When Cece Met Darwin

At the dinner table tonight, we were all talking about the Walking with Dinosaurs show Marino and Cece recently went to see.

Marino: Remember how loud the show was, Cece?

Cece: Yeah! Mom, it was like, "Roooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrr!" They were so huge!

Marino: What would you do if you saw a live animal that big?

Cece: (Thinks for a moment) Probably kill it.

Jen & Marino: Kill it?!!!

Cece: Yeah, but only if it was a meat-eater.

Marino: Oh?

Cece: Yeah, 'cause we're meat!

The Ache of It

In hindsight, I think I subconsciously imagined having a child to mean that you would, essentially, have a child forever. That is, an infant, a toddler -- perhaps a child as old as five -- would live in my house with me always.

He or she most definitely would not continue to age alongside me beyond kindergarten, only to one day reach adulthood and forge a life apart from mine.

He or she would never be too big or too proud to cuddle against me before drifting off to sleep amidst sweet whispers of, "I love you, Mommy."

Ridiculous as it may sound, it truly only just recently occurred to me that my children won't be children for very long. Cece is already a kindergartener; Nico's hands & feet no longer have that silky, thin-skinned look of infancy. As much as I implore Cece to stop, she and her little brother keep on growing, day after day.

Normally when putting the kids to bed each night, I feel a little anxious for them to drift off to sleep so I can go back downstairs, get a few dishes washed, have a little quiet time to myself before I head back upstairs to bed.

But tonight, as Cece and I lay side-by-side in her princess bed, I hesitated to leave her.

I was consumed with the ever-looming future, as though I could peer through the curtain of time to the day when an all-grown-up Cece leaves our house, when I will be both comforted and heartbroken by the memory of this night, her arm thrown over me, mine over her, our cheeks nuzzling, breath falling into unison.

And I, this perfectly imperfect mother, was completely overwhelmed by the sweet ache of it.

A Memorable Morning

On the way to Cece's school this morning, Cece, Nico and I were driving along, enjoying the beautiful late-summer morning, listening to the radio and pointing out each and every single bus we passed. Nico, for those who don't know, is completely infatuated with all large things on wheels -- particularly buses.

"Look, Nico! A school bus!" Cece would yell.

"Daaaaat!" Nico would shout, as he'd point at and wave to the bus.

About half-way into our 10-minute drive, Annie Lennox came on the radio, singing "Pavement Cracks." The song begins quietly, gradually building in volume and pace up to the chorus. All three of us were bobbing our heads, while I sang and Cece tried her best to listen in and learn some of the lyrics.

By the time Annie got to the second chorus, all three of us could barely be contained by our seatbelts. Neighboring drivers must've thought we were on our way to the new Wiggles try-outs. :)

Cece said, "You know what, Mom? A song can make my bad mood turn into a really happy mood."

And ain't that the truth?

The three of us were buoyed by the hope in Annie's voice coming through the speakers. We were, dare I say, radiant as Wilbur the pig with joy, driving down the road to Cece's second day of kindergarten.

I won't ever hear that song again and not immediately remember this morning, when my children and I were lifted and united in the simple joy of song, the sun shining down on us, the world spread before us.

I wish you well.

WARNING: There is nothing "safe" about Safeway!

For a long time now -- years, actually -- I've been dreaming of baking a batch of brownies on a shallow rimmed cookie sheet.

Why?

Well, because everyone knows that the best part of the brownie is the chewy top. So I surmised that if one were to spread the batter thin, the whole batch would be one big, chewylicious brownie top.

Even after all the plotting, I've never done it, though, because FSM forbid they should come out every bit as delectable as my sweet-tooth-fueled imagination has dreamed, I'd never leave the house again because:

1) I'd be too busy shoving my pie-hole full of those scrumptious morsels;

and

2) I'd soon be literally unable to leave the house after my ass grew to such ginormous* proportions as to no longer fit through the doorways -- even the French double-door out the back!

*Ginormous, by the way, is an actual word now. It was just added to the Merriam-Webster dictionary this year. And all I have to say is It's about fricking time!

But back to the warning.

Just last week I walked into Safeway, my local French grocer (at least when spoken with a fake French accent a la Target/Tar-JAY fashion -- SAFF-uh-WAY), and nearly bumped foreheads with a woman wearing a seemingly innocuous green smock and a welcoming, come-hither smile.

"Would you like to try a sample?" she purred.

Cece (in tow) leaned in and said, "Oh, Mom! Cookies! Can I try one?"

I, not thinking anything of it, said, "Sure, babe."

Green Smock Woman then raised her eyes to me and asked, "One for you too, Mom?"

"Okay," I relented.

I reached to take one for myself and noticed something different about these cookies. The texture was not that of your typical cookie.

That's when I got a look at them.

After years of mere fantasizing, I was holding, in my own hand, a genuine brownie top cookie.

SON. OF. A. BITCH.

I stood there, trembling a tiny bit, gazing at that wondrous achievement.

I paused. Closed my eyes. Took a breath. And took a bite.

And that's when I confirmed beyond all possible doubt that I am, in fact, clairvoyant. Because that brownie top cookie was every bit as perfect as I'd always imagined it would be. It was EXACTLY as I'd dreamed -- and more -- because this cookie was real. This one was in my mouth, not just in my heart.

Cece, enjoying her cookie next to me, said, "Yum! This is GOOD!"

Overwhelmed and unable to speak, I merely nodded and gave her a closed-mouth smile, lest even one tiny crumb escape my lips.

Throughout that shopping trip I had to fight the overwhelming urge to stampede my way back to Green Smock Lady, knock her down, and steal every last cookie she had. It took self-control I didn't even know I had. But I managed to do it.

We paid for our groceries, loaded them up into the car, and left.

I was safe.

Or so I thought.

A few days later I ventured back to Safeway. And by the way, you people who only grocery shop once a week -- or, FSM forbid, once a month! -- are hopelessly robotic and clearly lack imagination & spontaneity.

As soon as I pulled into the parking lot I remembered my beloved brownie tops.

I walked in, my pace quickening in anticipation, but Green Smock Lady was nowhere to be seen. I consoled myself with the reassurance that it was probably for the best. I didn't need those cookies. Yes, I was better off staying away from them. Good.

But that feeling was smashed by the time I reached the middle of the produce section, when Green Smock Lady's voice came over the PA system: "Good afternoon, shoppers. Be sure to stop by the bakery and purchase some of our new Chewy Fudge Cookies. They're just $4.99 a box; take some home today ..." she sneered.

Of course. Like all good pushers, Safeway knows the system: The first taste is free; after that, you've gotta pay.

They'd given me my freebie and hooked me good, and they knew it.

And so, since those cookies are the crack to my Whitney, and since I've never heard of a pusher who's voluntarily gone out of business, Safeway is now anything but safe.

A Swimmer, a Walker, and Two Proud Parents

Our little girl ain't so little anymore. Cece, who has always loved the water and has become quite the accomplished swimmer, joined our swim club's swim team this summer. She's the youngest of all 125 kids on the team (the oldest is 19). She competed in the Girls 6 & Under 25 Meter Freestyle event in her first swim meet last Monday night.

As the air horn blew, signaling the start of the race, Cece and the other 5 girls jumped into the pool and took off swimming. But just 10 feet out, Cece suddenly turned around and swam back to the wall. Marino and I were stumped. Was she scared? Did she somehow hurt herself on entry? But she quickly took off again, and despite her late start, managed to come in 4th!

After the race, we asked her what made her turn around. "Well, everyone was yelling 'Go, go, go!' -- but when I was swimming, I thought they were saying 'No, no no!' so I went back. But then I heard them right, so I started swimming again."






Cutie. She thought she had a false start. :)

She was pretty bummed about it -- but we assured her that she did GREAT, and that she's sure to do even better at next week's meet. She may decide to compete in the 25M Freestyle AND the 25M Backstroke this time, too.

Go, Cece, GO!

But even more impressive than her standings in the meet are her attitude and bravery. On our way home, Cece told me, "Mom, I was pretty scared when we got to the meet. But I just faced my fear and did it anyway."

"That's the best thing I've heard all day, Cece," I told her. And yes, she's not even 5 yet. She amazes me every day.

Today she announced, "Mom, I want to be just like you when I grow up." I've got news for her: I hope to be just like her right now.

Meanwhile, Nico is walking like a big kid now; he hardly ever crawls anymore. He's incredibly balanced and steady. But for the past couple of weeks, as soon as we pick up the camera, he sits down and refuses to walk. (Turkey!) Today, after countless tries, I finally managed to get a little video of him toddling around the house.

It's been a banner couple of weeks for Nico: He's also started sleeping through the night recently! Woo-hoo! He's so good about bedtime now that he'll actually point to his crib and lean himself toward it as I'm holding him. He always snuggles on his belly up against the front wall of the crib and goes right to sleep. I'm so proud (and rested)!!!

Wonder how long until Nico's swimming with Cece?

Happy Easter, happy spring!

Oh, Eden, we miss you!

We were lucky enough to have my niece here for most of her spring break last week. Cece was crushed when we dropped Eden back off at the aiport for her flight home. Fortunately, we'll get to see her again in just two months when we head to Yosemite together. But I suppose to a 4-year-old, those two months will pass a lot slower than they will for an old fogey like me. ;)



Poor Eden was unlucky enough to catch a miserable cold from Marino during her visit (and then Nico caught it, too) -- so her vacation ended up being a lot more low-key than we'd anticipated. Most days she and I would stay up far too late (except for those nights when I accidentally fell asleep while putting Cece to bed!) and since she was sick and is free from parental responsibilities, she had the luxury of sleeping in until well into the afternoon ... usually just as Nico was going down for a lengthy nap. None of this was very conducive to getting out & doing much of anything. But we DID manage to get some scrapbooking done like we'd hoped, had some good talks, and took plenty of pictures. :)



We also had an early Easter egg hunt last Thursday after staying up till after midnight coloring the eggs the night before. Can someone please explain to me why every last one of the 36 we dyed ended up with two horizontal white rings around them? I seriously need to google that. I've never had that happen before. Nico is still too young to help "shoot the eggs" but Eden and Cece had a great (though intensely competitive) time scouting them out.



"Shoot the eggs" is our little inside joke. Back when I was about Cece's age, I went to my first Easter egg hunt at my grandmother's house. All week leading up to Easter my mom had been telling me how much fun I'd have at the hunt -- but apparently didn't give too many specifics. So Easter day we were all over at Grandma's, eating & visiting, and I piped up with, "So when are we gonna shoot the eggs?" :)



Guess who's eight months old today? Yep. The sick little boy in our house. The poor baby's got SUCH a cough & his nose just won't stop running. Benadryl and the cool-mist humidifier seemed to help him sleep much better last night -- but we'll all be glad when this bug moves on.



For such a little boy, he's amazingly daring & brave. He'll try to climb anything, and doesn't flinch if he takes a fall or bonks the crap out of his forehead (which he does several times a day). We keep joking that we should've named him George -- as in Curious George. But if you wanna scare the crud outta him, turn on the vacuum. The kid is terrified of them. Most every parenting book I've ever read has touted the calming effect of the white noise of a vacuum; but my kids are not your typical kids. (Yes, Cece was vacuum-phobic, too.) Poor Nico literally trembles with fear and emits the most ear-piercing, plaintive screams whenever I turn on the Hoover. Unless he outgrows this fear soon, I can see it working to my advantage during the terrible twos ... "Nicolas, stop hitting your sister. Don't make me get the vacuum!" (Before anyone calls CPS, I'm only kidding!)



The Easter bunny mercifully brought only candy, books, and gardening tools for the kids -- no vacuums. Not even a Dirt Devil. (Phew!) Cece was excited to find her basket this morning, and spent time counting the precise number of bags of Jelly Bellys, chocolate robin eggs, and whopper eggs she received, while Nico was happy just to chew on his plastic garden trowel. :)



Oddly enough, it SNOWED here the night before last. It's already melted, but today was a very cold Easter. I knew it was bound to turn cold again as soon as I saw Marino putting all our winter coats away for the season. What was he thinking? He'd better not even THINK about setting up the hammock! ;)

Happy Easter, happy spring -- cold as it may be today.