Montecito Mama

Step 1: Take three very loud, clumsy, and excited children with poor motor skills and no sense of patience and balance them on formerly white dining room chairs. Step 2: Coat entire area surrounding children with absorbent materials. Step 3: Strip children of any fabric that has hopes of being worn in public again. Step 4: Place a carton of eggs in front of said children. Step 5: Remove crumpled eggs from fists of children in order to place six cups of multi-colored food dye within their reach. WARNINGS: Six adult hands will be little match for six suddenly fast and determined child hands. Children will quickly decide that hands are better egg dippers than spoons, and delight in the colorful splash made as eggs are lobbed into dye cups. Hands will remain Easter colors for at least 24-hours. Step 5: 2 minutes, 48 seconds and 18 eggs later, take deep breaths. Another Easter is here.

Fed up with our teasing, Grayson moved out of the house last Saturday. He pitched a tent and staked his claim on the last bit of great American frontier (the backyard) with a pirate flag and a firm slamming shut of the zippers. His anger kept him company for the first 10-minutes, but his fury cooled and left him lonely and bored, so he came back in and packed some essentials for living off the land. Like a light saber, Beanie Babies, baseball cards, and a doll "for Lucie to play with when she comes to visit." All of this hunting and gathering generated an appetite, forcing another trip over enemy lines for the quintessential wilderness meal of peanut butter toast and bananas. All in all, the mystical wilderness utopia lasted a full 55-minutes before the sprinklers came on and there was a soggy knock on the sliding glass door. "Mom, if I move back in can we go see the Indians at the natural history museum today?" Sure, my little Davy Crockett.

Saturday night, 8pm. A little glaring. Shouting. Some getting in the guy's face. A revelation that his fingerprints are all over the crime scene. Bright lights and psychological manipulation. And still the suspect continues his tirade of undecipherable babble. In one last attempt to elicit a confession from the perp, "Bad Cop" Wagner throws Geneva Convention treaties out the window.

Every kid needs a grandma-wanna be like Auntie Pam, and Grayson is fortunate enough to have found this one. Together they are movie buddies, volleyball bench warmers, and hot dog aficionados. Wanna be a helicopter pilot when you are grown up? Go tell Auntie Pam! The woman has got ways to make your dreams come true. If only we could all have Auntie Pams of our own!

In honor of Dr. Seuss' birthday, Grayson's teacher invited some surprise readers to pop by the classroom at various times throughout the day. First on the list? Yep, Rob and yours truly performing a moving duet of "Green Eggs and Ham." (Rob played the cranky guy, a role he was born for.) My return to the classroom left me a little mathematically confused: how can a 1 adult-to-19 student ratio bring attentive and engaged results while a 1-to-1 ratio at home fails? Is there some formula I've not been accounting for?

I can't understand why it takes Rob so long to complete a simple honey-do project like fixing the leaky kitchen sink ...

There have only been a few moments that really rocked my world; sleeping with my brand-new husband on my in-laws sofa bed the day after our honeymoon, the plus-sign appearing on the pee stick, holding Grayson's hand as the anesthesiologist counted him down from ten. Well, the short list grew by one today -- I bought a hot glue gun. I drive a minivan, and now I own a hot glue gun. When did I get old? What's next? The 54-cup coffee urn? This life crisis, like the others before it, does end with tangible results. Two days of concentrated effort, one box of Lucky Charms, and lots of hot glue sticks helped Grayson to produce a Leprechaun trap so green and shiny that no wee little man will be able to resist its allure. (Even if the rainbow was forced to end a bit prematurely after Lucie ate the yellow marker.) The outside may say old lady these days, but the inside is pure child-like imagination.

On this day full of green snotty noses, phlegmy coughs and hours of Teletubbies, I'm denying my pessimistic tendencies and focusing on THINGS THAT DON'T SUCK: Cold cereal, TVs in the back of airplane seats, Swifer floor mops, my mom's twice baked potatoes, DVRs, Farmer's Markets, Netflix, Doritos, flip flops, my iPhone, the first half-hour of any Indiana Jones or James Bond movie, public libraries, remote controls, Haagan Daaz ice cream.