Four Feet More

For some reason, I can't shake this cold. I felt like I was getting better last week, but then it came up on me again, even worse than before. I went into school on Monday, but barely made it through class. Thank goodness I teach the morning kindergarten class, so I was able to leave in the afternoon without inconveniencing anyone too much. And I've been home ever since, resting on the couch and in bed, taking meds and drinking lots of tea.

The kids have been pretty good about me staying home sick. This morning they put together quite a surprise. Jeff went downstairs around 7:30 am, and I heard Vika and Eamon yell, "Surprise!" I went down and saw that not only had they gotten themselves up and ready for school, but they had set the table beautifully with a choice of cereals, milk, toast, and even a pot of tea (which is a very nice pot that we keep up high - I'm so glad they didn't get hurt or drop the dang thing while getting it down!). Despite the many opportunities they had to burn themselves with the hot tea or break various dining ware, Vika and Eamon took care of everything really well! My kids are growing up. The only mishap of the morning was provided by Jeff, who put a frozen loaf of bread in the microwave to defrost, while it was still in its plastic wrap with a gold label, and the loaf caught on fire. Vika said, "It's like a candle went off in there!" when looking at the scorched ceiling and melted plastic on the glass of the microwave. Poor Jeff. He's scrubbing the appliance as I type this.

Hopefully another day of rest at home will help me kick this cold once and for all. I'm going back to work tomorrow, and our Metcha Day feast is this Saturday, so I'd really like to get better now. In the meantime, I'll snuggle back with a pot of tea and a good book and enjoy the few hours of quiet I have until the kids get home from school.

Jeff has his brilliant moments. Often he will come up with little demonstrations to get a certain point across to the kids, and he does it in a way that I wold never have thought of, but which makes perfect sense.

Such an occurrence happened this morning. We've had reoccurring issues with bossiness and aggression in our household. Usually Vika is bossy to Eamon, and he reacts aggressively. After repeated instances of this yesterday, and Jeff and I (unsuccessfully) instructing the kids to solve their problems in a nicer way, we finally decided that a family meeting was called for.

Once the breakfast dishes were cleared, Jeff began telling the kids about how some people "push" to try to get what they want, and others "pull." What we have been seeing in our house is Vika pushing Eamon with angry words and body language, and Eamon pushing back with angry words and physical contact. Jeff and I both explained how when you "push" at something or someone, you are making it go farther away from you. Then Jeff talked about gently pulling to get what you want. By using kind words and smiles, you can bring people closer to you. I made a comment about honey attracting more bees than vinegar, which earned me blank stares from both Vika and Eamon. Jeff rolled his eyes and then pulled the kids' attention back to him with a simple piece of string.

"Watch" he said, as he laid it out on the table in a nice straight line. As Vika and Eamon looked on, riveted, he demonstrated what happens when you try to "push" something to do what you want. He pushed the string with his finger, and it crumpled up on itself, moving farther away in an untidy mess. Then he said, "But look what happens when you pull gently." Jeff grabbed the end of the string, and gently pulled it towards him. It moved in a straight line, going whichever direction he wanted it to take. The kids ooooohh'd and aaahhhh'd at this, seeing in a whole new way what we've been trying to tell them for years.

Not to be completely outdone, I asked, "Papa, what happens if you pull the string hard, instead of gently?" Vika and Eamon turned back to watch as Jeff jerked on the string, making it crumple up again and fall half off the table. "The key," I added, "is to pull gently." Jeff gave Vix and Eames their own piece of string to play with (much to their delight), and they experimented with pulling and pushing their twine for a few minutes.

As we left today to go on a hike, I noticed that Vika had her piece of string tied to her belt loop and Eamon carried his in his pants pocket. Maybe this demonstration made a bigger impression that I thought? Hopefully Jeff's lesson is something that will stick with them for a while and maybe even encourage them to change their pushy ways.

This past year has been a difficult one at school. In addition to the budget cuts and the knowledge that I most likely won't have a job next year is the increased work-load heaped upon us by the district. Just the other day we all received books for a new art program which we are supposed to implement somewhere in our already packed schedules. It's really hard to stay motivated and positive, but I'm doing my best for the sake of my students.

It's been a hard year for Jeff too. As a real estate broker during the current economic crisis, deals have been pretty thin. Add to that the fact that he has to make three trips to the kids' school each day (Eamon is a "late-bird" and therefore starts school 3 hours after Vika), and it seems that Jeff has had little or no free time since September.

The kids see our stress and exhaustion and I'm sure they're feeling it too. So, even though we don't have a huge amount of disposable income, it's clear that we all need a vacation this summer. But where could we get away from it all without spending a lot of money. The answer may surprise you: Walt Disney World.

At the risk of raising Kate's anti-Disney ire, I have to say that I absolutely LOVE both Disneyland and Disney World. I grew up taking road trips from Arizona to Disneyland, and the park is the highlight of many childhood memories. However, in recent years, we've gone to Disney World more than Dinseyland - even though it's on the other side of the country. There's one simple reason for this: the food. Jeff and I are foodies, and Disney World offers much more in the way of dining than Disneyland. The Animal Kingdom Lodge is home to one of our favorite restaurants, Boma, at which you can sample African dishes such as bobotie, fufu and cocomisu (probably not really African, but still good). Epcot also offers samples of cuisine from all over the world, which we enjoy despite the fact that much of it is "Disneyfied." Since I am on a personal mission to both give my kids wonderful childhood Disney memories and have them grow into foodies like their parents, Dinsey World is always on my list of potential vacation spots.

The last time we went, in September of 2006, we were able to get the free dining plan, which saved us around $1000! Jeff and I enjoyed it so much that we swore that if they offered free dining again, we would try to take advantage of it. Well, check it out: Score! Because of tough economic times across the country, we were able to get a discounted rate on a room and park tickets as well. And, thanks to our air miles program, we are flying to Florida practically for free! It's almost as if we can't afford not to go to Disney World. That's how I'm justifying it anyway.

So, now we all have something to look forward to this August. The idea that we wouldn't be able to swing a family vacation this year was depressing me quite a bit, truth be told. Jeff and I have worked too hard! And while Disney World may not be the relaxing vacation we probably need, is there really such a thing as a relaxing vacation with kids? My guess is no. So we'll just embrace the crowds, the humidity and the chaos of the four Disney parks and have a great time making memories.

It is a truth, universally acknowledged, that a child in possession of a new pack of gum must chew that gum ceaselessly until it is nothing more than a sticky mass of flavorless goo.

Such is the case with Eamon. Previous experience has taught us that Eamon is not the most responsible gum-chewer. In addition to the numerous wads he’s swallowed, we’ve found pieces of it ground into his bedroom carpet, a string of it attached to his sweater, and a chunk stuck in his hair. So it was a surprise when the Easter Bunny (dang his furry hide) decided to give the kids each a pack of Trident. This went along with his 2009 Easter basket theme of “Healthy Minds, Healthy Teeth” (I didn’t think up the theme, I just went along with it).

Right away, Eamon dug into his gum and began chewing it noisily. He did this throughout the day, looking and sounding much like a cow chewing its cud. Fortunately, Vika lost her pack of gum somewhere at Babushka’s house, or else I’m sure I would have had dueling gum smackers in my ear all day long.

Despite Eamon’s love of chewing gum, this time he took it a bit further than I ever would have anticipated. Each night when I go to bed, I “wake” the boy up and take him to the bathroom. I put “wake” in quotes because Eamon is seldom truly awake during these times. He’s generally still half-asleep, and he never remembers these trips the next morning. When I went to take the boy to the bathroom the other night, he began chewing his cheek. “What on earth is he dreaming about?” I wondered. Then the subtle scent of bubblegum wafted past my nose. Surely the boy was not chewing gum in his sleep. Unfortunately, that was exactly what he was doing. Thus began the frustrating exercise of trying to extract a piece of chewing gum from a not-quite-awake child’s mouth.

As Eamon sat on the toilet, eyes closed and head wobbling in semi-consciousness, I said, “Eamon…spit your gum out!” He just kept chewing. So I tried again, a little louder this time. “Eamon! Spit out your gum!” He still kept chewing. Soon I was saying loudly, “EAMON! YOUR GUM! SPIT IT OUT! “ By this point, his eyes were still closed, but he was frowning and shaking his head frantically from side to side indicating that no, he was not going to spit out his gum. Exasperated, I started tapping his cheeks and patting his shoulders to get him to fully wake-up. I tried tickling him, shaking him by the shoulders, and even prying his mouth open with my hands. The boy was not waking up and he was not giving me his gum.

By this point, Jeff had come upstairs to see what all the ruckus was about. With a “For crying out loud!” he grabbed the squirt bottle off the shelf and sprayed Eamon with cold water to wake him up. Eamon squealed in dismay, but kept his eyes firmly shut and his gum safely tucked in his cheek. It finally took a team effort to retrieve the wad. Jeff pried Eamon’s teeth apart while I reached in with my finger and swept the inside of his mouth. I scooped the gum from out of his cheek and triumphantly threw it in the trash! Then I calmly walked my slightly-damp, still half-asleep son back to his bed.

Easter Bunny, if you’re reading this, NEVER give my child gum again!

Thanks.

My brother and his wife are having a baby. Their little boy, whom they plan to call "Ty," is due tomorrow. However, this weekend was filled with a couple of "false alarms" which led us to believe that he would be born a bit sooner. My SIL had strong contractions all through the night Saturday and during much of Sunday, but by Sunday afternoon, they were gone. Today there was another sign of impending labor (lost mucus plug - ick), but again, nothing. I have to admit that selfishly I was hoping the baby would be born this weekend. Then, Jeff, the kids and I could be at the hospital since there was no school today. It would just be so much more convenient. But no. Ty decided to stay inside, where it's safe and warm, a bit longer.

Vika and Eamon are very excited to meet their new cousin. They've both been drawing pictures for him and eagerly awaiting the phone call that would tell us it's time to head to the hospital. So, they're a bit disappointed that he hasn't come yet too. However, after a discussion this evening, I've learned that they're also a bit confused as to how he will actually be born.

Eamon's under the impression that the doctors will cut Ty out using a pair of scissors. Vika was quick to instruct him that no, they wouldn't use scissors to cut Ty out. First they would put a kind of oil on SIL's belly, and rub it a bit to get it ready. Then they would cut the baby out. But NOT with scissors or a knife! She was very emphatic about that! Upon hearing this, Jeff shouted from the room next door that SIL was going to deliver Ty through "natural childbirth."

Of course this led Eamon to ask, "What's that Mama?" I looked to Jeff, since he opened that door, but without meeting my eyes he simply said, "Jen?" Oh sure, pass that one off to me! Eamon turned with a little frown and said, "How is the baby going to come out Mama?" I stood there, quickly considering the best way to describe vaginal delivery to a 6 year old child without freaking him out. Fortunately, Eamon got distracted by something Star Wars related and dashed off to his room. Whew! That was a close one.

I can't keep avoiding the discussion forever though. I did explain it to Vika once, but apparently, she's forgotten (what's this oil theory all about?). However, with Ty set to be born any day now, I'm sure the topic will come up again. Have any of you explained childbirth to a young child? How did that work out for you? And do you have any suggestions for me?

Sorry I haven't written much lately, but I've been feeling a bit down in the dumps. It's a combination of things, really. The job uncertainty is really taking a toll. I've been trying to formulate a "Plan B," but it's difficult since it's possible I won't know the status of my current job until late August. I do know that I will be laid off in March. What happens after that is anyone's guess. I'm one of those people who likes to have a direction in their life - not knowing where I'll be in a year is not something I find exciting. I wish I did, because then maybe this job situation would seem more like a new adventure rather than a scary mess.

The other thing that has been making me blue lately is my step-daughter, Ali. You've probably noticed that there isn't much mention of her on this blog. The reason for this is because she doesn't come around much. I'm not quite sure why that is, exactly. I invite her to every birthday party, event and get together our family has. Jeff calls to check her schedule and see if they can get together, yet she remains absent. Ali keeps alluding to these "issues" she has with us, but when we ask her what those are, she gets vague and says she doesn't want to talk about it. This has been going on for over 2 years now, and it's extremely frustrating. I understand that she has issues relating to being a young adult now out on her own (she's 19), and maybe even feeling a bit displaced after we adopted the kids. But, if she isn’t willing to talk about these issues, how can we ever resolve them? Over the past 3 years, her visits with us have become less and less frequent. In fact, she has only seen us once in the last 8 months. The big letdown came yesterday. Ali was supposed to spend Christmas Eve with us, as she has every year. However, this time, she didn't come by because she had to work. We were disappointed, but rescheduled for yesterday, figuring we would have a late holiday celebration with her. Well, yesterday came around, and she didn't call or show up. When we finally reached her to find out what the plans were, she said she didn't want to be here because Jeff didn't call her on Christmas Eve. WTF? He called her the day before and set up plans to get together, and wished her a merry Christmas. I think he can be forgiven for not calling again the next day.

Needless to say, I was furious with Ali. I was so mad, I was actually shaking. My fury became even hotter when Vika found out Ali wasn't coming over, and collapsed to the ground weeping, "She never sees us! Why doesn't she come over???" I didn't have an answer for her (except my secret belief that Ali was being a vindictive, spoiled brat - I didn't think Vika needed to know my opinion about that though). Finally, I decided to do something about it. I marched downstairs and called Ali to let her know just how upset I was over this. All I got from her was a bunch of "I don't feel like part of the family anymore" and "I have issues with dad!" My response was that it's difficult to feel part of a family that you never see. It is also difficult to resolve issues that one refuses to discuss. Ali had no real answer to this, so she just hurled more guilt and vague accusations. In the end, I just had to let her go. Calling her was a bad decision and just fed right into her need to manipulate and control other people’s emotions.

I realize that Ali is someone who thrives on chaos. Her mother is the same way, and it’s all she really knows. I, however, could do without the drama. Vika and Eamon don’t need it in their lives either. We’re going to send her a package containing her Christmas gifts and birthday gifts from last August (the main birthday present we made for her was a lifebook, very similar to the ones we made for the kids), and hope that she comes around sooner, rather than later. I figure that when Ali’s ready to really discuss what’s been bothering her we’ll be here, waiting.

Here's the picture of Santa tickling me and Jeff. I believe this was taken right before I jumped up because the next picture is quite blurry. I didn't post it before because I look AWFUL in it. Yes, it's purely vanity on my part. But check out Santa in this "detail" of the photo below. Does he seem to be enjoying this a bit too much? Yep, that gleam in his eye and wrinkle on his nose tells it all.

This year, for the first time ever, we took the kids to visit Santa. I actually was going to take them last year, but when we got to the mall, the Santa there looked kind of shady. I’m not sure what it was, but he just creeped me out. So, the kids didn’t sit on his lap.

This year, however, I realized that it may be the last time our kids want to sit on Santa’s lap, so Jeff and I made a point of going to the mall to visit the jolly old elf. Well, wouldn’t you know, it was the same guy from last year. He looked a little less shifty this year though, and their photo printer was down, so the poor guy was sitting there, all alone, waiting for people to visit him. Since we had our own camera, we walked right up to his Christmas Throne and Eamon climbed on to Santa’s lap. Vika also took a turn, listing all the things she wanted him to bring her for Christmas (most of it “American Girl” related. *sigh*). As the kids spoke with Santa, he kept looking over at me with a little gleam in his eyes. I didn’t understand why until a few minutes later.

When the kids were done, Santa looked at me with this sly grin and said, “Kids, you want Mommy to sit on Santa’s lap?” “Oh God” I thought, “NO!” But by then the Vika and Eamon were excitedly shouting “Yes! Yes! Papa too!” and Santa has his arms wide open, waiting for me to join him on his throne. I nervously walked forward, and gingerly sat on his leg, almost standing really, waiting for Jeff to come over so we could get this thing done. Santa boomed, “NOPE! Put both legs in the middle, Mom and sit DOWN on my lap!” I looked to Jeff for some help, but he was giving Vika a quick tutorial on the camera and completely oblivious to my distress. Seeing no way out, I turned slightly and sat down fully on the man's red-clad leg. When Jeff joined me on Santa’s other leg, I felt St. Nick’s arm slip around my side and rest gently on my ribs.

Then, Santa copped a feel. When Vika held up the camera to take our picture, Santa began tickling my ribs. I jumped up in startled laughter, but he pulled me back down with a self-satisfied leer. Only he didn’t stop there. He kept at it, saying, “Oh! I found Mommy’s tickle spot!” My discomfort with the situation grew.

Finally, after about four pictures, I twisted away from Santa’s grasping paws and tried to gather up my things in as dignified a manner as possible.

As we walked away, a boisterous “Ho! Ho! Ho!” trailing behind us, I asked Jeff, “Did Santa tickle you?”

“Yep!” He replied, as if there was nothing at all strange about a grown man tickling other adults while they are sitting on his lap. Jeff went on to explain, “He just did it for the pictures.”

Well, you know what? I’m 35 years old. I’ve had plenty of years practice smiling for the camera, and can do it pretty well without being prodded along by a complete stranger, thankyouverymuch.

My weirdness aside, Vika and Eamon had a great time and talked all the way home about how that must have been the real Santa, and not one of his Holiday Helpers. It was fun to see how excited they were to finally meet St. Nick in person. Although Eamon was a bit disappointed that there wasn't a slide (like in "A Christmas Story").

Now that I think about it, a tickling Santa isn't quite as bad at the "Christmas Story" one. At least none of us got a boot to the face.

Some alien life from must have taken residence in my son's body. It's the only explanation for what has been going on during the last 2 hours.

It's a well know fact that Eamon hates to clean his room. The worst part of my day is evening chore time, when he needs to put away the toys he was playing with. My request to him to clean him room is usually followed by groans, foot stomping, and all too often, flopping around on the floor like a 2 year old.

Seriously, it sucks.

However, today was different. I didn't even have to remind Eamon that it was evening chore time. He'd been happily rearranging and cleaning his room all afternoon! He emptied out all the drawers of his wardrobe (which is used to house toys and dress-up clothes) and neatly put everything back. He stacked his shoes on a little rack off to the side of his room. And he organized his shelves!!!

What could have brought about such a dramatic change? Had body-snatchers invaded? Or was his milk spiked with Stepford-juice?

Nope. It turns out that Jeff encouraged Eamon to play a "moving to another house" game with Vika's dolls (Eamon is really into playing Papa lately). He also gave him a "cleaning gauntlet" to wear. That's why Eamon worked so hard organizing his room without a fuss.

I hate it when Jeff has strokes of genius that never would have occurred to me.














The cleaning gauntlet






This cracked me up - Apparently, Eamon's knight helmet is a Cubs fan.

Eamon lost his second tooth yesterday, thereby making a double-wide gap in his bottom teeth. He was very excited about the impending tooth fairy visit and insisted that we read "The Night Before the Tooth Fairy" (we were supposed to read this book when he lost his first tooth, but were out late that evening and didn't have time). All day, Eamon kept reminding me about the book, and when bedtime came and we settled in to read it, he was beaming.

After the story, we placed his tooth carefully in his special "Tooth Fairy" pillow and put him to bed. Then Jeff and I watched a "Daily Show," talked bit, and went to bed. Without checking the pillow.

This morning, around 7 am Jeff wakes me up and says, "Jen! Did the Tooth Fairy come?" I snapped out of my grogginess in a panic and gasped, "No!" Thus began "Operation Tooth Fairy." Jeff crept downstairs to get the dollar and snuck into Eamon's room to do the exchange. I listened quietly without moving lest I wake the boy up. Jeff returned a while later, looking a bit agitated and asked, "Did you put the tooth in the pillow?! I can't find it!" He went back into the room again, I heard a bit of scuffling, and then he came back, shoving the tooth pillow at me. Eamon's tooth had lodged itself into the bottom point of the star pocket on front. I dug the tooth out, Jeff stuffed in the dollar, and quietly put the pillow back in Eamon's room.

Then, we waited. Last time, Eamon woke up at 6:30 am to check out his loot. This time, fortunately, he slept a bit later. Finally, around 7:30 am, he came running into our room yelling "YAY!" and waving his dollar in the air.

Whew. Disaster averted. No thanks to the dang Tooth Fairy. Slacker.

This was the scene that greeted me when I got home from school yesterday.



Apparently, Jeff put some Queen on and Vika went crazy. So he decided to tutor the kids on how to be rock stars.

I think they may need a little more practice...

Jeff RULES. Really. And to think, all I got him was a couple of books! They are cool books though: The Dangerous Book for Boys and Knitting With Balls (A Hands-on Guide to Knitting for the Modern Man).

This completely vindicates him from the Christmas gift he gave me about 8 years ago - a vacuum cleaner!

Remember that period of time where Eamon was writing "E"s on everything? Well, we thought he was moving out of that phase, but this week we had a major setback. He became mad at Vika, and her doll, Katie, suffered the results. During the worst of Eamon's "E" phase, Katie's poor face had a big E written on it daily. Most often in pencil, but sometimes in crayon, and a few times in ink. This last time, her face was covered in red crayon. E's were everywhere, and Jeff had to scour her poor face to get them off. Katie's cheeks were looking a bit ragged after all this scrubbing.

What's a dad to do when he sees his daughter's disappointment over Katie's dull face? Give the doll a facial, of course!

After lovingly prepping Katie's face, Jeff rubbed a paraffin wax mixture into her "skin" and then gently buffed it away. Now, she's bright and shiny as new! And Vika is pleased. Hopefully this "moisturiser" will make it easier to wash future "E"s away as well.

Doesn't she look fabulous?

Jeff and I met when I was 19. I was working as a “kennel girl” in a local pet hospital, and he was the UPS driver who delivered our supplies. I was attracted to him the moment I saw him. How could I not be, when he strutted around so confidently in those cute little brown shorts and boots? I even once made my way to a coffee shop near the pet hospital where he was making a delivery in an attempt to “cross paths” and get his attention. Much to my dismay, the plan didn’t work.

After I became a receptionist at the pet hospital, I saw Jeff on a more regular basis. At first his brooding intensity captivated me, in a Mr. Darcy kind of way. My friend Mel and I decided to make it our personal mission to get him to crack a smile. All efforts failed, and the “brooding intensity” thing quickly lost its appeal.

Then, in the summer after I graduated from college, everything changed. My friends and I went to Miyake’s, a wild sushi restaurant near Stanford where a disco ball hung from the ceiling and patrons stood on their chairs doing “sake bombs” as servers and diners cheered them on. Unbeknownst to Mel and I, our antics were being observed. The next day at work, the “UPS Man” (or “Mr. Personality” as we had snarkily begun calling him) walked in, looked at us with a poker face and said, “Ichi, ni, san! Sake bomb!” Our jaws dropped to the floor and I believe I turned about a thousand shades of red. This marked the turning point in our relationship. Jeff began talking to me and Mel, and we soon discovered the he wasn’t a brooding type of person at all. He had been treated pretty rudely by our boss on several occasions (she wasn’t that nice of a person), and therefore made his visits to the pet hospital as brief and impersonal as possible.

It wasn’t long before Jeff decided to ask for my phone number. He went to the payphone around the corner from the pet hospital and called the front desk. He had some romantic thing planned, I’m sure, but Mel saw him in the phone booth on her way into work. In her forthright manner, she asked him what he was doing, decided he was going to ask me out, and then rushed into the reception area saying, “Jen, you’re relieved. I’m taking the front desk. Go outside to the phone booth now!” At that same moment, my rude boss looked at me with a smirk and said, “Jenni, the ‘ups man’ is on the phone for you.”

The rest, as they say, is history. Jeff and I began dating not long after, and with the exception of one 24-hour period when we broke-up, have been together ever since.

During our whole “getting-to-know-you” phase, I was shocked to learn that Jeff was 10 1/2 years older than me. He certainly didn’t look it, and, if I’m honest, didn’t really act it either. I decided that he was a nice enough guy that I would bend my personal rule about not dating anyone more than 10 years older than me, and not hold his age against him. Other than the times when we discuss “Star Wars” (I was 4 when it hit theatres, he was 15), the age thing doesn’t come into play all that often.

On Wednesday, my dear husband turned 45. This is the 12th birthday I have spent with him, and I’m pleased to say that over the years, we have only grown closer. We’ve weathered his transition from UPS Man to Real Estate Broker, and my transition from the pet hospital to large university/children’s hospital, to teacher. Jeff and I have seen and done some pretty amazing things together, the most significant of which was adopting Vika and Eamon. He’s a wonderful spouse, a devoted father, and a great friend.

Happy birthday Jeff. The kids and I love you like crazy, and look forward to many more birthdays shared with you in the years to come.


Jeff at Chitzen Itza













On our honeymoon in the Outback













At Oktoberfest (don't know what I was thinking with that hair!)


















Together in Arizona

It was a rainy weekend here at Chez Four Feet More, and a few of us are sick (yep, I caught the cold too), so we decided to stay indoors most of the time and try to recuperate. However, staying indoors can be boring, so Jeff and I had the brilliant idea of spicing things up with a surprise living room picnic for the kids.

Jeff went shopping, and I set the scene. Blanket on the floor in front of the couch, picnic basket with various items in the garage for Jeff to fill with food after he returned home, and a fire blazing in the fireplace (built with a Duraflame log and the charred remains of some real logs left over from the previous evening).

The picnic went great! The kids were excited about the surprise and giddy over the novelty of eating on the floor. After lunch, the plan was to make s'mores for dessert. Only, since I had made a Duraflame fire, we didn't want to toast marshmallows over those flames. Who knows what kinds of chemicals could burn into them, and then be ingested by us? Vika and Eamon suspected that we would not be eating s'mores and began protesting loudly. I was a little disappointed too - I wanted me some s'mores!

Never fear, Jeff had a plan. He began dousing the Duraflame log with ashes. Over and over he tried to smother that log, but the dang thing kept combusting! Finally, he was able to put the fire out, leaving a smoking, black and gray heap in the fireplace. At this point, we were still under the impression that we could save the log for future use, so I ran to the kitchen for a cookie sheet and some potholders to transport the log from the fireplace to the back porch. We ordered the kids to sit on the couch, safely away from any potential fire dangers and got to work.

Ever so gingerly, Jeff nudged the Duraflame onto the cookie sheet, managing to keep the log mostly intact. However, a bigger problem soon arose. Maybe it was the jostling movement of the log, or perhaps it was the increased ventilation in the fireplace, but suddenly, smoke began billowing from every crack and pore in the Duraflame's waxy, sawdust surface. A massive gray cloud surged into the living room as Jeff quickly moved the log to the backyard. The fresh air only made the situation worse, and soon, our entire backyard was filled with a thick, bluish-gray haze. In the middle of the haze was Jeff, holding a hose on “mist” setting and trying to douse the log. Meanwhile, I stood inside, watching the scene through the sliding glass door and wondering how long it would be before some good Samaritan called the fire department to report us. Clearly, the “mist” setting was not working, and alternate measures were needed. Dragging on my boots, I yelled to Jeff to put the hose on “shower,” and ran outside with the intent of finding some sand to smother the log. I rushed to the garden and threw open the shed. No sand! So I started digging up garden soil to smother the log (plan B). Fortunately by then, Jeff had completely drowned the log, and it was no longer smoking.

We stood there silently, staring at the wet charred remains for a while before heading back into the house.

When we got inside, we were greeted by two excited kids saying, "Can we do that again? That was fun!"

Sometimes, just when you give up on somebody, they turn around.

For example, remember the whole situation with my in-laws? Since Jeff, the kids and I were doing our own thing on Christmas Eve, we held a Holiday Open House, primarily to give us a chance to see his brothers and their families. I didn't post an update because I didn't want to get more annoyed, but, long story short: NONE of Jeff's family came to the open house. Not even Ali. Good thing we decided to invite my family and our friends, so we still had a decent turn-out. It was just such a bummer that the people we were throwing the party for couldn't even bring themselves to attend.

So, basically, Jeff and I wrote his family off. After receiving just one card from them and no phone calls or gifts this holiday season, we decided that our energy would be better spent on people who care enough to share themselves with us and our kids. We shipped them all their hand-knit Christmas gifts and called it a day.

Then, this afternoon the phone rang. I answered it and was greeted with a female voice saying, "Jenni? It's J!" (my non-evil sister-in-law). She called to invite us over to their house to celebrate the birthdays (Jeff and his brother D share the same birthday, 2 years apart). How surprised was I? It's a good thing we don't have video phone, because the look of shock on my face would have been difficult to conceal. It appears we have an olive branch! I'm not going to think that this means his family is finally going to embrace us and our kids fully, but it is a start.

And really, everything has to begin somewhere.

My regular readers know that I love to knit. Every night, after we put the kids to bed, I sit on the couch, knitting while Jeff and I watch TV. It has driven Jeff a bit crazy because he hates to sit around doing nothing. And for him, watching TV is not the most productive use of his time. I don't know how many times he said, "I wish I had something like knitting that I could do while we watch TV." Finally, about a month ago, I said, "Why don't you learn to knit."

His response: a blank stare, punctuated by a couple of blinks.

So I dropped the subject, and continued knitting my hat. Then I found a video on YouTube called "Real Men Knit," and I showed it to Jeff. The video is kind of funny, if you have a few minutes to check it out. There is another video called "The Manly Art of Knitting" in which an older gentleman knits a hammock out of rope with a pair of sharpened pool cues. I mean, really! I know these guys want to make knitting seem manly, but that's going a bit too far, don't you think?

It wasn't until I suggested to Jeff that he try knitting a fisherman's cap, that his ears really perked up. I could just see him thinking, "I could knit a fisherman's cap without seeming like too much of a sissy." So, he grabbed some bulky yarn, the fattest needles I have (size 13, for you knitters out there), and after a mini-tutorial from me, set to work. His first hat was this lopsided little gem which Eamon wore on our fishing trip. The second hat was much more symmetrical, and he kept that one for himself. For his last project he made a hat and scarf, which he gave to his daughter Ali for her 18th birthday this weekend (HAPPY BIRTHDAY ALI!).

The kids have even joined in on the "family knitting circle." Vika began knitting a year or so ago, and she is working on a scarf for her Dora doll. Eamon mostly just tangles the yarn into an elaborate mass of knots. It doesn't matter though. We're all sitting together on the couch, chatting as we work on projects and drink our tea and milk.

* When writing this post, several cheesy endings came to mind - so now, it's Pick Your Own Ending time! Please select one ending from those below, and use it to finish off the story. Or, if you have another suggestion, drop it into my comments.

1) Knitting our family closer together with each stitch.
2) Tightly weaving our family bonds.
3) Becoming more attached with each knit and purl.
4) Knitting the ties that bind.
5) I think that ties it up nicely.

Happy Labor Day everyone!

The other day, I learned a very important lesson. It all began when Jeff, who is a realtor, left his suit coat hanging on our cupboard door. It was right in the way whenever I had to get into the cupboard, and was getting pretty annoying. Adding to my irritation was the fact that if I left something out in the dining room for even a day, Jeff would be constantly reminding me about it and asking me to put it away. Since I hate that, I decided not to nag Jeff about the coat. However, I also would not be putting it away for him. So it hung there... for three days. During the third day, as I moved aside his coat for the umpteenth time, I muttered, "I wish Jeff would put his freakin' coat away!"

Unbeknownst to me, little ears were listening to my words and making mental notes. When Jeff finally took down his coat on the fourth day, Eamon said: "Oh good Papa! Mama said she wished you would put your freakin' coat away!"

Jeff walked around the corner, with his arms folded across his chest and eyebrows raised, looked at me and said, "Oh really?"

Uh oh ....

I tried to back-peddle, but really, there was not way getting out of that one.

Lesson learned. Keep my complaints about my husband to myself. It's just safer that way.

I believe I mentioned before how Jeff and I have been enjoying the show, Deadliest Catch on the Discovery Channel. Never in a million years did I think I would be interested in a show about crab fishing. But the 40-foot waves, freezing ice and salty fishermen completely drew me in. Plus, Sig RULES.

When watching the Deadliest Catch marathon on Saturday, Jeff said, "We need to go crab fishing!" I was willing to humor him at this point, so I said, "Yeah, that could be fun." Well, Jeff took the ball and ran with it. Bright and early Monday morning he woke us all up and loaded us into the car to go crab fishing in the Marin Headlands. Now, I'm not a morning person on the best of days, but after a late night reading Harry Potter, I was feeling downright crabby (like the way I slipped that pun in there?). Jeff's enthusiasm could not be dampened, however, and as we made our way towards the Golden Gate Bridge, my spirits began to lift.

Fortunately, crabbing in San Francisco is nothing like crab fishing in Alaska. We dropped our pots from the safety of a pier, and set out a few fishing lines for good measure. The kids ran around chasing sea gulls and pigeons while Jeff baited hooks and I gazed at jellyfish bobbing slowly in the water below. We were also surprised a couple of times by a huge sea lion that surfaced with a loud grunt right below us. We didn't catch much - a few baby bullheads, a rock crab and a dungeness crab (both of which were too small to keep), and some jack smelt. As far as fishing goes, the trip was not a successful one. The frigid wind and fog also lessened our enjoyment of the day somewhat (check out the clothing we are wearing, and keep in mind that it was July 30th. Summer in San Francisco!).

Despite these drawbacks, we had a great time. Vika caught the most fish, and by the end of the day, fancied herself to be quite the fisherwoman. She followed Jeff around, shoving squirming worms and smelly sardines onto hooks, while Eamon and I huddled together on the pier, trying to get warm. The day ended with stone skipping lessons on the rocky shore (Vika and Eamon need a lot of work in this area) and a quiet drive home, thinking about the next time we would go out crabbing.

Today, Jeff decided to give me a much needed “lock-down,” during which I could hole up in the bedroom and finally begin reading Harry Potter. I made some tea, shut the door, turned the lock, and settled in for some quite me time. I cracked open the book and began reading Chapter 1. My solitude was quickly broken by Eamon pounding on the door and Vika singing into her karaoke machine in the next room. So, I put down the book, grabbed some earplugs, shoved them into my ears and began reading once again. I was able to enter into the story and read undisturbed for over an hour and a half.

Then, through the muffle of the earplugs, I heard a rumble downstairs that was great enough to shake the house. This was closely followed by another. Somewhat alarmed, I put down my book and looked to the clock. 5:45 pm. Surely Jeff should have come up and got me by now. If something was wrong, he would call up and let me know. I listened intently for a few moments but heard nothing else, so I went back to the chapter I was reading. However, it soon became apparent that the house was too quiet. Feeling a bit unsettled, I decided to break my lock-down and see what was going on.

When I opened the bedroom door, one of our cats went scurrying down the stairs. That’s strange, I thought… the cats aren’t allowed upstairs... Sure enough, the child-gate on the stairs (meant only for our cats) was open. “Hello,” I called. “Are you guys there?”

Silence.

At this point, I began to get a little nervous, but figured Jeff and the kids had probably gone outside. I looked out the window at his car, which was still parked in the driveway, and knew they couldn’t be far. When I went downstairs, both the front door and the back door were unlocked. We don’t live in a bad neighborhood, but our town is certainly not one in which you leave your doors unlocked. However, still thinking that Jeff and the kids were close by, this didn't concern me too much.

I checked the backyard first – nothing. Then I went out front and looked. Still nothing. I called for Jeff and the kids… no response. I checked the garage to see if they were working on a project in there. Again, nothing.

Now I was really getting nervous. Why would both doors be left unlocked, when Jeff and the kids were nowhere near the house? And what were those two rumbling noises I had heard about 15 minutes ago?

Feeling slightly panicked, I called Jeff’s cell phone to see where they were. The phone began ringing in the next room, so I knew he had not taken it with him – very unusual. Anxiety mounting, I decided to jump in the car and drive around looking for them. Maybe they had gone to the park a few blocks away? It was a 15-minute walk, but Jeff could have decided to go on foot instead of by bike.

I drove around the corner and down the block. I rounded another corner and took a side street. Then, in the distance, I thought I spotted a coral-colored shirt like the one Vika was wearing. Could it be them? As I drove closer, I spotted a little boy in dark blue T-shirt, and finally, I was able to make out Jeff’s form, walking with the kids. Vika and Eamon were skipping along happily, and Jeff was carrying a brown box. I pulled up to the curb across the street from them and rolled down the window.

“Hi Mama!” shouted Eamon. “What are you doing here?” asked Vika. Jeff smiled at me with a puzzled look and said, “What ’cha doin’ Jen?”

“Looking for you!” I responded. “Oh.” He said. “We’re out looking for dandelions!”

Dandelions. That’s what was in the box.

“You couldn’t have told me, or left a note?” I asked.

“Oh…. Sorry.” He said.

Sorry, indeed.

So, I drove back home (Jeff and the kids wisely decided to walk), muttering all the while about unthinking husbands and clueless children.

Later this evening, as I sat down to dinner (with a heaping side of dandelion greens), it occurred to me that I still don't know what caused the shaking and rumbling noises.

I guess I should just be thankful that it wasn't Death Eaters snatching Jeff and the children.