wild*life

There’s some well-known reference to watching the Giants play baseball being akin to “torture.”  Apparently they can be inconsistent, letting the other team start to make a comeback before finishing them off.  Over the last three weeks we’ve had our fair share of torture.  Below, the evidence:

Exhibit A: James put on a brave face and traveled across the country, by himself, with a 19-month old.  It was like putting a wild caged animal in a shoebox.  Thank goodness for dried blueberries.

Exhibit B: On the way home, we ran into Jakey’s best friend from school, Helen, in Dallas Fort-Worth.  She was sitting two rows behind us on the plane home.  All he could do was stand on his seat and look at her longingly, “Hellen.  Hellen!”

Exhibit C: You know that scene in a Christmas Story where Ralphie has to try on the pink bunny suit his aunt made him?  That was Jake on Halloween at school when we put him in his ducky costume for the parade.  All tears and no’s and writhing around.  I have some thoughts on Halloween costumes that might deserve their own separate blog.

Exhibit D: For our Hawoween! (Halloween) party, I decided to make cupcakes.  Pumpkin with cream cheese frosting and lemon with chocolate frosting.  Jakey got to help me, mostly by watching from the confines of his high chair and licking his first set of beaters.  The cupcakes were cooling on the kitchen table all morning, before I frosted them.  They were truly haunting Jacob… pure torture.  Cupcake, cuuuuuupcake.  I wandered into the kitchen to find Jake had commandeered an orange plastic fork, deftly stabbing an unfrosted cupcake and dragging it over to the side of the table so he could reach it.  That was his first cupcake on Halloween.  His second was the “fear the beard” cupcake.

Exhibit E: On Halloween night, Shasta did not disappoint.  Seeing as it was a Sunday, we thought there might be fewer trick-or-treaters this year.  Perhaps.  We estimate we were visited by no fewer than 550 little princesses, Scream masks and a weird gorilla with a personal photographer.  We even got the headless ducky to put his head (hood) on for awhile.  His dad gave him a flashlight and he would shove it in his mouth, making his face glow in a spooky, chubby-cheeked kind of way.  He wore the yellow and orange striped leggings that went with his costume and some sandals I put on him.  Most people thought he was a girl.  We saw one other kid in the same exact costume.  She also looked cute.  Jake threw candy in bags (and many times onto the porch) for almost two hours.  He is our household’s most generous doorman, as he prefers to double-fist it.  The good news: He had no idea that “tandy” is edible.  Then my mom told him this weekend.  I think the gig is up.  After awhile the novelty wore-off and our tired, tortured little ducky laid down on the porch.

Exhibit F: Monday night, there were still some cupcakes left over that I’d left on the Halloween cupcake stand.  They continued to torture Jake from the other room as he ate his dinner.  He could no longer resist their taunting whispers and alluring gaze… his ears closed up, his vision was obscured with tears and his world would end unless he had… cuuuuuupcake.

After three cupcakes in two days, there was no better solution to ending our “October of Torture” than…

the trash can.

I’ve been sick for over two weeks… ever since we got back from DC.  For a few days I thought I was definitely on the mend, but now I’ve taken a turn for the worse.  In normal circumstances, people talk about coughing up a lung.  I think maybe I’m on the verge of coughing up a baby…

Or an ear of corn.

Halloween has been particularly eventful this year in the Fucillo household.  I promise to write more when I have a chance… but I only have one day until Cillo graduates from Week 23 to Week 24.

This year we dressed-up as follows:

Jake: Ducky.  Or more accurately, Headless Ducky.

James: Ducky Farmer.

Jaimie: Barefoot & Pregnant.  A slightly trashy take on the theme.  Jakey made sure my white wife-beater acquired some authentic looking stains over the course of the weekend’s festivities.

Cillo: Large Mango.

Last night, more than 56 years since the last time they’ve won, the San Francisco Giants beat the Texas Rangers to take home the World Series title.

For two weeks, anytime Jake sees a TV, he points and says baseball, baseball!  All sports have turned into baseball.

And of course, he joined the “Fear the Beard” phenomenon, currently sweeping the nation.  Gooooooooo Giants!

It is November 1st.  Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is to eliminate the nigh-nigh, completely.

(As I’ve previously written, Jake has developed a serious affinity for his nigh-nigh (aka, pacifier).  Lately, he overpronouces the “t”… someone at school has corrected him, “nigh-nighT!”)

Your first strategy, before implementating “Operation: Cold Turkey,” is to try the “cut a hole” in it method as detailed on the internet by thousands of expert strangers.

As always, should you or any of your IM Force be caught or killed, the Secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions.  This message will self-destruct in the event that the Operation is not successful within two weeks.  Most likely, you will self-destruct with it.

On that same pumpkin selection trip, we had an idyllic day planned.  Being an October baby, this is my favorite time of year.  I had visions of Jakey running through the pumpkin patch– super excited to see and touch all of the different pumpkins.  I dressed him up in autumnal colors, hoping to snap some potentially Christmas card-worthy shots.

We began the day with breakfast at Kelly’s (www.kellysfrenchbakery.com).  As always, she never disappoints.  Then we piled back in the car and drove up Highway 1, deciding we would stop at the best looking pumpkin patch we came across.  Of course the first one we saw looked good, but just like buying a house, you can’t buy the first one you see, can you?  We ended up driving all the way to Pescadero.  We weren’t hungry yet, but you can’t go to Pescadero without getting the cream of green chile soup at Duarte’s (www.duartestavern.com).  I got a large container with warm bread to go.

On the way back to the first pumpkin patch (yes, turns out that sometimes the first one you see is the one… as a realtor, James could have probably told me that), it started to rain.  Rain?!  October is our best time of year– was rain forecasted?

We pull-up to the pumpkin patch that we previously passed awash in sunshine, now under a steady drizzle.  And Jake is, of course, asleep.  He wakes up and I convince him it will be fun to walk through the pumpkin patch.  It’s on a slight hill.  He falls.  Now he’s wet and muddy.  This is when my idyllic vision hits the hard, cold wall of reality.

My son, who takes a bath every day, plus two showers (one with Mom, one with Dad), holds his little hands over his eyes like visors and chants, “Raining, raining.”  Tiny, barely perceptible raindrops have him cowering like he’s melting.  So I end up carrying this little squinting 28 pound bundle of muddy shoes around a 3 acre pumpkin patch.  He noticeably perks-up when we get out the enormous golf umbrella.  Of course he has to be in charge of holding it.

Yes, miraculously, we made it out with $30 worth of pumpkins and our eyes.  I guess there’s always next year.

It began with fountains.  Pictures of lakes.  A boat in a harbor on TV.  Maybe even a puddle.

Two weeks ago we were driving up Highway 1 on our way to pick pumpkins.  Jake looks out at the Pacific Ocean and exclaims, “Bath time!”

Every week at yoga, we share a highlight and lowlight.  Here are a few from the past month or so:

In September, I began a marathon plane journey back from DC.  I had originally chosen aisle seats for every leg of my trip.  I was making my way down the center aisle of the aircraft when I look up at the little diagram and realize my seat, E, is a center seat.  No, this is not yet the lowlight…

Lowlight: I get to my seat and, on either side, to use the words of one of my favorite authors, Alexander McCall Smith, are two traditionally built women.  The armrests could not be put down and I endured a flight squashed in like a sardine… touching the thighs of two strangers.

Highlight: It was the skinniest I’ve felt in months.

Highlight: My old neighbor told me that one of my sweater dress/tall boot maternity outfits was cute.

Highlight: A week or two later I ran into two of my old coworkers, including my dear administrative assistant, Rosemary.  I miss Rose!

Lowlight: When I told them I was pregnant, Rosemary said, “I thought you were just getting fat.”

Maybe I don’t miss Rose that much…

They say with the downturn in the economy, the new trend is moonlighting.  And of course, I am no exception to the treacheries of the worst recession since the great depression.  Just call me Maddie.

I’ve been moonlighting since July.  As a manicurist.  Though I prefer unlicensed nail technician.

I got into this business because it has such low start-up costs, and of course I had a competitive advantage– something that no one else was doing.  My secret?  I provide mani pedis to my client, in his sleep.  Imagine… you’re cuddled up in the comfort of your own bed and in the morning, you wake to find your finger and toenails perfectly clipped, shaped and buffed.  Brilliant, right?  I may even throw-in a little mini moisturizing facial.  I call my business: Mani Bedi.

Unfortunately, the tips aren’t really all they’re cracked-up to be.  And it seems it’s more of a volume business than I’d anticipated.  It’s going to be tough to turn a profit given my current business plan.  Even though I’ve almost doubled my client base in a few short months, if I’m ever going to get this enterprise into the black, I may have to rethink growing each of my customers from scratch.

When I was little I remember my mom always exclaiming, “Jaimie.  Quit.  Kicking.  Your.  Brother!”

The last few weeks I have literally been kicked, simultaneously, from both the inside out, and the outside in…  Does a spaghetti squash even have little feet?