R.I.P. Doc

Saddened today to learn of the passing of Paul Newman. I didn't know him, of course. But I knew of him. And from what I knew of him, he was one of the most truly decent, honest people who walk this earth.

I know he got in big trouble with his wife and others for his statement about why he didn't cheat on his wife : Why go out for hamburger when you have steak at home (paraphrased)? And yes, it wasn't exactly cool to compare your wife to a cut of meat. But I found it utterly charming. The words may have been imperfect but the sentiment behind them was. (And, for the record, if anyone has any grainy footage of him cheating or a secret love child -- I don't want to know. Just keep it to yourself. Just as I didn't really need to know about Bill Cosby's indiscretions, I don't want to know if you dig anything up on Paul Newman. Heroes and role models are hard to come by these days. No need to knock them all down just because you can. Not that I think you will, but just in case...)

And the food. Oh, the food. With Newman's Own I can buy high-quality organic foods AND feel great about the price because the profits go to charity. How awesome is that?

He was an unabashed liberal, but he wasn't an elitist type -- you know, the ones who never dirty their hands or drink anything without a vintage. I mean, the guy loved auto racing, one of the most redneck sports around. As one of the few liberal NASCAR families (not so much me and Chas, but Steph and Eddie for sure) we related. And we loved him for it.

Acting -- yes, he was an actor, too. And while I adored him in films like Butch Cassidy, The Sting and Cool Hand Luke, the role that forever and completely endeared him to me as an actor was Doc Hudson in Cars. Because he touched my boys in that film. And because he was great in it. Still, I won't mourn his passing as an actor. He had a long run and the films are still there to enjoy. I mourn his passing as a human being who made the world a little bit better for having been on it.

(And here's a great story that makes my point so much better.)

But never during choice time...

I was reminded of an old Steve Martin bit the other day. Steve-o used to say he never smoked pot. Except in the late evenings. But only then. Oh, and maybe early-mid morning... it went on and on until he finally said definitively, "But never at dusk!"

The occasion was talk of kindergarten and crying. Turns out, the boys have both cried a bit at school when they miss me. When? Eddie: "Well, at the pledge of allegiance. And at center time."Chas: "And then we both cried after lunch. And a little bit at recess. Eddie: "A few times."

I don't know whether to laugh or join them in a good cry.

Construction work: More fascinating than Phineas and Ferb.

Work began today on our addition. So far it involves tearing out our small wooden deck and our small concrete patio, along with digging the foundation. I'd post a picture, but frankly, I'm too lazy to take one. The boys are riveted, staring out the windows with the same sort of expression normally reserved for the Disney Channel. And now they REALLY don't want to go to school tomorrow and miss an episode of "Tearing Up the Back Yard!"

Chas has researched this...

So the other night, Steph went in to give the boys their bedtime snuggles. As she left the room, I heard Chas yell indignantly, "That was not a snuggle!" She returned and then reported that he had told her that a snuggle involves a big person and two small people, or just one small person, ALL under the covers. He knows this because, "I looked it up on the computer."

That's my little liar. Just wait til he really CAN Google. Then we're all in real trouble

For Halloween, Chas will be a Costco employee.

While doing his homework (In kindergarten! An abomination!) Chas stuck the pencil behind his ear, looked up and said, "Look, Mommy. I look like a Costco worker!" And he was, of course, right. I ran to grab my camera, laughing all the way.

Tell me if you've seen this one before...

So I feel a bit like I'm living a particularly bad episode of "The Brady Bunch" or maybe "Facts of Life." You know the one: Protagonists briefly take posession of someone else's beloved pet. Beloved pet dies. Protagonists desperately search for identical replacement to keep the death a secret. Protagonists overlook something stupid like gender and get found out.

Here's the scoop. The boys both got beloved -- and I mean BELOVED -- stuffed Koalas when we went to San Diego. Getting the first one, in fact, was quite an ordeal because Eddie saw it, loved it, had heart broken by it when what seemed like the only gift shop that stocked it closed before he could make his purchase. (But that's another episode in which I think we somehow leave Dad's important architectural drawings or some secret voodoo thing or something on a roller coaster. I may be mixing these up.)

Anyway, they sleep with these Koalas (both of which are named Flyer for reasons that escape me) and often drag them into our bed (aka "The Big Bed") when they join us at 0-dark-30 in the morning. (Begin to see the foreshadowing here...) I changed the sheets last week and noticed absolutely nothing. But I had a meeting that night and didn't get them moved to the dryer. I asked Steph to do it in my absence. She noticed a Flyer (Chas') in with the wet but clean sheets. Assuming there had been some urine incident, she tossed him in the dryer.

He emerged a bit worse for wear. Actually, everything was OK but his tufts of long black ear hair. They were matted and slightly melted. This displeased Chas greatly.

Thinking myself smart, I sneaked in and ordered a replacement FROM THE SAN DIEGO ZOO. I paid for shipping. It would be worth it, I figured. Meanwhile, we told the boys that sometimes a stuffed koala can regrow its ear hair. OK, admittedly this is where the story gets a little weird, but stay with me.

Today, the package arrived. By golly, it was the same koala! I was a genius! I hid Old Burnt Ears. I even cut a small notch in the tag of the new Flyer to replcate the marking we had given the old one to ensure that they could tell them apart. Then I put New Flyer in bed where Old Burnt Ears had been. Sure enough, when Chas found him, he was thrilled to see the ear hair had regrown! But. Wait. His face. His face is lighter. I didn't notice it until Chas said something, but sure enough, the face is a tad lighter. The whole fur of the thing is a sort of mottled gray so I didn't notice, but he did. He carefully examined the body and noticed a couple of other spots that were every so slightly different.

Then he said something that made my blood run cold. "It's like someone took a new Flyer and cut his tag to look like my Flyer." We did some fast talking and managed to convince him that when miracles like stuffed animals regrowing hair occur, well, there are bound to be side effects.

And I'm much more careful now to check what is in the sheets when I wash them.

The Feared Day...

Today, Eddie and Chas started Kindergarten. Eddie was very excited through breakfast -- pancakes! Then, the dread began. He said his tummy hurt really bad and he was going to "frow up." I told him he'd be fine. Chas was a bit more brave as you can see. But he did admit, "Well, guys, I am a little bit scared."



I worked in the classroom -- which was very necessary because there's a lot for a poor teacher to do. And this was half the class! (They staggered the start day.) To my mind, this is the size a full class should be. (Three years ago, it was: I have a friend who reported that her daughter's kindergarten class was just 17 children. E and C's is currently at 26, but they are trying hard to get more into the full-time program ad drop the class size by one or two. Still too large for me.)



The day went well, including lunchtime margarita for Mommy. They had a great time -- Eddie is pretty sure he counted higher than anyone else in his class. Chas told me the reading time was "the opposite of fun," but then said he was teasing. Or not. He went back and forth so much I'm not sure what he really thought of it. A couple hours afterward -- they were bushed -- Eddie got a bad headache and sick stomach again. I'm sure it's stress, but I'm remaking the doctor appointment that I'd canceled today when I thought he was over the headaches. Ugh.



Oh, and we celebrated Flyer's and Flyer's (beloved stuffed koalas) birthday. We've decided we'll celebrate it on the first day of each school year.

Chas cuddled Flyer II while Eddie could barely make himself stand...

Mr. Confident and Mr. Not

Eddie puts on a brave face.

Today I cried.

OK, not so much cried as misted-up. Here's the situation. The boys start kindergarten on Monday. Eddie has been having headaches and tummy aches for a couple of weeks and I strongly suspect them to be brought on by the stress of the unknown KINDERGARTEN.

This means that once again, I have to be the grown up in this relationship. SO unfair. Anyway, I've been doing a jolly good job of keeping my own emotions about this whole abysmal state of affairs in check. Then, today, driving back from Seattle where we saw A. the allergist and more importantly B. visited the Children's Museum, I glanced in the rear view mirror. This is what I saw:

Or, more accurately, that is what I saw with my eyes. With my heart, this is what I saw:

In his expression, his eyes, his nose and of course, his position, I could see that tiny, fragile baby I met 5 1/2 years ago. I loved him and his brother then, but honestly, not as much as I do now.
Still, I miss those babies. I miss the grinning, drooling, crawling babies they became and the giggling, mischievious toddlers who replaced them. I miss the inquisitive, creative, physical preschoolers who came after that.

Don't get me wrong. I want them to grow up and have amazing experiences and all that good stuff that parents are supposed to want for their children. It's just that I wish they'd do it all just a little more slowly. Because the past 5 1/2 years have rushed by so quickly I may lose my breath.

Palin comparison....

OK, enough of the bad VP puns. Sorry.

I'm just so very annoyed with this pick by McCain on so many levels. Annoyed with Obama for not picking Hillary. Annoyed with McCain for being so incredibly crass and thinking so little of Hillary's supporters as to assume we'd accept anything in a skirt. (I'm thinking of the old Dan Quayle/Lloyd Bentsen debate moment and wondering if we'll hear anyone say to Mrs. Palin:
"I know Hillary Clinton. I've worked with Hillary Clintion. Hillary Clinton is a friend of mine. And you, Governor, are no Hillary Clinton."

And then there's the comment Palin made today about how American women are showing that we're not going to be satisfied with Hillary's 18 million cracks in the glass ceiling, we're going to smash it. Um, excuse me? But, the last I heard, Palin isrunning for VICE president. Until we elect a female president, I think it's a little premature to pronounce the ceiling shattered.

And ANOTHER thing. Like we're going to let someone like Sarah Palin get the distinction of being the first female VP? A woman who seems to have absolutely no regard for the rights of other women?

But finally, the thing that most annoys me is that this choice has finally eroded whatever respect I once had for John McCain. To select as a running mate a woman who has served LESS than two years as governor of a state whose biggest financial problem is how much money to give to its citizens each year from the oil surplus tells me he is far less interested in the security and prosperity of the nation than he is in his own political advancement.

So, in summation, neither major party candidate has impressed me with their VP selection. I can only hope whichever wins can govern better than they've picked running mates.

If only they were old enough to vote...

We stopped by a small campaign event to get the boys' picture taken (again) with my old boss, Chris Gregoire. She did a masterful job of pretending to recognize/remember me, which is pretty important for a politician.

Oh, and the boys got their hair cut the next day, I swear.

Village People for a new generation? Nope.

So, in Eddie and Chas land, this is consider preparation for a weekend camping trip. First, you go through your dress up clothes and select an interesting array of old Halloween costumes and various headgear, including headlamps. Then you load as many toys as possible into the candy-carrying pouch of said costume. Finally, dump it all in the living room while using the dimmer switch to simulate night, dawn, and of course the ever-popular lightning storm.

Sadly, this year our camping trip will be pretty mild. We were even later than usual in making reservations. So instead of our usual choice of a mediocre site in a decent campground or a good site in a mediocre campground, we were faced with selecting from an array of crappy sites in crappier campgrounds. So we decided to ditch the state parks and just pitch a tent in my niece Erin's huge yard in Ellensburg. Pathetic? Of course. But there's a fire pit and an unheated pool which I'm told needs to be cleaned but the pump is broken so it will be "swimmable" but not necessarily sparkling. In other words, not so different from swimming in a lake at a state park.

Biden my tongue

So I knew it wouldn't be Hillary -- but Joe Biden seems to be a particularly tone deaf pick for Obama's running mate. Not only does it do nothing to appease the Clinton faithful, it's actually kind of a finger in their eye. And it makes him seem the elitist the GOP is trying to paint him as. Why? Because it seems like he's saying he's smarter than the voters. Biden gathered a few thousand votes after going for broke in Iowa. He was offered up and rejected by voters. (More than once, I might add.) Clinton, on the other hand, was the choice of 18 million voters.

Now, like I said, I didn't think it would be Hillary. But I also didn't think it would be someone who actually ran in this election and lost so badly.

Sigh. I know I should be more excited about this ticket. And of course, Michelle and the girls were adorable tonight.

Plus, he can't do worse than the current occupant of the White House, so he'll get my vote come November, however unenthusiastic.

She's alive!!!

And seemingly well. I managed to get myself sprung from the hospital yesterday with a promise that I'd get a stress test scheduled ASAP as an outpatient. Most of yesterday was spent sleeping, which you absolutely cannot do in a hospital.

So while I'm not looking forward to the battery of tests and appointments that no doubt loom before me, I am actually happy that the hospital actually seemed to check things out quite thoroughly. It's funny -- I have three family members who had major heart attacks. One, my father, actually died. Which, come to think of it, isn't really funny, but I digress. What's funny is that the people I know who actually had heart attacks were either first misdiagnosed and sent away with antacids only to return in an ambulance hours later, or very nearly sent home with nary a test because they had no significant risk factors. I, on the other hand, apparently did not have a heart attack but got the full treatment. It seems that when it comes to heart attacks and my family, the medical profession has an abysmal track record of knowing when to take symptoms seriously. I am also quite happy to be the one who got what turned out to be unnecessary tests rather than one who missed necessary testing.

Dreamy divers, bully brats, oh, and heart attack scares...

I've been meaning to blog -- really I have -- about all sorts of things. Like my nephews' dive meet and how dreamy they are. (Just call me Auntie Perv I guess.) About the ongoing saga of the bully next door. Maybe even something about Eddie falling nose-first off of his bike and the resulting skinned up nose.

But I never got around to it. Now, however, I've got nothing but time on my hands. Because I'm stuck in a stinkin' hospital. Because I had chest pains. And they've been doing blood work and EKGs since just after 9 this morning and aren't letting me go until tomorrow, even though everything looks normal. Oh, actually, they want me to stay tomorrow for a stress test that will take ALL DAY. But I think I've negotiated a break from that if I promise to schedule one and visit a cardiologist as an outpatient.

From all of this, I have learned three things:

1. nitroglycerin tablets burn and then make your whole body feel weird -- and end with a headache.
2. don't go to the er with chest pains unless you really have no interest in seeing your home anytime in the near future.
3. I'm a really bad patient. (Mostly because of my efforts to get the hell out of here ASAP by denying all pain and discomfort anywhere near my chest.)

I miss my boys. I miss my bed. I do not like listening to men loudly vomit up blood. (Sample overheard convo in the er: "So how many times have you vomited blood?" "Just twice today." "So when did this start?" "Two months ago.")

Anyway, I've got a lot of work to do and a looming deadline and let's just say this little hospital "vacation" is not reducing my stress levels.

Still here. Just tired.

So I haven't blogged for a while. But I have an excuse, of course. Steph was gone to a work thing for four days. I gotta say, I have newfound respect for single parents. It's just plain hard to not have another adult coming home at the end of the day to give you a break.

And yet... there was something oddly enjoyable about it. First, there was a certain novelty. As sad as it seems, it kind of felt like an adventure -- like the boys and I were roughing it and somehow proving our survival skills. And second, it freed me from all pretense of a schedule. I didn't have to worry/think about whether Steph would be home late and/or what she would want for dinner. When we got hungry, we ate. Truth be told, mostly we got hungry and ate at a restaurant -- I gotta have some luxury when I'm roughing it, after all. As tiring as it was to do everything for the boys myself at night, I missed her the most after they were asleep. That's when we get to talk/veg out in front of the TV. It's just not as satisfying to watch TV by myself -- even if when Steph is here she's only half-watching as she works nonstop on her laptop.

It was a brief change of pace that wasn't too bad. But I'm glad she's home. Maybe now I can actually get something done besides just keep the boys alive. As if.

Adding a little edge to a dental appointment.

I had to have a filling replaced yesterday. Whine, whine, whine. I found out my dentist DOES offer nitrous oxide -- aka "laughing gas" -- for a $20 charge. I decided to try it, since the boys get it (well, so far just Eddie) when they need dental work done.

I'm sure it had nothing at all to do with seeing this headline on the Seattle PI's web page just before I left for the appointment.

Anyway, I felt nothing from the gas except annoyance that I'd paid extra for it. This was even after they turned it up for me. This is the same thing I recall from my last experience with it -- but I was in high school then and I thought maybe I wasn't remembering right.

Oh, and my tooth is still sore. Whine. Whine. Whine.

Amphibians with a death wish...

As I grilled a couple of ginormous steaks tonight, I noticed a small frog had hopped up on the table at the side of the grill. The boys weren't right there, so I quickly shooed him away before they could see him and demand his capture.

Seriously, the frogs around here seem either despondent or just really stupid. First, it's a hot grill. Not the sort of thing a frog should be hopping on to or even nera. Second, there are two 5-year-old boys in residence. You should know what happened to the last frog who ventured this close. Sheesh.

Not quite "Mobile Home Disaster," but close...

The other day a couple of neighbor kids came traipsing through the house. I was in the bedroom when I overheard this assessment from one of them: "Your house is messy... But it's awesome!"

Now, when a 7-year-old boy notices your lack of general tidiness, well, there's no real positive spin you can put on it. But the second part was as nice to hear as the first part was hard to.

He's right, of course, about it being messy. On any given day, there is a miniature Nascar race reinactment paused somewhere in the living room. We're not talking one or two cars -- we're talking two or three dozen. (To be fair, they are often lined up quite neatly... just on the floor.) You will alsofind books strewn about anywhere someone might have felt like plopping down to read for a few minutes. I swear, some public libraries have fewer books than our boys -- but the libraries do a better job of keeping them shelved. You're also likely to find an easel out and/or some artwork or project drying somewhere. The dining room table is either in the process of being cleared so we can eat, or defiantly covered with someone's crafty project -- my scrapbooking (rarely) or the boys' you-name-it.

The walls? Well, at adult eye level, it's a photo gallery of a certain set of twin boys you may have heard of. At kid-level, the walls are covered with the original artwork by those same boys. I don't keep every single thing they draw, paste or otherwise create. But I sort of feel like if they make it, well, it deserves to be displayed for a little while at least. So the walls are a constantly rotating exhibit of their work.

So messy? Yup. Guilty. But to be honest, I kind of feel bad for kids who don't get to live with a little bit of a mess. Because life is messy. And fun. And you ought to have the things you love -- whether it's books, homemade art or tiny race cars around you and out where you can enjoy them as much as possible.

That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

The Tooth Fairy has been here at last!

Last night, Eddie was finally willing to part with his teeth. Or rather, with most of them. He wrote her a note asking if he could please keep just one. Being an enormous sucker, she agreed.

This morning, both boys were in bed with moms when Chas woke up and ran back to their bedroom. Eddie was still sleeping soundly. A minute later, Chas was back, the familiar sound of coinage clinking in his little hand. I asked him what he had. "Money! It was under Eddie's pillow!"

I explained that Eddie would probably like to find it for himself and instructed him to go put it back, which he did. Then he came and woke up his brother. Eddie was quite pleased to get $12 in gold coin. (Dollars, but he thinks they are pennies. And he's still thrilled. Hmm.) He also kept one of his rooty teeth AND had a note from the Fairy thanking him for his manners in asking nicely to keep a tooth and congratulating him on his excellent oral hygiene while gently suggesting that he work a bit harder at it.

There was also a sprinkling of "fairy dust" left at the site, which Chas dismissed. "Well, I see some blue glitter," he said when it was pointed out to him. Eddie didn't care -- he was busy counting his coin. And losing one already.

It's now safely in the piggy bank. Oh, and the first point of his second adult tooth is now through the gums. Steph and my sister Cathy insist that they can tell that his first adult tooth has already started moving forward now that the baby teeth are gone. But I'm dubious.

Breaking the Tooth Fairy

While we were at Sea World last month, I noticed one of Eddie's adult teeth had broken through -- behind his baby teeth. Hmm. Today, we saw the dentist.

I broke my usual insistence that he go back alone. I had questions. He had questions. Well, actually, he had question. "Will it hurt?" So I went with him. He got nitrous, but just a little because Bad Mommy didn't think to have him avoid eating anything beforehand. Oops.

Anyway, x-rays showed some serious crowding, so the dentist said he was going to have to take four. F-O-U-R teeth. I had expected 2 at the most. I was in a little shock, but I didn't let it show.
So some nitrous, a series of shots (He only whimpered during the first few, his eyes filling with tears. Mine didn't -- but only because I was concentrating so hard on staying cool and relaxed for him.) and a few hard twists of some very shiny plier-type instruments and voila! Four baby teeth on the gauze, four nasty-looking holes in Eddie's mouth.

He's sleeping now, bloody gauze clutched in his mouth. He was exceedingly brave and very sweet about it all. And he expects some serious love from La Tooth Fairy tonight.

So here are the before and afters -- with a real after to come after he wakes up. Notice that only one of the baby teeth had a dissolved root. I guess we need to start saving for the orthodontist now. Sigh.

Last smile with a full mouth of baby teeth. (Poor kid doesn't

know what's gonna hit him.) And, as promised the new, holier grin.

The not-so-fantastic four


Sleeping it off...