On Outgrowing

No, this post is not going to be about my weight. Certain people have actually mentioned how svelte I look lately. This post is about outgrowing our apartment, or as we affectionately call it these days, The House of Plague (everyone except *me* seems to have a cold).

I thought it best to illustrate how we are outgrowing our apartment with some visual aids which, incidentally, contain images of Christmas cheer! But first, some background. Peter is a curious child. Curious and fearless. Not a great mix unless you have 24-hour supervision, and Erika tries her best but... At any rate, we have one room in the house (my new favorite room, where I now spend 90% of my time) that is off limits to Peter. We call it The Forbidden Room. It contains such curiosities as the always-on gas fireplace and the very tall bookshelves. It also now contains my cat food, my water, and my litter box because these three objects posed too great a temptation to Peter and after much heart ache and yelling, it was decided that everyone would be better off this way.

The Forbidden Room also happens to be our living room. It is adjacent to our dining room/play room/Erika's "office"/guest bedroom. Yes, those are all one room. I told you we were outgrowing this apartment. The living room is traditionally where one puts a Christmas tree. Our house is no exception. So, we did a bit of re-arranging and the Forbidden Room is also now the Room of Christmas Cheer.

Here is a picture of Erika taking a picture of the Christmas stockings, hung by the "fireplace" with care.

And here is Peter (with beloved lovey), next to our Christmas tree!

Oooooh, Christmas tree!

Luckily it is in the Forbidden Room.

Nice little Christmas scene, eh? Except that if you draw back or pan right just a tad, you might notice my food and water...hmm, that's not too Christmasy.

But even worse, if you draw back just a little further or pan left, you might notice...a...box... next to the artfully weathered couch arm. Hmmm, whatever could that be?

Oh NO! That doesn't smell like pine needles and Christmas cheer! Well, at least we have the Christmas-themed dustpan to sweep up the stray bits.

I don't mind sharing the Christmas room.

However, Erika and Martin are OVER it. Over the cramped digs, over the lack of heat in appropriate places (like maybe the bedroom and bathroom instead of the hallway?), over the schlepping a 28-lb child and his 28 lbs of STUFF up and down several hills because there was no parking spot within 2 blocks of the apartment, and OVER paying rent in the second most expensive rental market in the country. (Sorry, Andrew, but at least you get to live in my favorite city on the planet.)

Yes, I may finally say with all of my toes crossed and a healthy dose of cautious optimism...Erika and Martin are finally buying a house. Well, at least they are in the very beginning stages of buying a house (made offer, accepted counter offer). This is farther than they have ever gotten before, hence the cautious optimism. It's the one with the giant sun room and the resident rooster, so I've given my seal of approval. Next step: inspections and blah blah blah. Will probably happen between Christmas and New Year's. The house is in Nevada City, for those of you who have not been following along. It's the one that Erika fell in love with on sight. Ok, better not say too much. Don't want to jinx it.

Happy Holidays!

Grateful

Ok, so this would have been especially appropriate around Thanksgiving, but I've been, uh, Busy. And with this cold snap, I have even more to be grateful for. Like the gas-powered fireplace that I spent all day in front of yesterday. And today. And the extra comforter that Erika put on the bed last night. 54 degrees in the house this morning! BRRR. (For all of you midwesterners and east coasters reading along, anything below 50 outside is very cold for Californians, and we don't like our houses to get much below 68 degrees.)

Erika has her own list of things she is grateful for, starting with opposable thumbs. Ever tried changing a diaper filled with liquid poop on a wiggly toddler using only one hand and four fingers on the other hand? Didn't think so. It's hard. Erika sliced off the tip of her thumb this morning making mushroom barley soup for said toddler. The soup was delicious (or so I hear) and free of thumb bits, for those of you who were wondering.

Speaking of kitchen tools, Erika is also EXTREMELY grateful for her new Kitchen Aid!!! It's one of those things she wonders how she ever survived without. Baking bread is now a breeze. It's almost too easy. Instead of kneading for 25 minutes and trying to dissuade a whining toddler from climbing up her leg for 23 of those 25 minutes, she merely presses a button and voila! Play time with Peter while SIMULTANEOUSLY "kneading" bread dough! Amazing. It's a whole new level of multitasking. Stay tuned for Christmas cookies.

On a more serious note, Erika is thankful for her dear husband, Martin, who managed to watch TWO toddlers (favor to an ailing mother in Peter's play group) for much of this past weekend while Erika frolicked in Santa Cruz at Tina Wong's 40th birthday extravaganza. And what an extravaganza it was. Sand candles, exotic dancing aerobics, wine and cheese and home-made soy chai, and the company of some of the most extraordinary women she has ever met, which led to some intense emotional conversations about some other things that Erika is grateful for, like her mother. Some of these women sadly no longer have their mothers around, which made Erika appreciate her mother even more. She feels awfully lucky to have a happy, healthy mother who loves her and who she actually enjoys spending time with.

And while we are on the topic of being grateful for family members, Erika wants to be quick to mention that she is ALSO very thankful to have a happy, healthy father too. And, well, uncles and aunts and and cousins and nieces and nephews and in-laws, and of course we don't want to forget Peter George. Erika is awfully grateful for having him around as well.

But she is also very thankful to have Ashley the Wonder Nanny come for a visit every Thursday, to take Peter AWAY for the whole day so that Erika can do things like go to the dentist. And sit, undisturbed, with a cup of tea for 20 minutes or so. But of course Ashley would not be possible without the other mothers and boys who we share her with, and so Erika is also thankful for Peter's little buddies and their sweet, down to earth mothers who preserve Erika's sanity. Life would certainly be harder without them. But not as hard as changing a diaper with only one thumb.

Guest Post from Erika: Finished!

Well, I did it. What started as a crazy idea that Lynne and Simon came up with over three months ago ended in Victory! Over my bum knee, that is. Today all three of us ran (and finished!) our first half marathon (13.1 miles). And it was Fun!

I even beat my time goal by several minutes. It was surprisingly easier than I thought it would be, despite very cold temperatures (41 degrees - ok, cold for California anyway), a night of very little sleep (the latest incarnation of poor little Peter's Neverending Cold comes with a hacking cough), and an early separation from my favorite running buddies due to a poorly timed bathroom stop. My knee, predictably, started with the shooting pain thing at around 10.5 miles, almost exactly where it started hurting on my last run of that distance. It was a little touch and go there for a while, but I pushed through and managed to even speed up a bit for the final half mile. I remain conflicted about whether or not my body is capable of running a full marathon. One thing I am not at all conflicted about is running skirts. I didn't see any of the "elite" female finishers wearing skirts. I was very happy in my tights, thank you very much.

So, now it's 2 weeks of rest and some hard thinking about what, if anything, I want to do Next. The Big Sur marathon is in April. We'll see.

In other news, I forgot to mention one milestone in my last post. The passing of Maude. Martin finally found it in his heart to donate her for scientific experimentation. Might have had something to do with her latest "issues" plus registration fees, which added up to over half of what we originally paid for her. Ah, well. She was a good car. I'm still not giving up on my dreams of having an art car some day. Maybe the Coffee Cat will come to be at some point (a van disguised as a giant cat – complete with speakers broadcasting Pawlene's trade mark "meow" – that visits gloomy suburban office parks to dispense espresso drinks, whimsy, and tasty pastry treats). We'll see.

Milestones

Goodness, there seem to be a lot of milestones to celebrate lately.

First and most important, there was dear Uncle Dave's 75th birthday on Sunday, well celebrated (or so I hear) by his lovely wife and devoted children. You should see him chase Peter around! Pretty impressive for someone with three quarters of a century under his belt. The secret to his longevity must be an abundance of thoughtfulness and generosity – a good heart. Either that or it's all the boudin and other questionable French and Swedish and Chinese treats he has consumed over a lifetime of being an adventurous gourmand. Erika and Peter ate dim sum tonight in his honor. Sadly, it wasn't Yank Sing and much of it landed on the floor.

But there are other, smaller milestones happening right here in the Kosina household! For instance, as of this month we have stayed in one spot (one apartment even!) for a record-breaking TWO years, much to Martin's disappointment. Remember the days when we would move every month or six? Sheesh, I for one am glad that is over. Although I do hear rumors about trying to buy a house before the end of the year. We'll see.

Tonight, Martin attended his FIRST football game. I guess he is a real American now. Go niners!

As of this morning, Erika has run 140 miles in preparation for this Sunday's race. Go Erika!

And Peter has finally started to talk. Go Peter! Here is what he can say:
"giggy" (Kitty)
"caca" (car)
"mama" (more - Yeah, Erika thought he was talking about HER for a long time, but finally realized he was referring to her only in the sense that she provides food and he wants MORE MORE.)
"baba" (daddy - the Czech word for dad is "tata" so we may have Peter's first Czech word here...)
"ball" (ball)
"ba" (banana)
"Hi" (hi)
"shoes" (shoes)
"cheese" (cheese)
"ba bye" (bye bye, accompanied by the opening and closing of his hand, approximating a wave)
"baby" (baby)
"NO" (no)
"nonono" (no no no)
"nononono" (no no no no)

It's pretty cute. I'm sure there is more that I am missing (Erika's MOM understood way more words when she was visiting three months ago; Erika is just slow or Peter has become a lot clearer). I'm still trying to teach him a few phrases in cat like "This is your last warning; Leave me alone right now or I am going to scratch you." but the kid is a little slow so I am trying to be patient with him. Peter has turned into a pretty good petter, at least when mom is watching. And when mom isn't watching, well let's just say I am really getting my exercise, running the length of the hallway and leaping over the child gate into the Forbidden Room. I think I've lost weight.

Oh, speaking of losing weight, Erika wanted me to be sure to give a shout out to Peet's on this post, for bringing back the eggnog lattes as of the first of November! One a week, from now until January 1st. Erika is in heaven.

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.

Guest Post from Erika: Midwestern Adventure, Part Two

Top Five Reasons We Love Visiting Elk Point, South Dakota
5) Pineapple Brats (no, REALLY)
4) Twin Bings! (It's actually a Sioux City thing, and now cousin Becky is addicted too)
3) Plum Dumplings, home made by Denise's Mom and helpers
2) Game Night: Sequence! (you didn't think these would ALL be about food, did you?)

but really, the number one reason...

1) Our wonderful South Dakota "family", which consists of Denise and Randy Briggs, their beautiful sweet daughter Cara, son-in-law Aron, especially delightful granddaughter Celia, parents, brothers, aunts and various and sundry other relatives who are all such wonderful, generous, fun and interesting people!

Here are most of them. Don't they look happy? That's because they are.

Denise looking for turtle eggs with Celia by the river.

Here we are, happy to be enjoying the lovely summer weather.

And there goes Peter. Bye Peter!

Those pictures were of our big outing. Mostly, we just sat outside and chatted. And ate. And chatted some more. Martin is helping them learn Czech. Celia is teaching Peter all sorts of things. She is going to be a star some day – that girl can Perform!

Randy and Denise have a lovely big yard, full of flowers. And a nice deck, perfect for BBQs. Denise's mom lives next door. Here are four generations of Denise's family (five are living):

We think Randy was secretly plotting to get us to leave Peter behind. He needs a new technician in the shop.

Cara and daughter Celia, plus one more who you can't see yet. S/he will make his or her appearance in another 7 months or so.

Celia was quite the task master. Got Peter to sweep up the place.

But it wasn't ALL work.

Peter even got to go for a bike ride! Now isn't that the most luxurious toddler ride you've ever seen?

Martin took him down to the garage to "help out".

Have I mentioned that we love visiting Elk Point? :-)

Oh, I almost forgot. We *finally* got Denise to fly in Martin's plane. The woman had not been in an airplane since 1978. Three years ago she made it all the way to the end of the runway, and walked all the way back. We are so thrilled that she did it this time! Yay, Denise!!!

Guest Post from Erika: Midwestern Adventure, Part One

Well you already heard all about Part One (San Carlos -> Elko), so I'll just post a few photos to make you really feel like you were there (without the air sickness part).

Here is Peter, flying like a champ. See how he amuses himself? (For a full 20 seconds?) I won't post the picture of him screaming his head off because I still want you to think he is adorable all the time.

Here is Peter, overjoyed to be out of the airplane in Elko. Uncle Dave is herding.

Captured!

Later that evening, Peter enjoyed a spaghetti meal with all of his senses. And I do mean ALL. "What sound does spaghetti make when dropped from six inches above the plate?" Martin's biggest question was "Why the heck do they put spaghetti (the messiest food there is) on kids' menus anyway???" Ok, but it *is* hard to eat spaghetti with just a spoon. Give him a break.

Peter helped Martin load up the plane on Sunday morning as we prepared to fly to South Dakota. The paint job is still pretty cool. We got comments everywhere we landed, almost all positive. Example: "Did Ted Nugent influence the artist?" (from the control tower in Casper, Wyoming). My favorite though, was the negative, somewhere in very rural Wyoming, or possibly Colorado:

Surly gas guy: Well that's an *interesting* paint job you got there.
Martin: Uh, thanks?
Surly gas guy: It wouldn't exactly be *my* first choice.
Martin: Oh, really? What would your first choice be?
Surly gas guy: I think they look best painted white with a little blue stripe.

He warmed up when he saw the faux bullet holes though. Turns out he had the same ones on his truck. Bonding with the locals!


Next post (and I realize this next post will actually appear *above* this post, confusing all of you linear types out there): Home Sweet South Dakota thanks to Briggs Last Chance Garage!

Guest Post from Erika: First Leg of Travel (Elko, Nevada)

Well, we flew to Elko yesterday from San Carlos and it was a pretty bumpy ride over those mountains. I learned several valuable lessons:

1) Always carry an extra barf bag (ok, what is the politically correct term? air sickness bag?) in case one has a hole in it.
2) A sleeping bag, even a wet, very smelly sleeping bag, is still warm when the cabin temperature drops to 32 degrees.
3) The person who gets motion sickness should not be the one in charge of keeping the head set on the upset wriggling toddler for 3 hours.

Doesn't flying sound glamorous? :-)

You all can extrapolate the rest. At any rate, I was never happier to see my dear Uncle Dave's smiling face when we landed. He kindly chauffered us to our hotel, and then took us out for a real Basque meal (Peter's first!). I think we were all a bit disturbed by the amount of food we were expected to eat, but managed to enjoy ourselves nonetheless with Beth and Kristen helping to keep the little guy happy and occupied until well past his bed time.

Congratulations to Jan and John Maas who have been married for 50 years, and whose big old celebration provided the occasion for this mini family reunion! I told Martin we are definitely having dancing at our 50-year wedding anniversary party. Woo hoo!

We depart in a couple of hours for South Dakota, and I have a new pre-flight checklist that includes Drammamine. Wish us luck!

More Puccini and Peter at Chez Kosina

Peter the baby toddler has entered a new stage of development. We'll call this the Climbing Stage. Here is how it works. Erika will be in the kitchen, doing something that requires near-constant attention like toasting walnuts. (I know, I know, I've tried to tell her to stick to something simple like Egg McMuffins, but she refuses to listen). Peter, in the mean time, will be in the other end of the apartment (the playroom), doing god knows what.

Every few minutes Erika runs down the hall to see what Peter is doing. She does this more frequently when things get quiet because as all mothers know, a quiet baby toddler is a baby toddler who has found something so dangerous/interesting as to be completely absorbed for however long it takes to gravely injure himself.

Now, here comes the Italian opera. This morning it's Tosca. Appropriately dramatic and tragic for the variety of tableaux that Erika is greeted with when she peeks around the door frame:

1. Peter sitting innocently, *reading a book*!!!
   
2. Peter standing with both hands on the cat, fists full of fur in each hand
   
3. Peter STANDING on the dining room chair next to a large window, giggling
   
4. Peter sitting calmly on a cushion, playing with daddy's sock
   
5. Peter struggling valiantly to wiggle up onto the dining room chair, which has now been wedged between the table and the sofa to discourage mounting
   
6. Peter sitting calmly on the sofa, looking perplexed (how IN THE WORLD did he manage to climb up there???)
   

sigh. This is how Erika has lost so much weight. It takes her two and a half hours just to prepare breakfast, and by then it's lunch time and she's thinking "Why bother?". We really should go back to the restrictive child gates in every room, but then Peter spends all of his time trying to climb up Mommy instead of chairs and tables. Equally hard to prepare a meal with a whining toddler attached to your leg.

So when do we get to the Can't Stop Folding Laundry stage? Or, better yet, the Obsessive Kitty Petting stage? Guess we'll find out.

Pictures. Yeah, I know. Working on it.

Quick Update

Didn't mean to leave y'all hanging there. In brief, here is the news of note:

1) Martin accepted the job! He will start saving the world energy (ask him, it has something to do with computers and power metrics that is beyond my tiny feline brain) in another week and a half.

2) Erika has discovered the perfect soundtrack for screaming babies: Italian Opera. Picture it: some Italian guy, wailing mournfully about his lost love and then, Peter chimes in: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH! It's perfect. Now, before you call Child Protective Services again, this is the third meltdown this morning, and it is only 10:30. She has tried and tried and TRIED to pick him up, soothe him, help him stop crying, and he gives her only the universal baby sign for No Way Mom, which is both hands waving across the body like an over-eager umpire insisting that the guy was SAFE. Or is it OUT? Can't remember the last time I was at a baseball game...

3) Are the Kosinas moving to Nevada City? Who knows. Stay tuned (again). Martin wants to practice his new bicycle commute (the job is in San Francisco) and then we'll see.

4) Peter is now 12 kilograms, which for all you Americans out there, translates to Damned Heavy. Or around 27 pounds. Had to keep up with the elongation, which the doctor puts at 33 inches or 83.75 centimeters. He's a big guy. Must be all the "daddy omelettes" that Martin has been concocting for his breakfast lately.

5) And yes, Peter turned 15 months old this week and Erika has yet to post any pictures anywhere. She's been busy with, uh, making trips to the library for more Italian opera. And cooking. Oh my, has she been cooking. Chocolate raspberry clafouti anyone? Sorry, it's all gone.

6) Record high in San Francisco this week has been 58 degrees. Fahrenheit. I'm going back to my nap now until the sun comes out.

Pawlene's Perspective for the 100th Time

Yes, with a lot of little help from Erika, and no help at all from Peter The Marauding Toddler, I am posting to this blog for the 100th time.

When this blog started two and a half years ago, we were happily living in Portland, Oregon. Peter was but a twinkle in Martin and Erika's eye, we were looking for a house to buy, and this blog was mostly about Food. My, the more some things change, the more others stay the same.

But first, the news. Here is a quick highlight of This Week's House Drama. When Erika last reported on the house we made an offer on in Grass Valley, she mentioned that Another Cat had suddenly come into the picture as part of the deal. Well, we had a little chat and Erika and Martin immediately revoked the offer. There might have been a few other factors at play, like the 20-minute commute to town, which was starting to sound really long, and the fact that the situation with the bank was getting more complicated instead of less, but still. Another cat? No way. Erika and Martin have mixed feelings about the whole thing, but feel that it really was the right decision.

However, there are a few other house options under consideration, both in Nevada City. Stay tuned...

In other late-breaking news, Martin has finally received a job offer that actually interests him. He is currently contemplating it. It sounds really cool, but we don't want to start counting those chickens yet so that's all I'm going to say about it right now.

And now for the REAL news. Allow me to quote from the thank you note that Erika and Martin received from our latest house sitters:

"I can't tell you how much we appreciated having a [blah blah blah] AND of course, the BEST cat in the world! I've had cats all my life, and have never met a more friendly and loving one."

Someone *finally* appreciates me for who I am. Not one mention of my size in that note, mind you. All about my *inner* beauty. Hmmph.

Oh, and for you photo hounds, here are the Kosinas in attendance at one of the coolest weddings ever (Congratulations, Tracy and Jason Starr!). That large boy on Martin's shoulders? Peter.

Guest Post from Erika: Real Summer

Ok, so I must admit that I was sulking for the first few days in Nevada City. And for good reason! We came home from Europe, cleaned house and got over jet lag, unpacked our suitcases about 3/4 of the way and then just packed them back up again to come to Nevada City. Once we got up here, we SERIOUSLY cleaned house for several days, and tried to get used to finding our way around in a new town while one of Martin's close friends went through a pretty serious crisis back in the Bay Area. Not the most restful week.

However, Martin took the day off today and we went down to Mother's Beach at the South Yuba river to soak, refresh, and, well, play! And it was grand. It felt like Real Summer, the kind of summer that I remember from when I was a kid and in and out of ponds, lakes, rivers, and swimming pools all summer long. Hot, hot weather that doesn't cool off at night. Ice cream every day because it's cold and it tastes good and it is a simple pleasure. Summer is all about simple pleasures.

And speaking of simple pleasures, I realized tonight that we haven't watched a movie at home in, well, weeks. First because we were in France, then because we were too tired and busy getting ready for the next trip and now because we are having too much fun enjoying outdoor summer pleasures. Ok, well there was one night that Martin put this, um, airplane movie on...something about the romance of flying... I can't honestly say I remember much past the first 20 minutes because it was at the end of a long and exhausting day and Martin had decided to make his famous Manhattans earlier in the evening. Yes, I am becoming my mother because I can't seem to stay awake for more than the first half of a film.

But back to summer pleasures. The other day, I had Big Plans to take Peter to the park. Big Plans. I found the location of the park online, scribbled down the directions, waited for him to wake up from his nap, and commenced the diapering, dressing and shoeing of the baby. Sometimes this can be done in around 5 minutes. On a really good day. Often it can take, well, all afternoon. This was one of those afternoons. I would get one pant leg on, get the other pant leg hooked around his toe and then the first pant leg would be off. Rinse and repeat, ad nauseum. Don't even ask about the little baby shoes. One would think velcro would make things EASY. So anyway, after a time struggling to get Peter dressed in a way too hot house, I simply gave up and let him wander around in his diaper for a few minutes. And then it dawned on me. I was about to embark on a 15-minute walk in 99-degree weather to a PARK with hot metal slides. ??? I saw the light, took off his diaper, and let him play in the kiddie pool for the rest of the afternoon. He loved it. There is some kind of Zen lesson in there somewhere. Go with the flow. Whatever. The simple summer pleasure of a kiddie pool in way too hot weather trumped any other afternoon plans. And it was so easy!

My personal favorite summer pleasure is, of course, food related. And no, it's not ice cream although ice cream is frequently a party to this particular pleasure. My favorite thing to do on a hot summer night is to eat outside, preferably with good friends who love good food and good conversation. We have had four perfect summer dinner parties since arriving in Nevada City, three of them at "our" house. During my favorite one so far, we had to hunt down candles so that the conversation could continue. And then the candles melted all the way down to nubbins and I *finally* had to go inside and get a sweatshirt because the temperature dropped below 70 degrees. Heaven.

Tonight's dinner party ended early, but it was especially fun because our friends brought their wonderful boys with them, ages 4 and 7. As I was doing the dishes, listening to the shouts from the "dads and sons" volleyball game outside, I realized that THIS is what summer is about. This is what I have been missing in San Francisco. This is how I want to live, and this is how I want Peter to grow up. With appropriate space and temperature to enjoy being outside, especially in the summer.

We looked at another house that was perfectly lovely this afternoon. We are going to look at a few more on Sunday, just in case the house that we made an offer on doesn't come through or gets hung up indefinitely. Couldn't hurt. And maybe we will move in time for the simple pleasures of autumn in a small town in the mountains.

Peter is 14 months old!

Two posts in one day! When it rains it pours...

For those of you following along only for the gratuitous bonus baby photos (really, Facebook just makes it too easy and I've gotten lazy about posting here), here are a few. Not only does the little guy walk now, he sweeps! Mommy is VERY happy about this new development. Oh by the way, I don't normally use "product" in his hair. These photos were taken immediately after his second hair cut at the local (read: Mexican) salon. Looks just like an altar boy, doesn't he? Or maybe Derek Zoolander...

July 1: Bloggers Against Procrastination Day (Guest Post from Erika because Pawlene is too darn lazy to type)

Oh hi. I could start by listing various excuses why Pawlene hasn't posted anything in nearly two months, but that would be boring. She is a cat. She's been catching up on sleep. And adjusting to all sorts of new house sitters.

The Kosinas, on the other hand, have been traveling like crazy. And this is the first instant where I have been sitting, relaxed, in one spot, with nothing pressing hanging over my head and no baby tugging at my leg, in quite some time.

A quick summary of our travels to date:

1. A week in Esalen for a dance workshop, during which Peter became scarily ill and Child Protective Services came to take Erika away because she forgot to bring Infant Tylenol to a remote (one hour from a hospital) place with her baby. It all worked out. Erika missed out on a sweat lodge, but learned a lot from the experience. Peter made 74 new friends, all of who knew him by name 3 days into the workshop. Mostly beautiful, baby-hungry hippie women. This is why I don't let Martin take Peter off for 5-day workshops with beautiful hippie women.

2. Two weeks in France plus a week in Italy sandwiched in the middle, during which Peter was much doted upon by 3 different grandparents and various friends. Unfortunate side effect of Martin swearing to never ever fly on a commercial airline with Peter ever again. Ever. They did enjoy splashing in the lake though. I think it was both of their favorite parts. That and all the good French wine (Martin, not Peter).

3. A week and half in Nevada City, where I sit now, on the 89-degree front porch of "Auntie" Kristina's house, writing this blog entry. We put quite a bit of work into the place this time around, making hundreds of spider enemies with the vacuum, brooms, mop and dust rag. I have apologized profusely to my little arachnid friends, letting them live as often as I can, but I am on a serious one-woman mission to eradicate the annoying giant weed that looks like a walnut tree that has popped up EVERYWHERE since we last visited. Be gone, giant weed!

The status of our very own house in Grass Valley continues to creep towards certainty. We tested the internet on Monday and it appears to work. So now we wait until the bank makes up their mind on whether or not our offer is a fair price. They have until August. The current owners are packed and ready to move. They did drop a furry little bomb on us on Monday however. There is not only a resident snake that we are expected to care for, but a resident CAT. Now Pawlene is the most patient kitty in the world with little children, and she even tolerates dogs rather well, but Other Cats are another story. She hates them. All of them. With passion and fury. This particular cat lives outside, and Pawlene's primary territory is inside, so we may be able to work something out, if in fact we do come into possession of this particular house. Stay tuned.

In the mean time, I am exploring grocery stores (Briar Patch ROCKS almost as hard as New Seasons in Portland) and various toddler-friendly play places. The South Yuba river is at the top of our list, as is the Grass Valley Library. After Peter's nap today: Pioneer Park, which we can walk to from the house. Exercise, yay!

I am also eating WAY too much ice cream (a habit I picked up in Italy) and wondering how I am ever going to fit an Exercise Routine back into my life. After August. Yes, more travel in August. Our much-postponed trip to the Midwest, God (and the gods of private air travel) willing. A visit from my parents, which will allow Martin and I to escape for a night or two sans bebe. (!!!) Burning Man is high on the list, but it's hard to go for just a day or two. And then it's birthday season for the Willett family. sigh. I guess this is what summer is all about. At least I get a few moments like this, watching ants crawl on the deck and lizards sunning themselves in the driveway as I wait for the telltale wail of a baby who is Awake and ready to see his momma again.

Astrological Shift?

Was there some sort of Astrological Shift that nobody told us about? My life is still pretty much the same except that I have made some progress on training Peter in how to properly pet a cat. That kid learns faster than I thought! However, Erika and Martin are just trying to hang on as they are buffeted by the winds of fate.

First, more house drama. I really should have a category on this blog just for house drama. For those of you who would rather just wait until we have actually made it through escrow on a place, skip this part.

The Kosinas (minus moi) spent a very nice weekend in Nevada City, looking at houses and enjoying their stay in "Auntie" Kristina's beautiful historic home. OK, just to side track a bit, let me explain about this home. It was built in 1885 and sits on a gorgeous 2.something acre lot two blocks from downtown Nevada City. Kristina's parents bought it in the late 1950s and lovingly modernized the whole place themselves. Sadly, Kristina's father passed away in 1963, and the house has been sitting empty since then. Empty except a grand piano in the music room, which necessitated keeping the heat on at 55 degrees until the oil ran out in 2003.

Kristina, being the extremely kind and generous person that she is, offered to let us stay there during our house hunt. The place is amazing – decorated at the height of late 50s fashion which happens to be right in style today. They kept the beautiful wood floors and antique wood burning stoves and everything is in perfect condition. The dust has built up a bit over the years, but we made ourselves quite comfortable with just a bit of vacuuming and dusting. In fact we are quite in love with the place, but Kristina's mother is not selling.

So, we went house hunting with our beloved Super Agent, Dawn Ryley. And we found yet another house that we would be quite happy to call home. Unfortunately it is another short sale, which means a world of complication and being subject to the whim of the paper pushers at the bank. But we made an offer anyway. So we'll see. I'm not even going to share any details until there is a reason to believe that we might have a chance at getting it. Ok, well one detail. It comes with a family "pet". Garbo the gopher snake. He hangs out under the blackberry bushes near the pond. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but we can probably work out some division of territory and mice if it comes to that. The place is on 5 acres, so there should be room for both of us.

In the mean time, *another* dreamy house that friends of friends are selling in Nevada City just boomeranged back into Erika's email box with a price reduction. !!! On top of all this, this astrological shift (I am convinced that is what it is because the only other possible explanation, the full moon, was *last* week.) has somehow bumped Martin's resume to the top of the pile. Recruiters are calling. And calling! In this job market! And they have some interesting openings... We are just hoping that the house stars and the job stars align all together. Stay tuned.

And speaking of staying tuned, if any of you all really were wondering what Erika did with the rest of the 13 pounds of lamb, all I can tell you is that none of it made it into my bowl. Julia Child came to the rescue. Erika fed the whole family for a week with Julia's "non-traditional moussaka". Not sure what made it non-traditional, other than Erika forgetting to put the egg in (it was still quite good!). This week: Jacques' lamb and barley stew from the Julia and Jacques cookbook. Possibly with lemon herb popovers if Erika is feeling motivated. That won't happen until later in the week, when the home-made spaghetti sauce runs out (from the Laurene Willett cookbook*).

The little guy is doing great despite the gale-force emotional winds. He still pretends that he doesn't know how to walk or stand on his own, but I've seen him take a few steps when he thinks mom isn't looking. Another tooth broke through on the bottom, so instead of "Chief Two Tooth", Erika calls him "Chief Half Tooth", soon to be "Chief Three Tooth". He is taking it all in stride. And speaking of unbearably painful torture, if anyone has ideas on how to entertain a 1-year old for 16 hours in an airplane, do send them our way. Erika and Peter depart on May 28th for a grand European adventure with the Willett (and maybe even the Kosina!) grandparents. Erika is hoping to find her happy place next week at Esalen and stay there (at least in her mind) until her parents pick her up at the train station. Yes, train. Don't even ask.

*No Andrew, there is not REALLY a Laurene Willett cookbook and I am sure you would be the first (ok well maybe the second) to know if there was one.

Guest Post from Erika: A Cautionary Tale

This is a post about being smug and hubris and, well, you know where that leads. Peter and I, now on Week 3 of the "Is it Swine Flu?" Sniffles (but finally getting better, thank you very much), were having a lovely rainy Monday morning. It started off a bit rough, with Martin getting paged at a rather too early hour and handing off the baby to a still very much asleep Me. It wouldn't have been so bad, but my dear friend Lora's 40th birthday party was last night and I chose the Manhattan when I should have chosen the ice water, if you know what I mean. (House-made brandied cherries! Couldn't pass it up!)

I rallied, made it through TWO poopy diapers with a smile on my face, and, struck by a Martha Stewart moment, decided to make parmesan pea ravioli. (After washing my hands very thoroughly, of course.) This is where the smug part comes in. After a very amusing pea shelling session with Peter, in which peas made it into every corner of the playroom, we moved into the kitchen to make the ravioli filling.

Now, for those of you who have not visited our house, we have gone about child-proofing in the following way. We picked two rooms in which Peter is free to roam, child-proofed the heck out of them, and then did a sort of cursory job at making the rest of the house generally safe under adult supervision. If Peter is in either the kitchen or the playroom, we breathe a sigh of relief and let him roam freely because it really is difficult (not impossible!) for him to get into too much trouble in those rooms.

Back to the ravioli. I chopped, grated, and pureed as Peter wandered around the kitchen playing with this or that. At one point he sat down next to the back door and became engrossed in...something. I didn't pay too much attention because the kid can spend 30 minutes completely absorbed in taking things in and out of a plastic bowl.

I was feeling smug about my son's ability to amuse himself, about making ravioli from scratch, about keeping him indoors and safe from swine flu and all of the other dangers of the outside world. Then he screamed. That got my attention. I ran over to find the source of his sudden agony, and found...a BEE crawling on the kitchen floor. Peter was stung by a bee in our own darn kitchen!!!

The next 5 minutes happened really fast. I found the stinger in his tiny index finger, scraped it out with my driver's license, and Googled (sorry Martin) "bee sting treatment" as fast as I could with my free hand while Peter wailed. I tried to ice his poor throbbing finger, but he was having none of that. I escorted the poor dying bee unceremoniously out the back door. Then I waited for anaphylactic shock to set in. When it didn't, I was extremely relieved. And then, he was fine. He went back to singing to himself and pushing his high chair around the kitchen. Literally 5 minutes later.

Poor Peter. Poor bee! And poor me. I can't even protect my son from hurt and danger when he is right under my nose in my own kitchen. At least we know now that he is not allergic to bees.

On another note, I had a conversation with a very dear friend today that continues to bother me. He is planning a gathering at his house, and was concerned about mixing friends who have kids with "non-kid-positive" friends. Wait a minute. People who don't like children? What does that mean?

I completely understand not wanting your own children, or disliking badly behaved children, or finding people who talk incessantly about their children awfully boring, but not liking *children*? Who doesn't like children??? And this is the THIRD time this week that I have heard something about the animosity in the Mission between childless hipsters and older ex-hipsters who got married and had babies, battling for territory in some popular Mission district restaurant/coffee shop.

But back to those people who profess not to like children. I have seen even the most grizzly stoic people become utterly charmed by a beautiful, innocent child. I walk down the street with Peter and every single block he inspires smiles in strangers (apparently, only as long as I am not pushing a stroller into their favorite crowded gourmet coffee shop). Children are a light in this world. They are pure, unbridled joy. They are our only hope for the future. How can anyone not like children? I just don't understand. All you child haters out there, please enlighten me. Has my brain gone soft since spawning my own precious Mini-Martin?