Welcome to our campground/water park

I got the boys a cheap tent the other day and told them they could spend the night outside in it. Whoo to the hoo. So last night they very excitedly got ready for bed, hauled 42,000 stuffed animals out (I exaggerate only slightly) and climbed in. Of course, they needed a light -- though it was really only twilight outside and they could see perfectly well. So we obliged with a camping lantern. The biggest problem was our pain the tushie rear neighbor who had his back hoe or something running. Still, they settled nicely and Mama and I headed to the living room to watch The Devil Wears Prada -- which we'd downloaded about a year ago and finally had a chance to watch.

About 10 minutes in, we saw a flash in the windows. Uh-oh. Lightning or fireworks? Definitely lightning. Let's bring the fellas in. By the time we reached the hallway, Eddie was there to greet us. He wasn't scared -- no way. It was too cold out. That's his story and he's sticking to it. So they got into our bed after a brief try at their own overheated bedroom. (Moms have A.C. and took pity.)

Today I got them out their old slip n slide. On their own, they improvised and ran to the backyard to run a hose down their regular slide. I added their pool to the bottom and voila! Instant water park, according to Eddie and Chas. We had a playdate last week with friends who have a gorgeous in-ground swimming pool set in an equally gorgeous yard. Eddie and Chas said we should invite them over to see our "water slide." Hmm. Somehow, I think they will be less than wowed.

Requiem for a frog.

The other day, while getting ready to grill up some chicken, I discovered a frog on the deck. We see them fairly regularly through the summer, but I called the boys out to look. Then I agreed to go open up the frog habitat they'd gotten from a friend for their birthday. I followed all the directions to make sure it was safe for froggy -- including filling the ponds with bottled spring water. When I went to look, sure enough, froggy was still there.

We caught froggy. We put froggy out of direct sunlight. We showed froggy to Mama when she got home and even caught a small moth to feed him. Then it was time to let him go, because we don't keep wild things for our enjoyment permanently. Cue the wailing and gnashing of teeth from Sirs Eddie and Chas.

So we caved. We kept him overnight. And I checked on him the next mid-morning. Fine. The plan was to release him to the wild that evening. Sadly, froggy didn't make it. Shortly before Steph came home I checked again and it looked like he was swimming. Cute. Until I jiggled the habitat and realized he was actually just floating lifeless. Ugh.

We started off telling the boys he'd just left. But they were so angry and sad and I didn't want a repeat later that I decided the painful truth was the best. Froggy died. He went to froggy heaven. Steph even put on gloves and brought the little corpse in for a final goodbye. Eddie was particularly bereft. I told him that 100 years from now when he dies he can ask God to see Froggy Woggy (his given name) in heaven. "What if I forget?!?!" He sobbed. So he drew a picture so he will always remember.

In the end, I decided that this was probably as good an introduction to death as they'll get. And they need to learn not to try to capture and keep wild creatures.

Unless, of course, you're the World Famous San Diego Zoo. As promised, here's a panda pic from the zoo. To help make this post seem all cute and cuddly and not like the confessions of a wanton frog killer.

In preschool, it's what you'd call an "A/B pattern."

So a weird detente of sorts has been established between Eddie and Chas and the neighbor boy, Daniel. It started the other day when Eddie walked up to him and said, "We should be friends because we still know each other."

That broke the ice, for now, and they've been playing together happily. At dinner tonight,Steph asked how they liked playing with Daniel again. They said it was nice. We all agreed it's best to be friends with your neighbors if you can and I said I was pleasantly surprised by the renewal of their friendship. "It's a pattern," Eddie said nonchalantly. "Wha?" I asked. "It's a pattern," he repeated. "First we're friends, then we're not. Then we're friends again and then we're not. Now, we're friends again." Then he gave me a "whaddya gonna do?" shrug and took another bite of cous cous. (Which he and Chas have decided to call either "goose goose" or, more ridiculously, "mongoose." Don't ask.)

Home again, home again, jiggety jig...

Just returned from a week of fun in San Diego and a day in L.A. We rocked the animal world -- from dinner with Shamu to an overnight camp in San Diego Zoo's Wild Animal Park. We played at the beach, swam in the pools, fed everything from giraffes to dolphins to lorikeets. And save for the first night when we turned on the TV and learned of Tim Russert's death, we managed to avoide most news.

Oh, we enjoyed the local San Diego news -- including coverage of California's first gay marriages -- yay! And lots of talk about heat waves etc. But the constant drone was turned off. So today when I log in I'm greeted with the following: Typhoon in the Philipines, boat overturned, 700 missing. Elderly man drives into the Sound -- wife dies. Two killed in a shooting here, two more in a shooting there. Teen drowns in a local lake. Teen beaten for bringing home bad grades.

I can't believe I used to do the hard news for a living. Not just do it -- but revel in it. I loved covering the mayhem and madness. Now it just makes me tired -- Like I wanna go look at some pandas or watch my boys frolic in a pool. I know that within a day or so everything will be back to normal. But after a week of not being really plugged in, the bad news is kind of assaultive.

On a lighter note, I'm downloading the thousands of pictures and will surely have something to post soon!

And that's why they call it hard ball.

So we played T-ball in the rain tonight, this being the next to last game and no one wanting to try to squeeze in a make up game tomorrow.

Things were just fine -- the usual screw ups -- until the bottom of the second inning. Chas was "pitching," which means he stands generally in the area of the pitcher's mound (or in this case, gaping hole in the turf that seems just perfect for tripping an inattentive 5-year-old) while the opposing team hits the ball off a T.

All's well -- pitcher gets lots of action etc. Then a kid rips a line drive off the T and straight into Chas' face. Fortunately (or unfortunately) for the first time all season I was standing just behing the back stop so I had a perfect view. And the sound. Oh, the sickening sound. He fell to the ground but didn't cry for a couple of frightening seconds. I immediately ran to him -- probably faster than I've run in at least 20 years. And, just as people say happens in a time of stress, I developed complete tunnel vision. Everything around him was a blur as I ran and scooped him up. I cradled him a little too protectively as the coaches from both teams strained to get a look. I glanced up and saw that they were shaken and worried and I didn't want Chas to see that as I tried to calm him -- because the crying had triggered an asthma attack already.

Finally I pulled back to look myself, frightened of what I would see and fully expecting a trip to the hospital. He sobbed a question: "Is there blood?" In fact, there was not. The ball had miraculously hit right between his eyes. Lower and his nose would have been busted. To either side and we'd probably be looking at an eye injury if not a broken socket. But it hit at probably the hardest part of his little head.

As I carried him off the field -- he was done for the evening -- I realized the day will come in the not-too-distant future when he will be mortified to have his mother run onto the field -- especially when there's a live ball in play. But for now, kindergarten or no, he's still my baby.

Oh, and the next inning? The coach had Eddie scheduled to play pitcher. He looked at me and said he could switch positions but I told him it was O.K. It's all part of baseball. But I was mighty glad when the game ended without Eddie catching one with his face.

Finis. Until Saturday.

So after graduation (mostly for the parents) the boys and their classmates had a last day of school with pizza and root beer floats and lots of free play. Eddie and Chas chose to spend much of it with their newfound girlfriends wrapped around them. Seriously. It's the other set of twins in the class and the four of them are smitten. They had arms around each other at every opportunity. Chas likes his girlfriend because she's silly. Eddie likes his because she likes Cole and he likes Cole. Hmm. Twisted relationships in his future if he doesn't get over that one.

But Temple and Rory can just hold on -- for now the boys are still all mine to be silly with:




Even when we weren't posing for silly pictures at the end of school today, I didn't cry -- even a little bit. Though my friend spent nearly the entire night crying. But I'm definitely feeling a little odd about it all. Since they're out of preschool, I guess that makes them officially kindergartners. Of course due to the scheduling genius at the preschool this year -- NOT me, for the record -- we still have an event -- the ice cream social on Saturday. Extended goodbyes are a pain in the a**.

Commencing life with school-aged kids. Sniff. Sniff.

So here the boys are with their Pink Grandma after preschool graduation. Honestly, I don't know which was harder to get to pay attention and look at the camera: The 5-year-olds or the 83-year-old. Oh, and Grandma was sure to tell them this would be the last of their graduations she would make it to. 'Cause, you know, she's old and will die before the next one. Thankfully this seemed to go over their heads.



And here they are with Grandpa Harold. He's just happy to be here.