Sometimes, when you take four children (none of whom has had a nap) to a winery, you have only a semi-relaxing time. And so do all the people around you (you know, the people who opted to leave their kids at home).
This is a picture of Tully, taken by his brother Tadhg (no, that's not a typo, it's Gaelic).
1. I am always surprised by the cold here. I see people in scarves in April and scoff...then suffer.
2. Everyone loves to discuss the weather. People are so proud of their testy little microclimates.
3. The Cow Hollow Playground is nowhere near Sausalito, but a trip across the Golden Gate Bridge is always a welcome detour.
4. Alex Glotzbach is the first child I've ever met who is louder than Lucy. She is my new favorite person.
5. "The other side of town" = 3 miles away.
6. Kangaroos are really boring unless they're jumping.
7. Being a full-time parent makes my actual job seem easier.
The vital stats:
Lu weighs 36.5 pounds.
She is 40-some-odd inches tall (Jason has a hard time remembering numbers and gossip). Well on her way to being 5'6" — which is pretty dang tall considering her parents.
She can hear everything (it turns out she has just been ignoring us).
She has 20/30 and 20/40 vision.
She got three shots, and she was really brave. While they didn't cover any specific developmental milestones at the check-up, I feel sure that whatever deals she is able to maneuver as a result of "being brave" will be proof of her mental fitness.
Yes, I mean "hasket." Lu was rhyming words and couldn't find a word that rhymed with basket. She came up with "hasket." Before I could even inquire about what a hasket is, she said, "Um, a hasket is...a hasket is a type of animal." And gave me a complete encyclopedia entry on the species.
Haskets (Hasketus cuddliosus):
• are furry and very nice.
• are not scary at all, not like monsters
• have big bodies and small tails.
• are kind of like foxes.
• rub you on the back very gently when they come up behind you.
• eat leaves.
• mostly live in San Francisco.
Maybe we will visit a hasket sanctuary when we are in the Bay Area in a couple of weeks.
On Saturday, we went to Pie's house for pheasant dinner (yum). Lucy, Laney and Sophie dyed eggs. See all Frank's gorgeous photos of the event here.
"...I will need bigger shoes. And bigger socks and clothes. I will be a lady."
As she tells me this, I am envisioning a 20-year-old Lu, wearing a purple t-shirt with a whale on it, pink capris and Mary Jane Keds with socks that don't match, this same scraggly hair. I hope her styling evolves in the next 16 years or she is going to be sitting in her dorm room by herself when she is a 20-year-old lady.
When we first moved to this neighborhood, we'd see an older man walking a three-legged dog. The man was tall and stooped like a big sea bird, angular and bellied, always dressed in slacks and a button-down with rolled-up sleeves. The dog was some kind of shepherd, with a black and white coat and perky ears. The man limped like his right leg hurt him. The dog had no hind right leg at all. They walked up the street in rain or shine, a beleaguered but happy pair.
Until the day the man walked alone. The great, albatross-shaped man limped down the street by himself, and he has walked dogless every day for three years or so, no matter the weather. I see him and construct the life he walks home to: the TV dinner while watching Jim Lehrer, an hour or so working on his antique camera collection, a cup of tea and a crossword puzzle...who knows. Fair or not, the life I've made for him is lonely.
Until the man walked with a lady. Today, our albatross walked hand-in-hand with a petite white-haired woman. She was handsome, and they looked happy. Maybe she has been there all along, but has never liked walking. Or maybe they have found each other at last, an albatross and a dove.
"I am awfully quiet this morning, right Mom?"
"Yes, babe, you are. Are you tired?"
"No, I'm thinking."
"What are you thinking?"
"My thoughts."
We have tried to limit her gum chewing to one piece (sugarless) per day. At that rate, she will need 5 months to chew all the gum she received for her birthday (thanks, Michelle, for the ENTIRE SACK OF GUM). But she still hung her head in the trash can and cried on Sunday when I made her spit her gum out so she could eat dinner. I'm like, "DUDE, you have 350 other pieces of gum."
Lu turned four today. When I was around her age, I have memories of thinking, "Why are all these old people always talking about how big I am? Why does Aunt Nita have a beard?" But I remember little else. The me that existed 30 years ago is gone, and someday this Lu will be gone. Here are some things I know about her right now:
• Her favorite color is pink. And red. And yellow. And blue. And purple.
• When she passes gas, she blames it on other people. Dad. The dog. Duck.
• She's sneaky. For now, we are interpreting this as a sign of high intelligence.
• She knows how to use a computer. And an iPhone. And a digital camera.
• When she plays make-believe, she assigns foreign-sounding names to everyone. She also has a dog named "Challenging." And she explained to Jason that "ingenious" is the French word for "pretty."
• She can add and subtract.
• She loves to draw and cut and glue things, then use tape to stick them on the wall. Throughout the house, at Lu level, her artwork is displayed.
• Right before she falls asleep, she sucks her thumb furiously and twirls Duck in the air on the other hand.
