Cold Spaghetti

Will turned 3. We had a party. By request, it was a pirate party, yar.

I did my creative-Mom thing by: sending out pirate-themed invitations, putting up a “get your pirate on” station on the porch for party-goers to pick up their gear (eyepatch, do-rag and stickers) and choosing their pirate-name. I was Pirate Holly Barbarella. Others chose from things like Barnacle Breath —, — the Rope Slasher, Reeking Flora —, and Jelly Legs —. Some names were simply obvious:
A few nights before, I stayed up WAY late cutting out foam and felt to make this game:
The Birthday Cap’ain was in to it. He stood, flag in hand, ready to tell passers-by to “shiver (his) timbers” or “walk the plank.”
Kate, on the other hand, was just thrilled with all the excitement and flew around the house all afternoon.

I made the Ahoy Matey banner, used the Happy Birthday banner from last year, and got the pirate pendants and flags used on ebay. We bought the disposable helium tanks because apparently there is a helium shortage in the area and stores are not able to rent balloons or sell inflatables.
We had lots of help from my Mom and Dad, who picked up the cake and food (even buying extra “just in case!”) and put time and effort into helping us set up.
In addition to making the pirate game (a hit, at least with the parents, who jokingly suggested I plan pirate parties professionally) I burnt my fingers off making jewel stickers for the kids to put on paper towel rolls (painted black by Paul) to make pirate telescopes. I also had cool paper ships from Ruby’s Diner with sticker sheets (another ebay find). As I probably should have guessed, the kids loved the pinball machines, Will’s legos and bristle blocks, and random Baby Kate equipment. I did my best to not be a complete control freak… the kids did do the crafts I’d prepared. Even though Will had done both crafts at least 12 times in the past week, he even got involved. Aya made my day by making a totally decked-out ‘scope.
I may have stayed up into the night making cupcakes for Will’s class, but the birthday cake came from a bakery. O’Delice, a bakery a short walk down Magazine, supplied the beautifully-appointed sugary treat… and oh my goodness. One could find religion in something that good.The big finale was a treasure hunt. While we were going to have a step-by-step find the clue arrangement, we ran out of time in our preparation and instead did the direct approach to treasure hunting: “Do you all see a treasure chest??” It took about 4 seconds for them to point out the one and only chest clearly visible in the room. We opened it up… and helium balloons popped up with the kids’ goody bags, coloring books, and bubbles inside.Will was showered with wonderful gifts from party-goers, family, friends, and neighbors. Too much to mention… although much in pirate theme… legos (Granna and PapPap), t-shirt (Gwen, Mario, and Clare), book (Emily and Skip), puppets (Amy, Kevin, and Brayden), and more… musical instruments, tub toys (pirates), Melissa & Doug birthday cake (Nana), tool set (Grandpa George), and puzzles (Aunt Julie).

He had a GREAT birthday thanks to all the caring and thoughtful people in his (and our lives!)

In this past year, we have watched you emerge as your own person, intent on making your statement in the world. You rode through tremendous changes as easily and naturally as you learned to walk, with flexible attitude and deliberate effort. We celebrated your 2nd birthday as “Uptown’s first post-Katrina party,” with people stopping on the street to enjoy the sight of balloons, supplied by a helium tank Granna and PapPap brought in from Mobile. (You spent the party in heaven, popping each balloon with borrowed keys.) You lived in Peru and were immersed in a second language just as you were gaining a mastery of your first. We are still convinced that with only those two months of immersion, you have a better comprehension of the language than the both of us. You attended two schools and endured countless daycare arrangements while we determined how to care for you in our post-Katrina world. You lived with us at Granna’s and PapPap’s while we waited for your sister, and then welcomed her into our family with a love that astounds us everyday.
The night before your third birthday, I stayed up much too late baking and decorating cupcakes for your class at school. It was a humbling experience. Half way through, I called Granna to thank her for all the nights she spent doing the same thing for me. Moments like these, when I am locked in a pattern of shock over my actions yet committed to following through with them, remind me that before all else, I am a mother. My commitment to you trumps everything. It just takes the thought of you to feel how lucky I am to not only be a mother, but to be your mother.We have a thousand nick-names for you. You’re our little man, our big boy, Mommy’s number-one guy. Sometimes, you decide what name fits best. The other day, when you were copying the cat haughtily licking his haunches, I asked if you were a cat. “No Mommy,” you said quite matter-of-factly, as you pretended to lick your paw-clenched hand, “I a Monkey Boy.” What can I say? Sometimes you are right on the money.
At 2 1/2 we gave you the most special present we could ever give you: Kate. Your gentleness with her, astounding from any child but especially from one with such explosive energy, touches us more than we are able to express. You speak to her with a laugh in your voice, helping her learn and cheering for her milestones. There are times when you protect her from hazards that neither Daddy or I have seen (“Don’t get too close to the couch, silly girl, or you’ll bonk-a your head! I don’t want you to bonk-a your head!”) When she cries, you run to her with a binky and a song. Now that Kate is crawling, you are starting to show signs of the sibling rivalry to come, claiming possession of items as she reaches to them. We realize that it is important to remember these sweet moments of touching tenderness before we descend into the world of endless squabble.We thought that your reaching the age of 3 would mean that we would get relief, putting the terrible twos behind us. Then our pediatrician, mother to four boys, let us in on a secret: “with boys, it tends to be less about the terrible twos, and more about the terrible 3s and 4s.” Conferring with other parents has not given us hope. Then we spoke to our friend Bryan, father of twin boys, who pounded in that final nail: “It is definitely terrible 3s and 4s — and every other parent of boys says the SAME THING.” That slumping sound you’re hearing is your Mom and Dad melting to a pile of mush.Following the prediction, we found that turning 3 did indeed bring about a Jekyll and Hyde quality in you. On the night of your 3rd birthday, we took you out for hamburgers, gifting you that dinner you have requested every night for the past 3 months. True to the fashion of our beloved city of New Orleans, we took you to a bar. You loved it; tearing into that 17-pound cheeseburger with a fork as if you were going to have no problem clearing your plate. On the way home, you sang songs in the car, stopping only to say, “Thank you, Mommy, for great dinner!” and “Thank you, Daddy, for taking us!” Your Dad and I were almost too vaclempt to answer “you’re welcome, sweet guy.” Later that night, those moments were all but shot from our memories when you, without warning, went ballistic at the thought of cleaning up your legos before bedtime. The antics that ensued ended up with you going directly-to-bed, do-not-pass-go, do-not-collect-$200, no story, no song, TO BED. You made it clear that we were seriously going to have to bring it on if we’re all going to survive to see you turn 4.
Not that stubbornness is new to you. You’ve had several stand-offs in the past year, some lasting several hours, until you finally broke down to say you were sorry. You seem very aware of your limits and test them with caution; when you’re caught, the embarrassment is almost too much. Admitting your mistake, especially to those outside of your smallest family circle (Daddy, Kate, and I) is almost too much for your blossoming ego. As your mother, and one who provided half of your DNA, I know exactly where you get this from. Which reminds me, I have to call your Grandparents to thank them, again, for letting me live to see adulthood. Whoa, little dude. You are totally 3!

My parents came into town Thursday afternoon and we had the perfect Thanksgiving meal… one that involved someone else cooking and doing the dishes! Ralph’s on the Park provided the turkey dinner.
Will enjoyed his very own kid’s plate with turkey and all the trimmings. And though he loved it……he later told us that drinking Granna’s hot tea at the end was the best part.

Next year, I hope to be thankful for a picture where we are all smiling!

Thanksgiving morning. The four of us, ducks, swans, and a few random folk (one setting up a TV to watch football in the park while the family got dinner on under the oaks) in Audubon Park. Pavilion. Water. Wildlife… and Will.
“Happy Turkey, Swan!”
“Mommy, Baby Kate’s pulling Daddy’s hair.”“Can’t catch me!”
“No Daddy, PLEASE off of my stage!”
Pause for photo by stranger.
“I a BIG BOY!”
Singing “Me Ole Bamboo” on the stage
“Beeeneeeebooaaawaaa*… me OLE BAMBOO!”
Spinning to a sitting position with back to audience for big finale move.And after two encores… zonked for 2 hours.

* Translation: Better-never-bother-with (me ole bamboo)

Question: How many pictures does one have to take of Will in order to get one where he is still, looking at the camera, and smiling?


Answer: At least 76… if the picture above qualifies.

In early 2002, Paul and I accompanied our friend Dave to ‘The Joe’ to cheer on the University of Alaska Nanooks in the qualifying finals for the collegiate hockey championship. Dave is a born and raised Alaskan, from Fairbanks, and a graduate of University of Alaska.

Pause for a moment and consider what it means to play hockey for the University of Alaska. Kids from the lower 50 don’t play hockey for Alaska. Alaskans, who have been playing nothing else BUT hockey their entire lives (what other sport do you play in Alaska?!), are the ones who end up in Fairbanks. Further, the best players get lured away from their home state, leaving the Fairbanks team with the kids who either don’t get those offers or can’t bring themselves to leave home. To Alaskans, that darn game on ice is everything.

So, in this particularly important game, the kids from Fairbanks were playing Ohio State. I’m not a huge sports fan and prior to this moment, had no ill feelings what-so-ever about Ohio State, even though I was a graduate student at the University of Michigan at the time. I was excited to see live hockey and ready to cheer on the ‘nooks with the two dozen or so others who had made it ALL THE WAY DOWN FROM ALASKA to see the game. The fact that they were playing Ohio State made no difference to me. The game was in The Joe (home of the Red Wings) and was a Seriously Big Deal.

I should also note that previously in this season, the ‘nooks had blasted the Buckeyes in two not-even-close games.

The Joe is a huge arena and our little ramble-rousing group barely took up a few rows. Ohio State was very well represented with a huge band, cheerleaders, and big fan group who traveled an hour or so from Columbus. The game started with Ohio State skating out to Slim Shady, no helmets or masks, showing off their matching Eminem bleached coifs. (Tacky.) They then proceeded to play the roughest, dirtiest, most un-sportsmanship oriented hockey I have ever seen. The bleached bastards were simply ugly: throwing punches when the refs turned a back, calling out obscenities, and just generally being gross. The fans were even worse. Coupled with the band and cheerleaders, it was almost too much to stand. They were, without compare, the rudest, grossest, most obnoxious “fans” I have ever encountered.

Yet the kids from Fairbanks spent the game playing above it. They had less shots, but better ones, and played some damn good hockey. I was seriously impressed that they kept to the ice, ignoring the other players and their obnoxiousness. Somehow, in the final period, Ohio pulled up to tie and the game went into overtime… to be won by a terribly lucky, cheap shot put in by a Buckeye. And when Ohio State, both the team and the fans, were obnoxious and rude about the win, the Fairbanks kids smiled with disappointment and patted the louses on the back.

From that moment on, I have cheered for any team playing against Ohio State. I won’t go as far as to say that I hate Ohio State, but if I said a nightly prayer, there would probably be a line with something like, “and God, please look into whatever event Ohio State is participating in tomorrow and ensure that those schmucks get seriously whipped. Amen.”

I was doing my part to get those prayers in when my Alma Matter, Michigan, met in Columbus to play Ohio State last weekend. Considering that the Michigan-Ohio State rivalry is THE biggest rivalry in athletics (Auburn? Whose ever heard of Auburn?) and the two were ranked #1 and #2, this was a big weekend for Michigan-loving folks. My fingers were crossed, but apparently my line to the divine is on the fritz. What a sad day in Mudville. I was, however, impressed by some Ohio State fans who put aside their obnoxious ways to honor beloved Michigan coach Bo Schembechler, who died on the eve of the game.

But even with those nice gestures, they’re all still wankers. GO BLUE!

– Kate is 6 months, 4 days old.
– Kate is crawling. Forward and back.

Kate, in her favorite outfit.

These and more on up on the Shutterfly photo page.

Monday morning: Kate and Will visit Dr. Milvid.

Will: 37.7 inches tall; 31.4 lbs.
Discussion: While he’s grown an inch or so in the past few months, his weight has been roughly the same for about a year! Will’s previously infected ear was “retracted,” meaning that the swelling was subsiding and it was healing appropriately. No tears, not even a flinch, when he got his flu shot.

Kate: 25.5 inches tall; 16.7 lbs.
Discussion: Ear is still infected. New antibiotic given to try. No flu shot; back in 10 days to check. When we told the doctor of Kate’s lengthy unsupported sitting, backwards scooting, and up-on-her-knees moves, Dr. Milvid gave us a sly smile and said, “Good luck. You’ve got an early walker on your hands.” “How early?” we asked, noting that Will was walking at about 13-14 months. Her answer: “This one looks like a 9-month walker.”