Beach Trip '07

The first time we all rented a house at the beach, we were 23-25 years old. It rained. We stayed drunk for 2.5 days, listening to Ben Folds Five and daring each other to swim in the rain.

The second time was several years later. "We all" was a slightly different set of people. We listened to a lot of "This American Life" on the iPod and I was pregnant. The so-called lodge was a roach-infested trailer, but the upside of staying in crappy conditions on a deserted island was finding lots of perfect sand dollars on the untouched beach. I wrote Lucy's name in the sand for the first time, and looked at it until the waves came to take it away (my first hint she was a girl).

This year (and there have been a couple of trips in the interim), we rented a great place just off the beach in Port Aransas and the trip included four kids, lots of games, naps, sun and good food.

Water, Water Everywhere

We've got too much of it at the moment, but there are lots of people on our planet who don't have enough. If you're an American Express cardholder, you can get Amex to donate money to provide safe drinking water to children in Africa (among many other worthy causes).

How's that Ark Coming Along?

This morning when I arrived at work, I saw two cats huddled under a car taking shelter from the rain. They looked at me expectantly, as if to say, "Are you Noah? Strange. We were expecting a beard."

This rain has got to stop. Our carport is flooded. Our back patio is wading pool that may soon be higher than our slab. I have seasonal affective disorder. My Mexico tan has faded to a pale that self-tanner can no longer remedy.

Seriously.

What is Attractive When You're Three

Last night on the way home from Pie's house, I was sitting in the back seat with Lu and Justin Timberlake's "Rock Your Body" came on. I LOVE JT. He is everything I wanted Michael Jackson to be in 1984. We sat in the back seat, both of us nodding our heads in the grooviest way two white girls can.

"Who sings this song, Mom?"
"Justin Timberlake. He's Mom's boyfriend."
"Why?"
"Because he is very handsome."

She thinks for a minute (maybe about what a boyfriend is, what handsome is, why I am even thinking such things when I am married to her father), then asks:

"Does he have a bike?"

Lucy the Brave

Last Monday, Lucy started a new Montessori school. It's more like real school, as opposed to the Montessori-leanining daycare she's been attending for the past year and a half. We loved her old school, but we were ready for her to move to something a little more structured, with smaller ratios and more instruction.

It felt like she was ready too, because she'd begun to have problems at the old school. On her last Thursday there (which ended up being her last day because she got sick), she BIT a kid because he wouldn't hold her hand like she'd asked him too. Her teacher explained that Lucy had always been bossy, but now that the other kids were getting to be more developed, they didn't like it. Lucy defended herself by saying that she asked him nicely and she had only bitten his shirt.

And so she escaped being a pariah by mere days. This fresh start has big, cheery classrooms (inside a seemingly abandoned, 60s-era strip mall). It has Spanish, gymnastics, karate and tennis. It has COMPUTERS (not unlike the ones I used to learn to program BASIC when I was nine, but still, computers). It has a school bus.

Lu started the week with great anticipation and a successful first day. But by Wednesday, she was scared of taking a nap. By Thursday, she was fretting and losing sleep over going to school at all. The kid had insomnia. She wanted me to rock her in the green chair and "just talk about school, okay?" I tried to ask questions and focus on the positive, but all she could tell me was that she didn't want to go to school, she didn't want to take a nap, and she didn't like the friends at the new school. She didn't want to talk about school, just to talk her way out of going. Her anxiety was heartbreaking.

Friday morning was hell. Our only comfort was that Mrs. Robinson, her gentle genius teacher, was able to calm her, and she made it through lunch. Saturday, she woke up happy and then she remembered...school. "I don't want to go to school!!!" Not Saturday, Sunday, Monday, never. She'd stay home by herself with her guys and Duck. "I won't be lonely, okay?"

Then Saturday night, she and Granny had a slumber party. Being away must have helped her get some perspective on the whole school thing. By Sunday, she was telling us she wanted to go to school and take a nap. She woke up this morning and said again that she wanted to go to school and take a nap. She said she didn't need to bring a Duck or anyone because she was really big. I told her she should have options: maybe we should take someone just in case. She decided on Baby Rosie.

"Babe, are you sure you don't want to take Duck?"
"I just want Baby Rosie. Duck and Stripe can stay in the car."
"But won't Baby Rosie be lonely? You should take Duck to keep her company."
"Then Stripe will be lonely in the car."
"I will take Stripe in the office with me."
"Duck and Stripe can be company at your office and I will be company with Baby Rosie."
"Okay."
"And when I get to school, I'll have Baby Rosie and I'll wear a big smiley face, because Mrs. Robinson wants to see a smiley face."

And she did. She said "Bye, Mom" and asked for hugs and kisses over and over again, with manic forced happiness masking her tears. I am not sure if she did it for my sake or her own, but watching her made me proud and sad. I realized why she wanted to leave Duck behind: it's hard to keep a stiff upper lip when you're sucking your thumb.

Swimming Lessons

A couple of weeks ago, Lu took swimming lessons at Tom's Dive and Swim. She learned to float, (sort of) do the elementary backstroke, and only have underwater tea parties when her teacher wasn't looking. The funniest part: the goggles. Every time she puts them on, I laugh.

Olé!

Mexico was perfect, even with the added cost and heartache of the passport drama (it may have even made it that much sweeter). Here is where we stayed:

All we got for Lu was this lousy hat:

Thanks, Condi!

I knew you'd come through! I just wish you'd warned me, girlfriend to girlfriend, that after very little sleep, it's best to wear makeup in a picture that needs to last ten years.

Um, Condi?

Not trying to get all "Fatal Attraction" on you. I'm just freaked out, you know? It's my vacation. I'm a voter. I need a vacation. Of course, I didn't vote for you, or anyone in your administration or general vicinity. Except Colin. You know you miss him. I do, too.

There's nothing you can do. I mean, I don't want to be all show-offy, like "my best friend is the secretary of state." Because you don't know me (except through our correspondence, which has meant SO MUCH to me).

I am having some kind of free speech epiphany here. I almost deleted this whole post about OUR FRIENDSHIP because it occurred to me to be afraid that my concerns about my much-needed Mexican vacation, as expressed to you, the Secretary of State, would be held against me in my passport renewal process. I hope that is not true. I have not had enough sleep. But things are going great, Neocons. We're good. All good. Go peace. Go passport.

Sincerely,
Barbara K. Donaho

Dear Madame Secretary,

I know you're just trying to do your best up there at the State Department. Keep the bad guys out and all that. And I know that my trip to Mexico is really low on your radar, what with Iran and the Scotland business.

But, Condi (mind if I call you Condi?), I am soooo low on the radar. Right? I just want to go to Mexico. I just want to lie on the beach, while my deserving husband plays 72 holes of golf. I have no bombs in my shoes (BECAUSE THEY'RE FLIPFLOPS). I am guessing that when the courier/expediter dude comes to Chicago tomorrow, he's not getting your signature or anything. I just wanted you to know about my situation. So, anyway, good luck in the Middle East.

LYLAS,
kate