Harvest 2012

The 2012 Bairdsmith Bros. harvest is done!  Check out the action...

Liam cleaning out bins in his jammies.  He actually helped this year (sort of), although teaching him how to operate the hose was a can of worms I probably should have kept closed.

Every time Erin brought in a bucket she would announce which number it was.  By the end she'd gotten up to 113!  This was particularly remarkable since, after doing the math, I figured she'd single-handedly picked 800 pounds more grapes than we ended up with.  Incredible!!

 Erin wasn't the only one picking (though she might as well have with her skills, right?)  Joining us was her sister Kat, Kat's manservant Neil (just kidding Neil), my father-in-law Bruce and our buddy Timothy.

A thing of beauty!!  Though, sadly, Erin's extra 800 pounds must have fallen out on the way home.

It took Liam a few minutes to realize he was sitting on a pile of candy.  We had to pry him off.

Totally not staged

It was a good harvest.  Back in the day I'd have to keep telling myself that the one full day of hard work was worth it because in the end we'd have a year's worth of wine to enjoy.  But with the boys' help I don't have to keep telling myself that.  I can't say I'd go through it without the reward of an ocean of booze, but they sure make it a lot easier.

Wuv, Twue Wuv

Last weekend Erin and I left our boys screaming in the arms of my parents as we set off for an all adult weekend.  We headed down to the land of palm trees and Spanish tile: Santa Barbara.  We were there for four days.  Four whole days.  It was awesome.

The people of Santa Barbara are interesting.  Everyone walking the streets appears to be either on their way to yoga, homeless, or both.  Also they seem to go out of their way to try and get run over by cars.  I'd have been fine with that (I'm all for Darwinism) but we'd borrowed my parents' car for the trip and returning it smeared with hippie blood was a poor way to return the favor.

We arrived Friday night.  Erin and I did our best to try not to miss the kids too much.  We figured the safest way to make the transition was to go out for an extravagant night on the town. Until that point we hadn't made any plans aside from simply getting beyond shouting distance from the boys, so the night was wide open.  Fortunately we had our friend Shane, who lives in Santa Barbara, to offer up some guidance.

I don't know if I've mentioned Shane in this blog before?  The short story is:  I'm a little gay for him.  I suspect Erin feels similarly because ten seconds before we met up with him I popped two mints in my mouth and Erin lotioned both of her hands (true story).

Before we called Shane to meet up with him we tried surprising him at his house but he wasn't home.  Instead we found a surprise of our own...

It's kind of hard to see but that's a skunk in his front yard.  I'm only sharing this non sequitur detail of our story because while Erin was taking this picture and remarking on how "cute" her shit-spraying rabid new friend was, I was using her as a human shield.  It wasn't my most chivalrous moment, but I didn't want to perform a wedding smelling like some rodent's ass glands.

Oh, did I mention we were in Santa Barbara to perform a wedding?  That's right, I'm a goddamn man of the cloth!  My good friends Dee and Drew had bestowed upon me the honor of marrying them.  They gave me carte blanche in authoring the entire wedding script too!  Although they did have a few addenda.  They preferred that I didn't do the voice from 'The Princess Bride' and they weren't "entirely comfortable" with me including my five minute ham-bone routine.  Instead that had me include a couple of Mexican wedding traditions such as the 'Lazo' where the bride and groom get tied up together, and the 'Arras' where the groom 'symbolically' gives all his money to the bride.  Mexican traditions are all about subtlety.

Saturday was a full day of rehearsing.  First we rehearsed the ceremony, then we rehearsed eating and drinking all day.  Sunday was the actual wedding day.  I did an okay job...I think.  My brief part had some spontaneous banter, a bit of humor that got a laugh, and even a little Spanish.  I felt like a bit of a spaz though.  Afterward I got some unsolicited compliments so I guess I wasn't too bad.  My biggest worry was that I'd do something stupid and ruin what was easily the most beautiful, fun, and blissfully romantic wedding I'd ever been to.  Erin and I unanimously agreed upon that.  Dee and Drew were amazing and the reception was absolutely perfect.  I kept catching myself walking around with a big goofy grin on my face because I was just so damn happy.

Erin had a great time too despite getting toxic chemicals sprayed directly in her eyes.  I was in the bathroom when someone started frantically banging on the door.  I figured someone had had a little too much  and needed the toilet for something awful, but when I opened the door a small group was escorting Erin with glowing green goo all over her face.  Apparently someone's fun little glow in the dark necklace had exploded right in her eyes.  Her EYES!!  She's blind now.

Just kidding.  She's a badass, and after a bit of rinsing she was back on the dance floor making me proud.  I think it was the magic of the wedding that kept her spirits up, but it may have been the guacamole.  I felt bad for not being there for her when it happened, but it was probably for the best.  If that toxic spray shot my way I likely would have used her as a human shield.

By the next day we had to hurry back home to the boys which was well-timed because, believe it or not, after four days we were actually going through some serious withdrawals.  Evidently Liam was too.  We found him pink-cheeked and in tears when we got back to my parents house in Berkeley that evening.  I guess he'd been inconsolable all day but luckily we'd had the foresight to buy him a few things before we got home.  Nothing cures a three-year-old's heartache quicker than Zachary's pizza and a new fire truck.  Finn, of course, hadn't even noticed we were gone.

The List

The kids and I were cold when we woke up this morning! This means that summer is officially over and, sadly, it's time to erase our Summer List. 

Last May we sat down and made a list of things we wanted to accomplish over the coming months. Everyone contributed (mine were numbers 2, 9, 21 and 48), and any time we were feeling bored or underwhelmed, we'd refer to our list and solve our problem immediately. After only a week or so, our list looked like this: 

Many of the items were easy to check off, as they were things we do on a regular basis anyway. Others, not so much. Then there were things you'd think would be easy, but after several more weeks, they were still there. A friend came over, looked at the list, and said "what the heck?! Why isn't #37 checked off? 'Pretend to be a Pirate' would have been the first thing I'd do!" 

We almost took care of #46 - See a Pro-Wrestling Match - on Lucha libre night at the fair, but the kids were with their dad so that one remains unmarked. Darnit! But today, with summer over, there are only 11 activities unchecked. I think out of 50, that's not too shabby. Here are a few of the things we did:

#5 - Go to Tahoe

#10 - Make Fancy Looks

#24 - Go to the Fair

#29 - Pick Bouquets for Mom

(shout out to Dragonfly Farms for the 'Lazy Sunday' flowers!)

#21 - Beach

#11 - Visit Animal Shelter

#38 - Swim in a Pool

#19 - Bowling

#39 - Swim in the River

We thought about making a Janik Style list for Autumn and Winter, but it would be pretty short. Things like "Learn to Knit", "Watch Mary Poppins", "Cuddle Under Blankets" and "Drink Hot Cider" can only get us so far. 

It was a really great summer. Happy Autumn, everyone!

Mind the Elevator

The other day I was grumbling again about the fact that I haven't been able to take my kids to Michigan in ages. Who on earth can afford three plane tickets? Let alone car rentals and food for X amount of days and those awesome Kalamazoo souvenirs...certainly not a single mother who can't even afford internet, or to replace her nine-year-old Converse. Come on!

Whenever I start feeling sad about the fact that my kids don't really know their cousins, or my best friends' kids, or understand the Greatness of the Great Lakes - I make a point to reminisce about the last time I took them to my land.

It wasn't all that bad. We got through the requisite bouncing around visiting friends and family and not really connecting with anyone because we were in a hurry to go see someone else. We squeezed in a bluegrass music festival which, when attended with a one year old who needs naps, was not the most pleasant experience, but we made the best of it. We even visited Ohio, where my dad's beloved side of the family lives. We were all over the place!

Things didn't start to go bad until we were driving to the airport in Chicago, for our trip home.

First of all, it was raining like the Endtimes were coming. Traffic was worse than usual. As in, not moving. Whatever was causing this standstill was so bad that we had to be redirected off of the freeway and onto back country roads where eventually the detour signs just...disappeared. If you didn't want to wait for the assigned detour, apparently it was acceptable to just turn around and drive against traffic in order to get to any number of previous exits. Did I mention that Baby Evie hated to be in the car and so was usually screaming or yelling or crying to make her position known to all those surrounding her? There was that, too.

By the time we made it to O'Hare, I was pretty frazzled. Also we were running late.

To return our rental car, I had to get creative. I stopped by the shuttle kiosk and unloaded Jonah, surrounding him with all of our suitcases so that he felt like he was in a castle and wouldn't get scared. I said "sweetie, I need you to guard our castle for just a couple of minutes, I'll be right back, okay?" "Okay mom!" he said with cheer. I then drove the 80 feet away to drop off the car, after wrestling the stroller, Evie, and Evie's car seat out of it. I managed to wheel everything back over to Jonah, Evie dangling precariously off of first my hip, then quickly my upper thigh, then settling down by my knee as I walked.

Lip a-tremble, Jonah shouted "I thought you were never coming back!" as soon as he saw me. We'd been apart for approximately one and a half minutes. As I arranged all of our clunky traveling instruments, I comforted my son and tried to get my heart rate under control. The other people waiting half-smiled and made space for us on the aluminum bench. Then they all, every last one of them, looked behind me and then just left, en masse. It was like they'd planned it as a prank or something. In a panic, I wiggled Evie off of my lap so that I could stand up and peer over our wall of luggage to see what the heck was going on. I saw all of my fellow passengers hustling across the parking lot under umbrellas and newspapers, heading for a shuttle that was parked way over there.

Why those assholes chose to leave without telling me about the random shuttle stop change or to, heaven forbid, help me and mine get to it, I'll never know. But I immediately put a curse on those jerks and made my way through the pouring rain and puddles toward the now-leaving shuttle. I saw that it had to then pass by the original, marked pick-up point, so I turned us all around and began running like hell to where we'd begun, Jonah splashing behind me with his appointed rolling luggage. None of this mattered - the shuttle didn't stop. My heart rate started going crazy again. I concentrated very hard on not crying. I asked someone in the rental booth where I should wait for the next shuttle, and was directed to where I'd been sitting in the first place. I will spare you the details of that conversation.

Once we'd arrived at the airport, I lunged myself toward the nearest sidewalk check-in counter, where I was informed in no uncertain terms that we'd missed our flight. I stepped back into the rain while the gentleman there looked to see what my options were. I noticed a couple with one child in line behind me, the mother looking sympathetically at me and my kids and our luggage and car seat and stroller. I didn't return her kind smile because kindness makes me cry when I'm overwhelmed with hopeless emotion.

After about eight minutes I was directed inside to another counter and, apparently eliciting pity, was offered a free luggage cart to pile all of our stuff onto. I managed to roll it just inside the automatic doors before everything on it went tumbling off. I stood there staring at our belongings on the shiny floor, trying not to cry but beginning to fail. Within seconds, three men - two in suits - appeared from all different directions, re-stacked my luggage while maintaining the Midwestern manners of not acknowledging that I was in emotional distress and fighting myself to not show it, then disappeared back into the crowd before I could burp up a thank you. I stood blinking for a second, taking deep 'don't cry!' breaths, and then found my counter.

We ended up with a flight that landed us home sooner than our original would have. Sometimes missing a plane is like that, I'll never understand why. I called the man I was married to and left a message that we'd be getting in an hour earlier than planned, but since he was famous for both sleeping in and never answering his phone, he never got the message. I didn't find this out until after we'd landed in San Francisco and he was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated at having to spend over an hour extra in an airport with my over tired and over traveled kids, but relieved to be on home soil, I decided to buy us all a treat and wait in the food court on the third floor, where there was space for the kids to run.

Jonah got into the elevator first. I backed my luggage cart in next, then myself, then Evie in her stroller. "Third floor" I told Jonah, who pushed the button and then scooted to the back. When we arrived, I pushed Evie out in front of me while also pulling the luggage cart behind me, calling "come on, buddy" over my shoulder. I then looked behind me and saw Jonah - through four inches of rapidly closing elevator door.

"Jonaaaah!!!!" I screamed.
"Maaaaaaaaammmaaaaaaaa!!" he cried out, his voice fading as he went down.

"Oh my god! Ohmygod OhmygodOhmygodOhmygod" I said while pushing the elevator button. A woman came over to me, all business, and asked what was the matter. I quickly explained: "My! Elevator! Jonah! Ohmygod!!" She got the point, and said "you wait here, I'll go downstairs and look for him on the other floors." Just as she got to the escalator, the elevator dinged, so she stopped and quickly walked back.

When the doors opened, there was no Jonah.

I wailed "Oh my goooodddddd!!" as I imagined him wandering among the thousands of bustling people arriving and departing. People who probably had been waiting all their lives for a beautiful, sweet, sunny little boy to call their own. I'm not usually a worrier or anything more than a raging under-reactor, but I was convinced that someone was probably luring my child into their limousine with a cool purple balloon right that very second.

The woman saw the empty car, looked me in the eye, and immediately turned on her heel toward the escalator again without saying a word. Evie was starting to whimper, so I summoned all of my Midwestern emotion-stuffing skills and after a deep breath was able to smile and say "Jonah is playing a game with us, that silly boy!" She seemed to buy this. I kept pushing the elevator button helplessly.

Finally it dinged again, and when the doors slid open, there stood Jonah, flanked by two amused-looking, silver-haired women. "Is that your mom?" asked one. Jonah said that it was and ran out into my arms. Not wanting to scare him with the gravity of the situation, I tried not to clutch him too tightly.  I said "wow kiddo, you really scared me, ha ha!" while trying not to cry again. He said "mom! When the doors closed, I was so scared! When they opened, those ladies were there and asked if I needed help, and I knew exactly what to say! I said THIRD FLOOR! And they let me push the button!" I laughed and tears spilled out of my eyes. "You are so smart to remember the third floor!" I told him.

I bought us all extra treats in the food court that day, I can tell you. And despite all that, I'm starting to save my pennies for the next trip. We'll just stick to the escalators.

Shotgun Finn Turns One

Just last night at the preschool's monthly 'parent meeting' Teacher Julie taught us all about Birth Order.  She broke us parents up into groups of first borns, last borns, and middlers.  Then she asked us a series of revealing questions.  The first borns fell over themselves trying to impress the teacher with their brilliant personal insights, the last borns wallowed in ambivalence, and us middlers relied on sarcasm and humor to avoid answering anything honestly.  

It was a timely topic because today is the one-year anniversary of the legendary birth of Shotgun Finn, our last born.  If you haven't heard that story you can check it out HERE.  His last born-ness is already taking it's toll.  When Liam turned one I hadn't started the blog yet so I have no record of his birthday party to share, but that's just as well since anyone reading this was probably at the party.  Everyone was there.  His first birthday party was a rager.  There were a dozen kids or so, pinatas, party favors, games, food, drinks, and mayhem.

Finn's birthday party?  Not so much.  My in-laws came over and we had pizza and cupcakes.

I'm trying not to feel too bad about it.  It's not like anyone remembers their first birthday anyway, right?  After that meeting last night though I've decided I need to be more conscientious about the attention we give Finn.  I think with just one baby in the house it was easy to dote on every milestone because we were just sitting around all day, watching Liam grow up.  But now, with a three year old in the house, downtime is a luxury.  I can't say for certain when I noticed Finn crawling.

Sure, there are going to be some inevitable differences in Liam's first-to-do-everything childhood and Finn's hand-me-down childhood, but that doesn't have to be a bad thing, right?  

Sometimes, as a parent to young kids, I feel just as new to this world as they are.  I have no idea what I'm doing 99% of the time...and I think that's being generous.  I just hope that doesn't mess them up too much.

Happy Birthday baby Finn!!  I can't believe I've only known you for one year.  You make it so easy to love you like crazy.  I hope that's enough.  If it isn't, I at least hope you remember the cupcakes.  

A Quick Slice

Every once in a while I just like to take a quick snapshot of life as I know it these days.  I do this partly so I can look back one day and remember the details of the blur that was my childrens' early childhood, but also so my friends will have an answer to the question "how come he never calls?"  Here's a little journal of our activities from Monday.

2:20 am - First waking.

Finn just set himself on fire...or so I assumed by the sound of it.  It turned out he was just hungry.  I guess he's going through another growth spurt and the 9500 calorie dinner he ate isn't going to hold him until 6 am like we'd hoped.

4:50 am - Second waking.

Liam woke up sounding terrified and crying out my name.  I dashed to his rescue.  He was out of water.

7:10 am - Final waking

The boys woke up trying to out-scream each other.  I think they were trying to harmonize.  It sounded like the dial tone in hell.

7:30 am - Feeding

Liam ate half a piece of toast that touched some egg and was an inch away from a pear slice.  I think that counts.  Finn had two eggs, half a pear, a slice of ham, half a tortilla, two strawberries, a fistful of Cheerios, and Liam's breakfast.

8:30 am - Daycare

I dropped Finn off with just a bottle and a snack bar.  He hadn't eaten in an hour and was looking peckish.  Hopefully the daycare lady left her dog dishes out on the floor again so he can get some protein.

8:45 am - Preschool

Teacher Julie assigned me "outside" and instructed me on how to set up an obstacle course.  Then she told me that the kids could go through the course as many times as they wanted but I had to make sure that they formed a single line, waited their turns, and followed my detailed instructions, while I made sure they didn't fall to their deaths and took notes on each individual's performance.  Later on I'm going to unwind by training kittens to ballroom dance while spinning flaming plates on my kneecaps.

11:45 am - Home

I think my spine is bleeding.  Children should be lighter and farther from the ground.  I picked Finn up from daycare.  He hadn't napped due to hunger which is just as well.  I have three hours to get them fed and rested so the more exhausted he is, the better.  For lunch Liam is having PB&J with the crusts gnawed off (by me, yay food!) and Finn had everything else in the fridge.

12:30 pm - Down time

I'm scouring the house for the flash drive I've been desperately hunting down for a good four days.  It only contains all my major financial files, my most cherished family photos, my resume, and the only copies of the Bairdsmith wine labels.  I naturally assume it's being slowly digested by Finn and I'll find it soon enough.

1:15 pm - Laundry

Finn woke up after just 20 minutes because we haven't yet figured out a way to feed him while he's sleeping.  Liam is up too, but never actually fell asleep.  I forgot to drink anything except coffee today so I thought I'd pour myself a huge glass of water, then leave it unattended.  This led of course to an impromptu carpet cleaning.  Now I've moved onto folding laundry which coincidentally lead to me finding my missing flash drive (In the dryer.  Everything was completely intact.  2GB Kingston DataTravler - buy it.)  I'm averaging one folded shirt for each book handed to me for immediate reading.  Not a bad ratio.

3:00 pm - Dentist

This is Liam's first dental appointment.  Well, not counting last week where he got a prize for sitting in the chair without freaking out for thirty seconds.  I'm hoping today he opens his mouth.  Erin is of course tending to him.  When we showed up she gave me a look that said, "We, as a general rule, don't serve people who look and smell the way you do because A) billing hobos is rarely successful and B) your presence is compromising our adherence to a sterile work environment. I need to get a photo of her on her day off with the boys in case this comes up again.  She then asked if I'd brought a pacifier to keep Finn preoccupied.  I told her no but I had brought the next best thing: Two pounds of cheese and three nectarines.  He was completely satisfied for 10 minutes.  He threw his last bite on the floor so I asked Erin "What's the five-second-rule in a dentist's office?".  "Much shorter" she answered.  Liam actually opened his mouth (hooray!) but then shut it again before Erin could get clear.  She noted that it was the worst bite she'd ever received from a patient.  I noted that Erin is regularly bitten at work enough to have a rough rating system.  I bet there's some way we could make money suing ourselves.

3:45 - Home again

If Liam isn't sleeping he's at least in his room not sleeping quietly.  I'll take it.  Finn is so thrilled by his new found speed-crawling skills that he's taken to keeping his head down, eyes to the ground, for better aerodynamics.  He's getting up to about 7 mph before he blindly smacks into something.  I've put pillows up around some of the harder furniture.

5:15 - Erin comes home

I actually managed to clean the entire kitchen and wail on a bit of laundry.  Erin is taking Finn to the gym with her but leaving Liam since he finally did fall asleep.  I have an hour and a half to make dinner.  Tonight's menu will consist of whatever time (and motivation) will allow.

5:20 - Liam is up.

Shells and cheese it is.  Liam keeps requesting "Watch it Elmo?" so I'm doing my best to make "Sherlock: Season 2" seem Elmo-esque, "That dominatrix lady has a goldfish named Dorothy too!"  He's not buying it.

6:45 - Erin is home.

Dinner for her is non-existent, as is the bottle of wine I'd opened for "us".  The half folded pile of socks next to me isn't going to be enough to distract her from this fact.

8:00 - Night night

The boys are fed, washed, brushed, and in bed.  Erin, not so much, but she is a merciful and understanding wife.  There are still a few things to do to get the house ready for my parents who are watching the boys tomorrow.  I can either do them myself, or I can try and fall asleep before she gets out of the shower and let things sort themselves out.  I could at least go feed the...zzzzzzz.

Sicky

On Friday morning I went for a jog around Spring Lake. I do this from time to time, and am getting pretty good at it, but this time I just wasn't my streamlined efficient self. I felt clunky and was easy to tire. I walked more than usual, but I blamed it on the inconsistency of peppiness in my choice of music.

When I'd finished, I went home and showered, and started to get ready for my day. I felt really lethargic, which is the opposite of how my run tends to make me feel. My muscles felt achy, which was too soon for having just run an hour ago. I noticed that the skin on my lower back started to feel kind of tender to the touch. And then it hit me - I was freaking sick.

I haven't been down-for-the-count sick in almost a year. I was grateful that the kids were at least with their father instead of asking me slice them more apples and take them to the park to play catch.

I lay down in my bed for a little nap, figuring that would fix things. I'd promised to take Paulie to pick up his truck (another story) later that afternoon, so I set my alarm and fell into a fitful, fevered sleep, waking every 4 minutes or so to the sound of my pot-hacking neighbor and his friends.

When my alarm went off, I dragged myself to Paulie's and then Paulie to his truck, and was then told to go home and sleep. By 'home' Paulie meant his place (this used to annoy me. Now I find it somewhat endearing). He had a few errands to run, and said he'd meet me there later. I followed his orders like a sweaty, shaking robot. I made it 'home', crawled into his bed, and promptly slept the sleep of the sickly.

When I woke again, the most amazing thing was happening: Paulie was taking care of me. He felt my forehead, frowned, brought me icy ginger ale, warmed up some homemade chicken soup, gave me some Advil, and made sure I was comfortable. He actually initiated all of this on his own - and stuck around to make sure I had everything I needed. He didn't seem irritated by my being sick, even a little bit. He didn't stare darkly at me for five full seconds before inching forward to collect my empty soup bowl with his arm outstretched as far as it could go in an attempt to avoid contact with me or my germs. He didn't say "I seriously can NOT get sick right now, don't even come near me!!" Not that I had the energy to come near him anyway, but still - I didn't have to! He was right there next to me! Offering me a drink of water out of his glass!

I was blown away. I could only stare at him through my woozy-sighted eyes in wonder. I'm not exactly used to this type of treatment when I'm sick, and I honestly didn't know how to handle it. Luckily I didn't really need to, since my response of immediately falling back to sleep after eating my soup was completely justified and acceptable.

After I'd mostly recovered, save a few more fevers over the weekend, I was thinking it might not be so bad to get sick, what with all this loving and nurturing stuff happening. It's kind of awesome! But then I remembered what always comes with bad fevers - Cold Sores. Dammit!

See you all in two weeks.