Guest Post from Erika: Best Halloween Ever

As many of you know, I have resisted Halloween for years. This year, however, as Peter is really starting to become aware of the world around him, I figured I couldn't skip out. And so I delved in, if not with gusto, with something close to mild enthusiasm. And you know what? I had the best Halloween ever! Watching Peter trick or treat for the first time was such a crack-up, and I must say his outfit was a big hit. Big thanks to mama Katie for the cool baby tattoos. Mom and Dad even got into the act. Here are some photos...

Peter the Punk Rocker:

Little punk with mama punk:

And papa punk:

It's just part of the costume, really. We never give him beer at home. Oh no, never:

Trick or treating on Cortland street (picture courtesy of Mateus' mom, Beth). He looks one going on about fifteen. That's me in the leopard print, just off screen. See! I really *did* dress up!:

Here he is with his buddies. They all look a little dazed by the whole experience:

Did I mention he had his first Reeses Peanut Butter Cup? First candy actually. It was a hit, to say the least (duh). Mom had to, uh, confiscate the rest...

The rest of the evening was fun too. We got exactly ONE trick or treater. Well, two, but they came together. I shoveled as much candy as I could into their little bags. The rest is slowly disappearing.

Then we had a proper, UN-Halloween-like interlude, eating Raclette in front of our (gas) fireplace with the windows open because it was actually too warm to have a fire, but we needed something to melt the darned cheese.

Then I succumbed to my one annual viewing of a horror film, Martin's choice. He chose "Pelts". He thinks he chose wisely. I'm still confused about why anyone would willingly subject themselves to watching possessed raccoons take over the minds of furriers to exact their gory revenge, although I could understand the motivation of the raccoons. At least the director was Italian, so the fashion was fabulous and the women were beautiful.

Now. Any suggestions as to what to do with gelatin-based hamburger-shaped "candy"? Again, why do people MAKE this stuff, not to mention consume it?

Anyway, I guess I'm saying I can get into this stuff once a year. For the children. And the Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. :-)

House of Plague

Well it is Day 3 of our quarantine in the House of Plague. Ok, not really The Plague, or even one of those flus that are going around. Just good old fashioned coughing, sneezing, snotty not feeling good. I've been trying to get some extra sleep to counteract all the sneezing. Peter's nose has been dripping like a faucet. Erika has stopped running (!!!).

And well, ok, I guess "quarantine" is a bit dramatic as well. Day One (Monday) we all stayed home, all day long. Except Martin who has managed to avoid this particular illness. He went to work. I think he even rode his bike, the show-off. Tuesday, Erika dragged herself (and Peter) to the grocery store because we were out of bananas, Peter's favorite food. And milk. And a few other critical items. Today they managed to get to the botanical garden for an hour, to alleviate Erika's other sickness: stir craziness. They even skipped the hippie movement class!

They sure were having fun though, before the plague struck them down. Graced by a rare and special visit from Uncle Dave and Beth on Thursday, Erika was inspired to make bourbon banana pudding. She was channeling their adopted town of Williamsburg, Virginia. Friday the Kosinas left for Nevada City, abandoning me for the entire weekend. Apparently they found a house with a sun room that takes over one whole side of the house, so I may forgive them if they ever make up their minds and decide to buy it. Erika ran a hilly 10K race through Nevada City and was extremely pleased with the results (under an hour, yay!). Now if only she could kick this cold and finish training for the REAL race, which is only two and a half weeks away...

So instead of running, she is cooking. Using up random aging vegetables and grains and whatever she finds in the back of the cupboard, in the hopes that these cupboards will need to be cleaned out soon in preparation for a move. Tonight's dinner is butternut squash soup with a number of other random ingredients (barley!), accompanied by the last loaf of bread that she baked and froze months ago, and some persimmon cookies made from LAST year's (frozen) persimmon crop. Mmmmmm, leftovers!

One thing I predict we will have a ton of left over is Halloween candy. Erika had big plans for Halloween this year, but sadly it looks like they are not coming to fruition. We hosted a pumpkin carving party two weekends ago, which turned out to be too early. I watched those jack o lanterns slowly melt into oblivion while the rest of the family was in Nevada City. Biggest mess Erika has cleaned up in months (picture two completely liquified pumpkins seeping into the top drawers of a glass-top desk and soaking all the contents of the drawers). So, there will be no jack o lanterns welcoming trick or treaters on Halloween this year. And I refuse to let Erika paint glowing stuff on my teeth for a Cheshire cat outfit, so this year might be the same as every other Halloween, where Erika and Martin turn out the lights, pretend not to be home, and watch a scary movie. After the toddler party, of course! Peter still gets to dress up and parade around with his buddies. Don't worry, Erika will take pictures.

Guest Post from Erika: Trial and Error

I'll have to wake up that cat one of these days and get her to start writing again, but in the mean time I bring you "trial and error". My life has been all about trial and error lately.

As previously mentioned, I recently signed Peter up for a "music and movement" class and, as previously mentioned, he has been a holy terror in this class. He runs the circumference of the room seeking out weaknesses, he grabs, hugs, kisses, and hits the one smaller boy in the class (most often all of the above in rapid succession), he throws the musical instruments, generally wreaks havoc and does everything except participate in the circle of "jamming" mothers and children.

So, I figured, he needs to expend a little energy before coming to class. I experimented with several pre-class outings: half an hour at the park immediately preceding class (no discernible effect), an hour at the park before lunch, nap, and then class (again, no discernible effect), and finally today, I pulled out the big guns. First, I let him climb by himself all the way down all three sets of stairs and walk BY HIMSELF down to the mailbox on the corner, where we mailed a letter (always thrilling). We then took a BUS ride (Peter's first since he became aware of the exciting magic that he perceives our MUNI system to possess). He was so overwhelmed that he merely sat, paralyzed by the wonders around him, for the entire 30-minute ride. Then we visited the animals at the Randall museum (chickens, rabbits, guinea pigs, frogs, ducks, various birds and squirrels, and a hive of bees). Then we climbed and played outside for a good half an hour. Finally we took another bus back home (this time he shook himself out of his stupor about 5 minutes from the end of the ride and started his usual climbing and standing versus sitting antics). After that, he slept for a good two and a half hours.

Aha! I thought. He'll be worn out for the music class! And he was. He was so worn out, that he refused to participate at all. He clung to me, sat on my lap, and started crying at the drop of a hat. Poor thing was completely exhausted. Next week's experiment: a doctor's appointment in the morning before class. We'll see how that goes...

Besides experimenting on my child, I also have been known to experiment with food. Tonight I substituted a nice piece of Virginia ham for the bacon in a simple pasta recipe (fusilli, corn, zucchini, pesto and bacon/ham). The ham was part of my birthday present from my dear uncle. I actually started off the meal with another part of my birthday present, some real Virginia peanuts! And if you've never had them, you don't know what you are missing. But I digress. The pasta was delicious! And I got to use more of my stockpiled home-made pesto. The first time I made pesto from scratch, I did not own a food processor. I chopped everything by hand, and swore I would never EVER make pesto again. Until I got the food processor, which makes many things so very easy! Like pesto. And salsa. I just discovered how easy salsa is with a food processor. Trial and error. The only thing Pawlene has been experimenting with lately is the most comfortable spot on the bed as the nights get colder.

Martin and I, on the other hand, are still experimenting together with the location of our dream house. The pendulum has now swung BACK to Nevada City, for those of you who have been following this ever more tedious game of table tennis. We found a great house in Petaluma (Penngrove actually) two weekends ago, and even drove back to see it the following Tuesday, but when it came right down to making an offer, we decided to follow our hearts, no matter how much we feel like we SHOULD be following our heads. We know it is ridiculous to move two and a half hours away from Martin's job, but our hearts are in Nevada City. The head vs. heart argument is sure to heat up this month as we travel back up to Nevada City to look at more houses while keeping one eye on the Sonoma County housing market. I think we just need to buy something somewhere and try it out. If it doesn't work, we cut our losses in a few years and try something else. Trial and error. If we don't try it, we'll never know.

In the mean time, it's OCTOBER! Now I am normally not a fan of Halloween, but this is the last year I get to dress Peter up as whatever I want without him having any say in the matter.

Last year he was a pilot:

I think he looks better with the real accessory:

Ok, ok, enough gratuitous old baby pictures. Keeping this big guy in mind (thanks Lynne for the photo!), what should Peter be for Halloween? Anyone have a teeny little cowboy hat and boots I could borrow? Ok, never mind, don't let the photo influence your choice. Polls are now open.

Guest Post from Erika: Running

I went running today for the first time since my 5K race last weekend. It was the best run I've ever had. 4 miles was easy! This is in sharp contrast to the 3 miles I ran last Sunday. Amped up by the crowds around me, I fell prey to my natural competitive instinct and ran the fastest mile I have ever run (8 minutes, I know I know, but I'm slow). Unfortunately that first mile was followed by a 9-minute mile that felt ok, and then a 10-minute mile that I barely dragged myself through. All kinds of thoughts went through my head in that third mile, mostly about how the heck I'd gotten myself into this and why in the world anyone would want to run more than, say, a mile, and how I was never EVER going to be able to run 13.1 miles. (I am training for a half marathon in November.)

My dad, who ran a marathon or two in his running days (younger than I am now!), had sage advice. He told me I just hadn't found my own internal pace yet. I got suckered into running faster than I should by all the hotshots around me. And that I just have to listen to my own body and keep at my own pace, despite all the other, faster bodies flying past me.

Aha! Yet another challenge in the "listening to my intuition" department. For those of you who have been following my experiment of avoiding goals and structure for the past six months in an effort to listen more closely to my intuition, you might know that this particular experiment has been a dismal failure. Well, not an entire failure. I learned a lot of things. I learned that I am a person who requires structure to succeed. I learned that if I do not structure time to listen to my own intuition, to participate in activities that center me and allow me to spontaneously do whatever it is that my heart desires at that particular moment, then all free time will be sucked immediately into the vortex that is motherhood. Whenever I have a free 20 minutes or so, I have to make a choice. Shall I lounge on the couch and catch up on New Yorkers? Shall I make a nice cup of tea and stand on the sunny deck and stare at Sutro Tower? Or, shall I start a load of laundry, a load of dishes, sweep the floor, clean the toilet, prep Peter's next meal? And that's only when Peter is asleep. When he is awake, the decision becomes much easier. I need to spend time with my son, interact with him, teach him words and numbers and colors and good behavior, make sure he isn't climbing on the dining room table.

So, I made a few changes this month, and I am planning a brief retreat this weekend in which I will (gasp!) make some goals for the last 6 months of this year. Goals that will preserve my health and sanity, and goals that will ultimately make me a better mother. Stay tuned.

But back to running, and an entirely different topic: the running skirt. I've been running in the same shorts that I rowed in ever since I started rowing and running (which I did at the same time, thanks to my dear friend Shannon). Rowing requires shorts that are very fitted, with no loose flaps to get caught in the seat tracks. I have recently noticed that most people do not wear this type of shorts to run in. They wear loose, very short, very lightweight shorts that allow a lot of freedom of movement and have a place to stash your keys. I started to reconsider my "compression" shorts (to use an industry term that I also very recently learned). And then I noticed the running skirts.

In fact, a woman I used to row with who I admire very much is a HUGE proponent of running skirts. She ran the Nike Women's marathon wearing a skirt. And she writes professionally for women's sports magazines like Self. So she's tried everything and she knows what she is talking about.

The thing is, I could not think of one single reason why anyone would want to run wearing a skirt! But I figured they must be fantastic, because why else would this woman, who has tried every running product under the sun, choose a skirt to wear to run an entire marathon?

I started to do some research. I googled things like "running skirts advantages" and read a variety of product reviews. And the only thing I could come up with is that the skirt, which hangs over a pair of compression shorts very much like the ones I have been running in for 20 years, covers your butt. In college, women used to tie a sweatshirt around their waists so that they could get some "coverage". We on the crew team called them "hide-a-butts". The running skirt is nothing but a lightweight hide-a-butt!

As I read through old blog posts that this amazing woman (marathoner, awesome rower, hasn't missed a workout in YEARS) had written, my worst suspicions were confirmed. I realized that she has some body image issues. She likes the skirt because it hides her BUTT! I found this disturbing. I've always been too busy worrying about the fat on my stomach to worry about how big my backside is, so I can understand the body image issues. (If only they made a "hide-a-gut"!) But to go so far as to add extra weight during a 26.2-mile race, just so nobody will see how fat your behind is? That's crazy. And besides, anyone who is training for a marathon has no extra fat left. They simply don't have big butts. And if they do, if *I* do, and just have never noticed, then I want to be an inspiration to women with body image issues everywhere. I want them to look at me and say "Wow, if that woman with the big bottom can run 13.1 miles, then so can I!"

Ok, enough about butts. Let's talk about tomatoes. We have been drowning in tomatoes from a tomato CSA that we joined two months ago. Today is marinara sauce day, and I've got to get on it before Peter wakes up.

Peter, who is now seventeen and a half months old, and just had his third hair cut. And who I can hear calling to me right now. Ah, well, at least I got a blog post in...

Guest Post from Erika: Why I Don't Miss Living in the Dorms

I came across this blog post today, which made me burst out laughing. My college roommate wars never escalated that far, the worst was when we had a pomelo tree in our back yard, and we would place pomelos in random places where roommates were sure to discover them. That war ended when I put one in my roommate Diane's fancy lingerie drawer, and she didn't find it for a few months.

Actually, now that I think about it, I do have worse stories. There was the time when Gordon put the fake hand holding the butcher knife under my pillow. Or the time when Gordon duct taped a rotting tray full of crepes to Andrea's door. She was keeping them in the refrigerator because they had "sentimental" value. I was fully supportive of that one. Gordon and I used to have punk rock wars too, and play the same exact song on our separate stereos REALLY LOUD, but just a a beat or two off of each other. Very disturbing effect. Ah, college.

In *MY* college days, we didn't have computers and ipods and cell phones to entertain us! We had to communicate the old-fashioned way! In person! Or on the (GASP) SHARED land line! Can you imagine? Sharing a phone line with 3 other women? Man, I must be showing my age. I just wish I could post a photo from my college days, but none of them are digitized because...we used REAL FILM in our cameras in those days. Ok, I'll stop now.

Back to Normal

Well, summer is officially over, and we are all back to "normal" life, or rather back to life at home in San Francisco. Normal is all relative with a toddler who is constantly changing. Calling all mommies (and daddies) out there who have been through this – Erika would appreciate advice on any of the following:

1) How to prevent a small boy from repeatedly climbing unstable folding chairs and standing on them quietly with a devilish smile on his face.
2) How to prevent a small boy from using folding chairs to access tables, counters, and other verboten, very high places to stand and balance precariously.
3) How to prevent a small boy from biting, hitting, pinching, and scratching his dear mother, especially during diaper changes (which you would THINK he would be THANKFUL for).
4) How to retain a straight face while scolding a small naughty boy when he imitates his furious mother in the most adorable way...

and especially:

5) How to prevent a small boy from using my water bowl as a wading pool. (Note: The water bowl is on a shelf so high that even *I* cannot access it without the help of a chair.)

But really, it's not as bad as all that. Mostly. Just ask Erika's mother, who witnessed Peter's debut in his hippie music and movement class last week. The other kids are still recovering, Erika is just hoping that they haven't all transferred to a different class after Peter's, errr "exuberance". The kid does love to move.

His class is on Tuesdays, which coincides with "Tomato Day" in the Kosina household. I don't really care for them, but Erika and Martin enjoy them so much that they subscribed to a tomato CSA (community-supported agriculture) program from their favorite farm. Every Tuesday the Kosinas get a big box of all kinds of different tomatoes, plus a surprise (usually basil, but sometimes strawberries!). Let's just say there has been a whole lot of caprese salad served over the past few weeks. And salsa. And pasta tossed with various things but always including fresh tomatoes. And caprese salad. Have I mentioned caprese salad?

The tomatoes will of course play a starring role this weekend at Erika's Birthday Extravaganza. Tomatoes and pork. Lots of pork. And lots of dessert. It is Erika's birthday after all, she should be able to have two desserts if she wants. Besides, Erika is running a Whole Lot these days, in anticipation of the Big Sur half marathon on November 15. Go team!

Martin has been very supportive of the whole running thing, doing the majority of the small boy watching while Erika is training. And financing a really nice jogging stroller which has...er...yet to be used. Martin's new and improved Very Short Commute has a lot to do with the boy watching, and the new job is still going well. We are cautiously optimistic that this could be a really good thing all around.

Erika is also lucky enough to have a fabulous training pair to run with on Sundays. Not just one running partner, but two inseparable ones! We have yet to come up with a "Brangelina"-worthy nickname for Lynne and Simon (Slimon? Lymon? Sinne?) but they certainly keep Erika motivated to run faster and longer. Accountability is a beautiful thing, especially when it comes to training.

Yes, yes, Erika and Martin are still making noises about buying a house somewhere else. Petaluma is looking more appealing these days, even though their hearts are really in Nevada City. I catch bits of conversations: "5-year plan vs. long-term plan" and "apartment is too small for a budding mountain goat" and "need to make sure there are lots of sunny spots for Pawlene". Well maybe I dreamed that last part.

In the mean time, Martin is enjoying his short commute and Erika is enjoying her mother's group. The mother's group recently won a First 5 Grant to help connect their city-bound children with nature. Plans are in the works, but it may take the form of a community garden, interpretive signs on our very own Bernal Hill, or a few field trips to places where the kids can actually interact with plants and animals instead of library books and sand boxes. Yeah, I know. It's time to move out of the city. Mountain goats and city apartments don't mix.

Guest Post from Erika: Midwestern Adventure, Part Three

Ok, I have to start this final Midwestern Adventure post off with an apology. I have NO pictures of anyone over the age of 6 in Minnesota, except my darling husband! Where is the picture of Jason, in his TIE, picking us up from the airport? Where is the picture of Becky driving a freaking motor boat at top speed around Lake Minnewaytooconfusing while mediating a meltdown between her two little darlings (yes, simultaneously)? Where is the picture of the "grown-ups" (sheesh, when did WE become the grown-ups???) frolfing through frog fat in flip flops? Sorry, inside joke. Where is the picture of the FABULOUS new deck??? Or all the great meals we shared?

But really, Becky and Jason are people that I love very much. Good looking, good natured people! But the kids are still cuter. And so here goes: pictures of the 3rd leg of our Midwestern Adventure, aka The Drew Residence and environs in Shorewood, Minnesota.

Minnesota was all about cousins, hanging out with cousins. Unfortunately I never did get a picture of all three of the kids looking at the camera at the same time. Here is an example. I could get a:

or b:

but never all three at the same time. Those kids move fast! Here they are at the arboretum, rocking the double stroller:

And here they are sporting mohawks in the bath tub:



Martin loved hanging out at the Drews, especially in their big, beautiful backyard (a far cry from our tiny apartment deck). Here is Martin, with everything he needs in life to be happy.

Oops, forgot the most important thing he needs – mini Martin.

Awwww.


We don't see nearly enough of those Drews.