Zip 'n' Tizzy

Kindergarten!

2011-08-22T23:51:00.000-07:00

Zip's been waiting for two years to go to kindergarten, and tomorrow is the day.

Yesterday I was sick in bed, and he came up to me frequently, pet me on my head and said, "I'm sorry you're sick. I love you. Tomorrow you're going to have to be better." - Tomorrow being the day I would take him to meet his kindergarten teacher and enroll him in the grade school he's so patiently waited to join his brother in for nearly half his life!

That was today, and I was better, and he got assigned to the classroom he's been telling me all week he'd get. Which is good, because he's very willful, and I wasn't sure at all how the conversation would go had he not gotten the classroom he'd said he was getting. As it was, the conversation went something like, "See, I told you so!"

It was exciting.

His brother imparted all of the wisdom that only a seven year old could impart in preparing him for what to expect. Like, "Don't misbehave on the rainbow rug or you'll never ever get moved from the red square." Or, "You're so lucky you're in room two that shares a bathroom with room three, because if you were in room five you'd have to pee outside."

He found his cubby and was relieved to discover he isn't the only Z name - though there's still a chance he'll change his name to John midway through the year.

He weighed and measured himself, and wrote down his vitals, noting there are a lot more girls in this class than in his old school. I reminded him that that wasn't surprising considering there was only one girl in his classroom at his old school. I got the sense he wasn't sure quite what to make of the room full of glistening sequins and twirling tu-tu's, but he seemed pleased just the same.

He made sure to tell his teacher that he's allergic to wheat, and that he's not in the grades but he is in the grade school, and that he can read the "BOB" books all by himself.

Then he ran out the back door to the playground and immediately found his best friend from camp. He was happy to see him, though they'll never see each other in school, because the camp friend's in room three in the afternoon kindergarten, and Zip's in room two in the morning kindergarten - But it doesn't really matter, because at least he was someone he knew. And who knows - Maybe they'll cross paths in the bathroom.

Tonight he beamed up at me from his bed, and said, "Mom, I love you. You know I'm so happy to finally be going to kindergarten. I've been waiting for my whole life to get to do this!"

Put a Wiggle In Your Walk and a Waggle In Your Talk

2011-08-21T22:12:00.000-07:00

Tizzy: Is it possible to ask a question that you already know the answer to?

Brad: Yes. It’s called a rhetorical question.

Tizzy: Hmmm. One day I was in science class and Mrs. Pierce said, ‘Now class I don’t want any comments. If you want to ask a question you can raise your hand, but if you want to make a comment you must leave your hand down.’ Well, I wanted to make a comment about how bees waggle when they talk, so I raised my hand, and I asked her this question. ‘Do bees talk?’ and she said, ‘Yes. Bees do the waggle dance to communicate.’ So I got to make my comment, but it was really a question that I already knew the answer to.

This and That

2011-08-20T21:59:00.000-07:00

Tizzy:

“The earth is very smart. It gave us two legs to stand on. It gave us one arm and another arm in case we need an extra arm and two eyes and a nose, and it has gravity and food and water and oxygen.”

“Really we have everything we need on our earth, but people forget that. They think we need more of this and more of that, and they say, ‘I need more food, I need more gas, I need more toys, I need more stuff,’ but they don’t realize that the earth is very smart and they have everything they need already. It’s always just, ‘I need this, I need that. More of this more of that.”

Flowers For His True Love

2010-11-20T14:42:00.000-08:00

Zip's at that stage. The flower bringing stage. Because I'm "so cute." And I'm "the sweetest." And because he "Just love's me." Sadly, it's slim pickin's this time of year, but that didn't stop him from finding this "beautifullest flower" because I'm "the cutest," and this rock is "pretty beautiful too." Because he loves me.

My Lunch with Silver Springs Networks

2010-11-19T12:19:00.000-08:00

Do you want to find about my fabulous lunch at one of my favorite San Francisco restaurants, getting to eat with fellow Bay Area Bloggers and learning about technology that's going to affect us all?! Follow me to my reviews page and read all about it HERE!

Once Upon A Time...

2010-11-11T20:53:00.001-08:00

Tizzy: What if a man fell in love with a woman, but she was one of those women that never wants to get married, and he said, "I love you so much, I want to marry you," but she said, "NO!" So he sang to her in his loveliest loudest voice, and she had to cover her ears, so he covered her with the largest of kisses, and she said, "Hey. You're kind of cute!"

Me: Did she marry him?

Tizzy: No. He turned into a frog.

Argument at Bedtime

2010-11-08T20:15:00.000-08:00

T: Thanksgiving is for thanking the Pilgrims and the Indians.

Z: No, it's for thanking God.

T: Pilgrims and Indians.

Z: No, my teacher said we have to thank God.

T: You're wrong.

Z: MS. E SAID IT'S FOR THANKING GOD!!!

Brad: Guys, Guys, what's going on in here?

Z: Tizzy says that Thanksgiving is only for thanking the Pilgrims and the Indians, but my teacher said it's also for thanking God.

Brad: It's a day for being thankful for everything. That's why it's called Thanksgiving. Everything that we are thankful for we give thanks for that day.

T: Ooo-oH! So then I'll just draw some Pilgrims and Indians, some clouds in the sky and a bunch of turkeys!

Z: It's funny that God has a beard.

Special Delivery

2010-11-04T17:08:00.000-07:00

I was sitting at my desk when Zip sauntered in and announced, “Someone knocked over our mailbox.”

“What?!”

“Someone knocked over our mailbox, but it was an accident.”

I ran outside to see the damage.

There at the end of my driveway was a woman in her early twenties, trying to gingerly prop our mailbox back into place while supporting a very expensive fiberglass bike with her hip.

“Are you alright?” I asked, calculating the cost of the narrow custom tires, which I’m guessing set her back a couple thousand dollars, not to mention the frame itself.

“Is your bike o.k?”

“Oh!” She laughed sheepishly, her cheeks flushing pink.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened. I looked down to change gears and when I looked up I was flying over the top of your mailbox!- I’m SO sorry!” she added once again, trying to position it back into place.

“Don’t worry about our mailbox.” I said. “It’s been knocked over before. I’m more worried about you and your bike. Are you alright?”

“I think so.” She looked up embarrassed like it was the first time she’d thought about it.

She dusted herself off and got onto her bike to see that everything was in working order. She circled back around, confirming that she was indeed fine.

“That’s a funny little boy you’ve got. I was lying on the ground trying to catch my breath when I looked up to find him standing over me.”

“You know you knocked over our mailbox” he said.

“But that’s O.K.”

I’m Back!

2010-11-04T16:43:00.000-07:00

It’s been quite a while and I’ve missed you all, but it’s been a transformative break and very productive. I am now a Certified Personal Trainer and in the process of starting my business, Wise Physique. I will be getting my website up soon and will most likely be blogging over there as well, so I hope you will all check me out over there, as well as “follow” me if you like what you see. I’ll let you know when I’m up and running.

Over here - it’s still Zip n Tizzy.

Back in April, aside from needing to focus my energies elsewhere, I was having trouble writing about the boys. It was starting to feel odd writing down their stories in a public space, and I was also beginning to feel like the doting mother who has nothing better to talk about but her children. What I’ve found in the interim however, is that when I don’t write the stories down here, I don’t write the stories at all. Additionally I miss the relationships that I’ve developed with all of you. So I’m going to keep writing, and if I see you here, as opposed to there, I’ll assume my kids are more interesting than diet and exercise!

A Shout Out to Hunter Ray- Jones 6 Year Old Extraordinaire!!

2010-08-07T09:47:00.000-07:00

Stepping out from my blog recess to reach out to all you in this wonderful blogging community.

Our fellow Blogging Mom and Friend, Mandy Ray-Jones of Bona Fide Mama learned this week that her 6 year old son Hunter has Leukemia and is going to need a bone marrow transplant.

There are links listed on her blog of ways to help. As we all know and have seen in this community, the best way to help is to spread the word. Will you please help their beautiful family by getting the news out on your blogs? Our Thoughts and Prayers are with you Hunter for a speedy recovery and healing!

Very Much Alive And Kickin'

2010-07-03T14:04:00.000-07:00

Jumping in for a minute to update and explain my absence, since, *gasp*, April!

While having loved my stint as a Stay at Home Mom, I've known all along that sooner than later, I'd go back to work. I've also known that I'd have to work hard to figure out doing what. Having been a latch key kid myself, I'd like to create a flexible enough schedule to spend afternoons with my kids. Tizzy's already exhibiting difficulties with focus in school. Having struggled with focus myself, I'd ideally like to be here to help with homework and structure. Now that Zip's 4 1/2 with one remaining year before Kindergarten, it seemed like the time to get the ball rolling...

The exercise ball that is!

I am currently in the process of getting my Personal Training Certification.

I enrolled in a program in April, and have two weeks left before my test. Once certified I will spend some time finding my voice, practicing on friends and family, and then set about finding clients and jobs.

I have found so much gratification getting back in shape after gaining 60 lbs. during pregnancy with each child. Exercise has helped me regain my body, but more importantly, it has given me the stamina and mental clarity to keep up with my kids. I'm hoping to help others find that balance in their own lives as well. My goal is to gain experience this year, get additional certifications in restorative exercise and nutrition over the next two, and be working steadily by the time Zip's in first grade.

I've missed you guys and I promise to update occasionally as well as stop in and read what you're up to. I'm not sure yet whether I'll be blogging on fitness in the future, but if I do, I'll certainly let you know where to find me. For the time being, know that I'm studying like mad and enjoying the summer, still busy in my full time job as SAHM.

Happy 4th of July Everyone!

A Mouth Full of Change

2010-04-20T09:48:00.001-07:00

Having been the kid whose loose teeth would dangle by a thread for weeks on end, I am very delighted to say that Tizzy has pulled out his second tooth in less than a week. He makes no bones about it. They're loose – he wiggles and plucks. This morning, at 4:30 a.m., Brad and I were woken from a deep sleep.

"Mom! Dad!"

"Agh! What is it?" (Us up, bolt right in bed shaking the sleep off...)

He dances into our room,"THE TOOTH FAIRY LEFT ME A WHOLE DOLLAR!"

My Big Boy!

2010-04-14T18:09:00.000-07:00

Almost 2 years ago exactly, I wrote down this conversation:

Sitting at the kitchen table:

Tizzy: If I'm really going to be a kid, these baby teeth have got to go.

Me: Be patient, they'll fall out in time.

Tizzy: I need them gone, now. (rubbing finger back and forth in front of

mouth...) I think I'll saw them out.

Me: Mmm, not sure that's such a good idea.

Tizzy: Well, it's not working.

It was followed by a lot of conversations about exactly how old Tizzy would be before he lost his teeth. He needed them out to feellike a big kid. I told him he'd probably have to wait until he was six.

A week and a half ago, he ran into my room at seven in the morning to announce his tooth was loose. After I shook the sleep out of my eyes, I inspected his mouth and sure enough, there it was, his first loose tooth. I felt immensely excited for him and my stomach dropped all at the same time, as this really did signify to me that he was growing up. He's been biting into apples, telling me it's time to tie his tooth to a door knob, and wiggling wildly all week. Finally this afternoon he came up to me and asked if it was hanging from a thread. I looked into his

mouth where his tooth was bent over sideways and I tried to stick my fingers in and yank it, but I go too squeamish. Instead I pulled my hand out, looked at him sheepishly and said, "Why don't you try pulling it out?"

"O.K." He said. And he did.

I'm so proud!

***

All afternoon he's been sticking his tongue through the space and demonstrating how he can spit milk through the gap.

Zips been following him around saying, "Tizzy, you want to see my tooth fall out when I'm six? I want my tooth to fall out right now!"

And so it all starts again once more.

First Camp Of The Season - And The Woods Are Still Green

2010-04-12T18:22:00.000-07:00

While Driving Down The Freeway...

2010-03-28T12:15:00.000-07:00

Tizzy: Mom? Did you have an imaginary friend when you were a kid?

Me: I wanted one, but one never showed up.

Tizzy: I had one once but then he got called home for dinner and he never came back...

Oh look! There he is! He's running down the freeway but that's dangerous, so I'm just going to go brlrlrlrlr-up, and zip him back up into my head.

Phew! Sometimes my imaginary friend makes me very uncomfortable.

He Said What!?

2010-03-24T20:19:00.000-07:00

O'Shaughnessy's Gold

2010-03-17T08:42:00.000-07:00

About a week and a half ago Tizzy and I were talking and he asked me if I believed in Leprechauns. I was caught off guard and I replied that I did not, but that they were fun to imagine. There was a long pause in which he thought about this and I knew that I'd given him the wrong answer.

"Do you believe in Leprechauns?" I asked him.

"Well, I'm not sure." He replied doubtfully.

I quickly came back that I personally had never seen one, but as they primarily live in Ireland I couldn't say for sure that they don't exist, just that I'd never seen one.

The next day as we were driving to school he piped up from the back seat that they'd been making shamrocks at school and were asked to outline them with gold glitter if they believed in Leprechauns and silver glitter if they did not. I asked him which color he'd used, and he told me he hadn't done his yet.

That evening we all went to his school for the Ice-cream Social and Book Fair. Part of the Book Fair took place in his classroom so Brad and I had a chance to look at his work on the wall. There on the wall were the shamrocks and Tizzy's was lined with gold.

"Tizzy!" I exclaimed. "What a beautiful shamrock. Looks to me like you do believe in Leprechauns!"

His eyes welled up with tears and his lips began to tremble. "I didn't use gold glitter! Someone else must have put that there!"

Two days later, all of the children were holding green pieces of paper in the pick-up line and there was lot's of excited chattering. As I approached Tizzy, he ran toward me and thrust the paper into my hands shouting, "There's a Leprechaun named O'Malley and it lives in the Kindergarten playground. It sent everybody letters in their mailboxes and said that Rm. 5 has it's favorite Kindergartners!"

There has been no more doubt as to the existence of Leprechauns, but there has been lot's of discussion as to how to catch them. Yesterday, Tizzy set out a trap made with black construction paper, lots of tape and a cookie. When he went back to check on it, the trap was on the floor the tape had been unwrapped and the cookie was gone!

Last night as the boys lay in bed getting ready to sleep I overheard this discussion –

Tizzy: I think the Leprechaun ate the cookie in one little bit. Poor man can't eat a cookie in one bite, just a bit – Poor little fella. Hey Zip, I saw that the Leprechaun ate the cookie!

Zip: Maybe he was hungry.

Tizzy: No you silly! The cookie was too big for his belly - Poor little fella!

Zip: Did you see him?

Tizzy: No. Did you?

Zip: I didn't see him, but I heard him. I heard little steps just come in the door and tiptoe across the floor.

Tizzy runs out to me and says: Hey Mom! Zip heard the Leprechaun sneak into our house! By the way – What's a poor little fella?

They finally fell asleep after much discussion about how a Leprechaun could be best caught and what they would do with the gold if they caught it.

This morning Tizzy climbed into bed with me, peered into my eye and said, "There are a couple of chocolate frogs on the table."

"What?" I exclaimed.

"I said, there are a couple of green chocolate frogs on the table."

"Where did they come from?" I asked.

"I don't know. They're by the traps."

"Maybe a Leprechaun brought them." I said.

"Let's go see!"

We walked into the living room and sure enough on the table were two green foil covered chocolate frogs. Underneath them was a letter from a Leprechaun named O'Shaughnessy who's apparently friends with O'Malley from the Kindergarten playground. He said that he's not easily trapped, but enjoys cookies very much and thought that Zip and Tizzy might enjoy a treat of their own for all of their hard work.

Tizzy could not wait to tell his friends.

Apparently, when he tried, nobody would pay any attention.

That, however, did not stop him from setting more traps when he got home.

The Big Questions

2010-03-12T16:22:00.000-08:00

The "Why's" came slowly to our house.

Tizzy was a very active, not so verbal two year old, and for years we wondered if we'd missed the stage completely. But as you know, what your child skips in one stage, they'll make up for in another.

Now that he's six the questions have been flooding in and I have to admit, they've been fascinating.

The Standard:

What was the first day of the earth?
When the earth was molten lava what did they eat?
Were you alive Millions and Millions of years ago?
Were you alive in the Olden Days?
What does it feel like when you die and where do you go?

And the not so Standard:

Can a lightening bolt knock your teeth out?
If the days of the week were alive, what would they look like?
Why is cold invisible?

He walked into the kitchen the other day and said, " I was wondering if zippers were magical. When you pull your zipper slides up, it takes both sides of the zipper and slides it all together and that holds your clothes on. That seems pretty magical to me."

Another day we were sitting in the car and he started addressing reincarnation with me, a concept he'd been discussing with my mother. "Prisha says that when you die, your body falls apart, but you come back as a different body. I'm not sure if that's true, because Daddy's Mom died and I've never seen her, and Martin Luther King died and he hasn't come back yet either!"

Of course like any kid, he pulls out all the stops at bedtime. Last week we'd gotten him tucked into bed and answered multiple questions before putting our foot down and saying that any new questions would have to wait until morning. "Wait!" He called out urgently from his bedroom, "I have one more important question! How do children get inside their mother's bellies?!" He forgot to ask me again the next morning and instead waited until the moment we were about to enter Fairyland.

"Mom, you never told me how children get inside their mother's bellies."

While I'm all for answering questions as they come up, I was not going to get into details as we were entering a children's theme park.

"There's an egg inside the mother's belly," I said, " and when it gets fertilized the baby grows in there."

"Mom's have an egg in there belly?!" He laughed. " That's Aquarius!"

Zip has his own share of questions, but most of them pretty straight up and standard. However, being four, there are still some things that are completely over his head.

My favorite?

"What?! Darth Vader's a Bad Guy?!"

Spring Cleaning - Or Spring Training... You Decide

2010-03-01T10:39:00.000-08:00

It's hard to jump back on the horse after not blogging for a month and a half.

There's a lot of self imposed pressure to come up with something REALLY interesting to say.

So, what do I have for you today?

Chores.

Interesting, Eh?

When I started blogging, I was so overwhelmed by parenting babies that I felt I could barely keep up. I went through most of my day in a fog and then in the middle of the night when the boys were finally down, I couldn't sleep. I found solace in other peoples blogs and I could catch up with you all at four in the morning if counting sheep had left me in the dark.

There were so many things on my to do list, but after nursing babies, changing diapers, washing laundry, and laundry and laundry, I felt I could barely brush my teeth much less clean out the garage. So, while I gritted my teeth at the clutter, I found solace in reading that the rest of you were going through it too. While I wondered if I'd ever get my energy back, I did find that sitting down at the computer at the end of the day and typing left me feeling like I'd accomplished something for myself which was gratifying and helped remind me that I hadn't completely lost my mind.

A couple of weeks ago, we watched our neighbors kids while they went out. They're two and four. It's been easy for Brad and I to think that we're getting better at the parenting thing as the boys have gotten older, but when that two year old went zooming through our house, dumping out toy boxes, splashing in the toilet and screaming when we finally told him it was time for bed, we recognized that our parenting isn't getting better, our boys are just getting older.

Phew!

With that has come more energy and also more sanity. I'm beginning to feel like myself again and trying to cross more off my to do list. After six years, my to-do list is not small. So, after the lengthy job of painting the kitchen, which I still need to update you about, I have been taking on more manageable tasks and trying to incorporate more of a schedule so that my to-do list doesn't rule my days.

In the past Brad would take the boys out during the weekend and I would clean the house. I would like to reclaim my weekends. So last spring I came up with a list. It details all the chores I'd like to get done in the month and has a check off spot for the number of times I'd like to complete that chore. My hope was that by doing at least one of those chores, twenty minutes each day, I'd have a pretty clean house. So far I have yet to follow through. Today, the first of March, I've decided to take on the Spring Cleaning challenge and complete the full list by the end of this month, the first month of Spring.

Don't get me wrong, my house is not a disaster, but I find that while I have type A desires, I have a distractible mind. I'd like to create a healthy medium, and know that my house is running smoothly so my distractions have more room to play.

Here's my list:

Vacuum: Living Room ___ ___ ___ ___ Dusting: L.R. ___ ___ ___ ___

Bedroom ___ ___ ___ ___ Bed ___ ___ ___ ___

Boys Room ___ ___ ___ ___ B.R. ___ ___ ___ ___

Office ___ ___ ___ ___ O ___ ___ ___ ___

Mop: Kitchen ___ ___ ___ ___ Dust ceiling fans: Bed ___

Bath ___ ___ ___ ___ L.R. ___

Scrub K. counters/sinks: ___ ___ ___ ___ Dust sills and baseboards: ___

Clean Bath: ___ ___ ___ ___ Dust and vacuum cobwebs: ___

Wipe down Kitchen appliances: toaster ___ Microwave ___ Brita ___ ___

Fridge ___ Dishwasher ___ Oven/ stove ___ ___ ___ ___

Wipe down walls: Hall ___ L.R ___ B.R. ___ Bath___ O ___ Kitchen ___

Kitchen Cabinets: ___ ___

Clean Fridge: ___

Yard

Mow Lawn: ____ ____ ____ ____

Weeds: ___ ___ ___ ___

Laundry: every day

Extras this month: ____________________________________

____________________________________

Want to play along?

The Rabbits

2010-01-16T11:28:00.000-08:00

Zip:

When I was a little boy, I was going around this path (brown line) so I could feed the rabbits.

They were very, very hungry.

Then I got some more carrots so I could feed the other rabbits. Then I got some more carrots and they were more hungry, so I got more carrots to feed the other rabbits.

Then I got some more carrots and feed the other rabbits...

( and on,

and on,

and on...)

Then I ate my own lunch.

I had sandwiches, carrots a pineapple and also wheat free pizza.

Then I feed the bears. I give them honey.

And that's what I did Mom. I give the bears honey.

Then I feed a kind of other animals.

I just feed the ducks and turtles.

Then I feed the monsters Mom.

Then I feed something else. I feed the sharks.

Then I feed the fish, and then I feeded all of the animals. That's the end.

Epilogue - These are the monsters... see with the sharp teeth? (Top jagged lines.)

When the monsters ate the rabbits, they were very, very sad.

Please Reach Out To The People Of Haiti

2010-01-13T10:53:00.000-08:00

It's unimaginable what the people of Haiti are experiencing right now. If you're looking for ways to help, my friend of over 20 years, Mary Pierznik and her husband Bill, have an organization The Mangrove Fund that will get 100% of the proceeds directly to the Haitian people. Please do what you can, remembering that what seems like a small amount here will make a significant difference there.

http://www.mangrovefund.org/

At the Sound of the Tone, the Correct Time Will be... Beep!

2010-01-02T22:18:00.000-08:00

Tizzy has become a tracker of time ever since he started his Advent Calendar last month.

At first I thought he was going to eat all of the chocolate in one day and then sadly watch as Zip opened his windows until the 24th, but, he actually took it very seriously and has been telling me the date ever since.

He has also gotten very interested in calling people on the phone. Today he called my mom:

"Hello. This is Tizzy. How are you?"

"Oh yes, and Happy New Year to you too."

"Oh YES! It was VERY fun!"

"Well, we went to Samracisco and we went up on the roof, but we could only see a couple of fireworks over the buildings, but it was very fun, and then we drank our drinks and stayed up very very late..."

"Oh no you silly!"

At this point I went in the other room to fold the clothes, but I could still hear the conversation unfolding from the other room:

"No, no you silly! Oh no!"

"No you SILLY!"

"Oh yes she is folding clothes."

"Oh yes, mom's and dad's are very helpful."

"I'm very helpful too. I'm a big boy and very helpful."

"Oh wait. Prisha. Oh dear. Can I call you back?"

"Oh yes, yes, I need to call you back."

"Hang on, just a minute. I'll call you back. I just have to change the calendar."

"Yes. This one says 2009."

"Hang on. I'm going to hang up and change the calendar to one that says 2010, and then I'll call you right back."

"Tizzy?" I call out. "Wait to change the calendar until after you finish your phone call!"

"Oh, Prisha?" He resumes, "My mom says I have to hang up the calendar that says 2010 on it after I finish talking to you."

He continues his conversation with a lot of "Oh no sillies," and "Oh that's quite all rights,"

and then he calls me to the phone.

About an hour later he needs her number again as he's forgotten something very important he needed to tell her.

He runs outside to tell me that the operator has told him to please hang up and try again.

I'm told that he called her once more when I was at the store because he'd forgotten to say goodbye after their last conversation.

Tonight, as I was emailing and reading other blogs I glanced up and noticed the calendar. The new one that says 2010.

Three X's and one large backwards S have blocked out the proceeding two months and two days that fill up the first four blocks in the calendar. January 3rd is ready to go. I have a feeling that "No you silly," I will not be at a loss for what day it is in 2010, for I have my time keeper, rearing to go.

2010 Baby

2009-12-31T18:24:00.000-08:00

Ten years ago, in December 1999, I was interning in the New York City Garment District, and since I only made $100 a week, I didn’t think too much to ask my boss if, on New Year’s Eve, Brad, his best friend from grade school and I could camp out in the office, which was located on the 49th floor looking out over Times Square. Amazingly enough, he said yes!

We packed up a picnic dinner, some board games, Brad’s video equipment and headed downtown. We made our way around Times Square where cold tired suckers had been corralled into holding pens since the day before. We bought some “2000” eye glasses and some horn blowers and headed up to our perch.

Throughout the evening we were visited by security guards patrolling the buildings and, from our vantage point, we could see sharp shooters scattered about the rooftops of neighboring buildings. Earlier on the street, I’d noticed that nearly one in three men inhabiting the streets had a wire in his ear. At one point, when a couple of detectives were sent to check in with us, I asked if there truly was anything to worry about. He said they’d been receiving bomb threats every thirty seconds for the previous 72 hours.

Humbling.

At around nine o’clock, my co-worker and her husband showed up at the door. While they’d originally planned on having a quiet evening at home, at eight o’clock they looked at one another and said, “What are we crazy? It’s 1999!” and hopped into a cab to come join us.

It was a pretty silly and cozy evening, more or less as if we’d decided to kick back at home with a couple of friends, but at eleven it hit us what a momentous occasion it was and what a fantastic (or crazy) spot we were in. We were joined by a couple of New York’s finest, who asked if they could join our party, because we truly were in an awesome location.

Brad had his video camera set up, zoomed in over Times Square. As the hour approached, I’ve never in my life had a greater sense of progression of time. Ten minutes to twelve, I realized that there was no turning back. We were bringing in the new century surrounded by several million people, and whatever happened at midnight we were going to be a part of it. Looking over the Square, I hugged Brad and could feel his heart pounding as the countdown lit up beneath us in giant white numbers. When the countdown reached “one,” and roaring cheer raced up from the street as the buildings surrounding us lit up in colorful explosions of fireworks and confetti sparkled like glitter as it poured over the crowds below.

Nearly a year later, in the beginning of December, we got married in New York’s City Hall, we moved back to the West Coast in the summer of 2002. We had baby Tizzy in 2004 and Baby Zip in 2005 and have spent the remainder of the decade embracing family life.

Ten years later, on the eve of the new decade, there is a Full moon, a Blue Moon and even a partial eclipse!

Tizzy woke up this morning saying, “Happy New Year! I’m so kickcited!” and I have to admit, I’m pretty excited too. My boys are at an age where they may actually stay up till midnight and remember this New Year’s.

Now that I’m no longer a new parent, and pretty moved into the role, I’m starting to feel like myself again. I’m looking forward to seeing who my boys grow into in this new decade, but also who I grow into as well.

Now, we’re off to celebrate with old friends in San Francisco, 3000 miles away from our New York post ten years ago, and, as I write this, the boys are tugging at my coat, anxious to get this evening started.

Wherever you are, and however you’re choosing to celebrate, know we’re thinking of you and wishing you a Happy and Safe New Year!

video by Brad Wise Dec. 31, 1999

Planning Ahead

2009-12-30T19:57:00.001-08:00

Tizzy: Mom, I sure am going to miss you when I grow up.

Me: I’m hoping to still be alive when you grow up, so you won’t need to miss me.

Tizzy: No-oooh! I mean when I grow up and have my own house.

Me: Well let me tell you something. When you grow up and have your own house, you will always be welcome to come visit me.

Tizzy: Oh, that sounds very good.

Me: And, if you want to live with your brother, you can do that too.

Tizzy: That sounds like a family! A family can be a mom and a dad, and a boy and a boy, or a mom and a dad and a boy and a girl, or a mom and a dad, and a girl and a girl, or a mom and a mom and a boy and a boy, or a mom and a mom and a boy and a girl, or a mom and a mom and a girl and a girl, or a dad and a dad and a boy and a boy, or a dad and a dad and a boy and a girl, or a dad and a dad and a girl and a girl, that’s what a family looks like.

Me: Right, and you and your brother are a family, so you could live together if you want to.

Tizzy: No. I won’t want to live with my brother when I grow up.

Me: You might want to be roomates.

Tizzy: Roomates?! No I won’t need a roomate.

Me: You might want one at first.

Tizzy: No. When I grow up, I’m going to be ready to live ALL by myself.

Me: It’s pretty expensive to live all by yourself. You better start saving now.

Tizzy: I’ll just bring my piggy bank.

Who's That, You Say?

2009-12-27T10:54:00.000-08:00

HAPPY HOLIDAYS FROM OUR MEN OF MYSTERY!!!

What's in Your Stocking?

2009-12-21T21:07:00.000-08:00

Zip racing around, jumping up and down, doing headstands on the couch, twirling around the living room - anything to avoid actually going to bed...

Me: Zip? Who's coming to town?

Zip: Who?!

Me: On Friday. Who's coming to town?

Zip: Who-oo?

Tizzy: It's Santa. That's who's coming to town.

Me: Zip, how are you acting?

Zip: I'm being cu-oo-te!

Tizzy: You're going to get coal in your stocking, and a broken toy, and GUNK! Eee-hee-hee-hee-hee!

Zip: What's coal?

***

I know you've all been good this year so don't forget to try your luck on my reviews giveaway!

Just 4 more days.

Let's Just Say I Felt Like Queen For a Day!

2009-12-10T06:26:00.001-08:00

This picture, taken by Tizzy last Easter, inspired me to join the gym. Not only was I gaining weight as opposed to losing it three years after having Zip, but people were starting to ask me if I was pregnant once again. It was this picture that explained to me why.

I haven’t written much about my experience since my initial post when I joined, but it’s been transformative for me, both in having lost twenty pounds, and in having discovered Yoga which I now do at least four times a week. It gives me an opportunity to clear my mind as well as get in shape, which in turn makes me a better mother and helps me feel more confident about myself.

Last weekend, Blogher gave me an opportunity to participate in a review that was like the grand prize for all my hard work. It involved a personal shopper, a photographer, and free clothes!

Come see my “Now Photo” on my reviews page. There’s an opportunity in the comments section for you to get some star treatment too!

It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas!

2009-12-09T16:46:00.000-08:00

We had one of those rare, as in every twenty-five years or so, California experiences Monday morning. The San Francisco Bay Area woke up to snow.

By snow I mean this:

When we first drove Brad to the BART, we noticed it on several cars. The boys and I headed to the nearby mountain which was closed to the public, and then were pleasantly surprised to find that there was still plenty in the neighborhood where Tizzy goes to school! Unfortunately it was time for class, but Zip and I found a patch that was on the side of the road and had ourselves a Snow Day.

This, as Brad calls it, is our snow squirrel:

Fortunately for Tizzy, there was still enough snow at the local college that after we picked him up, the boys got to have some more fun.

He found this giant snow ball:

And created a friend:

Checking In

2009-12-06T08:08:00.000-08:00

I truly believed that starting this painting project the week before Halloween would mean that I'd be done well before the holidays and feeling festive and rejuvenated in my freshly painted kitchen. That was when I thought it would be a weekend project. Maybe two weekends max.

We are now on Sunday of our seventh week.

I'm hoping to lay primer down today.

It's been an interesting. It's been revealing. It's taught me a little more about who I am today, as a mom, as opposed to six years ago pre-children, or even a couple of years ago, with new children.

Where I live, the first response I get when I say that I'm painting my kitchen is, "Ooh - You're remodeling your kitchen?!" When I get a little deeper into it, the response is, "Oh, you're doing it yourself?!" When I reveal that, in fact, it's not even really my house, that we rent, people just think that I'm crazy. "Why are you doing this?!" they say. "Why doesn't the landlord do it?"

My first thought is, "The landlord did do it - Without primer!"

Truthfully, six years ago, I was still pretty concerned with what's right - what's fair. I still am, about bigger things - global things - things that don't affect me directly, but that I'm tied to indirectly. Six years into child rearing however, regarding icky mundane household jobs that nobody likes to do, I'm finding I have more of a mom stance. Life's not fair, these jobs have to be done, just do it and get it over with.

This is not to say that over the last few weekends of sanding, with paint dust covering my face, body and every surface of my house that I haven't done my share of grumbling, "Stupid landlords. Who doesn't use primer when painting over glossy paint." Or gasping, "I'm not sure I can do this anymore. Why won't this end?" But, I was reminded, in my most righteous pitying moment, that we're all human. We make mistakes, we fix them and we move on. Case in point, the day I was feeling most indignant, sure that I myself would never have been so ridiculous as to paint without primer, my neighbor called and brought to my attention that I'd forgotten to feed their cat while they were out of town. That was humbling! (For all of you animal lovers ready to drop my feed, the cat was fine. They always leave an overflowing bowl of dry food, an enormous bowl of water, and the wet food I put out is always untouched when I return to change it the next day.) I was however deeply embarrassed, but it was an honest reminder that we all make mistakes. All of us.

That phone call was also a wake up call to show me how consumed I'd become in this project. I couldn't even remember the conversation we'd had regarding them going out of town, but I knew we'd had it. That was the weekend before Thanksgiving, and that's when I knew I had to recognize that this wouldn't be done by Thursday. I had to get realistic, make room for our feast and swallow my pride and accept that my house might not be perfect but it didn't really matter. The food was great, the company even better, and conceding to good enough was very refreshing.

Considering it's now birthday season as well as the holiday season in my household, I'm having to carry this lesson with me. I'm hoping to get the painting started today, but I still have half of the sixteen cabinet doors to sand, and put back up, and it may just take a while. C'est la vie.

I used to be the queen of short cuts, so yes in fact, it could have been me, in the past, painting without primer. I also used to give up on projects that took too long, were too much hassle, convincing myself I'd get back to them another time. Now, with children, I'm learning to do things right the first time so that they don't need to be done again, and also to finish what I start. I may not like it, it may be hard, but it needs to get done. But, I'm also being realistic about my expectations of perfection. The molding will not be perfectly stripped and sculpted. Reminding myself that it must come to an end, I also remind myself that this paint job is going to be great compared to the last and it's an old house. It'll have glitches, the important part is that it sticks.

Last and not least, I've learned a lot about my family. Children are resilient. They don't really care that the functional kitchen is now in the living room. They just skip around it. They do however care about whether they're getting enough attention. I've had to take major breaks from my hyper focus to make sure that I read to my kids, swing them on the swing. I've learned (what I already more or less knew) that Brad is not a handy man. Just looking at the paint scraper makes him anxious, but he is a phenomenal father and has taken the boys out all weekend, every weekend for the last six weeks and shown them a great time. What I'm most looking forward to after all this is getting to actually join them. They've been exploring the creeks near our house and having an amazing time.

Last but not least, I've been really putting my yoga practice to the test, something that I haven't talked about much since May, but that I've really immersed myself in over the past several months. It's helping me with patience, endurance and strength. Throughout this project I have been repeating the words of my teacher, that we can't fully appreciate our successes without putting in the effort. (But even she says there's a point when enough is enough.)

O.K. Back to my painting, but, before I go, I just want to add that I did break away for a few hours yesterday to be VERY, very, spoiled! I'll tell you more about that later this week...

Hope the rest of you are healthy and well and enjoying the holiday season. Please be good to yourselves and give yourself a break if you need to. Others will appreciate all you do for them this season, but they will also be happy with good enough.

Thanks!

2009-11-19T19:22:00.000-08:00

Tizzy: Hey Mom? What are you thankful for?

Me: (Typical mom answer...) My boys who make me so happy every day, who make me laugh and smile and are such wonderful Zip 'n' Tizzy's, (When they're not making me bonkers... and even then.) What are you thankful for?

Tizzy: Grass!

Me: Grass? Why are you're thankful for grass?

Tizzy: I like to run on grass, and play on grass, and roll around in the grass, lay down and rest on the grass. Yep. I'm thankful for grass!

Me: O.K. – Zip, what are you thankful for?

Zip: (Looking down at his taco) Spice.

Me: Spice?

Zip: Yeah. It makes me want to eat my taco.

****

So, I'm still peeling paint, plus a little bit of sanding. I'm hoping, that by some Thanksgiving Miracle I will paint this weekend, but, if I don't I'm thankful that I have family with a sense of humor who will look the other way if we have to curtain off the kitchen and eat off the living room floor. I'm thankful that this is the extent of my concerns and that, as of writing this, my family is healthy and strong, and I'm thankful for finding you, my virtual and real life friends who story swap in this virtual water cooler. It's been a great year! Thanks for all of your sharing!

Happy Holidays to you all!

What are you Thankful for?

Remiss

2009-11-15T17:47:00.000-08:00

I've been gone...

Taken on a project that's been hanging over me for at least two years.

I am so grateful now that it's not something I took on when the boys were babies.

If I had one of two things would have happened. I would be as far along today as I am today, having given up entirely, or I would have moved. Neither appealing solutions. As it is, it's a project I've put off until three weeks ago, and thinking it would take me all of a weekend, it's taken all three weeks and running.

I've taken on painting the kitchen.

Sounds simple enough right?

I knew it had to be done. The paint was peeling off the cupboards in sheets. Every can put into the pantry would reemerge with paint clinging to the rims. There were a couple of spots on the walls where bits of paint were chipping, but it seemed as though peeling the cupboard doors and pantry then priming and painting would make for a happy kitchen. It was when I poked at those couple of chips on the wall that I knew I was in trouble.

The entire kitchen, walls, pantry, cupboards, moulding, EVERYTHING, had been painted –Glossy paint on glossy paint – without primer.

So I have spent the last three weeks with a paint knife in hand, the contents of my kitchen in the living room, sending the boys out with Brad when I can, and otherwise neglecting them entirely, on a peeling sanding marathon, with Thanksgiving as my deadline. I think I MAY slide in by the skin of my teeth.

Until then, you probably won't hear hey or ney from me, but know that I am thinking of you and missing you – just a little pre-occupied and dusty.

Peace!

I promise pictures of the finished product – assuming I ever get there!

Back From the Dead!

2009-10-26T09:05:00.000-07:00

While we won't be carving this years pumpkins until later this week, just wanted to resurrect ours from last year to remind you of your last minute options.

If you want to show off your own brilliance, Mommy Wizdom will be showcasing Halloween creations all week.

Happy Halloween!!!

From Far Off Lands

2009-10-21T21:43:00.000-07:00

My mom came to visit the other night, and then she and I went out on the town!

Tizzy watched as she got ready and put on her jewelry and make-up.

As she put on her earings he commented on how beautiful they were. The two of them talked about her jewelry and and the silk jacket she was putting on and then we left.

The next morning he watched as she got ready again. She went to put on her standard hoop earings and he stopped her, asking her why she wasn't putting on the ones from the night before.

"Those ones are heavy and pinch my ears." She replied. "These ones are light and good for wearing all day."

"But those ones came all the way from China!" He exclaimed. "Don't you think you should at least wear them?!"

Born in the Ring of Fire

2009-10-17T20:05:00.000-07:00

Twenty years ago today, a senior in high school, I was about to quit my first retail job at the bargain store outlet in Downtown Santa Cruz, where I was spending money faster than making it. Aside from the closet full of cheep, ill-fitting clothes, by mid-October the job was interfering with my GPA, and it seemed best to ditch it. Even still, at 5 p.m., I had a few more fanny packs to hang before giving my resignation, and, while I had little intention of returning, I wanted to leave a good last impression.

5:04, and the ground began to shake.

A California girl, I found earthquakes exhilarating, and, for the first few seconds, I was along for the ride. By the fourth and fifth seconds, I started to wonder if this was “The Big One,” the one we’d prepared for, having spent our childhoods ducking and covering. Then, with a crack and a jolt, the ground really got rolling. Going into survival mode, I found myself as if in a bubble, no longer hearing the sounds that people later described as deafening. The lights went out, and the security mirrors strategically placed on the ceilings began crashing down around us.

I watched as my friend Rosie flew around on the floor, her hands and knees spinning so fast she didn’t appear to touch the ground. (She later told us that it was the women screaming frantically in Spanish for their babies that had sent her into such a panic.) My eyes locked with those of my other friend Leigh’s, who’d been stationed in the dressing room, and we both met mid-floor and scooped Rosie up, dragging her to the supply room door, the only structural door in the entire building.

Fifteen seconds later, surrounded by two walls of windows and mirrored ceilings, we were swimming in a sea of broken glass and crumpled garments and plotting our escape. The tremor stopped, and as we watched others leave the building, a second, seemingly stronger quake shook us as we stood huddled in our doorway wrapped in each other’s arms. The matronly owner of the store, previously too good for us working girls, suddenly wedged her way between us and sobbed in our arms as the earth continued to tremble. When it finally let up, we figured we should make a break for it, ran to the front of the store, and stepped out of the steel framed windows.

Leaving the store, the once ordered street was filled with ash and brick, and huge plumes of concrete dust billowed around us. We watched as teenage boys ran into the store across from ours, yelling that they needed help retrieving the body of a deceased woman.

I approached a fireman, who was walking toward us screaming for everyone to “go home!” I asked him about the condition of the rest of the town. Was it better or worse than where we currently were? Was it even safe to go home? For the first time I witnessed a rescue worker as a fellow victim in an emergency. This particular one was not handling it well. He looked at me, eyes bulging and resumed screaming to anyone who would listen: “Everyone Get Out Of Here! Everyone Fucking Go Home!!!”

In the adjoining parking lot, we found our coworkers. Nobody knew what to do. Our lockers had fallen over in the break room and nobody was crazy enough to go back into the building to try and retrieve our belongings. Although I was the youngest one there, I found a piece of paper and pen and made everyone write their names and addresses on torn scraps of paper. That way, if something happened to them on their way home, they’d at least have identification. They all looked at me glassy-eyed and complied, then headed for their various homes.

I wandered to the edge of the lot, still unaware of the condition of the rest of the town. As it turned out, I was only miles from the epicenter of the Loma Prieta, and the Pacific Garden Mall in Downtown Santa Cruz was the hardest hit section of town. (Parts of San Francisco, though farther away, and Watsonville were hit even harder than us.) It had been built over a river bed, and the ground below us was simply sand. The Good Times building next to ours was later condemned, and we were told that, if the shaking had gone on any longer, it would have collapsed onto our roof.

Ultimately, I decided that if I stayed put, my mom would could come and find me. At the time, she was across town on the West Side, which was built on a granite shelf. A few pictures had shifted on the walls, and she’d certainly felt it shake, but the houses weren’t crashing down around her, so, at first, she wasn’t too concerned about me. After an hour, when I still hadn’t returned, she realized she’d better come looking for me.

It took her another hour to get across town, meeting detours every other street. She spoke to people along the way, saying that she had to get to her daughter downtown. It was only after several people offered to pray for me that she began to be aware of the grave conditions we’d been under.

Meanwhile, I waited. I watched as guys on skateboards made their way to the mall, determined to enter the rubble and deem themselves hero’s. At about 6 p.m., the adrenalin had begun to wear off, and I found myself cold and alone as it began to get dark, my blood sugar bottoming out. Out of nowhere, a young Brazilian man positioned himself at my feet. “Are you OK? Are you alone? Are you hurt?”

He could see that I was in shock, and ran to the restaurant across the street and gathered together a loaf of bread and a bunch of banana’s that he brought back to me. He was trained in applied kinesiology, and while I ate, he worked on my pressure points to relieve some of the stress I was feeling.

Then, as if the sky had parted, I watched as my mom walked toward me.

“Mommy!”

I flew into her arms.

In the weeks following, we had many aftershocks, often powerful, and always inspiring panic. This time passed as in a dream. We didn’t have school for a couple of weeks and, even when it resumed, attendance was lax. Most of us, scared to sleep inside, spent our nights with our friends, huddled around bonfires on the beach.

There seemed to be a huge divide as to how we’d all been affected. In art class, I sat across from a boy who’d been surfing when the earthquake hit. He found it wildly amusing to send me into a panic by shaking the table. Only now that I have two mischievous little boys, have I found forgiveness for him.

At the time, having been in a building that had literally come down around me, I was going through post-traumatic stress. Leigh, who’d shared the doorway with me, was suffering even more. She’d been born in Vietnam during the war, and even more than the continuous tremors, was suffering from the constant din of helicopters that hovered overhead.

My mom knew I was struggling. I denied it.

Finally, just before Thanksgiving, we were hit by a giant wind storm. The windows rattled and shook violently, and I went into hysterics. Suddenly the sounds that I’d blocked out during the quake came flooding back to me, and I ran around the house screaming, “we’re all going to die!”

I finally collapsed onto my mom’s bed and sobbed.

It took years before I could tell people my story without shutting down before I could finish.

Now, 20 years later, I can look back on it all as a distant memory, an experience tucked away in my youth. However, I no longer enjoy earthquakes and, to this day, the littlest tremors still take my breath away.

Doggies or Not, May the Force Be With You

2009-10-11T20:04:00.000-07:00

Astonishing News

2009-10-06T17:06:00.000-07:00

I went to pick the boys up at gym school and all the kids were getting very excited about Halloween.

"I'm going to be Darth Maul!"

"I'm going to be Darth Vader!!"

"We'll I'm going to be Batman!!!"

"What are you going to be?" They asked T n Z.

"We're going to be Doggies!"

"Really?! Doggies? I didn't know you could be DOGGIES!"

Things That Make You Go, "Hmmm..."

2009-10-04T21:21:00.000-07:00

Looking admiringly at me across the table...

Zip: I love you Mommy.

Me: I love you too darlin'.

Zip: But I love you SO much Mommy!

Me: I love you so much too my dear.

Z smiling tenderly...

Zip: And when we get married, we will fight.

Stopping short...

Me: What?! Who told you that?

Zip: My teacher.

This is Why Dog is Man's Best Friend!!!

2009-09-21T09:31:00.000-07:00

Tizzy: O.K. Doggie – You can be white and I will be black.

Doggie: Arf – but, I wanted to be black.

Tizzy: You can't be black. Only 5 years-olds can be black.

Doggie: Oh please, please, please, can I be black?

Tizzy: No! Only T's can be black.

Doggie: Doggie starts with T!

T come's prancing into the kitchen...

Tizzy: Mom? Does Doggie start with T?

Me: Duh-Duh-Deee.... Doggie starts with D...

Runs back in the other room.

Tizzy: Nope. Doggie starts with D – Sorry.

Doggie: Argh-rar-rar...

Time passes...

Tizzy: Hey Doggie. I jumped you. You need to King me.

Doggie: Rahr.

More time passes...

Doggie: Ruff. Well Tizzy, looks like you won!

Tizzy comes running to me...

Tizzy: I won by a triple jump!

Me: You did? What did Doggie have to say about that?

Tizzy: What could he say? I won!

I Always Feel Like, Somebody's Watching Me...

2009-09-09T23:49:00.000-07:00

The house was quiet, everyone was asleep, and I heard a strange noise that drew me to the window — Horror movie style.

Not seeing anything I sat back down, but still felt as if I was being watched.

In the spring, in my quest to garden, I purchased an egg sack of Praying Mantids. They were advertised as fabulous organic insecticides, if you could keep them alive. As I was leaving the store one of the men working behind the counter said, "Beware. They're like the Highlander. They're incredibly territorial and will eat one another until there's not a single one left."

Unfortunately, when they hatch, they're also incredibly small. I saw one, about the size of my pinky nail, climb under a lavendar bush at the beginning of summer, and have seen not a trace of one since. I'd assumed my purchase was an eight dollar loss.

Until tonight.

Sure that I was being watched, my eyes skimmed the window once more. Sandwiched between the office refleted glass and the dusty old sceen was this:

Row, Row, Row Your Boat...

2009-09-03T12:44:00.000-07:00

What do you do while your five-year-old's in Kindergarten, and your three-year-old wants to go fishing?

You turn over a picnic table, attach a line to a folded up calendar, hand him an oar, and send him to Sea!

Ships Ahoy!!!

***

They upgraded to a fishing boat once T got home...

The Way We Do Things In Kindergarten

2009-09-01T17:33:00.000-07:00

Today, I spent the wee hours of the morning at the ER with Zip. Asthma. He’s fine. It’s an old story, but I woke up tired after only three hours of sleep.

I got Tizzy ready for school this morning thinking, “Wow! This shirt and shorts will be great for ‘Green’ day!”

I didn’t look at the calendar.

I went to pick Tizzy up, and it was clearly not lost on him that today was “Red” day, and that I hadn’t dressed him appropriately. Looking around, it was apparent that I was the only parent who’d forgotten to check the calendar.

School — Grrrrr!

“Raspberries are red!” Tizzy announced.

“Poppy and I are the same.” He continued. “We don’t like raspberries.”

I’d secretly hoped that maybe Poppy’s mom had forgotten to send her to school in red, too.

“Kids were saying, ‘I like raspberries, and you like raspberries! Let’s be friends!’ That’s not a very nice thing to say, Mom.”

“Was it making the kids who don’t like raspberries sad?”

Tizzy rolled his eyes.

“No. I sa-aaaid, ‘I like raspberries, and yooo-oou like raspberries! Let’s be friends!!!’ Tha-aat’s not nice. My teacher said so.”

“Right. Because it made the kids who don’t like raspberries feel left out. Right?”

“Sheesh mom! You’re not listening!! I said, ‘I like raspberries, you like raspberries, let’s be friends is not nice, Mom!!! You’re not paying attention! My teacher said kids don’t like that. When everyone said that, she said, ‘NO!’”

“O.K.” I said. “Try and explain to me why that’s not nice.”

“Because it’s not, Mom.”

“But, to who? The kids who like raspberries, or the kids who don’t?”

“I don’t know. Someone."

Pecking Order

2009-08-31T12:57:00.000-07:00

At the dinner table —

Tizzy: What's steak?

Me: It's cow.

Tizzy: No. What's Stea-aaak?

Me: It's cow.

Tizzy: Cow?!

Me: Yep.

Tizzy: Oh. Well then I'm never going to eat steak.

Brad: How about pigs. Would you eat a pig?

Tizzy: No. I would never, ever eat a pig.

Brad: Would you eat a chicken?

Tizzy: Chicken?! Oh yes! Chicken is delicious!!!

Zip It!

2009-08-28T13:49:00.000-07:00

Zip: Can you zip my zippen, and butt my button?

Lord Knows What We're Going To Do When T Goes Off To College!

2009-08-26T22:53:00.000-07:00

T started Kindergarten today.

It was momentous.

Particularly for Zip.

Yesterday, we attended Lemonade Day, which, as implied, is when the Kindergartners go have lemonade and cookies with their teachers and see their classroom. We stayed the full forty-five minutes and, when I asked Tizzy on the way home what he thought of his classroom, Zip shouted, “It was great! Let’s go there again!!!”

“Umm, I’m sorry to tell you this honey, but tomorrow we’re not going to get to stay.” I sunk a little bit in my seat.

“What?! Why?”

“Well, it’s only for the Kindergartners.”

“Humph! Well when I’m five, can I go to Kindergarten?”

“Yes.”

We spent the rest of the day swimming with friends and Zip discovered a squirt gun he couldn’t live without. I told him that after Tizzy went to Kindergarten that perhaps we could find him one just like it as a special gift for the brother who had to stay home.

He went to bed.

“Where’s my gun?!” He shouted in the night.

He woke up the next morning.

“We’re gonna get my gun?!”

Tizzy has afternoon Kindergarten, so, when my mom was lamenting on the phone last night about not being able to see him off on his first day, I suggested that she drive up and join us. She did.

We got Tizzy to school early so he could sit at the picnic table and eat his lunch before class. He was so excited that my master staller sat down and gobbled down a large cheese sandwich in five minutes flat.

All the parents and grandparents and younger brothers and sisters hovered in the back of the room as their kindergartners gathered round the rainbow rug to start their day.

One boy sat down and announced, “I’m ready to go home now.”

Flash bulbs lit the room as the kids settled down for circle, and then their teacher told us that it was time to say goodbye. Half a dozen eyes nearly popped out of their sockets, but the rest twinkled as they waved good-bye to us.

My mom and I turned to Zip and asked him if he wanted to go have lunch.

“No, I wanna go to the toy store and get my gun.”

We got in the car, and as we drove through town, he assaulted us with, “Hey! I said I wanna get my gun!”

(Someone was feeling a bit insecure!!!)

We got to the toy store and he went up to the lady at the counter.

“Umm, excuse me. I wanna get somefing.”

“You’ve got to tell her what it is you want.” I whispered.

“I want somefing.”

“Tell her which something.”

“Umm, excuse me. Do you have squirt guns?”

She led us to a rack of rubber whales that could potentially be used as squirt guns, but they weren’t what he was looking for.

Then he turned around and saw it.

“That’s the one! That’s the gun!”

We handed him the florescent green and orange and yellow assault rifle and he gingerly carried it to the counter, where we paid for it and he got to carry it out in a big white bag.

Finally, he was ready to eat!

After lunch we still had two-and-a-half hours before we needed to be back at the school. We decided to stop by the fire house.

“This little guy’s brother started Kindergarten today,” we explained to them. “And we were wondering if perhaps there is someone who could please give him a tour of the firehouse.”

Fireman Jake gave him the tour of a lifetime.

Zip sat with him in he ambulance, he steered the fire truck, he marched all around in his fire hat, and he showed Fireman Jake his new squirt gun.

As we left, Fireman Jake was headed to the dry cleaners.

Zip looked up at us and said, “When I was a fireman, I kept my shirts real clean.”

We still had another hour.

We went to the park, and for the first time in his life, Zip was unarmed. He looked around at all the boys playing with their friends and brothers, and he held his squirt gun close. Without his brother, he didn’t know what to do with himself. Where he usually tears around the park, chasing kids and shouting orders, he gingerly climbed the play structures, carefully looking over the sides.

“This fire pole is too high. It looks kind of scary.”

“If I climb down this ladder, I prob-we would break my leg.”

He did finally venture down the slide, but then climbed into my lap and said, “I wanna go home. Let’s go get Tizzy.”

At long last it was time to go.

He fell asleep as soon as we got in the car.

Back at the school, the Kindergartners came bounding out of the classroom with “Chicka-Chicka—Boom-Boom” necklaces dangling around their necks.

“Chicka-Chicka—Boom-Boom!!!” Tizzy hollered as he sauntered across the parking lot.

“Hey mom! We sang Chicka-Chicka—Boom-Boom, and You Are my Sunshine, and then we read Mrs. Findergarten goes to Kindergarten, and she didn’t have a rainbow rug, or anything else for her classroom, but then she got some stuff and it started to look like Kindergarten and then we visited room four, but I don’t know the name of those teachers, but I didn’t go by myself, I went with my class because I’m a good boy...”

He climbed into the car and as he said hello to my mom he saw Zip asleep with his gun.

“Hey! What’s this squirt gun doing?” He yelled as he tried to pry it from Zips slumbering grasp.

“It’s Zip’s special squirt gun that he got from the toy store because he didn’t get to go to Kindergarten.”

“Ockh...yeah. He missed me.”

Zip woke up about half way home, and was delighted and surprised to see T sitting in the seat next to him.

Tizzy glanced over at him.

“So Zip. Did you get that squirt gun ‘cuz you missed me?”

“Look! It’s my squirt gun like those big boys!” Zip replied.

“SAAAY YOU MISSED ME!!!” He demanded angrily.

Taken aback, Zip composed himself and then looked at Tizzy earnestly.

“I really missed you when you were in Kindergarten.”

“Good.”

Kindergarten Baby

2009-08-22T22:24:00.000-07:00

So, my baby starts Kindergarten on Wednesday, and while I’m not sad about losing my baby, (I’m a much better parent to big kids,) I’m finding myself becoming increasingly more anxious about school starting.

School. Ugh!

I thought I’d put it behind me, and now I have fourteen more years of this? (Remember, I have two kids — my math’s not that bad!)

I’m a regular ol’ cheerleader as far as T’s concerned.

“Honey, why don’t you tell the grocer, neighbor, postman what starts next week!” (Beaming with clenched smiled encouragement.)

His face lights up as he tells them all about Kindergarten, and that you only go once, and that it’s only for five-and-a-half-year-olds, and that Zip’s not old enough, because he’s only three—at which point Zip chimes in to say that he will be five some day, and that he plans to go then.

I know in my heart that he’ll do just fine, that he’s oh-so-ready for this, and that, hopefully, with steady encouragement and my best attempts at creating a stable childhood, he’ll not only succeed in school, but that he’ll actually like it.

However, it scares the living day lights out of me, because the last time I remember really liking school was sometime around the first day of second grade. It was all down hill from there.

Some years were better than others, but it was always a struggle, and then I only exacerbated the situation by taking ten years to put myself through college, which is another story.

For now, I am doing my best not to let my prejudice get in the way of this momentous occasion. It’s hard, but I think I’ve done a pretty good job of boosting his excitement without giving him unrealistic expectations.

I know that he’ll do as well as he can. I already know he’s bright, but I also know from experience that “bright” doesn’t always mean “scholarly.” With computers and the internet, kids have so many alternatives to an actual school room—if he doesn’t thrive in the classroom, I know we have lots of resources to pull from. I do, however, want him to reap the benefits of socializing with his peers, and I know lots of people who LOVE school.

We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.

Yesterday, we had one last full day at Fairyland with his best friend and cohort, who also starts Kindergarten in just a few days. All of a sudden, Tizzy came bounding up to me, with stars in his eyes.

“I saw one! I saw one!!” He cried.

“One what?” I asked, confused.

He was so excited he couldn’t tell me, but I then saw what he meant: a little girl and boy dressed up as a fairy and an elf. In that instant, I was reminded that, while he is a big boy, magic is still very much alive for him.

I’m hoping it will be for quite some time.

Do — a Deer

2009-08-21T22:09:00.000-07:00

We were driving home, on a lamp-less road, when I came to a sudden stop to let a deer pass.

“What was that?!” Zip cried out.

“It was a deer crossing the street.” Brad told him.

“See honey, that’s why you don’t run out into traffic. If I hadn’t seen him, we would have run him over.”

“Maybe we could just open the door and give him a ride.” Zip replied

“Deer don’t like cars, and ours is already pretty crowded.” I said.

“A deer!?” Tizzy exclaimed, suddenly paying attention. “Was it riding a bike?”

“No!” Brad and I both laughed.

“Was it on a motorcycle!?” he asked, even more surprised.

“NO!!”

“Well what was he on?”

We were now laughing loudly.

“Stop laughing!!!” Zip roared, “It’s NOT funny!”

“Well, actually, it is.” We explained. “When Tizzy said that, it made us imagine deer with helmets, and motorcycle jackets.”

There was a pause... “Ah HA-HA-HA!!!” They boomed from the back seat...

...”How about a bear on a motorcycle? Or on a skateboard? Or a dog driving a car? Or a...a...a...”

Doggie

2009-08-15T23:02:00.000-07:00

This is Doggie. Doggie looks wholesome, sweet and completely harmless, but he is responsible for most of the mischief that takes place in this house.

We forgive him, because he's also a gateway into Tizzy's heart, and, if it weren't for Doggie, we wouldn't often know what was going on behind those olive green eyes of our sweet, young five- and-a-half-year-old. Doggie does and says the things that Tizzy can't always do and say himself.

Tizzy is responsible for teaching Doggie about the rules in this house, but Doggie's not so good at listening. He throws food on the floor, slaps Zip across the face, throws toys across the room once he's bored with them — Things that Tizzy would never, ever do.

Doggie's a night owl, often barking late into the night and keeping Tizzy awake hours after he's been put to bed. Sometimes we have to threaten Doggie with the couch before he'll actually let Tizzy get any sleep.

Doggie will have to be left at home once kindergarten starts. He's a little nervous about that, but looking forward to the first day of sharing, when the teacher will more than likely stretch the rules and let him come to class.

Recently, Tizzy found himself in a spot of trouble. Something that would send a chill down any decent five-and-a-half-year-old's spine. Tizzy was shaken, but stoic. Doggie cried and cried. He was so worried about T — He was very, very scared. We told him, as T's friend, he should never, ever, let him get into that kind of trouble again. I think we can count on him to follow through.

There has been some talk about Doggie's name. Some concern as to whether it's a bit plain Jane. Last night, the boys could be heard discussing the matter late into the night, and Zip suggested Tizzy name him "Gun," because "gun" is something our little Rambo Z holds dear these days. Tizzy was horrified.

"Zip! You can NOT name Doggie Gun! Gun is a horrible name for a Doggie!!"

It was decided that Doggie would, henceforth, respond to "Moon," a name inspired by the fact that it was nighttime. However, within a half an hour, Doggie declared that "Moon" was also unsuitable, and we were all scolded and reprimanded for hurting Doggies feelings during the short period of time we'd been refering to him as "Moon." We promised that, from here on out, we would only call him "Doggie."

Meet You Under the Stars and the Moon

2009-08-08T21:49:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, the boys waited all afternoon, patiently at first, but, by 6:30, they were climbing out of their skin. We told them they had to eat dinner before we left, but then the oven broke (curses!), and we loaded them into the car and drove to the gym. It was time for “DIVE in MOVIE!”

The gym is also a hotel with a restaurant attached that, while rather bland, was at least convenient. The boys sat trembling in their seats, eating their All American hotel kid’s meal and loving it, but as soon as that last bite was ingested, they flew out of their seats, bolted down the hall and out to the pool.

There was a giant movie screen out on the deck, and all three pools were packed with screaming kids. Sleeping bags lined the ground, towels and inner tubes littered the patio, and there wasn’t an empty lounge chair in sight. Parents in sunglasses and swim wraps lazily barked out orders to their children while sipping frothy Piña Coladas. Brad took one look around and asked for permission to disappear – not his thing. I understood. I, however, found it amusing and plunked myself down by the side of the pool. The boys immediately jumped in and started treading water, weaving in and out among the big kids. The movie, referred to in our house as “Move it - Move it,” (Madagascar) started ten minutes later.

When popcorn was passed around, Zip climbed out of the water and into my lap, but Tizzy remained in the pool the whole ninety minutes. With blue lips trembling—treading, treading, head tipped back for air—he watched the movie, credit to credit, from his watery perch.

As the flick wrapped up, Brad reemerged in time to help me whisk the boys back to the locker rooms, into the showers and into pajama’s. Walking to the parking lot, Zip looked up at us and cried, “That was a great show!”

He Really Did Speak For Us

2009-08-07T17:43:00.000-07:00

This is truly the most phenomenal and heartfelt tribute to John Houghes you are likely to read.

If you were moved by his movies, you'll be even more amazed to find that he was every bit the man we had imagined him to be.

Thanks Nap Warden for the link!

Sometimes You Just Need a Change of Scenery

2009-08-05T21:13:00.000-07:00

Night before last, I went to sleep way too late and woke up in the morning nastier than El Chupacabra!

It was my fault, and I knew it, but that didn't keep me from taking it out on the boys. Oh no. Within an hour, I was more than grouchy – I was just plain mean, so I took a deep breath, called my mom and my cousin, packed the boys into the car and headed down to Santa Cruz.

It was escape time!

We met up with our cousins first. They'd secured tickets to see the dolphins at the Long Marine Lab, which delighted all the boys, making them laugh and clap, and afterward we went back inside to study the fish and tide pool stations.

Our cousins had swim lessons, so we said our goodbyes then ran off to meet my mom at the Boardwalk, just in time for a free performance of Cirque Magnifique.

After sitting on the bandstand for an hour in the hot hot sun, we cooled off with a root beer and played a round of Pirate Golf. Canons were raging, rooms were glowing, the woman behind us had no sense of humor – NONE – yet we all had a fabulous time. Best yet, when we were done, it was 75 cent night at the Boardwalk!

After dining on 75 cent franks, we reconnected with our cousins and the boys went wild. They drove boats, and trucks, and flew airplanes high up into the sky, finishing the night off with a gallop 'round the carousel.

We repeated our goodbyes, drove to my mom's and had baths, snacks and stories.

Cozy in there jammies, and in the car once more, I asked them if they'd enjoyed their day.

"Yes mama!" Tizzy answered. "It was a VERRRY FULL day!"

I drove us all home, carried them out under the full moon and into the house and tucked them into their beds.

It had been a full day.

Full and fun and just a teenie bit mean.

Contract That Will Surely Be Pulled Out And Examined In About Eight Years Time

2009-08-01T14:21:00.000-07:00

This declaration was made to my boys last weekend, by C.M., the 8 year old girl who Z n T could be found chasing and hugging for the duration of the camping trip:

I love you and you, both the same, and no matter what happens in the future, I will love you both forever and ever!

Camping Under The Night Sky

2009-07-30T21:10:00.000-07:00

We went to Mt. Lassen this past weekend for our annual Very Little Explorers Club. The boys were so excited leading up to it that every morning for a week began with, "Is it Friday yet?!"

When Friday finally arrived, Tizzy tip toed into the kitchen and whispered, "Is this it? Is it Friday?" There was much dancing and Hip-Hip-Hooraying when I announced that yes indeed it was.

It was a five hour drive to the mountains, and we got a late start, but as we were nestling into our sleeping bags, Tizzy looked over at me and said, "Friday was good. Now Friday's dark. I think Saturday's going to be even better!"

It was.

There was balancing on logs, swimming in the lake, the discovery of a water snake, a ride into town to get extra ice and an amazing B-B-Q we happened upon in support of the local volunteer fire department. That night 12 adults and 7 children gathered around the campfire for some classic entertainment and good Ole' burnt marshmallows and chocolate. Because the kids were small, we told them a suspenseful story that ended with a roll of wrapping paper being found in a closet in a cabin in the woods, "Wrap-wrap-wrap"...know that one? We shocked them with slapstick when I sprayed a can of whipped cream all over another mom!!! And then we sang them to sleep with some beautiful whispy guitar music and sent them off to bed under the night sky.

The next day Tizzy spent the morning reprimanding me for making such a mess. "Mom! That was very very bad. You should never ever spray someone with whipped cream! It's VERY VERY messy!"

My poor fastidious child.

Sunday brought more time at the lake. In fact we spent all day there paddling the children around in yellow rafts. There were a few occasions of mutiny in which the kids peeled the fingers of their adult escorts loose from the side of the raft, and paddled madly away to reinact The Lord of the Flies. What they hadn't accounted for was that the adult escorts were fast swimmers and frequently their disorganized paddling resulted in them spinning the raft in circles.

Give them a few more years.

There were several logs in the lake. The one above for balancing, two more that floated about as rafts. Once across the lake there were huge cliffs of lava flow which were enjoyed by children and grown ups alike.

Testing the waters!

I don't want to go home!!!

Photos courtesy of Brad Wise

This From The Boy Who Doesn't Sleep

2009-07-30T19:56:00.000-07:00

T: Can I turn myself off mom?

S: Turn yourself off?

T: Yeah. I have to turn myself off so I can go to sleep, but I have to leave myself on until we're done reading stories.

Good Ship Lollipop

2009-07-22T15:01:00.000-07:00

Tizzy was sitting on the couch sucking on a lollipop when I came in and decided to do an impromptu tap dance for him.

Jazz hands waving, “Pa-chaw! What do you think of that?”

He stared at me blankly.

I tapped out a few more beats. “Eh?!”

Nothing.

“Come on son. Give me a little somethin’ here. What do you think of my dance?”

“I’m just sucking on my lollipop, Mom.”

Long drawn out suck.

I resume dancing, adding to it a little tune.

“Oh, he’s sucking on his lollipop. Sucking on his lollipop, Yeah!”

He stops sucking.

“Mom. Your lollipop dance is embarrassing me.”

We Haven't Forgotten You...

2009-07-22T07:18:00.000-07:00

We've just been enjoying the Dog Days of Summer!

Cat's in the Bag

2009-07-17T17:03:00.000-07:00

It's seasonably hot today at 98 degrees F. following a week of 103 degree temperatures.

The boys haven't wanted to be outside, but it hasn't been much cooler inside considering we only have fans to cool us. Therefore, I was quite surprised to find this giant lump rolling about inside of my couch!

What could it be? And where is Zip?!

This Mouth

2009-07-15T22:31:00.000-07:00

See this mouth?

It's a nice mouth.

That's how I'm expected to reply every 125 times per day I'm asked to look at it up close, just like this.

Tizzy: Hey mom. Look at this mouth.

Me: Mmm, yes. It's a nice mouth.

Tizzy: No closer. Like this. (Pulls my head closer so he's everything but kissing my eyeball.)

There. See this mouth?

Me: Very nice mouth. It's a lovely mouth.

Tizzy: Yes. It is a lovely mouth.

Ponders his mouth smugly.

Tizzy: Hey dad. See this mouth?

Sweet Treat

2009-07-11T20:41:00.000-07:00

Yesterday the boys and I went with my mom and some friends to:

To pick:

While Tizzy assured us he's still not a fruit man, with a mouthfull of berries Zip professed, "I AM!"

The Band Plays On

2009-07-08T22:13:00.000-07:00

The last few weeks have been full of Summer.

The boys have been swimming and getting comfortable with the water. T has shown us that he's lost his fear of getting his face wet by traveling on his hands from one end of the toddler pool to the next, goggle eyed face submerged, blowing bubbles all the way. Z "The Brute"—although losing swimming privileges to the tune of, "Zip is sitting on a boy and punching him in the face, you need to come pick him up right away!"—is also progressing wildly. He flings himself into the pool, belly-flop style, squirrels about under water, and then sproings to the surface with wild whoops and hollers. They're both still in floaties, but I suspect we'll be graduating them by the end of summer.

We went pseudo-camping a couple of weekends ago, staying with our cousins in their beautifully rustic cabin in the mountains just east of Big Sur along the Arroyo Seco. We parents forgot ourselves and talked 'till two in the morning, but, just four hours later, T was marching around the cabin, crowing, "GET UP! GET UP IT'S MORNING TIME! IT'S TIME TO WAKE UP – GET UP!" That afternoon, with the mercury climbing to 106 °F, we refreshed ourselves in a good old-fashioned swimmin' hole. Having access to a pool is wonderful, and I'm so glad my kids can get in the water regularly, but swimming in a crisp clean river is a magic all of its own. I'm so grateful my kids are getting to experience this at such a young age.

I also turned 37 on the 24th. Rounding the bend towards 40 is leaving me a little cross. There's nothing I can do about it, of course, but my friends and family have been very gracious about it and rallied for me in style. Thanks, guys.

The 4th was celebrated in the All-American Way, with 30+ kids on bikes and scooters parading up and down our street, commencing with a pancake breakfast and a seat on the fire truck. Nothing builds memories like spraying ones neighbors with fire hoses and dancing, sopping wet, on a front lawn dressed in red, white and blue. Then, we went to the park for the requisite concert of mind-numbingly bland 80's covers. The fireworks finally started just when they could barely keep their eyes open. Next morning, I awoke with food poisoning.

Good lord! In a matter of years these kids are going to be teenagers. We've got characters brewing. For the moment, they're put to bed at 8 o'clock and expected to stay there, but, in five more years, our street will be WILD!

If Only I'd Known The Words, Perhaps I Could Have Pulled A Rabbit Out Of My Hat!

2009-06-30T19:40:00.000-07:00

Tizzy waving his hands wildly over a cardboard box:

Fabra Da Kabra!

Mishmashen poaty poo Aledanzabi...

Hang on a second.

(Searching the room for something to pull out of the box.)

Alezabradoo googledomdeedoo – And There We GO!

Does That MAN Have a Baby In His Belly?!

2009-06-22T22:06:00.000-07:00

And so today, I had to explain to Zip, that no – it is in fact impossible for a man to have a baby in his belly.

Looks Like Fun!

2009-06-21T21:29:00.000-07:00

Last week Cara over at Land of Bean shared about a swap she'd participated in. It looked like so much fun, I have to admit, I found myself a bit envious. Then I found out by reading Foursquare Schoolhouse, that there was going to be a Pen Pal Swap for kids. I quickly raced over to Life of a Dairy Queen and signed the boys up. There's still time to sign up, but tomorrow is the last day, so if you are interested in engaging your kids in a swap exchange, hurry on over to Life of a Dairy Queen or Superheroes and Princesses and get signed up.

I'll keep you posted on our experience!

Gym School Confidential

2009-06-19T23:23:00.000-07:00

So as not to get himself kicked out of gym school, I've been coaching Zip daily about what is and is not acceptable.

"Why were you kicked out of gym school," asked Brad, one day after a recent suspension.

"'Because I was pushing and punching," he replied.

"Oh Zip, pushing and punching is not OK."

"But we were just playing Giant Robot vs. T-Rex!" He explains.

So, I've had to explain to him a few times, that, to teachers, playing Giant Robot vs. T-Rex looks just like fighting.

"OK, Zip, if you find yourself pushing and punching, I want you to go to the teachers and say, 'Excuse me, I don't want to get in trouble, will you help me talk to this kid about pushing and punching?' O.K. Now you try. What do you do if someone is pushing you? Do you push them back?"

"Umm... No. I push them forward."

Tizzy laughs hysterically.

Stifling a laugh, "No... Now, come on, if a kid pushes you, do you push them back?

"No. I PUNCH THEM!"

Tizzy is now rolling on the floor.

"OK, once more. When you and another kid start pushing and punching, you stop, and you go to your teachers, and what do you say?"

Zip looks thoughtfully up at the ceiling... "Umm... I say: Teacher? I'm in TROUBLE!"

BTW, Zip's inspiration for "Giant Robot:"

OM - My Goodness, Where's My Bag!?

2009-06-16T22:41:00.000-07:00

It was the Thursday before Mother's Day and it was our first real week at the gym. Zip, who was still feeling fragile about attending, didn't want to wear the tag and cried when I would say goodbye.

I'd thrown my things in a locker, run upstairs to check the childcare monitor, and upon seeing the boys playing happily I started my workout. I rode the bikes for about a half an hour and then went downstairs to see if there were any classes starting.

There was one starting called, Vibrant Vinyasa Yoga:

Set to contemporary music, this invigorating Vinyasa style yoga class is

a fun and dynamic way to practice Yoga. All levels welcome.

I went inside.

The teacher began the class by asking if any of us were new to Yoga. The only time I've ever taken a Yoga class was for a session of Mommy and Me when Tizzy was a baby. It was fun, but more of a bonding experience for the new mom's, rather than a proper Yoga class. I would definitely consider myself a beginner so I raised my hand. She advised me to just do what I was comfortable with and to go into Child's Pose whenever I needed. I couldn't do everything, but I made it through the class, and I loved it.

After the class I felt so invigorated. I was ready to conquer the world. Then I went into the locker room and realized I had no idea where I'd put my things.

The locker room is beautiful and understated. Rows and rows of pine lockers, silver handles, and coded locks, 15-20 per dressing cubicle. They all look exactly the same. I had no idea where to begin. I began where I was most certain I'd put my things. In the back row. The question was – Where in the back row?

I punched my code into my first best guess.

Nope.

Next best.

Nothing.

Each of the two corners?

Guess again.

I was certain I'd put my stuff in a top locker, so I started punching my code, arbitrarily at first, and then systematically, around the cubicle from start to finish. Not one budged. I started again with the bottom row. Nothing. This was when the room started to swim and I wondered if perhaps I was dreaming. "Take a deep breath", I told myself, "It's got to be here somewhere."

Thinking upon my hasty arrival, it was entirely possible my stuff was in the middle section. I sheepishly made my way next door, smiled grimly to the women getting dressed and said, "I seem to have lost my locker. Please excuse me as I try each and every one." They were very nice and said that they'd each done the same thing before themselves. I made my way around the second group of lockers with no success.

I had an hour before I needed to pick up the boys, but, I was starting to get a little panicked. What if I never found my locker? It was looking like I might not. What if, after looking everywhere, my stuff wasn't actually there at all? What if I'd slipped into some alternate universe, and I'd never actually brought my stuff here to begin with? Perhaps somehow I'd managed to drive myself here, check in at the main desk without keys or my wallet, and I'd only imagined putting those things into a locker!

O.K.

Now I knew I was panicking.

"Take a deep breath. It's got to be here, it's just a matter of where."

I went to the next row, tried every one, upstairs and down, and still not a single one opened.

I did this three times.

I never found my locker.

I met a lot of nice women that day.

They all claimed to have done the same thing, some more than once.

I suspected that most of them had possibly confused their locker, but I found it hard to believe that any of them had actually gone from row to row and still been unable to find it.

What I did see, which was comforting, were several lockers with hair ties wrapped around the handles. To me, that was proof that others had actually been in my shoes and didn't want to go there again.

I promised myself that next time I was bringing a hot pink hair tie.

The hour I had before needing to pick up the boys passed quickly, and soon it was time to wrap up my search.

I went to the front desk to find out what to do in my situation.

The guy told me he'd get someone to help.

Guess what happened while I waited?

The pager went off.

I called the daycare from the desk.

"You need to come get your kids." The woman said cheerfully.

"Let me guess. Zip?" I asked

"No. This time it's Tizzy. He's hitting."

"Really?!" I said, "That's a new one."

I told her I'd be there as soon as I could, but first I had to find my things because I didn't even have the tags I needed to pick them up.

The locker room attendant came and got me and with her special key, we went from the front of the room to the back opening each and every locker until we magically opened the door that revealed my bags.

It was the first locker that I had tried.

Perhaps in my rush to get upstairs I'd punched my code in incorrectly.

I'll never know.

"So much for the Yoga class." I thought. "How can I possibly remain relaxed now?"

The amazing thing is, I did remain relaxed.

That class got me through the rest of the afternoon and the next after that.

I am now, what you might call a Yoga Mama.

It is my new favorite thing.

Somehow I manage to get to a class nearly every day. Three days a week, I drag myself out of bed at 5:30 in the morning, and take a class to start my day. Gradually it's changing my body. My arms are getting leaner, my waist is starting to slim, and the other day, Zip reached out to "Squish yer belly - Squish yer belly - Squish yer belly," and there wasn't as much to grab onto. Beyond my body, which is nice and definitely part of the goal - most importantly, it's clearing my mind.

I am much more patient with the boys. I'm much more patient with Brad. Surprisingly, I'm even more patient with myself.

That is worth it's weight in gold. And, on the weekends, I've even gotten Brad to attend a class with me.

This gym just may change my life!

If You Close Your Eyes...

2009-06-15T21:33:00.000-07:00

If the weather were any indication you'd think it was mid fall.
It's been chilly and overcast, but tonight I sat down with a bowl of fresh nectarines and blueberries covered in vanilla yogurt and toasted almonds. The fruit is fresh and OH so sweet, NOT from Chile.
So, weather or not, I know it must be summer.

Where's My Presidential Pardon?

2009-06-12T21:42:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Kennedy Corpus received a Presidential pardon for playing hooky. I played hooky once as a kid. I wasn't nearly as fortunate.

I was in second grade, so I suppose I should have turned to Carter. I was getting dressed for school and my mom wanted me to wear green velour bell bottoms because I was going ice skating with my Brownie troop after school. What I wanted to wear was my Brownie uniform, but, I knew for certain I wasn't going to wear green velour bell bottoms! We fought, quite vocally about it, with my mom struggling to pull the pants over my legs as I wiggled my way out of them, until finally my mom, single parent and late for work, gave up and said, "Fine. If you're not going to get dressed for school, then your just going to have to go to work with me. BUT, you will not go ice skating!"

"O.K!" I gave up easily.

Years later I revealed to her that it was a crush, on a serious little brown haired boy, who I'm sure was completely unaware of me, much less concerned with what kind of pants I was wearing, that kept me from getting dressed that morning. In addition, seven was a difficult year for me. My nights were spent pondering existentialism, and by day I was stuck with an ancient old witch of a teacher who was as equally unimpressed with me as I was with her. I was happy to go to work with my mom and spend the day filing address labels for her, but, then I had to go back.

The next morning I woke up, happy and refreshed, jumped into my clothes willingly, ate my breakfast without a fuss, got into the car when it was time to go, and was just about to get out of the car when I remembered I needed a note.

"Mom! I need a note! I can't go to school without a note!"

My mom handed me my note.

Dear Mrs. Cooper,

Please excuse Serena from school yesterday.
She decided to play Hooky.

Sincerely,
Serena's Mom

"HOOKY! You told her I played HOOKY?!"

I was seven years old. I don't know who she thought we were exactly, but Mrs. Cooper spent an inordinate amount of time warning our class of the plight that awaited young boys and girls who played Hooky. She never actually explained what would happen to us, in my mind it ranked closely with going to hell, but, she assured us that only very, very bad children played HOOKY!

There was no way I was going to hand her that note. She bore holes through me regularly, with her small beady eyes, simply for lining up at her desk to ask for help with my assignments. I wasn't going to go to class and willingly hand her a note that stated I'd played HOOKY!

Another tantrum ensued. The first bell rang. My mom tore up the note.
The second bell rang.

OH GREAT! Now I'd need two notes! One that explained why I was gone yesterday, and another to explain why I was late.

Exasperated, my mom pulled me, kicking and screaming, from the car. She dragged me, my arms wrapped tightly around her legs, across the parking lot. She hauled me down the hallway to my classroom where class was just getting started, and she struggled to get me into my class as I wedged my legs in the door frame while clinging desperately to her waist.

Mrs. Cooper click clacked across the room in her wooden heels, her hollowed cheeks exaggerated as she sucked on her teeth in disgust. Her distaste for me was palpable as she used her bony fingers to pry me from my mother. After much struggle, she managed to drag me to my seat. My mom feverishly made her escape. The only consolation she felt, as she walked down the hall that morning, was that at seven years old I would be properly shamed by my classmates and think twice about throwing a tantrum like that again.

What she hadn't anticipated, was my classmates looking at me in awe, imploring, "What were THEY doing to YOU?!"

Generosity

2009-06-11T22:37:00.000-07:00

Trying to get Zip to finish his dinner, I started making idle threats to eat it for him. He went back to his plate, and after a few minutes climbed into my lap and looked soulfully into my eyes.

"I ate the burga-burger and my french fries," he said, "but you can have the bun!"

With the Best Intentions...

2009-06-11T15:59:00.000-07:00

If your neighbor supplies you with boxes and boxes of red ripe strawberries...

Unless you know you are going to be able to deliver them that very day...

Don't dip them in chocolate in order to Thank all the very best teacher's that have been helping your children all year...

Because when you wake up the next morning, ready to wrap them, the ones that aren't molding, and oozing, and separating from their chocolate skins, will be sweating profusely, and when you take them out of the refrigerator after trying to reset them, the chocolate will have separated and be utterly inedible.

These are the things we learn.

On the other hand, it will give you the opportunity to take your 3 year old out to breakfast where you can laugh hysterically about the disgusting fruits of your labors, while buying a replacement apple pie.

I'm Sure This is Logic

2009-06-10T13:20:00.000-07:00

Tizzy: Can you take my shoes and socks off?

Me: O.K. but what are you going to wear instead?

Tizzy: My boots.

Me: Don't you want your socks then?

Tizzy: No! My boots have mud in them! I don't want my socks to be covered in mud!!

Like Dog's to a Fire Hydrant

2009-06-08T22:05:00.000-07:00

I was walking out by the old Plains tree in our back yard, and I was taken aback by the strong smell of urine.

I went inside and said to Brad, "Zip must be peeing out here a lot. Maybe he does it when he can't make it inside to the potty."

Tizzy looked up and said casually, "Oh no. That was me."

B-I-N-G-O!!!

2009-06-06T00:07:00.000-07:00

Unfairly, I’ve been keeping my gym updates to myself. Most specifically, because that’s where I’ve been spending the majority of my time!

Yes, we joined, and yes, we’ve stayed.

It’s been a wonderful reprieve, and so good for us all.

In the spirit of getting people to try classes they might not otherwise attend, the gym created a Bingo challenge for the month of May. We were challenged to complete a specified grid of our choosing, leaving us eligible for various gym services.

Being new, I decided I had nothing to lose, and if anything, it would familiarize me with much of what the gym had to offer.

Early on, I got hooked on a couple of classes which I kept returning to, and by Thursday of last week, I suddenly realized I had three remaining classes to complete in three days, in an already overbooked weekend. I looked at the schedule and discovered there were only a few options left for completing my card. What it came down to was, Tae Bo on Friday afternoon, Spin class Saturday morning at 7:45, followed by a very advanced Step class at 9:15. All three of these classes were new to me. The advanced step class came with warnings on the brochure, yet, it was necessary to complete my card, and, the only Step class offered over the weekend.

I held my breath and dove in.

I knew that Tae Bo wasn’t for sissies, and this particular Tae Bo class was no exception. From the moment she turned on the stereo, Illiana, the instructor, had us jumping and kicking and punching at lightening speed. She’s a tiny speed demon, and I had to fly with the punches. I did. Forty-five minutes in, I was feeling pretty good about my dedication. Then the daycare pager lit up.

Really? Now? I’m SO close!

It kept flashing, and vibrating. Let down but compliant, I left the class to run next door and retrieve my boys. I got to the front desk, and apparently Zip, like his mother, had been throwing punches. There was nothing to do but pick him up. But, I wasn’t going to let him stop me! I dragged him and Tizzy to a bench outside the classroom, and made them suffer as I completed the class from behind glass doors in the hallway.

“Mah-OM!” Tizzy exclaimed, mortified. “STOP – IT!”

“You know what?” I said, between jumping jacks. “If you don’t want to sit and watch me exercise, then you shouldn’t drag me out of class.”

They were silent.

My efforts didn’t go unnoticed, and when I went back inside at the end of the class, Illiana signed my card and congratulated me on my stick-to-it-ive-ness.

One down.

The next morning I got up, and leaving the boys with Brad, headed out.

I got a bike, near the front of the class, and climbed up onto its bony seat.

The instructor came in with a cheerful smile and started us on our ride... with absolutely no instruction! I had no clue how to work the bike, but surrounded by people in spandex, with clips on their shoes, I decided to fake it, and just turned the tension knob when she turned hers and released it on command. I felt like a fraud, but, what did anyone care if I knew what I was doing. I was going to complete that Bingo card, Damn it!

Then came Step class. I lined up in the hall with women in leopard skin body suits and listened in as they talked about Yoga being for wimps, and how they had no patience for Chavasana. They had places to go, and no time for laying still – Thank you very much!

We walked in and set up our Steps.

The instructor came in, and noticed that three of us were new.

“This isn’t your ordinary Step class,” she informed. “It moves very quickly, and there’s a lot of choreography. I don’t expect you to be able to follow along, but I do expect you to keep moving.”

Affirmative.

Within five minutes of the class it became clear to me there was NO way I was going to be able to keep up with her choreography or calls, so rather than stumble and trip my way through the rest of the hour, I resumed stepping up and down, back and forth, bending my knees here and there and throwing in a kick for good measure. I was sure I was throwing off the steppers around me, but they had a rhythm all their own, and periodically the teacher would call out, “That away my new friends, don’t worry about the moves, just keep it going.”

Midway through the class, one of the women danced over to me and whispered in my ear, “She’s a horrible instructor. I’ve been doing Step for twenty years, and while I know the steps and what to listen for, she’s a lousy caller and we all hate her.”

O.K. then.

Finally the hour came to an end, and I made my way up to the front of the class and sheepishly asked her to sign my card.

“You did really good. We don’t offer beginning Step classes any longer. You just have to keep coming back, and pretty soon you’ll get the hang of it.”

Two more women came up to me as I made my way out of class to reaffirm that she was a lousy instructor, but wasn’t I a miracle to stick with it anyway.

While part of me doubts I’ll be attending any more Step classes, I proudly finished my Bingo Challenge, and while to date I haven’t won anything, it confirmed for me that the class I initially took to, is in fact my favorite new thang.

And, for more on that my dear friends, I’m going to have to ask that you all stay tuned!

The Forcast

2009-06-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

Tizzy:

Mom – It's not hot, it's not cold, it's not warm, it's not cool, it's not sunny, it's not foggy, that's all it's not, it's just fine Mom!

Do I Know You?

2009-06-01T22:42:00.001-07:00

You know the friendships you make when your kids are babies, but you only see each other for birthday parties because you no longer live near one another, or your kids go to different schools, or you attended a music class together that you only enrolled in once?

The friends who you keep inviting to birthday parties because you like them, and then they invite you, because they like you, and every year you promise to be better about keeping in touch, and then another year rolls by, and you still only see each other at birthday parties.

When your kids are little it doesn’t matter. They all just parallel play any way, and it’s really for the grown ups to get together, snack and drink beer on a Sunday while they watch the babies all roll around on the lawn.

But, then the kids get big.

“Who’s Jimmy?” Tizzy asks, when I tell him we’re going to Jimmy’s birthday party on Saturday morning.

You guys played together when you were babies. You’ll recognize him when you see him.

When we get to Jimmy’s party, Jimmy’s playing with all his school buddies. They form a cloud around him as they travel around the yard. Neither of my boys are formerly introduced, but they make themselves at home picking cherries, playing with the remote control trucks and teasing the dog.

Later, when we talk about what a great party it was, Tizzy looks up at me again, and says, “So, who’s Jimmy?” He still doesn’t know.

After whacking his piñata, Jimmy removed the blindfold from his face, and standing right in front of him, were Zip and Tizzy. For a moment, he had a look on his face that screamed, “Who the hell are these two kids, and what are they doing at my party?!” But, then, he shrugged and handed Zip the bat.

Fuzzy Wuzzy Wasn't Fuzzy Was He?

2009-05-28T14:48:00.000-07:00

Cursed with hair that will later prove a blessing – incredibly fast growing, and lots of it – Tizzy became terrified of buzz clippers at an early age. We thought that by keeping him shorn, we were doing him a favor. By reducing the frequency of barber visits, we imagined he'd have less to fear.

We were wrong.

Within two years, we were banned from all the salons who'd at one time assured us he'd be welcome.

Imagine, for a moment, trying to shear a raccoon.

Now you have a sense of what we were up against.

Seated on my lap, his legs locked between mine, my arms wrapped crisscross round his body, the stylist would attempt to clip his hair, his body convulsing under my constraints, thrashing his head side to side screaming, "IT'S O.K!!! IT DOESN'T HURT! – IT DOESN'T HURT! (SOB-SOB-SOB)"

I remember one man hanging his head low, half of T's head clipped, the other half wild, saying, "I'm sorry. I just can't do this. You're going to have to find someone else to finish the job."

That someone was me.

He wouldn't let me buzz him, which was about all I was qualified for, but, he would quietly sit in our yard as I thinned his hair with thinning shears. In my early attempts he'd frequently end up looking like a dog with mange.

I can't say I got progressively better, but he did get a little calmer. For special occasions, like Christmas and birthdays, we'd venture forth to the one salon where he'd developed a crush on the stylist, and after multiple promises not to bring out the buzzer, he'd let her "clip" his hair.

Throughout this time we had to discuss haircuts quite a bit. How he liked "clips" but not buzzers. How he would like buzzers when he was a big boy, but not yet. Pushing those buzz cuts on him in his early years became one of my regrets. It had clearly been traumatic for him, but, people kept telling me he'd get over it. That all kids cried, but after a few visits he'd look forward to them.

These are the things we learn as parents.

Buzz clips are not a problem for Zip. He likes loud noises, is loud himself, and generally unfazed about being touched. Tizzy's more like a cat. He comes to us to be held, hugged, and touched – not the other way around. He doesn't like anything on his head, and is still convinced the vacuum cleaner is going to suck up their feet.

I was looking at their hair recently. It was growing out, still short, but getting ragged around the edges, and it just killed me to think of having to spend another $40 to get the two of them trimmed.

I thought back on all of the times that Tizzy had told me that he would use the buzzers as a big kid. He's now a big kid – He'll assure you of that.

I went to the drugstore and bought a kit.

I came home and I said, "We're going to watch a hair clipping movie. It's about big kids who get their hair buzzed, and after we watch it, we're going to buzz Zip's hair. You can decide after watching it, and watching Zip, if you think you're ready to have your hair buzzed too."

He wasn't sure.

We watched the movie one time through. We then went outside and I buzzed Zip's hair. Slowly but surely, Tizzy inched his way forward as I rotated the buzzers around Zip's head. He carefully leaned in peering down at the blades.

I lifted them away from Zip's head and held them so Tizzy could get a look. Slowly but surely, he inched his way forward and let me put them against his hand.

"See, they don't hurt."

"O.K. Mom. You can try the buzz clippers on me, but, just don't cut my ears."

"I would never cut your ears honey."

It wasn't a completely smooth transition, but, he let me try. He still squirmed in his seat, and when he was done – he was done!

But, we're off to a good start.

Over the next week, there were several times that he would sneak off into our bedroom and turn on the t.v. While washing the dishes I would hear the groovy music start up in my room, and a woman's voice saying, "Guide the clippers up and out. Up and out."

Driving in the car, I listen to Tizzy in the back seat reciting, "If you want to create a mushroom cut guide the clippers like this."

I Scream, You Scream!

2009-05-26T15:31:00.000-07:00

Me: Hey Tizzy. Would you like some ice-cream?

Tizzy: Quick gasp. Of Course!!!

Tizzy skipping around the kitchen: I shore do like ice-cream Mom.

Me: laughing. You’re so cute.

Tizzy: So are you Mom!

Tizzy peering over the ice-cream box: Is that Danilla?

Me: No it’s Rocky Road. It’s like chocolate.

Tizzy: Chocolate?! That’ll keep me up Mom!

Me: That’s why I’m giving it to you now hon’, during the day.

Tizzy: O.K. Mom!

Zip comes riding in on Brad’s back: Ice-Cream! Ice-Cream! I want some too-ooo Mom!

Me: Comin’ right up, Sweetheart!

Zip: Datz Choc-what?

Me: It’s called Rocky Road.

Zip: Rock n’ da road?

Me: Rocky Road.

Zip: Hmm. It’s Rocky Road.

Zip doing an ice-cream dance: It’s Ice-Cream! It’s Ice-Cream! It’s Mine, It’s Mine, It’s Mine!

As I hand Zip his ice-cream cone: It’s mine Mom?

Me: Yes, it is.

Zip: OH FANX MOM!

Me: You’re Welcome.

The End of an Era

2009-05-20T12:45:00.000-07:00

Sitting in a large auditorium, which served as a theater and restaurant, I was holding a baby Zip, who, while still having a baby face, was ridiculously large. I could hardly hold onto him. As I got up to leave, I tried passing the childless couple sitting to the left of me. I was saddled with diaper bags, a fold up stroller and this enormous baby. The couple wouldn't budge. They sat and glared at me as I struggled to slide past them, loud gasping sighs annunciating their disgust. I changed directions and squeezed past the person to my right, got down to the auditorium floor and opened up the stroller with a crash. It was a traveling stroller. It had served me well in the past, but, at this particular moment it collapsed. The bars were bent, the right handle collapsing in on itself, the fabric tearing loose in shreds. I fumbled with the stroller, deeming it dysfunctional, diaper bags sliding from my shoulder. I could feel all eyes burning down on me, watching with silent judgment as I became the main attraction. I managed to get the stroller to a trash can, untangled myself from the mess of shoulder straps and realized I'd lost Zip.

Where was my baby?!

Oh my God!

I looked around wild eyed. Gazing up at the people smirking down at me from the stands, I knew I would get no assistance from this crowd. I wouldn't even try. I ran into the hallway and tried to recall where I'd last placed him. I knew I hadn't set him down. The fact that he was no longer with me left me panicked and gasping for air. Where was he? Where was my baby?!

I woke up.

My first thought was, "Where's Zip!?"

After a moment, my heart stopped racing and my breath slowed down. I could envision him in the next room, long lean body splayed out on his bed, and I realized Zip's still here, but my baby is gone.

For so long, it seems, Zip has been doing everything in his power to keep up with his brother, and he's done one hell of a job. I remember Tizzy and his friends sitting at a table observing him. Tizzy's friends asking, "Is he a baby or a big boy." It was established that he was a big boy, because he seemed far too like them to even think of him as a baby. It helped of course that they were all only 22 months older. Their mothers and I knew he was a baby, but they were all our baby's, so what did we know.

Now he's no longer a baby. He's tall and strong, and carries a big stick. He's fierce and vocal and doesn't let anyone stand in his way. He's proven he no longer needs diapers, though he sometimes asks for them for comfort in new situations.

Brad and I were watching the boys, and he said, "Zip finally seems to know that he's three. He used to try to act six, but secretly knew he was not, but now? Now he seems to know that he's three, and that that's the age he's always wanted to be."

Yesterday, I was in the grocery store and there was a lovely baby smiling out at me from behind her Bjorn. I couldn't help cooing at her, she was so perfectly scrumptious.

"Looks to me like you're ready for a third." Her mom laughed as we discussed her sweet nature. I smiled, but inside I thought, "No, not me."

I've just gotten back to the point where I can look at other peoples babies and not feel exhausted. It's taken me a long time.

Baby's are fabulously delicious, but, so hard to live with. When I think of babies, I think of long sleepless nights. Utter disorientation. Overwhelmed and in awe that a creature so delicate and small could so completely consume my mind, body and soul.

I feel most fortunate for having had two. Should one miraculously arrive on my doorstep, claiming to be my own, I will lovingly embrace it and raise it as such.

As it stands, I have two fabulously wonderful little, big boys, growing bigger day by day. I'm rediscovering the me inside that escaped a pace while my stand in was changing diapers, soothing tears and offering up her body for sustenance. It's nice to be back, and it seems I've grown in unpredictable ways as well.

Babies are an era in this journey that's a lifetime.

So THAT'S the Difference Between Boys and Girls...

2009-05-18T22:33:00.000-07:00

We were driving down the street listening to talk radio, because that’s one of those very “Mom” things that I do.

Tizzy: What are they talking about?

Me: That woman’s son is in trouble because he was too young to drink beer but he drank it anyway and then he drove a car.

Tizzy: That’s not a good thing. How old do you have to be to drink beer?

Me: 21.

Tizzy: How old was he?

Me: 19.

Tizzy: Hmmm.

Later while eating lunch...

Tizzy: Mom? How old do you have to be to drink beer??

Me: 21.

Tizzy: How old is Daddy?

Me: 41.

Tizzy: I see. So you can drink beer if your 21 and 41.

Me: That’s right.

Tonight he woke up disoriented from a dream.

Tizzy: I’m feeling kind of soiled from my dream in the car.

Me: Oh yeah? What does that mean?

Tizzy: Soiled means that I’m feeling kind of sad.

Me: Mmm. Mm-Hmm. That’s not a good feeling.

Tizzy: No.

Me: How ‘bout if I snuggle you a while so you can get back to sleep?

Tizzy: O.K.

Silence

Tizzy: Mom?

Me: Yes honey?

Tizzy: When I was a grown up... when I was 14 or 16, I drank beer and drove a car.

Me: Oh, you did?

Tizzy: Yeah. Is 14 or 16 a grown up?

Me: Well, no. You have to be 18 to be a grown up, but then you have to wait until your 21 before you can drink beer.

Tizzy: O.K. Well when I was 21, I drank beer and I drove a car, but I never drove in a bad mood, because that’s dangerous.

Me: It’s true. It’s not so good to drive in a bad mood.

Tizzy: Yeah. My friend Christopher drank beer when he was a grown up too, but, hee-hee-hee... tall girls NEVER drink beer!

Me: Is that what Christopher told you?

Tizzy: (Muffled giggle) Yee-ah. Girl grown ups CANNOT drink beer!