My kind of town?

I’m in Eastern Oregon in a region that has a lot of outdoor pursuits. Last night my hotel had this notice in the room:

Dear guest,

We have taken a careful itinerary of this room. Should you choose to take any items like pillows with you, you will be charged accordingly. Please do not use bathroom towels to clean motorcycle boots or guns. Do not clean game in the bathroom sink. Use the boot cleaners provided outside the doors before entering the room. Thank you for your cooperation.

This was in a town that has the lovely sounding “Yellow Jacket Lake” highlighted as a go-to spot and I don’t think I’ve had a vegetable in two days. I did a phone google search on Starbucks in this zipcode and my phone laughed at me. I’m ready to be home.

California adventures

During our trip last week to the Compound, I was ordered asked to give a more upbeat update on mamacita. So…

Mom is great.
Mom is good.
And we thank her for our food…

There, that should do it. No, seriously. Mom looks great and is feeling even better as she starts her new chemo regime that requires less time in the doctors office and more time livin it up.

We had a funtastic trip to California this past week for a little R & R. We spent a few days poolside at the parental Compound, where Rob and Colin were fighting to take turns going down the slide. Then we hit the road to points west. First stop was Six Flags Discovery Kingdom. We got there as the park opened, hoping to beat any last-chance summer crowds because I hate crowds. Really. It’s nearing a phobia. Not of the crowds themselves, but the fear that I’m going to bash some idiots head in for giving in to herd mentality. Case in point – the park characters come out for a big whoo-ha opening dance. We ended up right up front because no one was there yet. Did that stop a couple and their ginormous stroller from shoving their way in front of us – even though we were CLEARLY there first? No. Did Rob stop me from ramming our stroller into their hamstrings? Yes.

Anyway, the park has quite a lot to offer the toddler-set. And we had no problems getting Colin on all the rides he could go on. One of us usually had to go on with him. And by one of us, I mean Rob. I did take my turn, but Rob actually really loves rides and roller coasters so who am I to stop him from squeezing his six-foot plus frame into an itty bitty jeep or submarine to go round and round with the Boy? They did look awfully cute together.

Rob had to go solo on the big mamma-jamma coasters. Me and my innards preferred to stay with Colin and watch daddy go loop the loop. Turns out that loop the loops make Rob’s back go “spaz the spaz” on the morning after. Poor fella. Them vertebrae aren’t as young as they used to be!

As we happily shelled out ten bucks for Colin to get his face painted like a blue kitty cat manly tiger, I realized that my parents never said no to us when we were on vacation and really had to have that chintzy life-will-be-over-without-it souvenir or snack. Considering we were pretty much a herd ourselves, that impressed me in hindsight. Thanks mom and dad! Tangent much? Anyway, we loaded Colin up with frozen lemonade and “don’t tell me what’s in it” park treats and called it day when the grouchies started to kick in.

We continued on to the Happy Hideout (our family cabin in Bodega Bay – or as the savvy tourism marketers call it “the Sonoma Coast,” or as we call it, The Place Where Time Stands Still and Root Beer Colored Carpet Reigns Supreme) for the rest of the weekend. On Saturday, we decided to head up to Fort Ross to kill some time while the sun hid behind the fog. The road is twisty and windy and unfortunately for The Boy, urppy as well. He was a trooper on the way up, but the road home proved to be a bit too much for even his iron tummy. Good thing we had a rental! I can’t blame him, I was feeling a bit woozy myself. So we headed home, cleaned him up and hit the beach for a little while.

Colin actually slept in a big bed by himself for the first time. We created a nest of pillows so he wouldn’t roll off (had a close call the first night) and he loved his “cuddly ness.” He's still in a crib at home, he likes it and doens't climb out, so I'm not going to rock that boat until I have to. But it's nice to know he wasn't up roaming the house in the middle of the night.

We came back to the Compound for a BBQ with my brothers’ families (sis and crew were off in AZ) and then off to the airport for home. As we touched down in the cold, rainy Portland airport we decided we had a good time overall and were glad to get out of dodge for a few days.

This week I’m off to Eastern Oregon for work and we get to have Oma and Opa fun this weekend. Then, I think, summer will be safely put to bed for another year. We’ll be happy for a bit slower pace this fall and winter. Although with the big 3 only a few months off, I think that vision is going to have a hard time coming to fruition.

PS – Happy Anniversary Rob! And Happy Anniversary to Mom and Dad tomorrow!

Gee, thanks neighbor.

We had a neighborhood BBQ yesterday. We were happy to go and finally meet some of the folks in our neighborhood even though it was 100+ outside, a rare occurance for the Portland area. Colin stole the show as usual, giving out hugs and playing football with the big kids.

The only stain on the day was when Colin decided to take some chugs out of a guys glass. Being oh, you know, a parent - I tried to stop Colin. The guy said, "it's okay." Um yeah buddy, but in your glass is something that looks suspiciously like Sailing Punch as in - You'll be sailing after drinking a glass of this highly gin soaked cocktail. I pulled Colin away and when I tried to ask the guy what was in the cup he either didn't hear me or he ignored me.

When I saw Colin sneak up to start chugging off the glass again, I went up and pulled him away saying "I said no more." The guy turned on me and in a rather rude tone said, "I SAID it was okay." Hay-ell no you didn't just say that to me. So I said, "Do you know what's in your glass?" He said no, that his daughter (about 6) had poured it and didn't like it. And then he turned his back on me. Agghh!! Another neighbor saw what was going on and suggested that the guy take a sip to confirm the contents. "Oh, heh heh. Guess that's not for kids after all."

What an ass. ASSSS. FIrst off for not bothering to keep an eye on his own kid as she poured out a hefty cocktail for herself. Second of all, for trying to call me out on stopping Colin from drinking his drink. And third, for not apologizing to me for letting my kid get his hands on alcohol!!! That's for Rob and I to screw up on, not some random dude.

Gah. People. This is why we tend to avoid bringing Colin to non-family gatherings. We either look like hover-parents, or we're the assholes letting our kid run amok all over the place, sippin on gin and juice.

Pardon me, was I too happy?

I'm starting to suspect that The Powers That Be have a serious S&M jones.

More often it feels like whenever some good news comes along and grabs your attention, they sneak in while you are distracted with all the happiness and glee-like antics and leave behind some kind of nasty business for you to discover (think three-day old cat barf). They are perennially stocked with the other shoe that you keep forgetting about (or pretend to forget about), ready to drop it and laugh at the resulting emotional fallout.

Baby Andrew came home this week, sprung from the NICU all kinds of fat and happy. Ready to do what babies do best. While I stopped to wish the newly reunited family well and start to implement my schemes to spoil our newest nephew, those effing PTB were in the wings giggling behind their hands in anticipation of their next trick. A few hours later, I got the news that mom's cancer took a left turn instead of the anticipated and hoped for right. The fight and life goes on. She will be starting a new phase of treatment and we will head to The Winco to restock a bulk supply of Hope.

There is no reason at this point not to be anything but positive. But I have a funny habit of not letting reason take too much of a foothold in my world. I know that my reaction to the news is the result of too much optimistic denial and holding onto my Sunshine card with the stubborn hand of a child refusing to acknowledge any alternative other than "it will be fine."

And really, considering the alternatives, all is fine right now. On a day to day basis, it has been surprisingly easy to think positively and to hope for the best - whether that is reduction, remission or my favorite - "Whoops, that's not cancer after all. My Bad." How can it be otherwise when my mom feels well, chemo be damned, and acts like she always has?

But today, for right now, I need to be sad. I need to hunker down with my boys and send my thoughts to an alternate reality where cancer is just a Tropic and an astrological sign. I'll get it out of my system now so that when I see her next week I can be the support she needs and deserves. Because if I show up all teary-eyed, mom will kick my ass.

*I slept on this entry, not sure if I would post it in all its melodramatic glory. But I will, since this is my journal of sorts, a record of where I was at a certain point in time. I woke up to this horoscope: There are a lot of things up in the air in your life, right now, but that doesn't need to make you feel nervous. Try to see this uncertainty as an opportunity -- you can make things go the way you want if you try hard enough. If you want to make a change, you can make it. Instead of projecting what you fear onto the situation, project what you want out of the situation. You will be surprised at how a little bit of positive thinking will turn the tide and make things fall into place.

Who's in the House?

Ever since we moved into our new house, Soss, our cat, has been MRARWWERR yodeling at odd hours MRARWWERR of the night at a MRARWWERR very loud volume. We hear him start the meowing MRARWWERR downstairs, and then it continues up the MRARWWERR stairs, into our MRARWWERR room, at the MRARWWERR foot of the bed and then into the MRARWWERR closet (I don’t know why, he just likes it in there). It’s loud. Like, wakes us both up loud. Nearly every night. And he’s persistent. Pillows chucked in his direction just elicit a MRARWWERR with more of a question mark to it.

We’ve been chalking it up to his getting on in years, maybe he’s lost in the new house, maybe he can’t hear us or maybe he’s exacting revenge on us for bringing The Boy into the family.

Turns out there may be another reason. Recent discoveries in our house have uncovered a possible translation to all that yowling:

“What’s that? Is that what I think it is? I think it is. Yes, I think it’s a mouse. Definitely a mouse. I better tell my humans. HEY!! There’s a mouse in here! HEY YOU PEOPLE! (they must not be able to hear me, I'll go upstairs) HEEEYYYY YYYOOOOOUUUU GUUUYYYYSSS! Wakeupwakeupwakeup. There’s a mouse downstairs. I’m sure of it. Guys? Guys? WAKE UP! WAKE UP! There is a M-O-U-S-E in the K-I-T-C-H-E-N!! WTF – Why are you throwing a pillow at me? I’m trying to tell you there’s a mouse in the house. What? Fine. Don’t believe me. I’m going to go in the closet and sulk. Don’t come crying to me wondering why I didn’t tell you there’s a mouse down there.”

Tuff Love

(edited to say - I did not write that in .00534 size font. Hopefully this fixes it. Because you should read this. It's good stuff.)

So our little Tuffy got caught red-handed.

Colin is a wee bit rough with the two babies that are in daycare with him. They are in the sturdy baby phase, and over a year old, but still, smaller than him. He likes to pull on them and oh, try to squash them often.

We do our best to tell Colin to be soft and quit kicking the shit out of your friends to keep his hands to himself, but dude. He's 2.75, large, and loves to be a rascal. And he's damn fast too. He has the strike and run technique down pat.

Donna does a good job intervening, and she recognizes that he's not trying to hurt them. He's trying to HUUUGGG them, and LOOOVVEEE them, and he doesn't CAAAARREE that they don't want to reciprocate.

Yesterday when Donna went to wash her hands, Colin decided to show his affection to the little girl by putting her into a choke hold. Unbeknownst to him, the girl's father happened to be dropping by and watched the whole thing through the window. And he promptly lost his shit. Hey, I don't blame him. If I saw some kid choking my kid, I'd react strongly too.

Donna did her best to explain Colin's predilections for a rough show of affection, and that we're consistently trying to break him of the habit. Hopefully it's not going to escalate. I'm having visions of Colin being sent to the Little Tots Reform Funhouse before he hits kindergarten.

Funny enough (not ha-ha funny, but the funny that makes me draw parallels between my son and bully-ish kids) Colin hates it when other kids pick on him. Apparantly an 18-month old girl that Donna was watching for a few days brought him to tears many times because she was trying to "love" him.