Last Night in the Very Late Early Morning

It's late.

I've tried all the remedies to sleep, but my mind is so filled this time of year, it's hard to imagine it will slow down.

Instead of sleepy,  I fall in to nostalgia, which is possibly the worst category; it's worse than plain sadness or melancholy, or insomnia. I think nostalgia is a purgatory for people who have a solid sense of recall and an ability to  include all of their senses when they remember.

It conjures up almost every place I've been-by smell, and vision, and emotion. The night is instantly filled with forty one years of life, instead of whatever became of this day.

I certainly relive all of the most recent moments that have happened when my feet were a little cold, when Christmas was around the corner, or upon us, but more likely my mind wanders back to 8, and 12, 19, and 22, to when I was a bride-to be, and days of new-motherhood.

I remember learning to ski with my "Unka Danke" (because that is what we called my mother's brother; we always had so many reasons to thank him). He pushed me down into the soft snow and taught me to get up on my own, then fed me soup from a thermos, and taught me how to open a beer. I never feared falling after that trip. Eight years old, and I mostly knew what you should always figure out: what is the the worst thing that can happen? Prepare for that, and everything else will be cake. Doomsday prepper in the making? Perhaps, but we have "go bags" for almost every part of our life. He gave me love and direction with no strings attached. His pragmatics dictated that he gave me distinct praise for my abilities and accomplishments- I always knew where I stood. I didn't know how rare his adjudication was until much later in life. And he treated me as an equal who just had yet to learn, never basing my identity on my age or gender.

When I am sleepy, and there is a chill in the house, I can remember being asked by my parents to help with my brother's gigantic Lego gifts that were from "Santa" because my parents had lost the patience to complete whatever Millennium Falcon or aircraft carrier was laying about in thousands of pieces (or maybe they knew how much I loved Legos, even though they were never my gift?). I spent hours on those December 24ths putting together set after set, and I was always in charge of the stickers.

I can remember that I slipped the neat bow off of the silver gift box (in the middle of the night) to see if my parents had purchased the right purse, so I would have the proper face of appropriate joy upon opening the gift, just in case they had gotten it wrong. I wanted to be disappointed alone so I wouldn't make them sad. (But they got it right!)

I remember lying, something I truly strive every single day not to do, to my parents for at least half of December one year, about who broke the foil-covered chocolate ornaments on the tree and ate part of each ball.  I took the blame so my little brother would not get in trouble...as if my parents really cared. He ate so many of the chocolate balls that no one paid attention to all of the candy canes I pocketed each morning.

On this chilly night, I have a strong feeling, mixed with a  solid haze about the years where I was still living with my parents, split between them since they had divorced. I remember the realization that I really had two sets of parents. There was a dinner when my not-yet-step sisters talked on about going skiing with friends and I wanted so badly to be a part of their world, yet unbeknownst to me, at my other house, I had a new ski jacket, boots and skis waiting for me under the tree. I was a pretty lucky kid.

That was a year when I knew that things had broken, but not forever. I knew my brother and I would never suffer the ill fates that some of my friends had: angry, sad parents, changing schools. With so many parents who really loved us, how could we possibly fail? It's been confirmed in my head, after all of the stories I've heard, just how great we had it, how lucky all of my siblings from both sides are to have so many, many, parents who love them. I say now that I have six parents: the ones I came with, the ones I gained, and the ones I married into. We have that many people loving us, caring about our future, and our children's future. I've got extras looking out for me and the ones I love.

When it is this cold and  I can't sleep, I can remember starting college, and there were so many new-to-me-religions. I was invited to go to Beverly Hills with my Jewish friends, and I craved the solid, persistent, unequivocal religion they experienced. They had family and religion and culture and education all tied-in-to-one thing. It made me understand Catholics better, and Buddhists, and Hindus, and Muslims. It made being a protestant seem bland, or undecided; I church hopped. I only knew I was not a Unitarian.

I can remember, on a cold day like today sitting in the 1st Congregational Church in Berkeley, with my very kind boyfriend trying to figure out how to be a critical thinker and a Christian in one fell swoop, something he had perfected, an armor he wore without shame or arrogance. The church was clapboard and painted buttercup yellow inside, and the pews were smooth; the coffee was weak, but it was served with a smile. None of those things were a good fit for me, not the boy or the little yellow church.

I can remember racing home for the holidays, the acrid smell of tobacco in the car as my best freshman-year friend and I traveled down I-5. Thirty-eight degrees, windows open, pretending that cigarettes and 87 mph in a two door Toyota Corona couldn't shave a moment off our lives. My dad told me I should wait a bit to call him the next time I drove down, because he could do math, and knew that we never should have arrived that quickly.

In this sleeplessness, I feel the physical ache of working at the Big Blue Logo Box store I ran way back when, as the store manager. Looking at my watch (!) 4:45 pm on December 24, knowing that it would take me an hour to get to the airport, and my flight left at 6:10 pm. I remember thinking that the only place to be for Christmas was somewhere in Orange County, where the sun is shining, the grass is green, the orange and palm trees sway. I can remember the joy of exiting the plane wearing the most awesome all-wool sweater skirt and jacket with a black bowler hat and the most precious Mary Jane character shoes, with dark black tights, and realizing that upon disembarkation, I looked like someone heading to Annie Hall's funeral.

The cold, the not-sleepiness, makes me remember the nights I spent poring over books and charts trying to figure out who I would be, and the timeline it should follow. I thought my security, my future, my lifetime happiness, was most strongly knotted to marriage, which would bring me children, and a spouse, which would, in turn, garner praise from my parents. And I had hoped I would find satisfaction for myself, because for whatever shortcomings I have, I always thought my children will be better than I will ever be. I thought my awareness of my weaknesses would somehow give them strength. At the time, with all of my education and desire to succeed in the business world, I really thought I had only two tasks to get right: be married to good man, and be a good mom.

But even now on this sleepless winter night, I can feel the anxiety of trying to be the right person, the right girlfriend. I can feel the needs-to-be written-about experience of my underwear, every piece of of lacy bit I couldn't afford, falling out of my suitcase and down the airport luggage carousal, a ten foot drop, waiting to be swept up into the arms, of what I thought at the time, was going to be my father-in-law. I can remember, as my nose chilled and my cheeks pinked to a hue unknown at makeup counters, thinking that perhaps, I had just become a story in some other family's life.

Numbed hands and toes, I remember declaring my love for Descartes as snow fell around us, feeling warm in what what was surely a blizzard. I remember the longest drive home that day in the windy Jeep.

I remember the cold fog at Fort Tejon on December 26th, 1996, when my now-husband, unwittingly admitted me into his life forever by asking me to marry him, and smell of the oranges we bought miles later at a roadside stand. I wore a yellow sweater that was donated last year by accident. The sky was so very blue that day.

And I practically relive the nausea of being in a fold-out bed in my sister-law's house, suffering from the worst food poisoning. I lay dying in their front room praying the world would end because my body was dissolving from the inside out, knowing that if I had not already been engaged, my groans alone would have heralded the end of my relationship.

The cold reminds me of how warm my children's little bodies are when they crawl into my bed in the morning, making my bed a tumble of  joy I didn't know could be so very big and heart-fulfilling. I think of Descartes' giant 'Lumber man' jacket that he purchased in the middle of August in Montana, making it the best off-season purchase ever. I think of ice fishing, calculating whether my child was bigger than the holes we cut in the ice.

So many memories, so little sleep.

Hand, Hand, Frozen Fingers, Frozen Thumb

Squid interviewed me for this article about how children like ours handle truly cold weather.


1) How do your child's sensory needs color their response to cold weather?

Jake does not seem to notice hot or cold, generally speaking. If the covers fall off he curls into a ball. If he's hot in the summer he falls asleep next to his window on the floor. He loves the outdoors more than he dislikes the elements, and would happily play in our backyard well past the time a "typical" child would seek warmth. (This is a picture of Jake in our backyard in a little fish pond we no longer have because he would get into it whenever he had the chance no matter how cold it was outside.)

Because we have to be aware for him we try our best to clothe him in the most appropriate outfit for the cold. I try to wear a similar number of layers and fleece/wool combination so I can help gauge when he might be too hot or too cold. We spend hundreds of dollars each year to get him the new size of snow overalls (bibs), snow boots and gloves. Of all the children in the (extended) family, it is most important to get Jake's outfit right, since it seems to make or break any snow event for the rest of us.

If Jake is not comfortable he will whine or drop to the ground repeatedly until we remove him from the situation or correctly diagnosis his need. Once we figure out the problem, he will generally have a little more patience for us to fix the problem, but if we don't he lets us know he's done.


2) Can you relate a particularly memorable, related incident?'
My family loves to ice fish, and even hosts an ice fishing even each year (you should come... it's great fun!). To get to our favorite lake there is a very short hike, perhaps 30 yards up a berm and over the edge, then there is just a large bowl of flat easy walking. It seemed simple enough, and we really try to do things as a family so we all ventured out. We had a complete outfit for Jake top to bottom, he was even amenable to hats then, and really the only thing that wasn't quite working were his boots. They were just a little bit too big. This would be manageable for most kids, but Jake also has low tone so every step he took his little foot popped out of a boot. Then Descartes tried to carry him, and every other step, a hat, or a glove or a boot would come off. It was mostly funny, but so exhausting. Luckily my husband is strong enough to carry Jake, and we are smart enough to carry extra socks. Jake recovered eventually, but he was so frustrated the day was cut short. (I am pretty certain this is a photo from that day.)

3) Have you had to modify your family's routine or lifestyle (or location) because of your child's response to cold weather?

We have realized over the years that Jake is happiest with 20 acres at his disposal, his parents watching from a distant perch on the porch of a log cabin. Since we no longer go to Montana every summer (why can't everyone else just stay married dammit? We did!) it is a bit harder to find a free range outdoor spot where we can see him and keep him away from traffic. Luckily my sister lives in South Lake Tahoe, with a large back yard and acres of woods behind her house.

Descartes and I made a plan several years ago to move to Tahoe. We love it there: supportive family, beautiful scenery, reasonable cost of living (compared to the Bay Area). We researched available businesses for sale, did due diligence on a sporting/outfitters store and began looking into financing. We started talking about selling the house.. the whole deal. We went to Tahoe on a Friday night, giddy with our plans, sipping wine and laughing with my sister and brother in law about the great life we would have. In the morning, after a fresh snowfall we went to play in the backyard. We bundled our tiny new baby in a bunting and set her on the snow. All wrapped up she giggled and watched as her brother ran around the yard. Watched as he flailed and tore off his hat, and his gloves and hopped out of his boots. We got his boots back on, eventually. We ended up duct taping his gloves onto his jacket with his hands sort of stuck in them. I'm not sure he has ever worn a hat since that day 3 years ago.

When the gloves came off again we were done with the whole thing. Exhausted, we stripped Jake down inside the house and realized that we could never live in a climate any less temperate than the Bay Area. Overnight lows in the 30's perhaps, but winter days in the teens? Though the benefits of family support were so tempting, the idea of epic struggles every single day just to stay safe was just too daunting. If not winter and gloves there would be summer and sunglasses. Tahoe kids wear gloves half the year, and things like hats and sunglasses year round.

We were very sad. It is hard for us to admit defeat; we make plans and we execute them. We don't know what our family would be like without autism so we just keep plowing on making choices and dancing through this life, and most of the time we are happy and strong, but sometimes we are stopped. Of course we could make it work, living in a place with "real" seasons, but would that be fair to Jake, being tortured daily for months on end? Would it be fair to his younger sister to have to wait 20 more minutes each day while we get her brother dressed, the little girl who already has to "wait", "hold on!" and "be patient" constantly?

We still play in the snow, but this New Year's day we played in the front yard, as close to home as we could be, and instead of wearing gloves Jake just went inside every 15 minutes or so and got warmed up. Sure we missed the big sledding hill, but we made a cool snowman and an ice fort, and all of the kids were happy, which of course, kept all of the parents happy too.

First there was Hawaii... No, It was Santa Lucia?

So there was this whole "Holiday Season" thing, which made me realize a few things:

I am incredibly blessed, and to find myself going from Honolulu's 82 degree sandy beaches to the shores of Lake Tahoe all in a two week period? That is truly amazing. To the left is a photo of Mokolii in Kaneohe Bay. We went on a little driving tour to get Lucy to take a nap.

I love my family. I was able to see 4 out of 5 siblings, and their spouses and children. Plus all sorts of parents. We are really all over the place on many topics, but one thread that runs through each of us, no matter which side, is humor. We are a funny bunch. There isn't a stone face among us. I have laughed and smiled so much lately, and for that I am grateful.

Life really is more relaxing when there is a mai-tai in mommy's hand.. or daddy's or both.

Descartes and I really like each other. We enjoyed each other's company when we were alone and when we were with my family, and I cannot think of a single disagreement we had then entire holiday break. Now this afternoon was a whole 'nother story. just kiddin'.


I don't ever need to swim with dolphins ever again. They were cool and all, but after Lucy got bonked in the head (I cannot upload the video clip right now, but I will someday.) I decided that it is sort of like horse back riding for me. I could probably be convinced to do it again, but I will never seek the adventure out on my own (unless I am taking a pack mule into the Grand Canyon, and then, that's a pack mule). That's Lucy being cross-eyed pointing to where the dolphin bonked her, but really the dolphin bonked her on the left side of her head just below her temple. By the way that is a really *really* awful sound to hear.. you know the sound of a 500+ pound animal bashing its head into the skull of your youngest child.

Lucy loves all things dolly and girlie, but she will take. you. down. in a wrestling match. She is truly turning out to be the kind of little girl I hoped we'd help grow. As much as she makes me crazy, she is full of spunk and vigor and beauty and compassion. In Hawaii she kept up in the pool and on the beach with her cousins, all older. She glammed it up with sunglasses and sundresses, but had no trouble covering her entire body with sand, rolling about in its warmth. She was a joy to watch. She had a very hard time when all the slumber parties were over.




Jake still really loves off-roading. We went off-roading at Kualoa Ranch and were lucky enough to have an entire Pinzgauer to ourselves. Jake was so happy. Lucy loved it too. The best money we have ever spent in Hawaii. I love hearing Jake laugh. He's been laughing and smiling so much lately. He won "best grandkid" in Hawaii, due to his complete lack of crying or tantrums, unlike the other munchkins who each had to be reminded at least once that there is "no crying in Hawaii." He received a lot of praise from my parents and I could tell it made him happy. He was a great kid on the plane both there and back, and of course he loves our drive to Tahoe.


We need to buy a small camera. We borrowed one from Descartes' daddy, but it busted itself up half way through the Hawaii trip. I may never get the photos off that card.

I realize the more fun we have the less photos we take... or I take at least. I had my camera in my hand the entire time on the off-roading trip so it wouldn't fly away, that's why we have so many from that day, but I really had a great time for two weeks, and the thought of taking out and caring for a camera seemed too much a barrier. I was actually being with my family in the present.

We came back from Hawaii, unpacked our shorts and threw in sweaters and long johns and went to Tahoe the next day? the day after?

For New Year's Eve we somehow convinced Nonie and Bob Bob to watch all four of our children and Jaster, Demanda, Descartes and I went to downtown South Lake at State Line. I cannot remember the last time I laughed that much in a single night. We played Taboo! for a long time and I'm not sure why but it turned my husband into the most hysterically funny super competitive crazy person. I'm sure the cocktails helped. Next year we are going to send the grandparents to the hotel with the kids and stay at home with the hot tub, the kitchen and the Wii. It was a great way to begin a new year, laughing. And while I had a lovely NYE last year with Squid and Seymour, I must say it was great to wake up to room service and working plumbing.
(I spent New Year's day 2009 cleaning out the pipes in front of my house... so not awesome.)

We drove down to Cabella's in Reno one day with all of the family in our Adventure van... so cool to have the whole family in one car like that. I sat in "the mommy seat" which means I handed out crackers and juice to all 50 kids. Nonie sat in the last row. She gets carsick. We laughed a lot. Our children took over a 125000 square foot store with no problem. At one point I am fairly certain they gave my sister 100 tokens for the shooting arcade if she would get the three, three year olds out of the ice fishing tent displays.

The weather in Tahoe was beautiful. I love it when we are trying to get kid to take a nap and we can take a little jaunt up to Emerald Bay. That's Fanette Island in the photo. The only island in Lake Tahoe.. and I get to see it when we are just cruising around. jeesh. I am so lucky.




My many many thanks so Grandpa PJ and Grandma Corky for the lovely trip to Hawaii and to Jaster and Demanda for hosting us in Tahoe.

Time flies...

when you are having as much fun as we've been having. We went to Tahoe last Wednesday night and I am so glad we left for the holiday weekend early. I had Jake's aide at the house keeping the kids busy while we packed the car, Descartes still worked a full day and it only took us 4 hours to get there so we still had an evening with grown ups once we got there.

We went to the beach on the third. Baldwin beach, where we baptized little Lucy (that seems like a hundred years ago...). It was so great to have Jake be happy, happy and comfortable in/near the water and in the sand (since sorting earth has been a recent favorite past time of his). He waded into the lake, smiled a lot and didn't steal any toys from small children (once we gave him his own shovel). Lucy was very excited, and I am proud to say that as much as she really likes her Sugar Plum Fairy ballet costume, she was even more eager to chase the minnows in the lakeside stream. "It tickles!" she exclaimed loudly enough for the minnow to swim away.

It is a personal goal of mine to raise a daughter who is just as comfortable in hiking boots as she is in high heels. I am also hoping she can easily tie a tippet to the leader, tie a bow tie and tie an apron. Somehow right? She can choose who she wants to be, but I want her to learn all the parts so she can know what she is and isn't choosing. Does that make sense? Anywhoo. I was thrilled then when the a couple of days later, Lucy stood there in a little dress calling for me to check out the biggest ant she'd ever seen. That's my girl. No Lucy leave the ant alone he doesn't need to be on your finger...

It was tiring at the beach, the sun, the altitude, ensuring that one of us was with each kid at all times. They can't really be managed by one person right now. Not with water and parking lots and other families. Descartes was able to give Jake some physical space and let him get about 3 yards away. I let him get to about 5 yards at one point. It's hard to give him the space and independence he so desires without putting us too far back should he need us, quickly as he sometimes does. We're trying, and I know he had a really good time. Of course we should have left 5 minutes earlier, which would have been just a few minutes after I said to Descartes, "We should go, it's probably about time for Jake to poop, and I don't want to deal with the swim diaper." Ah. If I could only listen sometimes...perhaps that will be a gift I receive in my 40s. That part of the day sucked with a capital SUCK, but I carry wipes and nitrile gloves and baggies and extra pull ups and clothes and a loving husband who is willing to grab any one of those things, or hold a struggling kid even when I use my highly-directive voice. It worked out just fine.

We went for a bike ride on the Fourth of July. It was pretty much a perfect day. We moved much faster than vehicular traffic that's for darn sure, and the kids had a giggly, napping sort of time. We rented trailers and bikes because we had been too tired to bring our own, but, as it turns out our bike trailer for Jake is actually a lot taller, longer and perfect for him. His head stuck out the rented trailer so he had no sun shade, and with a flick of his foot his toes could just reach Descartes' back tire. Let me tell you how (not) awesome it is to watch your hypotonic child throw his foot over the edge of the bike trailer, have his gigantor size 4 shoe get caught under the bar and have his ankle roll around until his foot popped back out. I was riding behind the boys, with Lucy in my trailer, and I was fairly certain that not only was I going to watch my son's foot fly off, but I was possibly going to run it over, thereby making my life truly a horror story. With fairly constant "reminders" Jake stayed inside the trailer doing wacky things like nearly lying on his back with his feet at the top,tapping his feet on the bar that attaches the trailer to the bike, and occasionally flipping his $60.00 shoes off. The good news is that the ice cream at Camp Rich was cheap. $2.50 for a huge HUGE kid's scoop, and that pretty made much made us forget that it was really scary. We will probably do it again.

Saturday we went to the South Lake Tahoe rec center park which is all gated-in HURRAH! I am so happy that people have figured out that parents feel safe when their kids can't run into the parking lot. It has a terrific play structure and swings and a volleyball court, and picnic tables. Lucy went on the big kid swing for the first time; all by herself with no back-up. I teared-up of course. She never really was a baby, but she is just catapulting past the milestones.

Jake spent a lot of time watching everything, sifting through the bark and sand. It is so hard sometimes to help him engage. I took him up on the play structure (something he does on his own at school)but he got panicky before I could help him on the slide. Perhaps he does have some depth perception issues? He did sit really happily cuddled against me on a park bench for a while. That was crazy. It is so uncommon for Jake to sit and cuddle that Jaster and Demanda stayed back, afraid to interrupt the mood. It made me feel very close to him at just the right moment. I have been missing him lately, all the while spending more time than I normally do with him. How is it possible for me to understand him so intimately, guess so many of his needs, and feel so distant from him.
note to self: I need to make a list of the things I know make Jake happy, things we can do together since it is all too easy to let him go off on his own, scattering pebbles and sifting the bark out of my flower beds.

We had such a nice weekend it was hard to leave, but managed to get it together and head home early Saturday evening. Once again we skipped most of the traffic. Lucy was so tired she whined a lot of the way. Jake just smirked in her direction.

Spring Break...down

How am I supposed to get anything done if my son is home for two weeks straight and we have no spring break family vacations planned. Do people really take spring breaks? I mean after college?

Spring break was timed near Easter this year (which is the first time Easter has been this early since the 1800s, and won't be this early again for something like 230 more years) but nowhere near Pesach which isn't until April.

I am exhausted just thinking about this week. I am still having a little trouble getting Jake's aide to be timely. I don't know that she realizes that while I can't "write her up", I can look for a new aide. She is good with Jake, but waiting for help to arrive is really not helpful. She has spring break right now too, and I cannot quite understand why someone who needs to earn extra money wouldn't be jumping at the chance to work full-time for a week either. I mean it is not always an easy thing to care for Jake, but when I was younger I jumped at any chance I had to pay off my student loans, buy a round of beer or a new skirt from Gap. Just a different mind-set I suppose. If she can be on time for the next two weeks we will be okay, but I am now trying to figure out if she is the right person to be Jake's aide this summer. I hate looking for the right aide for Jake, for our family...

One summer we had Miss Emily help with Jake. She has a brother with special needs, so she just wasn't afraid of Jake, at all. I bought season passes to Great America, and after going with the two of them a few times I realized that she was perfectly capable of taking him by herself. They even went to the water park (she was a certified lifeguard too). I would love it if Miss Emily could come back, but alas, she is a little smarty pants and has taken her little Valedictorian self off to college, and spends the summer doing things like going to Morocco as an exchange student.

Jake was littler then. And he is only going to get bigger, and bigger. I am going to try to go to the Y after Descartes gets home from work this week. My back is wrenched again. Something down near my sacrum... in fact after a little research just now it looks like it is more like an inflammation of my sacroilic joint . Fanfkngtastic!

Shite I am falling apart. I keep asking my mom, Gloria.."At what age, precisely, did you begin to fall apart?" and she always tells me that we are different people blah blah.. but now I am guessing it was 36 years, 2 months. Descartes says my warranty must have just run out and that's why everything keeps breaking, 'cause isn't that how it always works in our life?

In other news we were in Tahoe for Easter, where Demanda and Jaster made yummy quiche and my sistow made home made cinnamon rolls that she let rise three times. She also made Easter baskets and made sure her little boys had matching outfits and precious white lace up shoes... so pretty much she is amazing. The church was packed this morning too, and there were a lot of new faces, which is always a good thing. Lots of babies and young families.

OH... and at the last minute, our younger brother Albert showed up with his new girlfriend. Three out of the four of us kids ended up together for a weekend... doesn't happen very often. They were both very sweet with all seventeen thousand kids (are there really only four of them?), and they showed us their very cool shoes...Fluevogs... which is apparently what I might have thought about purchasing if I was young and had disposable income. Albert's shoes are very cool, but I can't imagine Descartes ever wearing them.. and I also can't imagine them ever being made in a size 16! Al's girlfriend bought these .

I would buy these for me and these for Descartes just in case the Easter Bunny is still making deliveries this evening.



Christos anesti.

Ice Fishing!

Descartes ice fishing

Christmas 2007 Part Three

We stopped at home long enough to repack our bags, make a mess and pick up the dogs. We arrived in Tahoe at 10:30 this morning. Descartes got to work in the car on his new cell phone the Samsung SCH-i760 yeah I got one too... so so sosososososoooooooooooooo cool!

My other parents are here Walter and Momster. The house is crowded but it is beautiful and cozy at my sister's house. It keeps snowing on and off. Everything is set up so Jake and Lucy are comfortable, my dad will keep us all well-fed, and having a mom around to help is always a relief.

I play Santa and hand out all of the silly little things I have found for Demanda, Jaster and the boys. The Backyardigans guitar is a hit. (Descartes and I get it right most of the time... we sent his sister's girls a karaoke machine with High School Musical tracks... oh yeah!)

Lucy loves playing with her cousins and Jake is being very careful not to step on any babies.
Once again.. I am the luckiest person in the whole world.

Friday Night.

Okay, so we got a babysitter for our four monkeys on Friday and decided to go to Dory's Oar, Fremont Bistro Tudor pub...whatever you want to call it.

We tried no less than four different tables when we arrived and went upstairs. We really couldn't get comfortable for some reason (is this foreshadowing?). It's a Tudor style building with a fancy pants new California cuisine restaurant downstairs and an"English" pub upstairs. The two parts of the restaurant do not mesh well at all, but we had had an okay time there recently and decided to try their tapas style dining one more time before calling the place a bust.

We sat down and promptly drank an entire pitcher of Newcastle Ale. We ordered six small plates. We got another pitcher. The six small plates arrives and of the six, perhaps two were correct. The fried sweet potatoes turned out to be red new potatoes sliced and sauteed in a nasty red, vaguely spicy sauce. The artichoke dip in a bread bowl turned out to be a Mediterranean artichoke salad in a vinaigrette. The "Spanish" olives were straight from Costco.

We tried to re-order. The waiter took the corrections and disappeared. The beer was gone. The food was dismal. I went to the bathroom. Down the front stairs, past the only exit, and through the white table cloth dining room. Just after I left the table, Descartes went down the back stairs to the men's room. Jaster and Demanda were upstairs at the table waiting for something, a beer, some decent food, anything.

On my way out of the restroom I decided to go back up the front stairs instead of taking the much closer back stairwell...because I smelled something funny. I have a "pregnancy" nose. Even when I am not pregnant I can smell sour milk through a closed refrigerator door, poopy pants from the second floor of the house, a hint of almond in a cake before it hits my step-father's very allergic mouth. I can just smell stuff.

I went past the pretentious bar, around the corner towards those front stairs and saw a billow of dark nasty smoke. A woman on a cell phone was standing near it

"Oh, Hmm It looks like there is, like, a fire or something." and she continued talking.

I threw open the front (and only) door of the building and lifted the new organza and other man-made material flammable curtains away from the fire and threw them over the door, both to prop it open and to keep them from catching fire. I revealed a newly varnished and highly-attractive wooden booth aflame. When they did the recent remodel it appears that they built this booth INTO the wall atop of an actually *not* defunct wall heater. It was, as my sister calls it, "butt-ass cold" on Friday night, so the wall heater, in its forgotten, half-covered state decided to try to heat the damn place, and kicked on...and set fire to the booth and the wall in doing so.

I paused for a millisecond. The flames were starting to leap up the wall a bit (and would have been in the curtains had Inot moved them). I yelled, "There's a fire. Call 911. Get me some water."

I turned around and grabbed a glass of water out of some one's hand and doused the base of the flames (I did try to avoid the heating element itself). I asked for more water. No one else was doing anything. I went to the bar and yelled "Get me some water, or call 911. It's your choice!"
A little whisper of a girl ran down the length of the bar (she was the bartender ?) and handed me a giant glass pitcher with about 20 ounces of water in it. I hip-checked some idget, a stocky, stump of a man who was standing there drinking chardonnay, to move him out of my way, then I did my best to strategically throw it at the base of the remaining flames. It was smoldering now.

I stuck my head in the kitchen window (right next to where I was standing).
The men inside were still cooking. I said, as nicely as possible "I know you're busy, and it's probably not your job, but there's a fire out here, and if you could please fill up that bin with water and hand it to me it would be very helpful." He did it without smiling or making eye contact, placed it on the other window and called out like it was an order up, "water".
I threw that on it too.

At some point during this, and between me tossing water, Descartes went back up the back stairs and found my sister who was letting everyone know that something smelled like fire, and probably they should all get out. Jaster, Descartes and Demanda gathered up all of our coats and hats and bags and covered their faces and made their way down the front stairs through the thick smoke and out the door. Demanda put her hand out to me, but I was still putting out the fire.

Descartes thought I was right behind him, realized I wasn't then came back in the door and said. "Jennyalice. We are leaving. C'mon."

As it turns out, he was a bit irritated with me for standing there in the midst of the chaos... he didn't realize I had a purpose. He grabbed my hand and we went out into the parking lot and into the car. I told Descartes why I had been "standing" there.

We drove off, hungry and reeking of chemical smoke. (The first person to our table thought we had been camping we smelled so bad!) We ended up at Edgewood Golf Club. A beautiful space with friendly service and amazing delicious food. We spent probably the same amount of money we would have at the pub, but drank champagne and had lobster bisque instead.


The strangest part of the evening for me.. and the part I can't really get over...

We skipped out on our bill. I have never skipped out on a bill in my life... even when abandoned by wait staff, we have always figured out about how much we owe.

Isn't that silly?

Still Laughing

Still laughing too hard to relay the "I put the fire out at the bar" story. But do you know how stooopid the average person is?

I never thought I would need to hip-check someone to get them out of the way so I could put out a fire.... or BEG the kitchen staff for some freakin' water!

The Lake is cold tonight...feels like snow, but there's no water around. The lagoon froze last night behind the house. This year it wasn't windy when it froze, so it will be smooth ice skating. Lat year there was a wind storm and there were huge scary ripples in the frozen slough.

Jake was such a nice boy today. He played with Lucy, pushing her swing. She wasn't very appreciative, but he was gentle and smiled the whole time. And he didn't run over any small children today at all!

It's Been A Loooong Day

Some days are longer than others.

Lucy cried nearly all day long. She would not nap. Demanda and I finally went to the grocery store with one of the four kids, leaving Lucy to scream in the kids' playroom and Jake playing on the deck, and Little Hawk scurrying around.

We bought some beautiful steaks. I asked Descartes what he wanted for dinner and he said, without even looking up from his laptop..."Something marbled." So we bought rib eye steak. Descartes worked from "home" here at The Lake, and was so good about really working all day long.

We had a glorious dinner...made extra lovely by the fact that we got all four children down for bed before we started. We opened champagne. I actually ate something. Everyone helped make the dinner.

I should live in a commune. Life is so much easier when there's more than one mommy.

Conference Time

I had Jake's parent teacher conference today. I nearly cried. Janet is such a grea teacher, and Anna his 1:1 aide, she loves him like he is her own.

Jake's IEP was just a few short weeks ago.. I think October 4th?. Since then there have been several minimum days and a whole week of school off (actually a week and one day). And wouldn't you know it, Jake has shown significant progress in nearly all of his goals.

We have always known/suspected that Jake knew colors, body parts, letters, numbers. He always looks liek he is "in there", but we have not done a very good job of clearly documenting what he knows...and when some of those "experts" come in to view him for school evals or whatever, it looks like his is a not-so-little boy who has no awareness, and no understanding of his environment.

Making clear goals...and a notebook to document.. and PECS cards, we have been able to nearly 'clean house' on colors (choosing the desired color out of a field of two, switching left or right for placement of desired color-- get it?). It was stunning to look at the little journal they have created and see how diligent the note taking has been and how excited both teacher and aide are about his progress. Calling it progress is sort of silly. Poor guy. He has known most of these things for years now I am sure, but this is really the first time we are really documenting what he knows. I think it will give us a better foundation to set expectations... and it will provide more continuity between class and home.

We are going to Tahoe tonight after my PTA board meeting. Traffic is lighter at 9pm right? Oi I am tired already.

just walking in the woods

Me and Demanda with our babies...

Pieces of April

A scene from the side of the road on our trip home from Tahoe on Easter Sunday. Most of the rest of my family was in Southern California