Good thing I opted out because I didn’t want the espresso.
If you ever find yourself at the Hole in the Wall located just behind the Flamingo, I recommend the chicken rio.
All I said was that one perk of living in Riverside is that there’s really no pressure to buy your kid a car…And she started justifying herself. Her daughter’s a good student; her daughter works and she thinks that’s great; she just doesn’t feel that there’s anything wrong with buying her daughter a car. She rolled her eyes, put her hand on her hip, turned and walked back to her seat.
I’m getting ahead of myself.
I was grading papers on my flight home last night from Hartford, CT, chatting with my “neighbor,” who was on her way back to LA after visiting the University of Massachusetts Amherst (UMASS) with her daughter and grand daughter, the latter of whom will be a freshman there in the fall. The woman’s daughter had stopped to visit with her mom, who explained that I am a professor and had been grading papers since take-off. She asked if it’s true college kids can’t write. Following my somewhat flippant response of “Not this one,” we chatted about our children and the challenges of 21st century parenting. I probably should have stuck with commiserating, but I didn’t.
My fellow mom and Delta passenger, a self-confessed "helicopter parent," admitted to hiring a coach to help her daughter complete her college applications because the process is so confusing now. I disagreed, and explained that while there might be more competition at some schools and it’s certainly more expensive to apply, the application and financial air processes are actually easier and more efficient. The vast majority of my students successfully (obviously) filled out their own applications.
She said she was worried that even though her daughter had graduated from Westlake High School – a predominantly white, highly rated public school in the Los Angeles area – and been admitted to UMASS, she wouldn’t be able to write. I told her not to worry. I’m sure her daughter’s quality high school program had prepared her well for college. Anyway, in my experience, poor writers suffer more from some combination of laziness and hasty, last-minute efforts than lack of ability. I used my son, Quentin, as an example; he rushes every writing assignment, and has to edit, revise, and rewrite repeatedly.
She explained that she’s a single mom and had sacrificed to ensure her daughter had access to a quality high school program and ensure she got to go to college on the East coast. That’s when she mentioned the car. I told her that was too bad she felt that she had to purchase and maintain a car for her daughter that was worthy of Westlake’s student parking lot. I don’t feel at all pressured to buy my son a car. To be honest, I don’t think every driving-age child needs a car, and believe that those who do should contribute to the costs of car ownership and driving. I told her that my loving spouse and I don’t intend to get our son a car until: a) he genuinely needs to drive, and b) he can pay a significant share of the costs associated with doing so. That’s when she turned on me.
I really didn’t mean to offend, but rather to re-assure, which is odd. After all, I’m the one who deserves consolation. My purportedly under-socialized children are home-schooled. In Riverside. Yikes! The poor things can’t expect to “ride for free,” and will be responsible for their own college applications.
Perhaps aware again of the red ink on the papers I was grading, she suggested I “write something nice” on my students’ papers. “Always,” I said. For all the poor grammar and style errors I have to wade through, most of the students manage to provide plausible arguments; some even blow me away with their insights.
This past weekend was exhausting. I worked the whole holiday weekend – including two 12-hour days! My patience has been low, along with my energy. It has taken everything out of me to get in my runs with Sammy and a little bike riding (long work days aren’t going to deter me from my cross training).
Maz, on the other hand, had a three day weekend AND he gets home at 2:30 everyday! Then why am I doing everything? I just don’t know.
Conversation One:
Me: Can you go to Costco?
Maz: What do you need?
Me: Well, coffee for starters.
Maz: I think you can go a day without coffee.
Me: Yes, I can but I need you to actually run an errand – point blank. Just because I don’t have time to go to Costco today doesn’t mean I will have time tomorrow. Have some freaking confidence; I think you can do a Costco trip on your own.
Later in the day…Maz was showing off his confidence by giving me the details of his shopping trip. The last thing on my mind was how he couldn’t find the mushrooms, so he decided not to get them.
Conversation Two…following another long day for me, while Maz got home at 2:30:
Me: Maz, when you get home early everyday, I really need you to clean up the kitchen and empty your lunch box. I don’t want to see a full lunchbox on that table again (for those of you who don’t already know, Maz takes a lunchbox the size of a carry-on suitcase with him to work everyday).
Maz: Okay, but today I fell asleep.
Me: It’s called a NAP, and I am glad one of us has time for it.
Me (while doing the dishes): Can you take the bathroom trash out & put it in the kitchen trash, then take the kitchen trash out because tomorrow is trash day?
Maz: No response.
Then I start to see movement…Bathroom trash is gone, kitchen trash is gone, BUT there’s no new bag in the kitchen trash can.
Conversation Three…about ONE hour later:
Maz: You know, I took the trash can to the curb; I didn’t just put the house trash in the can.
Me: What, do you want a gold star?
On Sunday, the Fourth of July, my mom called crying because someone had taken her dog, Bear. Not likely; he probably ran scared from the fireworks! Nearly an hour of looking later – a group endeavor that included seven family members, four police officers responding to calls about a loose dog, and the woman who found him at a nearby park – Bear was home. My mom took Bear to the vet on Monday because he was limping. Apparently, he wore the pads off of his front paws running on hot pavement. I’m happy to report that Bear is on twice-a-day antibiotic regimen, but should recover fully. Until he does, he’ll b sporting these sassy Hanes crew socks.
He finally got it!!
It’s only taken five and a half months but he did it. Peter finally claims to understand how much an expectant mother sacrifices during pregnancy, the toll it takes on her body, as well as the miracle of carrying a living being in her womb. This past weekend, we were sitting there and he rubs my belly – note that this was the first time since I became pregnant. He looks at me, shakes his head, and tells me he can’t believe I’m carrying around another human being. He said I deserved a present! He suggested a painting by Vladamir Kush. I like his “Red Purse.”
Critics suggest that Kush “infuses into his image a certain irony: greed and excessive accumulation of wealth could lead to the separation of lovers”:
[The] purse is a symbol of wealth and accumulation. But only love is the master key … This symbolism corresponds to the color of the purse. Red means love and passion in the first place, although purses are used to have the colors of earth or gold. But we employ red also in cases when we want to emphasize the symbolism of luxury and wealth. In China, red is considered to be the color of happiness and good luck. It is the color of the wedding attire too.
I’m so excited! “Red Purse” would be our second Vladamir Kush. We recently purchased the artist’s “Fauna in La Mancha” which positions giant butterflies atop windmill platforms in a “mad” play on Cervantes’ Don Quixote. I can’t wait for it to arrive.
I’m with Terri. Hiring a running coach aside, there’s likely no way to increase our chances of qualifying for the Boston Marathon other than cross-training. Not only were we just plain burned out by “just” running during our training for the 2010 San Diego Rock ‘n’ Roll marathon, but I also suffered the onset of iliotibial (IT) band pain. Certainly, cross-training will help to develop muscles oft-neglected by running exclusively, and – hopefully – prevent (additional) injury. It will also combat boredom in what promises to be yet another long, hot summer.
Terri has taken up mountain biking and bike commuting. Although my current “recovery and training” plan include biking, my tack is a little different. I’m just going “back” to how I trained for my previous marathons: biking to work as often as possible, walking nearly as many miles as I run, practicing yoga daily, rock-climbing, and getting in the pool on most of the truly hot afternoons.
Bicycle commuting: In addition to reducing the stress on my joints, generally, riding to campus and back will require me to use overlapping sets of muscles in distinct ways to help limit my chances of injury.
Balancing walking and running: Amounts to “time on my feet.” I’d just tried doubling my workouts a couple of times before my IT band started hurting, but I like the idea of increasing my cardiovascular conditioning and running economy by getting more workout in each week than there are days. For now, one of my “runs” is a fast-paced walk.
Yoga: Without it, I’d be even less balanced. In addition to increasing the frequency and duration of my practice, I’ve incorporated asanas that stretch the IT band – Pigeon, Reclining Hand Foot Pose, Square Pose – and strengthen the core.
Rock Climbing: While climbing doesn’t have a direct impact on running, it’s a great way to improve the mental fitnesslong-distance running requires.
Swimming: Another low-impact route to cardiovascular fitness and alternative way to build upper body strength. I haven’t been able to find an adult class that suits both my budget and my schedule, so I’ve been swimming pretty sad looking laps at the community pool while kids SPLASH and play nearby.
Two weeks into it, I’m on a roll.
At the end of our tour of the Hacienda Doña Engracia Distillery a couple of years ago, Jeanna, Terri, and I bought “Mexican” margaritas, each consisting of a generous shot of tequila poured straight from the bottle over ice, then filled to the brim with Sprite. So you can imagine my surprise when Stephanie Elizondo Griest
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