Montecito Mama

After suffering from constant ear infections since November, Lucie had tubes implanted in both of her ears at 6:30 this morning. In his post-surgery consultation, the surgeon said that both eardrums were full of mucous and infection, which helped confirm the need for tubes and relieve my guilt for subjecting the poor little thing to a surgical procedure. Lucie's hair and skin still smell of anesthesia, she flinches at loud noises (and you can imagine how frequently those might happen around a 5-year-old boy) and her ears are filled with dried crud and blood and Betadyne. Other than that, as of 10 a.m., she is already on the floor trying to crawl (a little bit unsteadily) and eat her discharge papers. The next adventure will be getting three drops of antibiotic into each ear three times a day. Any professional cat wranglers out there willing to volunteer their services for the next three days?

Meet the newest Wagner -- Harry the beta fish (sorry, he's just not that photogenic). In his first 24-hours on Ribera Drive, Harry has already exhibited his unique fish personality. The first scare came on the initial car ride home from the pet store. "Pull over, Mom!" Grayson screamed. "I think Harry is car sick!" Upon closer examination, "Grayson, honey. That's not vomit. That's fish poop." This afternoon, every pet-owning parent's nightmare/longing: "Mom? Why is Harry laying on the floor?" With fish heaven explanations swimming through my mind, and a shared grimace between Grammy and I, I hesitantly approached the bowl only to find Harry on the floor of his bowl , happily treading water. Phew. He lives another day. On her last visit to Santa Barbara, Grammy arrived with a slingshot, and the visit prior to that began with a real sounding metal-scraping-metal saber. At least a fish doesn't require batteries.

You know your obsessive cleaning has turned into a disorder when your infant begins dusting before she can walk or talk. Even worse is her evident enjoyment. If only Rob could "catch" it ...

If you ever need to appreciate the good life that Santa Barbara has to offer, pay a visit to the Aquarium of the Pacific in Long Beach. It's like an underwater Chuck E. Cheese with $7 peanut butter and jelly sandwiches instead of pizza. The kids will love it all the same, and be begging for $36 stuffed animals souvenirs in short order, and you'll soon be looking upon that highway to heaven, the northbound Hwy 101, with renewed passion. Although you'll be tempted to flee the City of Angeles as quickly as possible, we have found one pit stop worth making. Olvera Street's "La Golondrina Cafe" makes a roasted vegetable burrito that tastes like fiesta in De La Guerra Plaza. The guitars sold in the vendor stalls outside the Cafe--not so good (especially when you'll be stuck with said guitar and a 5-year-old child in a moving vehicle for the next hour AT LEAST), but Mr. Churro next door to Cafe--muy bueno. Promptly after licking the last bits of cinnamon-sugar fr

I'm not the only member of the Wagner family to believe oneself a writer. This entry is from Grayson, right before Lucie was born: Once upon a time there was a love bug and he had great big teeth, but he didn't use them to bite anybody. He wasn't afraid of anything, not even monsters or crossing the street or hot lava. But he liked his mom and dad and brother and sister, and especially his big boy bed. One time the love bug saw some duckies crossing the street with their mommy. (You have to cross the street with your mommy or daddy or else you might get flat.) The duckies were going to a hotel because the policeman told them that water was going to come to their house. But the love bug didn't like hotels. He liked to sleep in his big boy bed until the sun comes up. You have to use dollars to sleep at a hotel, but if you leave dollars outside on the patio table, then the wind will blow them and God will get them just like He did my balloon. That is not a nice thing for

Flew to Phoenix for a work event yesterday (read here: escape from the ankle bitters, the laundry and the ants in the pantry). Started out the 9-to-5 grind with a pina colada poolside in record setting 91 degree temperatures. Finished up the day with a whole lot of Rembrandt at the Phoenix Museum of Art. What an unbelievable experience to suddenly find yourself standing face-to-face with his "Self-Portrait" as the Apostle Paul. Boy, this working gig can really get a girl down ...

Have you met my nephew??? (He's the one with the boxing gloves on.) Noah Henry Herrema is just a tiny little peanut, but ever so wise and knowing. When he sucks on his lower lip and looks at you with his giant blue eyes ... whew. Watch out ladies! He's a heartbreaker, and one-month old today. Happy birthday, baby Noah!

Just your average 87 degree Sunday in March! The kids smell like Coppertone, Lucie's intestines are trying to decide what to do with all of that sand and driftwood, Grayson STILL can't remember not to walk on the blanket, and my skin is tight with the first sunburn of the year. Yep, summer has come to Santa Barbara. Grayson's opinion on the fairer sex seemed to have changed overnight. Today he revealed over our frozen lemonades that he and the fellas take their morning snack on the smallest bench on the playground. The reason? They all cram together tight with one bun off, one bun on so that no girls can sit near them. Tonight I'm considering a move to Arizona, the one state in the union not to observe daylight savings and the one state whose parents didn't have to battle their children into bed tonight. Tomorrow, with the kids fooled into sleeping past 4:30am, I may reclaim my California pride.

Yesterday while we were taking a walk, Grayson asked me, "You know that we have to take care of all of God's creatures, right Mom?" "Of course," I said. "But especially dogs," he said. "Why especially dogs, Honey?" "Because they have four legs instead of two, so God had to work REALLY hard to make them. That's why."

Grayson was telling me in the car today, "Daddy liked you in school because you were the most beautiful woman in his class." I said, "Oh yeah? Who is the most beautiful woman in your class?" He thought about it and said, "Marina." "Okay, well besides your art teacher, who is the next most beautiful woman in your class?" "Probably Taya, because she always says, 'Graaaaaayyyysoooon! I'm a chicken and your bug, and chickens like to eat bugs, so you'd better run!" Sounds like true love to me. Can't wait to tell the story at the wedding reception.

No time for a Christmas letter this year, so the following conversation as Grayson and I put together the nativity scene will have to serve as your 2006 glimpse into our household: "Why does Jesus have to keep getting borned all the time, Mom?" "He isn't born every year, honey. Christmas is Jesus' birthday. We give gifts on Christmas to celebrate the day that Jesus was born." "And because Santa comes!" Insert here a long parental narrative of the Christmas story and the miraculous birth of Jesus and it's meaning to all mankind, as well as the sound of me patting myself on the back afterwards for being such a good parent. Followed by silence from Grayson. And then, as he examines the baby Jesus figurine: "You know, this baby doesn't look a thing like Santa, Mom." /May the miracle of Christmas overwhelm you this year!/