Monday, July 23, 2007

Voicemail

Transcript of a voicemail I had to leave at my office on Thursday:

"Hi Mary, this is Janice and I'm running about 5-minutes late for our 9 a.m. meeting. I couldn't find any shoes this morning; all I could find were potatoes where my shoes used to live. I finally figured out that Lucie had done some re-organization, and checked the potato basket only to find Grayson's pajamas. Some empty soda cans were in Grayson's pajama drawer, and finally, my shoes were stashed in the recycle bin. So I'm on my way in. Don't worry -- Rob will be on time because along the way I discovered his shoes in Grayson's closet. They had tortillas in them, but they cleaned up quickly. Poor Grayson, though; his only clean t-shirts were in the refrigerator. Anyways, I don't have potatoes on my feet and I'll see you in a few minutes. Bye."

Wednesday, July 18, 2007

Abnormal Traffic Patterns

After last night, I would definitely cast my ballot in support of widening the hallway to our bedroom. Or, at the very least, installing a carpool lane. What we actually need is a toll road to curb the traffic going in and out our bedroom door at 3 o'clock in the morning. Passage during working hours, completely free. Encouraged, even. Passage between the hours of 9pm and 6am, strictly forbidden. $10 fine for each violation. Those feet better hurt $10 bad before you consider walking through that door for a 4am foot rub.

My new bedtime routine will now include clearing a path between my room and each of the kid's beds, to make stumbling in the dark as efficient as possible. I'm training to do it without even opening my eyes, in a vain attempt to speed-up the going back to sleep process. The bruises are healing nicely.

I'll also be recycling any toys that have a history of performing their song and dance routines after dark - grandparents be forewarned. The irony of being woken up by "Rock a Bye Baby" (for the fourth time) is completely lost on me in my current state of exhaustion. If you happen to find that a Glo-Worm has been launched into your yard, still playing its snappy tune, it isn't ours.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Top 15 Moments from a 3-Week Road Trip





























15. Spending an afternoon being useful to my blind Grandma
14. Making my 4-month-old nephew, Noah, smile
13. Eating pizza on the sand during sunset at Seaport Village, San Diego
12. Requesting songs from the mariachi band with Aunt Grace
11. Introducing the kids to ballpark wieners at the Padres game on Fourth of July
10. Watching Grayson hit a single on the Petco kid's field
9. Laughing at Lucie's "Ooooo!" every morning when she re-saw the fountain in the hotel lobby
8. Sitting in the hot sand at Hotel del Coronado while the kids played on the rocks
7. Grayson's "YES!" after going on nearly all of the fast water slides at Knott's Soak City
6. Drip castles at La Jolla
5. Pina coladas delivered poolside in Palm Springs
4. Lucie keeping the pool deck clear of all those pesky flip-flops (and cluttering up the pool with a sea of floating shoes)
3. Rob and Grayson winning the "Fastest Slide" competition
2. Afternoon naps
1. Lucie's ruffled bikini-clad bottom

Friday, July 13, 2007

A 5-year-old walks into a bar ...

Hotel service just isn't what it used to be.

Lucie was napping on my chest, I was enjoying some rare quiet time by the pool, and Grayson was doing rotations on the waterslide. At least I thought he was.

My black sunglasses and wide-brimmed straw hat suddenly weren't disguise enough when I saw the bar staff being led towards me by my son. "Uh, hi," the barman stammered over Grayson's declarations of "Tell him, Mom!"

"Um, your son says he wants to open up a room charge for a pina colada." "Grayson!" I say, equally horrified and impressed.

"You don't even have to pay for it," Grayson assured me. "You just have to sign the paper. Look! I already got this beach ball from the gift shop!" I glance behind me at the pool-side cabana, the happy vendor waving back at his young customer.

"Sorry," I explained to the bartender. "What he would like is a pineapple smoothie. You can charge it to the room, and we'll keep him out of the bar for a few more years."

"Oh, that's okay," he replied. "He is a very well-spoken young man. He's been entertaining us all with descriptions of the merits of the different pools he's been visiting recently. Sounds like you all are on an interesting road trip!" Visions of Grayson saddled up to the bar regaling customers with tales of bikinis and polygamists and mommy and daddy's naps flashed through my mind in an instant. "You know," I said, "I think we'll have that pina colada afterall."

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Utah, here we come

Last week as Grayson and I shared a lime gelato street-side in LaJolla, he revealed to me that he is, in all likelihood, going to have to marry two women. "There are just too many beautiful girls in my class," he said. "Plus, I want to have lots of kids so I'll need at least two mothers."

Sunday, July 1, 2007

An eye for giving

I'm always thankful that Grayson isn't in charge of our fiscal spending. Otherwise we'd be the proud owners of a rocket fishing rod and gallons of moon sand and floam. But I was especially thankful to be in sole possession of the family credit card on my birthday last month, when Grayson revealed that the bike he got me was nice and all, but what he REALLY wanted to get me was an eyeball. "Huh?" I asked. "I've already got two good ones. You think I need a third?" He clarified that this eyeball would be a special one, one that could look all the way to Ripon so that I could see my mom anytime I wanted too. "And I would even pay for the doctor to wrench it in for you," he added. Sometimes, it really is the thought that counts.