Rox and Roll

In the Sunshine State

The kids and I are far from our California home right now, enjoying a week with my parents, my sister and their two poodles in the Sunshine State.  Florida is a very different place from California.  I would compare and contrast the two, but that might get me into trouble.  In general, though, I am glad that my parents live in Florida, because I get to visit and take the kids to cool places like the Kennedy Space Center.  I am glad that we live year round in California, because my hair?  It can't take this humidity.  I look like an ad for Zotos perms, and I don't even have one.  It's a sad hair week for me.

The highlight of our trip was ringing in my Grandma Pearl's 80th birthday with extended family.  Present for the party were: my 83 year-old Grandpa Dick, the Birthday Pearl, my mom (almost 62) and dad, mom's sister (my aunt, who's 57), mom's two brothers (my uncles, ages 47 and 59) and their wives, three cousins plus one's boyfriend, my 28 year-old sister, the kids and me.  We spent time looking through family photo albums, and it's hard to imagine how the little ones have grown so big already.  I was the first grandchild for my Grandma Pearl, and I've given her and Grandpa Dick their only great-grandchildren to date.  It was a really cool thing to have four generations in one room.  I wonder if my daughter will remember that moment when I'm turning 80.

The second highlight of our trip was visiting Kennedy Space Center.  The kids got to meet an astronaut, Sam Gemar, who flew three missions.  Petunia marched right up to him and asked, "Why aren't the shuttle wings dihedral?" having just finished a science fair project about how a dihedral affects flight.  He answered her -- something about a shuttle needing delta wings because it doesn't need the stability offered through a dihedral.  She says we have to look into that.  I'm thinking I'm going to need to take some more physics courses just to keep up with her!  Dash ate up the "rocket garden" and wanted to know if we could have one too... I don't think our Silicon Valley backyard could accommodate even one, but I agree that would be cool!

They've been to many more places: the Alligator Farm, the Castillo de San Marcos, and yes, Dunkin Donuts and Rita's Water Ice.  They've even ridden on Grandpa's motor scooter, trapped an anole and kept it as a pet for three days, walked the poodles on the beach, dug a hole almost all the way to China on the same beach, and much more... Something tells me they might be glad of the plane ride tomorrow, just so they can relax!  But I know they'll miss all of the attention, their grandparents, their aunt and most especially the dogs very much.  Thanks to all of them and to lovely Florida for a great spring break!

Finally, she's getting it

From my packing down the hall, I heard a rare altercation between Petunia and Dash tonight.

"GET OUT OF MY ROOM!" Petunia yelled.

"NO!" a very angry Dash fought back.  "I WANT TO BUILD A PILLOW FORT UNDER YOUR DESK!"  (This is a frequent activity for them.)

"Dash, I said GET OUT!  I can't build a pillow fort now!  I have to clean up!" Petunia almost cried.

I appeared in the doorway with raised eyebrows.

"Mom, Dash won't get out of my room!" Petunia whined.

"Mama, Petunia won't build a pillow fort with me!" Dash whined too.

"Why can't you build a pillow fort together?" I asked.  Seeing Petunia's complaint coming, I added, "You know, it is easier for me to pack for Florida if you are playing nicely together."  Seeing the whining about to recommence anyway, I made it clearer.  "If I can't pack for Florida, well, then we can't go to Florida.  You feelin' me?"

Petunia looked at me with a mix of "duh" and fiery anger at the same time.  It was weird.  It was freaky.  It was so... so... pre-teen.  God, I am not ready for that.

"Mom," she explained.  "Look at my room."

I looked.  I saw... Petunia's room.

"And?" I asked.

"It's a mess," she sighed as she rolled her eyes.  (GAH!)  "And you and daddy go all batty on me when my room is a mess.  And I just can't have that.  So you need to get him out of here so that I can clean up.  Okay?"

49% of me wanted to absolutely wallop my child, for the first time ever, for the attitude she was flipping me.  But the other 51% understood that she was right; daddy would go all batty if her room were such a mess.  (Would I?  Maybe.  But not the night before a trip... but she doesn't need to know that.)

So I silently picked up Dash and exited the room.  Dash complained.  Dash threatened to "bust everything" if he couldn't build a pillow fort in Petunia's room.  Dash settled for brushing his teeth for half an hour. 

Oh, man, tomorrow is going to be one looonnnnggg travel day!

Forget the Magic Kingdom; Florida has...

The kids and I leave this Friday for a week-long Floridian adventure with grandparents, great-grandparents, and lots of aunts, uncles and cousins involved.  This is the kind of vacation where I won't see my kids much because so many others will be there to play with them -- otherwise known as a dream vacation that money can't buy!  We are gathering to celebrate Great-Grandma Pearl's 80th birthday, and I'm most especially looking forward to seeing my kids enjoy their great-grandparents and vice versa.  I have my Flip at the ready!

Petunia is excited about this trip because she wakes up earlier than she's allowed to at home and heads to the beach with her grandpa ("Peepaw").  I love that they have that special time together and that she remembers that's what she "always" does when she goes there.

Dash was around 2.25 years old when we last ventured to Florida, so he doesn't remember much.  He has created some great mythology around what he thinks it's like, though (aided by sister's recollections).  He expects to see armadillos (in my parents' neighborhood, sometimes), alligators (we'll head to the Alligator Farm perhaps), rocketships (Cape Canaveral is on the itinerary) and a big, huge white sand beach that is not at all cold (at the end of the street).  

Then today, he started doing something I had never seen him do before.  He started thinking about food!  He wanted to make sure that his favorite stuff would be in Florida.  I assured him that I had already placed his soy milk order with Grandma and that she knew how much he loved goldfish.  I had to call her to make sure she had his "chocolate sandwich stuff" (Nutella) -- check.  

And then we drove in a car to McDonald's in search of Shamrock Shakes (they were already out for the season).  Exiting the parking lot, Dash told me, "They do have McDonald's in Florida, Mom."  I agreed.  Then his eyes got as wide as saucers as he said, "MOM!  I KNOW WHAT THEY HAVE IN FLORIDA!  I KNOW WHAT THEY HAVE THAT THEY DON'T HAVE HERE IN CALIFORNIA!"

"What's that, Dash?" I asked.

Nearly hyperventilating with excitement, Dash answered, "DUNKIN DONUTS!  THERE IS A DUNKIN DONUTS IN FLORIDA!!!"

Though I can't eat them, I share his excitement, for I craved Dunkin Decaf when I was pregnant with him.  Though it can't hold a candle to Blue Bottle coffee, I have to admit that I'm looking forward to my old-skool Boston coffee break, albeit in Florida.

Which got me to thinking... what else is in Florida that we don't have?  I do love the Columbia restaurant, I thought, as I made a note to take my sister there for lunch.  And then it hit me:

RITA'S WATER ICE!  I hope it is open for the season already, because there's a mango gelati with my name written on it.

Now I'm hungry, and I'm packing.  Flor-I-Da, here we come!

Boyz, they lovez their explosionz

Dash: "Mom, I have money in my pocket!  No -- MONIES!" (he pulls out a few coins)

Mom: "Wow, Dash, what are you going to do with all of your monies?"

Dash, sweetly: "Mom, I could buy YOU something with it!"

Mom: "That's so sweet!  What would you like to buy me?"

Dash: "I could buy you a fire extinguisher."

Mom, stumped: "Well, that would be... nice."

Dash: "Yeah!  And when we blow something up in the backyard, we could use the fire extinguisher to put out the explosion!"

Mom: "Dash..." (interrupted)

Dash: "NO!  We could BLOW UP THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER!"

And he skipped off to pick up his sister from her classroom, no doubt eager to share his latest and greatest exploding idea.  I trailed along behind, unusually silent, for I really didn't know what to say...

Woop Woop - That's the sound of da police*

As I sit in my den writing this blog post, Dash runs across the room, triggering the siren again: Woo woo woo woo, louder then softer, fading back into the oblivion from which it loudly emerged just seconds ago.  This police car siren, it has been emitting sounds randomly for about a week now, and I have yet to locate its source.

First I searched the pile in the corner of the den -- the pile that should be small and contained in a nice gingham-lined Pottery Barn basket but, instead, flows out of a copy box that has seen better days.  The siren sounds like it's coming from that corner, but I just. can't. find. it. 

I checked the office nook just outside my bedroom, the nook that I just cleaned and organized into coordinated bamboo Ikea containers.  Nope, there are no sirens there...

It has to be somewhere here.  Perhaps the noise is coming from a toy I don't recognize -- entirely possible, as Dash just had a birthday and received all sorts of exciting noisemakers -- ?  Or perhaps it's in the basement bedroom beneath?

Or perhaps the sirens are real; we are a mile from EPA, after all...?  (I jest.  I heart EPA, especially the best Starbucks in America near the Ikea, where they once locked my purse in the safe after I left it on back of my chair.)

Today is the day on which I will dig through the toys and find the police car and remove its batteries.  Today is the day that this noise that has nagged and eluded me -- only when someone rattles it the right way, though -- will be silenced.  But I wonder, is that the right thing to do?

I've thought about leaving the mystery police car siren hidden and active.  When it goes off, I can tell visitors one of the following:
- We're trying to get the kids used to living in an unsafe area; the economy is bad, after all.
- We want the kids to behave and have found the siren a useful reminder of that expectation.
- It's left over from the Bush administration.
- Don't you just feel safer with a police presence?
- The stimulus plan provides gun-ready police protection to those making over $250g here in Silicon Valley since there is no room to shovel anything anymore.  Thank God for Democrats!

Okay, I'll find the toy.  It can't be that hard, what with only a hundred thousand or so in the house...

*Lyric from "Sound of Da Police" by KRS One

In this crazy world, one thing is true...

My children are growing up even more magnificently than I ever could have imagined. 

By the time anyone reads this, it will be Tuesday, March 3, and my little Dash will be a big 4 years old. 

On the one hand, I look at him and think: where did the time go?  But on the other hand, I think: why is it still so hard?  Petunia was never this challenging, especially not at 4.  When will it get easier?

And then my brother started planning his wedding, and I realized something.  They grow, but it doesn't get easier.  They just live greater distances from us and have different needs -- happy and exciting needs right now, perhaps, then deeper and more complex needs in the longer term when they have their own children (all the while trying to fake knowing what they're doing).  It's the circle of life, and, as much as we grown children come into our independence, we also always come back to mom and dad.  Of course, I've circled back to mom to request babysitting for a weekend in Vegas, but hey -- fulfilling some needs can be fun for all involved!

Tonight, I ask Dash if he'd like to hear about his birth, and he thought the story was a riot, especially the part when I told him that Petunia told her preschool that she was going to have "either a sister, or a brother, or a dragon!"  Dash had fits of the sweetest giggles, and he kept asking me to repeat that line.  I almost had him convinced he was actually a dragon.

Finally I said, "Alright Dash, goodnight.  I love you all the way up to the moon and sun and stars."

Dash: "That makes no sense, Mom."  (Where did Mama, or Mommy go?  When did I become just "Mom"?)

Mom: "What doesn't make sense?"

Dash: "You can't love me up to the sun.  The sun is just a mass of burning gas and lava and fire."

Mom: "Okay, I love you up to Pluto then."

Dash: "Mom, can you just love me up burnt the light?" (We have no idea what this means, but it appears to be his greatest form of love, as he loves his dad merely "stuck on the wall."  *snicker*)

Mom: "I'll love you as much as you'll let me love you, always, Dash."

Dash: "Okay, Mom, I'll love you forever too."

It's hard, this parenting thing, harder than I ever dreamed... but it's also much, much more wonderful than I ever imagined.  We've still got a long row to hoe, this four year-old boy and I, and, at times, it's going to seem like too much hard work.  But as I sit here listening to him snore, I can't help but think that no one could pay me enough to have more kids I'll never do this again -- yet it's been so very worthwhile to have not just one, but two very different, extraordinary children, siblings who love each other so protectively and surely that I know I birthed not only children, but friends.  I am so tired, but I am luckier than I am tired -- and that makes all of the difference.