wild*life

As I think I’ve mentioned, Jacob James is a talker.  A chatterbox.  An orator.  An adept conversationalist.  What I especially enjoy is when he picks up on some word or phrase and begins using it at every opportunity.  One such word was “never.”  He started using it with such frequency so as to deflect all behavioral requests.  Miss Letty had it banned.  He currently thinks “never” is a bad word.

Some other ones have been “ac-tu-al-ly” and “I’ve been sinking (thinking)…”  Watch out for that last one.  I’ve noticed over the last week or so, the new thing has gone from ending his sentences with “or somesing” to “or what?”  He’s got the intonation of these two words down perfectly.  That kind of slightly clipped, New-Yorker-in-a-hurry tone:

“Mama, are you going to take a shower or what?”

“Is Daddy at work or what?”

And last night, as he was browsing his toy catalog (the one with the whale rescue mission), he shows me a picture of a nativity scene, “Mom, is that the baby Jesus or what?”

Fuggedaboutit.

It’s still January, so documenting a few Christmas vacation highlights doesn’t seem that out of place.  No, I didn’t make any new year’s resolutions about timely blogging.  Should I?  Hmmm, don’t answer that.

* On Christmas Eve, we put out our cookies and chocolate milk for Santa.  I was told by a certain 3-year-old expert that Santa LooOooOooves chocolate milk.  Then, after bedtime, I looked at all the presents that still needed wrapped.  Santa’s elf protested.  I finally realized why Grandma and Granddad have devolved to decades-long recycling of gift bags (with the previous receiver’s name crossed out and yours scribbled above it).  For the first time, I almost empathized with why they wrap gifts in garbage bags with stick-on bows.  Almost.

* Also on Christmas Eve, JJ and Daddy were watching Santa’s trip via NORAD.  When Grandma and Granddad called to talk on the phone and asked what we were doing, Jakey exclaimed, “Santa’s in Bolivia!”  This uncommon phrase was somehow misunderstood over the telephone waves.

* Christmas morning was magical.  It was so exciting.  Santa came!  And he ate our cookies!  And drank all of our chocolate milk!

* On Christmas morning, a book for Baby Devon was under our tree.  The corner was ripped into before I intervened with our illiterate housemates.  Collateral damage.

* That afternoon we went up to the farm and had a wonderful second Christmas.  The boys gobbled up their dinners.

* We spent 2 nights and a stunning day and a half in Yosemite.  Perfect snow.  Perfect sunshine.  And the perfect winter “cabin.”  Sledding was a hit.  Unfortunately, the snow wasn’t sticky enough to build a snowman.  And Nate wouldn’t walk in his snow boots.  I remember Jake doing the exact same thing, that is, standing as though his feet were set in concrete, reaching his hands toward me and sobbing.  Jacob did finally get over the trauma that year.  Not Nate.  It probably didn’t help that these hand-me-down boots are a size too small (this child’s hands and feet are not to scale).  The trauma necessitated sledding with his “nah-nah” (Nate’s word for pacifier).  After carrying the 30 pound doll baby uphill through knee high snow several times, I quit.  Toddler sledding should be the next big trend in fad workouts.

* The cabin was well-stocked with Disney movies, on VHS.  We watched 101 Dalmatians and Lilo and Stitch.  We ate bacon and It’s It’s (not in the same sitting).

* It felt like Nate was “no’ing” us incessantly.  Turns out no is also “snow.”  And “nose.”

* Haven’t heard Nathaniel say “Santa” yet.  Instead he prefers to chuckle, “Oh Ho HO.”  He thinks this is especially amusing if he’s in the bathtub and swipes some bubbles across his chin.

* Uncle B and Auntie T got engaged!

* We came home through Merced and had a wonderful third Christmas.  By this point Jakey was like an addict looking for a fix.  All he could think about was where he was going to get his next present.  It seems Christmas goes from nonchalance to obsession from the ages of 2 to 3.

* Oh, and on Christmas Eve when I kissed JJ goodnight, he made me promise that if I heard the reindeer land on our roof I’d wake him up.  I did in fact hear a thump as I was dozing off.  But I could hardly open my eyes, I was so tired from stuffing presents into garbage bags and sticking on bows…

Nate in his “no” boots.

All right.  It’s time.  We still have a few minor things to finish in the kitchen (no, that blue painter’s tape is not a design statement), but ultimately I think we can officially state: The Kitchen Is Done!

And so even though I’d like James to take some of his fancy real estate fish eye pictures that make your house look bigger (for posterity’s sake), it’s time to share some “after” pictures.

Now I’m anticipating my friend Karen is going to tell me she hates me when she sees the new kitchen.  That means she likes it.  You just have to know Karen.

I feel reborn.  I can actually lay out 4 dinner plates and serve up food on this expanse of counter space.

Check out R2-D2.  You practically can’t even tell which panel is the dishwasher, right?  I always knew someday my little Bosch would get the Cinderella treatment she deserves.

James’ fall-back plan is Italian barista.

Our new breakfast nook.  Of course now we’re trying to make cushion decisions based on little postage stamp sized swatches of fabric.  And maybe someday Nate will transition from his crib to this big boy bed.

We’ve got a new built-in around the washer and dryer.  Unfortunately no one built-in self-washing laundry.  I thought I’d made that clear in the specs…

And last but not least, the stove.  Somehow the new hood still can’t erase the indelible atrocity of the Rangemate from my memory.

So Karen, don’t hate me.  But looking at this picture, you can totally hate my dishtowels.

How the time gets away from me some days.  As of last Monday, our personal Ice Age has ended.  Almost 3 full weeks of inhabiting a meat locker and waking-up to frosty grass and ice on our windshields has made us heartier.  James is actually wearing slippers.  Nate insists that he continue sleeping with his footy pajamas, baby sleep sack and 4 blankets.  And I haven’t heard Jacob whisper, “My blankets are freezing!” at 4am, 2 inches from my face in almost a full week.

Though a few days ago he did wake me from a sound sleep with the declaration, “Mama.  Frogs bark like dogs in Texas.”

“It better be 7:00.”

Nake & Jake at the North Pole

It is with great anticipation and gratitude that I am writing this post because as of yesterday… drum roll please… we have a kitchen with running water!  Hallelujah, hallelujah, Hallay-AY–lu-jah.  Imagine angels descending and me dancing around in my snow coat while singing the previous refrain.  Fortunately the heater parts are in.  Unfortunately the heater install guy is not.

So we now have a real stove and hood, a refrigerator without handles (long story… probably could have been another “episode” but who wants to read about my ongoing saga with Will Williams and Western Appliance?), running water, and the pinnacle of true civilization: the dishwasher.  My all time most favorite appliance after indoor plumbing, well, and central heat.  I’m sure if I lived without refrigeration I’d have to revise this list, but let’s just pray that day never comes.

And in celebration of the imminent completion of this remodeling project and the requests I’ve received for pictures, I thought we should take a little trip down Memory Lane.  If I could, I’d add some kind of background music here…

The before picture.  Let us pause for a moment to appreciate the milk glass granny lamp hanging from the ceiling on the right, the pink and blue (mostly pink) speckled Formica countertops (all 12 inches of counter space), and the layers of linoleum.  One spaghetti dinner and I’m probably going to really miss that linoleum.

This is a nice shot of our dishwasher.  Certain boys loved to ask if we would be replacing our front-free dishwasher.  Yes it looked like R2-D2, but that is a top-of-the-line Bosch!  I just didn’t see why I would waste money on a front when I knew someday (or 3 years later) it would have an integrated panel… you’ll see.

Here’s a nice shot of our laundry room.  I’ll miss the partially wallpapered, partially wallpaper glued walls.

And the half bath.  We’re keeping the Martha Stewart green sink.  Trust me, it’s cool.  But it was time for the pink and green deco tile to say goodbye.

Last but not least, the pièce de résistance, our non-functioning Rangemate hood.  The one with the hot extension cord in the wall that gave me heart palpitations when it was found.  Can you believe we got rid of the matching stove?

On Christmas Eve Eve it was raining.  We spent the whole day inside because there are very few good places to go with kids when it is raining, especially on holiday weekends before Christmas.  That afternoon I talked the little boys into nap time by crawling into our master bed with me in the middle.

I was in a deep, deep sleep when the soothing sound of the rain outside changed to the alarming sound of water dripping.  Or drizzling.  Or cascading, if you will.  I claw my way out of this deep sleep to look up at the bowl shaped light above the bed where Nate and Jake and I are huddled together in an attempt to create a warm haven in our meat locker of a home.  The light is filling-up like a fish bowl and then the water comes streaming down into the middle of the bed like a bad hotel shower.  I leap out of bed, turn off the light and yell for James to get a bucket.  Poor Nate is startled in the mayhem and falls out of the bed on all fours like a little cat.  Jake watches in excitement as this unfolds.

Fortunately the torrential downpour outside subsides… the backed-up gutter dissipates and the water recedes… leaving our down comforter nice and soggy.

Every day Nate comes into our room, points at the ceiling and exclaims knowingly, “UH Oh.”

You’re tellin’ me.

Fortunately, 13 has always been my lucky number.  Despite the previous spate of incidents, we are so very blessed and have so much to be thankful for.  And given the last few weeks, 2013 cannot come soon enough!

We have no heat.

Let me back-up a moment.  The floor finishers return post-Fernando to stain and varnish the kitchen floor.  It seems they position the plastic door dust barrier so as to guide the highly combustible fumes directly into our high efficiency furnace air intake vent.

The floor guys leave and James smells smoke.  He frantically looks for the source and finds something has combusted inside our furnace, leaving us without heat.  Of course the floor guys say they have never heard of this.  Of course the furnace guys say they’ve seen it multiple times.  So our two-years-young furnace is now broken and we’ve celebrated the holidays gathered around the space heater.  And this is why I am blogging in my glittens.

Now that it’s winter it’s basically dark on my way into work and on my way home.  I generally park my car on the street and walk about 10 minutes to the train in order to save a few bucks.

So the other night I’m crossing the four-lane road on the way to my car and I have to run so I don’t get hit by a car.  What used to be an easy crossing seems to be getting tougher now that the economy is picking-up.  So I cross the street in the dark and have to walk a bit farther because all the spots were taken that morning.  Of course a weird looking guy is riding by on his bike.  Did I mention it was dark?

My car is parked across the street from this strange fenced yard that says something about automotive and boat storage?  I’m not exactly sure.  I just know that it has a big padlocked fence and looks sketchy.  So the dude in the plaid shirt riding his bike in the dark is slipping into the automotive storage/meth lab and I am jumping in my car and quick hitting the lock button.

I check my mirrors, throw my car into reverse, back-up and BAM!  I’ve just killed something.  I look up and who is right there looking at me through my driver side window?  I-ride-my-bike-in-the-dark-wearing-dark-clothing-and-then-stealthily-enter-underlit-unidentifiable-establishments-guy.

“You hit a dumpster.”

Great, now I have to get out of my car.  Turns out someone has pushed a small, sturdy dumpster behind my compact SUV while I’ve been at work.  It’s exactly sized so as to be undetectable from the comfort and safety of the drivers seat.  I’ve punched it with the back right corner of my car and knocked it over.  Bike guy wants my help, in my work clothes, to hoist the dumpster back up.  It’s completely full.  We lift it up.  Buckets of garbage have spilled out, but I draw the line at hoisting dumpsters in the dark with weirdos.  I’m not scooping-up filth.  Fortunately the friendly weirdo helps me exit my parking spot safely and I get outta there.  My back taillight was not quite as lucky.

And so I get home and…

Yeah, yeah, yeah.  We didn’t get the flu shot.  And then Jacob came down with the flu.  And he was having such awful night terrors that I had to sleep in his bed with him to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.  And so I was ensconced in flu germs and then spent over a week on the couch with Jake watching endless episodes of Max & Ruby.

On November 17th we went to a birthday party for one of Jake’s best buddies at school, Rowan.  JJ calls him Rovin.  I’m not sure if it’s because his teacher with an Indian accent calls him Rovin, or if it’s because it then rhymes with his cousin Covin.  In any case, we were putting our shoes on after the party and Nate decides he is going to walk down their stairs, holding the hand rail.  It’s hard to remember exactly, but I watched in slow motion as he did a somersault down their carpeted stairs and then skidded down to the bottom on his stomach like a seal.  Of course I was traumatized.  After the initial crying, he seemed fine.

Then five days later, on Thanksgiving morning, Nate woke-up and his eyes were crossed.  It was the worst Thanksgiving ever.  He was falling over and missing things we handed to him and all the doctors said his eyes were fine and it wasn’t related to falling down stairs.  To someone who didn’t know him, apparently his eyes looked fine.  But they were definitely not fine.  Thank goodness he woke-up the next day and was back to normal and has been normal ever since— even despite me staring at his eyes incessantly and making him perform hand-eye coordination tests.  The ophthalmologist checked him out for good measure and he passed with flying colors.

There’s a story about when my brother-in-law was little and he woke-up one morning and couldn’t walk for two days.  It was attributed to a “virus.”  Hopefully we’ll look back on Thanksgiving 2012 and chalk-up Nate’s day of being cross-eyed to a virus.

We are infinitely thankful for Nathaniel’s smiling eyes.