Drained

I spent the weekend at my dear friend Andrew's bachelor party...

It was lovely.

I came home Sunday evening looking forward to undoing the kind of damage that can only be done by eleven guys sharing a house and a three-day bender, but I found things at home had gotten a little "third worldish".  Evidently our drains are backed up.

It's Tuesday now and we haven't made a contribution to the local sewer since Saturday.  No dishwater, no laundry, no showers, and obviously no flushing.  You can go ahead and google something else now.

Still there?  Awesome, I'll try not to use any adjectives like "brown" or "pulpy"

This isn't a brand new problem.  There have been signs leading up to this including a visit from Roto-Rooter two months ago that actually made things worse.  Then this past Saturday the garage flooded after Erin washed some dishes, so she put all visitors on alert.  Everyone got the memo.  Unfortunately one unnamed absent-minded visitor forgot for a few minutes and suddenly things went from bad to extra "third worldish".  Cholera outbreak style.

Life doesn't stop for these kinds of things so Monday morning I went to my first day volunteering at Liam's new preschool.

I. Freakin'. Love. Preschool.

I can't wait to go back.  It was only two and a half hours but that's plenty of time to work up a good sweat.  Not to mention cover one's self with finger paint, jam, and snot from screaming children who can't sit still during circle.

After preschool I had two hours to feed the boys a dirty lunch, put their filthy bodies into their filthy beds, and get to the dentist to get the crown I had scheduled for that day.  Let me tell you, nothing kicks the stink up to the next level quicker than the kind of nervous sweat that comes from having a tooth ground into oblivion.

I came home smelling like poo on an onion.  The boys weren't much better.  Neither were our clothes, the kitchen, and really every surface of the house.  My father-in-law was in the bathroom heroically trying to solve our problem, while dry heaving.  This involved cutting our spoiled toilet out of the bathroom floor since it was our only access to the main drain and the previous owners had cemented it in.  They were pranksters those previous owners.  His efforts were unsuccessful so we faced another night of filth and binding food.  I couldn't do it though.  I managed to wash myself with a quart of water and I drank my dinner (sidenote: A spouse of mine, who asked to go unnamed, had a high fiber cereal and ended up going in a plastic bag at 5am.  That was a low point.  But what a champ, eh?) 

This morning I put in the call to get a pro on the job.  They'll be here any minute.  I'll finish this post later, hopefully with good news.

By the way the only reason I'm home today is because my parents went on vacation and they usually watch the boys Tuesday.  We tried to find someone else to watch them today but our usual backups were busy and we couldn't find anyone new in time.  This is just as well since I hate starting any professional relationship with a call to CPS.

UPDATE:  The guy found our "cleanout" buried in the side yard which was good news.  He was in and out in under an hour.  As soon as he left I stripped Liam of his filthy rags and he shouted "NAKED...can we take a shower?".  It broke my heart tell him, "I'm gonna need ten minutes alone, buddy.  Then HELL YES!!"

Here's Finn covered in three days of filth and wearing an oversized onesie from Healdsburg Cheese Shop.  Apropos since he smells like cheese.  

P.S.  While I was writing this Liam celebrated our success by taking an adult-sized dump in the adult-sized potty.  All by himself!  I rewarded him with another shower.

P.P.S.  I just remembered I scheduled my TB test today.  Also apropos.  

A Visit from my First Boyfriend

The other day I was at work, minding my own business, when I got a text. It was from my first boyfriend, we'll call him "Scott" because that's what I called him in this post from last October. (Not to be confused with any other Scott who has appeared in this blog in the past. Completely different Scott).

I should say here that aside from a comment or two on facebook over the years, I have not seen or been in any real contact with this person since I was 18. But to receive a text saying "hey this is Scott, I might be in San Fran later today, wanna hang out?" didn't strike me as that odd. Between school and camp and various jobs I've held over the years, I get texts or emails like this from time to time. Usually with a little more notice, but hey, I can roll with any variety of punches.

I was super busy at work that day so I didn't put too much thought into his visit aside from making some very basic arrangements. I was stressed and so as the night wore on, his texts about flight cancellations and emergency landings and lack of available flights just sort of went in one eye and out the other. I thought we'd have to put our catch-up visit on hold until the next time he had some crazy layover in the city.

But the next day he was in my car, in Santa Rosa, and we were heading to the Russian River Brewing Company. Apparently he's some sort of important beer nerd, so he was pretty excited about this. Like, palms getting sweaty and eyes growing wide and a little bit crazy the closer we got kind of excited. I told him that Paulie and I had a Beatification from RRBC that he could have. His reaction was the same as when I agreed to have sex with him the first time - "Oh...my...god. Are you serious?!" (side note: I tried the beer. I'm incredibly unqualified to do this, but here is my review anyway: Meh.)

As we made our way to the brewery, I asked when he was flying out. He didn't really have an answer for this. Instead he indicated that maybe he'd just "take a bus back," or "rent a car"...when his "money came through." I laughed and said "oh god, is this going to be one of those situations where you show up and just...never leave? Ha ha ha!" He just chuckled and said "heh heh....heh, no....." and looked off into the distance.

For all of my talk about growing up with men and having some sort of insight into the male psyche, sometimes I'm a little slow. It took me several hours and a few subtle clues to figure out that Scott was, perhaps, going through one of those midlife crises during which men look up old girlfriends. Apparently lots of people do it. In fact Paulie did it. So, okay. No big deal. I figured I could dodge whatever intentions he had fairly gracefully. I mean, we were a couple ages ago! It's not like me rejecting him now would break his-- oh, shit. I forgot. I broke that poor young man's heart.

I'd sort of blocked out that detail until we were two beers in and somehow got on the subject of, well, old stuff. He reminded me of the entire winter I thought I had scabies (ahhh, memories). I asked him to refresh my memory on how in the world my mother had ever let us go on a date when I was a mere 14 years old (by using incompetent brothers as chaperones). He said he'd recently found an old picture of me in "that black dress" I wore all the time - the one with shoulder pads that made me look like a skinny football player. Or a short Anthony Kiedis in drag. When I wondered at how he managed to still have such old photos, he said "well, you know, I mean come on - you were my first love...first heartbreak.... Gotta keep those pictures! Heh..." (looks off into distance). As I do in all situations in which I feel awkward (aka - most), I laughed too loudly. Then said "welp, time to head over to MY BOYFRIEND'S HOUSE for dinner!"

How do I get myself in to these situations?! Mike says it's because I'm terribly, terribly naive.

I braced myself for the inevitable question - whatever that would be. I wasn't sure what to expect. But as time went on, it didn't come. Huh, I thought. Maybe he's not pining away for our lost teenage love after all! Hm! Just to be sure, the next day I asked him how he was feeling about all of the big changes happening in his life. Except I worded it more like "so, do you think you're going through some sort of midlife crisis or something?" He asked me to define Midlife Crisis. "You know, you get to a certain age and start questioning all the choices you've made in your life, feeling like the grass is greener elsewhere, regretting things, deciding to try again, take more risks...things like that."

He thought about this for a beat and said "nah, that's been my whole life. My whole life has just been one long midlife crisis. I can handle all this stuff. It's just sort of overwhelming being here with" (here it came - the big, torch-carrying confession...) "Russian River being right down the street from your apartment!"

And that was the end of that.

I realized that actually he'd just gone out of his way to postpone connecting flights, put off some business, and shuttle from San Francisco to Santa Rosa then back again for one simple thing: Beer.

I hope it was worth it!

Mystery Moisture

Yesterday I caught myself three different times thinking...

"yeah....that's probably pee"

Should I just start putting down newspaper?  We started off strong with the potty training but somewhere along the way things derailed.  I think Liam's just decided he's fine with the pee being on him most of the time.  In his underpants, in his bed, on his booster seat: no problem.  When we started him on undies he'd have an accident and the world would come to an end.  Now he just lets loose and moves over slightly to a dryer spot.

I never thought I'd be this cavalier about my kids' juices.  I remember before becoming a daddy I was having a conversation with a guy once who was holding his daughter and, in mid sentence, cleaned half a cup of snot off her face with the palm of his hand and wiped it on his pants.  I thought "don't gag don't gag don't gag", then I gagged a little.

Now I find these damp spots and immediately dip my fingers in them and smell the tips like some kind of Parisian Nez.  

Top notes of Cheerios with a hint of apple juice, nice.

There's just something about his spit, pee, poop, barf, snot, etc. that's not gross to me.  I actually find it less gross than my own.  But that doesn't really explain it since I've never actually poked through my own turd to try and identify it's contents.  I guess its all part of the natural/bizarre parental progression.   

Christ, I'm turning into Amanda.

Oh School, How I Love Thee!

Evie started Kindergarten on Monday, and holy sweet jesus in a biscuit, am I a happy mama.

I mean...it was a beautiful, emotional experience, pushing my lastborn out into the world of big kiddery and -- oh my god, who am I kidding? I JUST GOT MY LASTBORN INTO THE WORLD OF PUBLIC SCHOOL, y'all!!

Sure, when Jonah started Kindergarten I was a soppy-eyed mess. His dad almost had to rip me limb-by-limb away from my quirkily angelic firstborn. Other parents and I wept and commiserated in the hallway outside the classroom after we'd been kicked out - trying to be strong and not peek in the tiny rectangular window in the door. It was a very emotional experience. This time, however...this time....

The moment Evie's teacher said in her sing-songy way "now lift up your kissing hands and send kisses to your parents and say 'bye bye! See you after school!' I blew a kiss to my youngest child, walked out of the classroom, took a deep breath...and then I was all "I'm outta here bitches! I got shit to do!"

I went for a jog! I bought Jonah jeans that actually fit! I did a shit-ton of laundry! I did a buttload of dishes! It was ah-maaaaa-zing.

At pick up time, I noticed something different on the faces of the other parents than I'd seen at drop off. The morning of the first day of school always means exaggerated frowns while hugging and saying "oh my gosh, can you believe it?! FOURTH GRADE (in Jonah's case)!!!! Waaaaaaah!! The summer went by just tooooo fast!!" By pick up time however, everyone is ecstatic. We're all hugging and saying "holy christ! I'm cannot believe I made it though the summer! School is AWESOME! Let's go get coffee tomorrow! Woo Hoooooooo!"

All joking aside, I'm so proud of my little moody hissing hellfire-on-legs daughter. She's been scaling the fences of that school since she was old enough to scale fences - but she still felt a little scared to be an actual student there. After her first few minutes, however, she was a total pro. Like a boss.

That's just how she rolls.

Preschool

First day of school!!  I dropped Liam off this morning at 9am to his first day at Healdsburg Community Nursery School.  No tears, no tantrums, just off he went headlong into the world of sandboxes and macaroni art.

It really wasn't that big of a deal for me either because of my natural stone-like stoicism and unshakable decorum...

Baaaaahahahahahahahahaha!!!  Yeah right!  Says the guy who needs to breathe into a paper bag every time he watches Finding Neverland.  EVERY TIME!  No, it really wasn't that big of a deal for me because it was only 2.5 hours long and I've had PLENTY of time to mentally prepare.  I think.

All the same I did find myself a little shell-shocked.  I didn't really feel like going home right after dropping Liam off.  I considered just staying in the car since 2.5 hours isn't an unreasonable amount of time to wait, but sitting in a van parked outside of a children's school for that long is bad practice.  Instead I went to Flying Goat Coffee where I swapped knowing looks with some other first-day drop-off parents, had some cappuccino therapy, and held Finn a little too tight.

I picked Liam up at 11:30 after showing up 15 minutes early and waiting in the car looking not creepy (shut up).  He was just as cheerful leaving school as he was being dropped off.  He's a roll-with-the-punches kind of guy I guess.  I asked him how his first day was to which he replied "peanut butter and jelly" which translates to "I had so much fun I didn't eat anything".  Five stars out of five.  I didn't really get the chance to hear anything from the teachers or the other parents but I guess no news on the first day is good news.  Other than some incriminating paint-smears and dirt-boogers it's hard to know exactly what went on but that's okay.  I'll get the full experience next Monday on MY first day of pre-school.  That's right it's a "co-op" so every other Monday, starting next week and on into the foreseeable future, I'll be educating the future of America.  I'm a little nervous about this and shared my concerns with Teacher Julie (who, by the way, is awesome).  She said not to worry about a thing because she'll coach me every step of the way.  Her first bit of advice was "don't help them do anything they can't do themselves".  Like what, hoisting them up to the top of a slide with a tricycle so they can ride it down, piling the whole class into the canoe and running through the playground with them on my back, or seeing if they could swing all the way around?  Why not?!  Either Erin warned her that I can be a bit of a Lennie, or she just read me like a book.  Either way we're all in good hands.

Mario Kart

Pixar movies have been our go-to over the years when we need a substitute 'parent'.  Who can parent all the time?!  Strangely though, in the past few months, every time I ask Liam "what do you want to watch?" expecting to hear "Wawee" (Wall-E), "House" (Up), or "Mater" (Cars 2) his answer has been "Aya Wii, HOO-HOO!!"

It took us a couple of days to figure out what that meant.  We figured it out but the answer left us even more puzzled.  We have a Nintendo Wii with only one video game: Mario Kart.  When you switch it on there's a little shimmer noise followed by Mario announcing the game's title "Mario Kart Wii, HOO-HOO".  Naturally Liam thinks that's what it's called.  The Mario Kart part is a little too tricky for him to say so he shortens it to "Aya".  It's now his most requested thing to watch.  It's also his answer when you ask him what book he wants to read, what he wants for dinner, and if he needs to go potty.

Aya Wii, HOO-HOO!!

Yeah, we get it.  Apparently Liam really loves watching me and Erin play Mario Kart.  It could be the action, it could be the music, or maybe it's just be the seizure-inducing lights, who knows.  The problem with us playing a video game though is it negates the beauty of having something he can stare at while we do other things.  Consequently, we rarely indulge him in this request but that doesn't curb his asking.

Aya Wii, HOO-HOO!!

Last night we thought we'd treat him.  Even though he was reading (bad parent!) I cranked up the volume from the other room and Erin filmed his reaction when I turned on the Wii (the audio is key on this):

I don't know if that's cute, funny, or disturbing but I've watched it thirty times so I thought I'd share.

No, it's fine. Really.

When people meet the boys for the first time they look at the blond hair and blue eyes and invariably say something like, "where'd they get THAT, the mailman?! Hahahahahahaha!!!".  My usual reaction is to just quietly excuse myself to the nearest bathroom for an hour or two.

I think the mailman is pretty unlikely since he's Japanese, plus but I've formed some solid theories as to who their real fathers are:

First there's Liam.  He's sandy blond, blue-eyed, shockingly handsome, brooding, and introspective.  He can be intensely calm one minute and spiral into a sobbing wailing mess the next.  He is very popular with the ladies and has an insatiable affinity for pasta, which suggests some Italian ancestry.  Therefore...

Finn's a bit trickier.  His head is yellow like his brother's but much more spherical.  He literally eats constantly, a quality that is aided by his disproportionately large mouth.  My best guess...

I figure both fathers have to be celebrities since Erin could have just about any man she wants.  One would think I would be upset knowing that they're not really my biological children, but really I'm fine with it.  You'll excuse me for a minute...I have to go use the bathroom