Presidential Hopeful

Today, President Obama is in Seattle. In fact, he’s in our next-door neighborhoods: the one just east and the one just south.  As I drove Zuzu and Will to school today, all the pieces suddenly clicked into place-That’s why there are "No Parking" signs all along 75^th! That’s why there are parking enforcement officers at all the intersections! That’s why there are clumps of neighbors in lawn chairs on all the corners! I made it about 9 blocks before I pulled over and parked. The kids looked at me like I had lost my mind, especially when I told them, “ You’re going to be tardy today.” Then, they looked like this when I told them why:

We hopped out of the van and waited. A moment later, a woman and her dog joined us. Ours was obviously not her native neighborhood-I detected an East Coast accent for sure-but here she was, just as excited as we were. Our numbers grew as the moments passed-moms with kids, a few folks from the houses on 24^th. Look! Now there are police officers directing traffic down at the stoplight. The stoplight up the hill has gone to blinking red!  There goes a police car. There goes a police car in the other direction. Is he really coming this way? Kids squirmed and moms checked traffic updates on iPhones. 9:30 came and went. Where was the President?

Then suddenly, here came the motorcade in all its glory. Lights flashing, flags waving. It was striking, to say the least. (I only have video, and am not sure if I can get it to work here, but trust me-it was some good stuff) And there, in the second limousine, was the President. He was about 25 feet from us, looking out the window. He smiled at us, and waved. Collectively, our little group of neighbors swooned.

Regardless of how you feel about the President (although we here in our house remain unabashed fans, in spite of all the hard knocks), there is something truly magnificent about the pageantry of the Office. I wonder if one ever gets used to it. Even more amazing though, is thinking about what would possibly bring together this random group of people, on a street corner, on a fall morning, when really we were all headed somewhere else-school, work, the store. All these people who have never seen each other before, waiting together with breath bated, all stunned by a split second of contact with something meaningful. That is powerful.

And then, we found out, Will had missed seeing Mr. Obama. Even though the President had been right there, right in front of us, Will had not been looking in the exact right place at the exact right moment.  The fraction of a second that had dazzled the rest of us had passed him by. Will was not happy.

We were already late for school, so what would a few minutes more matter? Maybe we could get near to the house where he’s meeting with folks this morning (that’s right, a little house right here in Wedgwood hosting the President of the United States-imagine that!).  So, we wound around a little back street, and got very close to the house. We saw police motorcycles from all over the area-not just Seattle Police and State Patrol, but King and Snohomish County Sherriff bikes, even Covington Police. It was impressive! Even more impressive was the sight of officers putting little kids on their bikes for photo ops.

                                                   

There was, however, no way we were getting anywhere near the house, or the crowd gathered across the street from it. We sighed and headed back toward our car. Parked at the intersection where we turned were two imposing SUVs: a white Tahoe, and a black something-or-other belonging to the Seattle PD. The passenger in the black SUV beckoned us over, hopped out, and asked, “Do you want to see something cool?” You bet we do! It turned out to be the Bomb Squad, in their “small truck”. So, the kids tried on their “lightweight bomb jacket”, and thought that they were the coolest kids in Seattle.

                                   

                                      

Then, we said hello to the white Tahoe, which turned out to be a couple of Coast Guard Officers, along with Thomas, the explosive-detecting dog. The driver opened the door, said hello, and asked if we wanted to meet Thomas up close. Absolutely! So out of the deluxe kennel in the back jumped the sweetest German Sheppard ever, who, much to Will’s delight, was happy to help him get any cinnamon toast remnants from breakfast off his mug. We came away from our interactions with these public servants just wowed by their kindness and openness.

As we climbed into the van to take Zuzu to school, we were all buzzing about the great experiences we had just had. And although Will was excited, he was still somewhat reserved. His sentences would begin with “And them we got to…” then end with, “but I didn’t get to see Obama”.  After we got Zuzu settled in her classroom, I asked Will if he thought that we should wait for the President to finish his meeting and see if we could catch a glimpse of him leaving the house. His little face lit up. And so, we headed around the corner and joined the crowd.

We waited and interacted with amazing police officers and serious yet smiling Secret Service agents. We were surrounded by news vans and excited neighbors. We were very, very hopeful about our chances of seeing the President. We saw the Governor and Representative Jim McDermott, which I found a little thrilling. But still no President. The press got into their vans, the Secret Service agents mobilized.  We heard a brief cheer from the crowd directly across from the house, and then the motorcade drove away. Gone was our chance to see the President.

I apologized to Will and we headed back to the van. He was so sad, and it was so late, that I could not bear to take him to school. On the way home, I looked in the rearview mirror and saw him crying softly.  I asked him what was wrong and he said, “I just wanted to see him, Mom, not even talk to him, just see him. But I don’t have a lot of money to go to the White House and today was my only chance.”  Oh, the heartbreak.

Maybe when the days are especially hard for the President, he should just keep in mind that there are children out there like Will. Kids who dream of catching a glimpse; who would rather see him than “an awesome band like Kiss or Journey” (Will’s analysis). Kids who would love to be able to shake his hand and tell him that they got elected to the Student Council. And that those kids are connected to parents who gather on street corners on random fall days, also hoping to catch a glimpse or witness the majesty.  Maybe there is still hope out there, and maybe there’s a way to harness it.

To Ian

I am cleaning this house, our home, going through things that I haven’t really looked at for a long time. I have run across old love letters and photographs, and our wedding “guest book”-the picture with the large mat that everyone signed, still without glass after all these years. And I read what they wrote, all wishing us happiness, even those that knew better. It makes me remember when we asked our loved ones for marriage advice and included it in our wedding ceremony-how real people were and how poignant it is now to think back on it.

And I think, too, about this milestone you are coming upon. Tomorrow, you will be 40. For 15 years, I have shared a life with you. I am so very blessed. You said this morning that the first 20 years are spent laying a foundation, and the next 20 years are building something on it. I think the next 20 years will be nurturing what we’ve built, and being so thankful for it all.

Each day, I am grateful that our children have you for a father. That they get to live everyday with everything a man should be: smart, reliable, loving, confident, emotional, supportive, strong, vulnerable, silly, kind. I could not think of a better example for them, especially for our son. I am so glad that he is learning what it means to be a man from being with you.

Because of you, our kids will also grow up knowing what a great partnership looks like. They know there may be disagreements, but that disagreements do not change the fundamental fact that no matter what, we are on the same team. They learn that even when we disagree, we are kind. They are sure that everything we do is rooted in love.  That you are my biggest fan, and I am yours, and that is what it means to have someone’s back.

You still make me laugh every day. You still surprise me. You still manage to make me think, to get me fired up about things, to take a new perspective. Your graying hair is handsome. I love the laugh lines around your eyes that didn’t used to be there.  I am hard-pressed to believe that I fell in love with you when you were 25, because it seems like forever ago and yesterday all at the same time.

Time will keep passing, and birthdays will keep happening. Each day, I will keep counting my blessings, and each day you will be at the top of the list. And all those things that once seemed trite-that love gets better as it changes into something deeper; that we should enjoy each moment because time passes so quickly; that we never know what lies next on this journey, so you’d better like your travel partner-will continue take on meaning because we are lucky enough to truly understand them through the lens of our own real moments.

Thank you for all of it. And happy birthday.

Lazy to crazy, and back again

Lazy days are the best.  Lying around, nothing on the calendar. TV off! The kids complain for a little while, but then find something to do, and it’s almost always something terrifically cooperative and mom-smile inducing. Playing school with the American Girl dolls, building a fort, creating magnificent works of art. Lately, it’s been Yahtzee, which is great, except the kids are mad that I won’t let them use a calculator to total their scores. Call it summer school. 

The game of choice used to be Monopoly, but it takes forever and Zuzu always wins. We have no idea how she wins, but she does. Every time. She also manages to go through a phase each game where she is very, very poor and winds up in jail a lot. She is extremely sensitive to being teased at this point. Calling her, say, a jailbird, will bring a flood of tears. I know this because somehow, I manage to do this every time we play. Bad, bad Mama.  Did I mention how happy I am that we have moved on to playing Yahtzee?

But the truth is, the lazy days can only last so long before the crazy comes. I’m not sure if this in endemic to all moms, or just something coded deeply in my DNA. After day or three of lazy, I start to see all the things that have been left undone. The piles of laundry, both clean and dirty. The layer of dust coating everything.  Whatever you do, don’t look at your socks after walking around the house-eew. By all means, ignore that accumulation of dog hair in the corner of that stair. And that one. If you close the toilet lid quickly, you won’t notice the ring lurking in the bowl, I promise.

And so, one morning when the family has been lulled into a sense of ease at the flow of lazy days, the crazy mom wakes up. Everything must be done, and right now. She has the energy of someone mainlining Red Bull, and she hasn’t even had her coffee yet. Children are bounced out of bed with the “clean your room” battle cry. Don’t try to take a hot shower, because the dishwasher and the washing machine are both running. The dogs are cowering outside, because they really hate the vacuum, and the vacuum’s working overtime. Don’t stand still for too long-if she catches you, she’ll give you a new job. These are the days you really wish there was something on the calendar.

Hopefully, the crazy is over as quickly as it began. Really, I can only sustain it for a few hours-a whole day, tops. There will be some line in the sand; some mysterious point at which the magic “enough” has been done. Suddenly, most everything is peaceful again.  The house is tidier. It still looks like a family lives here, just a less sloppy family. Take a deep breath and make a pot of coffee. It will be ready right after that hot shower. Anyone for a game of Yahtzee?

Two-Dog Life

A year ago, we had a no-dog life. After all, two parents with full-time careers and three small kids have no time for a dog. Plus, Zuzu has allergies and asthma, so any dog situation would require a lot of forethought. We had lots of conditions for getting a dog: hypo-allergenic, able to come to preschool with me every day-because any dog we have will be part of the family and can't be home alone!, not too big and not too small, just playful enough but not overly energetic…the list went on. Let's just say, we totally GOT where the Obamas were coming from. 

We had, the fall before last, finally broken through to the world of furry animals. One day, a hamster had wandered home with me from the animal shelter. Ian was not amused, but even he grew to love Puffin, who was pretty darn funny for a hamster. Mammals have a lot more personality than fish. We all grieved terribly when Puffin died. Mammals with short life spans leave bigger holes in the heart than fish, too.

Fast forward to last summer. Last camping trip of the year to Pearrygin Lake, just outside Winthrop, WA. The friends we were with had gone home, it was Saturday morning, and we were wondering what to do. According to Ian, the neighboring town of Twisp had a great bakery (they do-Cinnamon Twisp alone is worth the 4 hour drive from Seattle), and I remembered that I had seen a notice for the Farmer’s Market. Ian smiled, remembering his childhood visits where people sometimes had boxes of kittens that they were giving away. Super-cat allergies in our house are off the hook! No worries at all.

Except that right outside the Market was not a box of kittens, but a wonderful woman named Ruthie with two yellow lab puppies. The puppies were laying in the sun, fast asleep, with kids crawling over them, picking them up, pulling their ears and tails…and on they slept. Interesting. Our kids, of course, had to join in the fun. No problem-we carry Benadryl everywhere, so Zuzu’s inevitable allergy attack would be manageable. Except there was never an allergy attack, and never any wheezing. We walked through the Market, glad that we had met the puppies because surely, they would be sold when we got back. The female was still available once we had finished shopping. Uh oh. Ian refused to look the puppy in the (big, brown, mischievous) eyes.

And so, our life with Ginger had begun. We never realized how much we had been missing. She was the perfect dog. Mostly potty-trained when we got her, we had minimal accidents in the house. She loved coming to preschool every day, and was such a blessing to kids who needed a little something more. She passed her therapy dog testing with flying colors-only the 4^th puppy ever certified. She’s so smart and interested in everything, Ian is thinking of pheasant hunting-after all, he has an amazing bird dog. Ginger is the perfect dog, and now that I am “retired”, we’ll have so much more great time together!

Family circumstances led us to California twice in as many months. California is where Max lives. Max is Ginger’s bosom buddy, my dad’s dog: a little older than Ginger, slightly different coloring, same spirit. They go for hours. And after they spent time together in July, Ian started talking about another dog. And how great it would be for Ginger. How much easier it would be for me if she had a playmate to leave her with when I had to go somewhere without her. And he kept talking, for weeks. So now, we have Bella.

Bella is a Springer Spaniel who will be two in October. She weighs 45 pounds but thinks she is a lap dog. She has terrible gas. She is, as Ian says, “stupid happy”. She is the best thing that has happened to us since Ginger.

The video shows what our life has become, often for hours a day. While I was writing this, their wrestling match was in full swing. They jumped off the floor and onto the couch, hitting my desk and sending a full mug of chicken broth flying. (They settled down a lot after the ensuing chaos.) They are nutty and silly; they bark at shadows, they are underfoot. We wouldn’t have it any other way.

Much like we wondered how we would manage three kids, we thought we were nuts for getting two dogs. But much like the kids, the joy they bring far outweighs the sorrows. There is always one willing to snuggle if you feel down. There is always one to make you smile. There is often one driving you crazy, but another is there to remind you about all their best qualities. They make us laugh every day. They are happy to just BE. And we are blessed to be a part of a two-dog life.

I've lost my kitchen mojo

Settling in this week, a little bit, to being at home full time. Which means that for the first time in quite a while, I made a menu. A menu of foods that are actually sort of cooked from some other ingredients, as opposed to merely being assembled (ala Tinkertoys).

Assembly has been our way of life for a long time around here, but I do remember that I once really enjoyed cooking. I took pride at being able to create a solid meal most nights for my family. This includes one of the meals that made Ian understand that I was a keeper: “stuff”. AKA, the ability to create something palatable, or even really good, from the seeming nothingness lurking in the kitchen and pantry. There are iterations of “stuff” that have been created, eaten, recalled, written down, and made part of the family cookbook. Really!

But, remember, I’m just getting back into the groove. The kids and I shopped Monday and I went by what would be easy, and on-sale. I settled on some basics: turkey burgers, steak, okomiyaki (a super easy savory Japanese pancake), and chicken enchilada bake. Things anyone can cook, right?

This is the week I discovered that I have lost my kitchen mojo.

Monday: turkey burgers. The turkey was actually in the freezer, but so was my favorite side: sweet potato fries. Good. And, our neighbor Jack had brought us a couple lovely zucchini from his garden, so some pan-fried slices with garlic would be super. Easy. But this is how it went down:

·      Too many sweet potato fries on too small of a cookie sheet finished way too soon.

·      Too many zucchini in too small of a pan with too little heat: soggy, barely brown and, according to Will, “it smells like barnacles!”

·      I know that ground turkey is lean and doesn’t hold together well, so I added egg and breadcrumbs. And breadcrumbs. And breadcrumbs. But, when there are too many breadcrumbs, you can’t magically conjure up more turkey. Oops.

·      No propane for the gas grill, too much time for the charcoal grill…no problem, we’ll pan fry! Um, we’re using the big pan for the zucchini. Okay, I’ll use the small one. These are big burgers, but it will be okay. I think your heat is too high (the burger is smoking). Okay, can you finish?

·      Dinner=1, Jen=0.

Tuesday: steak. A little top round, some fresh broccoli, some corn-on-the-cob, rice pilaf from a box. I’m feeling pretty good, so I invite Ian’s mom over for dinner. She is a loving and merciful woman. 

• Follow pilaf directions. Dry rice, with a bunch stuck to the bottom of the pan.
•  6 ears of corn, will fit in this pan, right? Uh oh, not enough water to cover. So, to ensure cooking, left it in a little longer. Result? Squishy, overdone corn. For those of you who understand this, it’s just like Grandma’s, may she rest in peace.
• Fresh broccoli, quickly steamed in the microwave. This I’ve done a million times. Um, this feels a little squishy. Nothing a cold-water rinse can’t fix. Dear Lord, it’s turning gray. Cold, fatigues-green broccoli. Yum,
• Okay, can you do the steak? Sure. Why are you putting it in the microwave? It’s too cold to put under the broiler right now. 15 minutes later, the rest of dinner is lukewarm, but the steak is done.
•  Dinner=2, Jen=0.

Wednesday: okonomiyaki. Sounds intimidating, but don’t let the name fool you: mix the powder with water and egg, and it becomes batter. Into the batter, mix shredded cabbage and bits and pieces of whatever is laying around. Make it into a pancake, top with bacon, and cook it all up. Okonomiyaki is the Japanese refrigerator cleaner. I want to be fancy, so I pick up some seafood.

• This shrimp smells a little rank. Does it? Will it be okay? I’ll be sure to cook it so it’s really hot.
• Oops. I forgot to mention that the squid is whole. Can you pick it out and I’ll cut it up for you? Thanks.
• How old is this miso soup mix? I forgot to check the date, but really, does it go bad? (Answer: yes.)
• I’ll cook the kids some bacon to go with their eggs. I think your pan might be a little hot. You do? (Yes, it is. The bacon is now black.)  
• Dinner=3, Jen=0.

Thursday: chicken enchilada bake. I could do this in my sleep. If I had been asleep, maybe I would have remembered to rip the tortillas into small pieces, thereby preventing anyone from choking. Dinner=4, Jen=0.

I think tomorrow is take out.