Sunny Cove

Tristram misses the beach so much that he will sit down in a patch of loose dirt and pretend that it's sand. He often does so next to our neighbor's porch while I'm gardening here. I've got to get that kid back to the beach.

He is still busy teaching himself to swim. He's decided he wants to learn to go underwater, and Jonathan took him to pick out a pair of goggles yesterday. He picked Iron Man goggles. Jonathan is getting really sick of the pool, and really tan.

Tristram's big treat yesterday, besides the library and the goggles, was meeting a vampire hunter. A friend of mine down the hall has a poster of himself as a vampire hunter next to his door. Tristram asked what it was, and we explained, and he made up an extended narrative about how the vampire hunter follows vampire tracks through the forest and the snow and then catches the vampires and eats them. Rick was willing to play along (though he was unable to produce an actual vampire despite the many requests to see one), so Tristram got to hear all about vampire hunting. Also, he got to watch some juggling and play with a dart gun and a light saber and practice swordfighting with real swords. Real by two-year-old standards, anyway. And he got invited to a play in September. He is utterly convinced that Mommy's office is the funnest place in the world. Just wait till I move to my new office next to the glowing-eyed dragon.

My other big highlight was seeing a one-day-old baby at lunch. Of course I realize that it was almost certainly more than one day old, but it was very young. It still had the scrunchy-pudgy newborn alien face, and it could only lift its head for about three seconds, and then not quite all the way. Given that Tristram first lifted and turned his head to look for the source of a noise when the nurse tested his hearing in the c-section room (she jumped and screamed a little when he did, so I guess it's not usual), and lifted it for ten seconds an hour after birth (which freaked out another nurse), that degree of head lifting seems to me like irrefutable evidence of a baby's being one day old.

Despite its being at the lowest possible level of head-lifting, which probably would have worried me had anyone told me how old it actually was, it was extremely cute. Jonathan reminded me that it shits itself constantly, pukes a lot, pees its pants about eleven times a day, and cries all the time because it's a black hole of need and can't talk, but it wasn't crying when I saw it. Just being cute. Tristram needs a little brother or sister. But not quite yet.

Tristram's First Beach Day

At Sunny Cove, when we got back last June. Now there's nothing resembling a beach within about 1000 miles. Sigh.

Tristram asked me for truffles last night, which he has not done for weeks now. Jonathan took that to mean that he was very tired, and he did indeed aver, "I love going to bed!" after we read his stories. Perhaps all the swimming is adding up. He is now very excited that he and Jonathan are driving me to work today, and he says he wants to go on Saturday to "see a new building." That works out well for me, since the writers are having a work Saturday this week.

Also--I got a second garden plot! It's late to be starting, but they just parceled out the remaining unused plots, so now I get to start a second one. We'll see how it goes; I'd probably better choose things that grow fast this late in the season. Add that to the list for tomorrow.


And then, tomorrow night, my quest to be made an honorary gay man in a third city begins. I doubt the dance clubs here are quite like they are in West Hollywood, but presumably still a lot of fun.

Stairmaster

T. going up the famous stairs at my grandma's house. Now he charges up and down stairs all on his own. He's determined to do it like a grown-up, too, so he does one foot on each step even though for him that means he has to lift his knees almost to his chest.

He loves the capitol building here in town for all the stairs. When we took him to Farmer's Market a couple of weeks ago, he decided the funnest thing to do would be to go inside the neat building. I am very gratified that he's retained that as a primary recreational goal from living his early toddlerhood in Paris. He liked the stairs then, too, especially the steps in the Louvre's sculpture court. Anyway, the capitol is no Invalides or Sacre Coeur, but it's not bad. And it's excellent for wearing out a kid who likes to go up and down stairs.

Last weekend was a good father's day, and thanks to everyone who sent their greetings to Jonathan. Especially thanks to Kelly for babysitting so I could take Jonathan out for the night.

This week was rougher; on Monday at staff meeting they closed with a story (which was actually very sweet and inspiring) about a kid who was born with severely cystic kidneys. Since the cystic kidneys were how we first found out something was wrong with Elissa, I got reminded very intensely at a moment when I was not prepared for it at all, and spent a lot of the afternoon crying. The social worker warned us before we even left the hospital that that would happen for the rest of our lives, and I suppose it helps some to know that that's to be expected every so often, but it's not a fun way to spend your afternoon.

The rest of the week has been better, and this weekend should be good: Work Saturday morning, dancing Saturday night, Chicago Sunday. Tristram desperately wants to go to Sea World to see the manatees and walruses, so as a compromise we're taking him to the Shedd Aquarium in Chicago. They have none of the above, but they have lots of other stuff he likes. Sometimes I feel really guilty for taking that kid away from California.

Tristram and the Duck

When we got back to CA, he fell in love with this duck in my grandmother's backyard. If you talk to him about her (my grandmother, not the duck), he still might ask you where the duck is.

We got a rare two days in a row of sun this week, and I did indeed make it back out to my garden. I expect to be eating some chard in about two more weeks; I was also gratified to see that the tomatoes are setting flowers very nicely. Today it's rainy again.

Today I am tired again, too. Wednesday night I couldn't sleep for no good reason; last night I stayed up too late to watch the game. For a long time it looked that was going to be a terrible allotment of resources, but in the last quarter it turned out to be worth seeing. Suffice to say that phonics won. Nonetheless, I will be very sad if this whole not-sleeping-enough thing throws a wrench into tonight's plans, which also involve staying out past my bedtime. Don't be surprised if I'm asleep by 9:30 on Saturday night.

Tristram's First Swim

Is about to happen in this picture. It was at our hotel in Santa Cruz right after we got back from France. Like, the day after.

Now he's had many swims, and in fact demands at least one a day, regardless of weather. He is also really getting into T-ball (thanks, GrandRobyn and GrandDan), though he's not very goal-oriented about it yet. Jonathan estimates he can keep focused on a goal for approximately twelve seconds. This is sometimes frustrating.

He's doing very well with his swimming. He ditched the inner tube after about a day, and he's mostly ditched his shark floaty raft. He always wants to take it to the pool, but usually refuses to allow it into the water. He wears one of those life-jackety swim vests they make for toddlers now, and he does a pretty good dog paddle. Some of the other kids in our complex are impressed that he can swim better than they can. Also, some of them are convinced that he's four.

My plan for the day:
1. Go to work.
2. Go to the work garden to keep up on weeding. We've had so much rain I haven't been out much lately, but things are growing like mad. Looks like my garden problem so far is that too many of my seeds are sprouting, and not enough of my transplants died (so far, none).
3. Go to the grocery store for supplies. Game-watching supplies, specifically.
4. Watch game seven. Really that's Jonathan's plan, but I'm joining in. Now that it's going to seven games, I'm finally getting invested in it. I don't really care if the Lakers win, but I definitely want Boston to lose. No matter what happens, the Celtics will never win the knowing-how-to-pronounce-your-own-name trophy.

High Chair Kiss

Tristram got his first cat scratch yesterday. Not from our cats; they still consider him sacrosanct. From a cat named Butterscotch he met when we went to the post-marathon grill party hosted by some neighbors Jonathan met in the park. And not really a scratch, either; the cat unsheathed his claws and swatted Tristram, but there's not a mark on him.

Nonetheless, he was stunned, much like someone from back East experiencing his first earthquake (if he'd never heard of earthquakes). He stretched his arm out in front of him and walked over to me--slowly, because he was so dazed--crying, "What did that cat do to me?" I explained that cats have to use their claws to say "stop it" because they can't talk, and then he went right back over and started trying to play ball with the cat again. Eventually the cat just left.

On the whole I consider it a very salutary experience, and I was pleased that I refrained from quoting Christopher Smart's "My Cat Jeoffry" at him ("He is an instrument for the children to learn benevolence upon").

Today is for altering my next sewing pattern so it will fit, before I have to return my precious, precious library copy of Fit for Real People. It's also for weeding one of the big garden beds at the complex, since my garden is a big hit and I'm now the garden volunteer in charge of the rock & hosta gardens, and for taking Tristram to the pool for his first swimming venture of the year. And probably for taking him to Olbrich again, since we got there so late on Saturday that the inside garden with the fish was closed and he cried his poor heart out.

The Famous Skirt

My skirt! The first thing I ever knit! Here I am wearing it in the Parc de Bois Preau, right by the statue of Josephine. It's to my left. Stage left, that is--it's to MY right. Behind me, unfortunately, is the fence around the lower pond, which was fenced off while they were cleaning out a very large accumulation of leaves and other parkly debris. We used to walk there for a picnic lunch about once a week last spring. I miss Rueil-Malmaison a lot. I bet Josephine's roses are amazing right now. And I bet the Seine is still gorgeous, and the English translations at the local history museum in the old Mairie are still hilarious, and the farm up by the old fort is full of baby goats...

Anyway, I need to get this picture up on Ravelry. I've been promising for ages. I no longer have the skirt; it got stolen when our mover's van got broken into on our way out to Madison. I was inordinately proud of that skirt, but looking at the picture I miss France a lot more.

Work is going well, and Tristram is great. He's finally gotten to the point where he can play by himself for a while--he talks to his toys, he makes them interact, he makes up long stories about what they're doing. Now, every day, I'm thinking Yes! This is what I had in mind! Babies are very cute, but not very fun. Toddlers are awesome. He is making me want another. Till now, I wasn't quite sure. But this I've got to do again.

Tristram is a complete daddy's boy now, too. Last night Jonathan went out to a nerdcore show, and Tristram sobbed like his heart was broken. He couldn't believe that Daddy went out and left him behind. He's used to having me go to work, and it's predictable enough that he doesn't really mind. But Daddy leaving? His world collapsed for a minute there.

On another note, we've now visited all the botanical gardens in Madison. Olbrich ranks first. The arboretum is second--it's so big and varied that just in my own opinion it ties Olbrich, but Tristram doesn't have as much fun there. He likes the landscaping with clear paths and hidden treats around corners and lots of different levels. Allen Centennial garden is also nice, but very small, and part of it is getting renovated right now. I intend to go back there in a couple of weeks when the peonies start blooming.