Guest Post by Sabrina

Giraffey

When I was a little girl, I got a stuffed giraffe. It was at an old friend’s birthday party at the Build-A-Bear that isn’t there anymore. I think only three of the ten or so kids there actually made bears. My sister got a poodle. I don’t recall the actual party; I remember very few specific events from my young life. Even so, I do remember how much I loved that giraffe.

Since, as a child, I was the proud possessor of boundless creativity, I named it Giraffey. It never had a gender, because no matter how I tried to stick to one, it would inevitably change within a week, at most. I deliberated over that issue many a time, but eventually gave up and left it. Giraffey was simply Giraffey, and was a boy or girl whenever I decided it should be.

I loved it so much that I even made up a rhyme to sing with it. It went: “Giraffey, Giraffey, Green and yellow Giraffey.”For a six or seven year old, it was genius. However, there was a problem, as I soon realized after coming up with this breakthrough jingle. Giraffey was not green and yellow. As I was indeed creatively blessed, I did some quick thinking and was able to answer the questioning looks promptly. “Green and yellow are Giraffey’s favorite colors,” I told them. I was safe. And even if they weren’t Giraffey’s favorite colors, who would know?

Ever since I was little, I have been what my mother calls “a thrower”; that is, someone who doesn’t get sentimental about material things. She is one of these people as well. We don’t save birthday cards, or feel the need to hold on to insignificant objects that the more sentimental person would feel inclined to. We don’t want to keep the un-listened-to records and cassette tapes that my dad insists on hanging on to, or the three bins of stuffed animals that my sister once proudly owned. So, you would think that my giving away Giraffey during one of our semi-annual deep clean-outs wouldn’t be a big deal. You would be wrong.

I don’t regret getting rid of a lot of things. Out of everything I’ve thrown out or given away, there are maybe three at most that I regret. Giraffey is one of them. As soon as I realized that it was too late, that I was never going to see the beloved stuffed animal again or sing its song, I regretted it. I had thought that letting go would be easy; I was older now and didn’t need all fourteen or so stuffed animals that I had. How sadly mistaken I was. I still miss Giraffey sometimes, and the little rhyme that went along with it still gets stuck in my head, an echo of my mistake: “Giraffey, Giraffey, Green and yellow Giraffey… Giraffey, Giraffey, Green and yellow Giraffey.” I still think that I let go of my precious giraffe too soon; but then, we always forget to really appreciate what we have until we suddenly don’t have it anymore.      

Tooth Fairy Revisited

The tooth fairy has not visited our household in a long, long time. In addition to the kids' baby teeth just not wanting to exit their mouths, the few that have made a break for freedom have been ignored. I think Rose's last three teeth have netted a total of $0 for her. So when Calvin lost his tooth yesterday, he was naturally concerned.

Calvin: I finally lost a tooth.

David: Great.

C: Do you think the tooth fairy will visit? I know he hasn't visited Rose for her last few teeth.

D: Maybe he's dead.

C: Dad!

Me: He's not dead. It's probably more like the Dread Pirate Roberts.

C: I really want my money, though. How do I make sure he visits tonight?

D: Put it under your pillow.

Me: (shaking head vigorously in the background)

D: Or, uh, put it on the counter in the kitchen.

C: The kitchen?

Me: Yeah, he can find a tooth anywhere.

The next day . . .

C: Dad, the tooth fairy didn't come!

D: Yes, he did.

C: No, he didn't. At least I don't think he did. There's no money there, but my tooth is gone.

D: I am positive the tooth fairy visited last night. Check again.

C: There is nothing there.

Me: Um . . .

D: What?

Me: The money was on the counter?

D: Yes.

Me: I believe I know why the money isn't there now.

D: Why?

Me: Well, I saw the money on the counter this morning and thought, "Oh, goody, a free latte."

C: My tooth money bought you a coffee???

Me: Yes, and it was very delicious. Thank you.

Best pickup line ever?

Sabrina has to do a partner project in English. These types of projects have never been easy for her, starting with pairing up in the first place. Attending a new school has just exacerbated the problem. This morning she was standing around looking lost in the library, figuring she would just wait again until the teacher paired her up with another lost soul or an absent person, when one of the boys in her class walked up to her.

Boy: You will be my partner.

Sabrina: Um, okay. Why?

Boy: Because you are smarter than at least two-thirds of the class, and the other third wouldn't be my partner.

Biscuits

Rose was upset the other day. Who knows why. Some days I believe it is because I exist and deign to talk to her. Often, we all feel better if we practice what I like to call "the joys of being alone." In this case, it was not possible. Family was visiting, and we were all going out to breakfast. This did not please Rose who insisted she was not hungry and would rather just stay home. I told her she did not have to eat, she only had to grace us with her smiling countenance and cheerful presence. She did not appreciate my humor.

Although, she insisted she was not hungry, people kept asking her if she would like something to eat. After the fourth time someone asked her if she would at least like a biscuit, Rose turned back from the window she was staring out of and snapped, "I am NOT hungry! I do not want ANY biscuits!!!" Being the peace-seeking family that we are, we needed a way to avoid antagonizing her further. Her grandfather came up with a brilliant idea and made a sign to encourage people to leave her alone.

You can see this made her feel quite a bit better.

Not long after, apparently deciding her point had been made, or perhaps deciding the hunger pangs were too strong to ignore, she turned away from the window and pulled a plate toward herself.

Because I always aim to be helpful, I pointed out that our signage was no longer correct. Appropriate changes were made.

Do not discount the power of a well-made sign. Rose was able to snag a third biscuit.

Oh, my gosh, Mom, will you stop taking pictures of me???

I'd better unpack my shovel

We now live on the coast. I can see the ocean from my house.

Not a bad sight to wake up to every morning.

But in addition to the beautiful view and the soothing sounds of the ocean, this also apparently means we need to be aware of potential, although extremely unlikely, dangers. Specifically, I am talking about tsunamis. My guess, which I cannot substantiate with facts since I am too lazy to actually look up any information, is this was not a concern before the Fukushima tragedy. But now tsunami drills happen periodically. I was wondering how I would know when a drill was to take place, but I needn't have worried. First, you hear a voice on a loudspeaker, and then the loudest siren I have ever heard starts blaring. Also, on certain streets as you drive by you see warning signs.

Calvin is fascinated by these signs. We drove by one just the other day.

Calvin: Look, Mom! Look, Dad! There's a warning sign!

Me: What kind of sign?

C: It says tsunami excavation route!

David: Excavation route?

C: Yes.

D: I think you mean evacuation route.

Me: The tsunami is coming. DIG FASTER!!

C: ... Maybe it said evacuation.

At least now we know where to dig.

Who's the smart one now?

Shortly after we moved to Half Moon Bay, I went with the girls to enroll them in the local high school. We met with their counselor. She looked at their transcripts and the classes they were enrolled in at their previous school and started to put together schedules for them. One obstacle appeared when we asked  for advanced English and advanced math for both the girls, and AP World History for Sabrina. The counselor was extremely reluctant to enroll them in these classes. Her reasoning was that we were coming in after the start of the year, these advanced classes had required a fairly heavy summer workload, and therefore they would be behind.

Sabrina started to get quite upset and insisted that she needed to be in those classes. The counselor hesitated and then said, "Well, if you agree to do all the summer work to get caught up, I will enroll you in your requested classes." Sabrina immediately said yes, of course she would do that. Sign her up now, please. Rose, on the other hand, was silent. When the counselor turned to her and inquired, "Will you agree to do the summer work also?" Rose replied, "No, I will not. Enroll me in regular classes, please." The counselor looked at me, and I shrugged and told her to do as Rose asked. If Rose did not want to do the extra work, I was not going to fight her.

The girls started on a Thursday. Sabrina had a horrific first weekend. Despite her new school starting a week later than her old school, she was astonished to find that her new AP World History class was moving much faster. She was already three chapters behind. In addition, her English teacher told her she needed to read a 300-page book from the summer assignments. Sabrina spent every waking hour trying to catch up. She got very little sleep and became slightly hysterical. Meanwhile, Rose played games with Calvin, slept in, and watched TV.

On Monday, Rose's counselor called her into her office. After administering a couple of tests, Rose's English teacher had called the counselor and said, "Don't be ridiculous. Move this girl up. She belongs in Advanced English." So the counselor looked at Rose and said, "If you do not have to do any of the summer or catch-up work, would you consider moving to Advanced English?" Rose replied, "Of course."

At dinner, in an off-hand manner, Rose mentioned they switched her classes that day. I asked why, and she told me what had happened. I looked over at Sabrina, whose eyes were still bloodshot from reading a 300-page book and doing six history assignments in 48 hours, and hoped the mess to clean up wouldn't be too extensive after her head exploded.

Not for the faint of heart (or weak of stomach)

For those of you that know me, I suffer from quite severe allergies. You name it, I'm allergic to it. If I come into contact with anything that grows or anything with fur and four legs, I'm off on a trip to Allergy Land with an uncertain return date. Fortunately, I function pretty well over all. I avoid triggers whenever possible. I married a man who has no desire for pets. And I avail myself of all the medical miracles at my disposal.

I have watched my children for years, hoping and praying they inherited their father's genes in the allergy department, rather than mine. For the most part, that seems to be the case. Calvin had some trouble with asthma as a toddler, but seemed to outgrow it by the time he was six. The girls have occasional sniffly noses in spring, but some simple over-the-counter antihistamines take care of that. I was just beginning to breathe easier (pun intended), thinking we dodged a bullet. But . . .

A year ago, Calvin started getting sick quite frequently. Every three to four weeks, he would catch another cold/virus. At first, I told myself it was a bad flu season. I was getting sick frequently also. We just had bad luck. But then in the spring, every time he got sick, he ended up with an asthma attack. I started thinking perhaps there was more to this than just bad luck in the cold department. I was just about ready to call the allergist, but then Calvin started to feel better in late spring. That combined with our move pushed it all to the back burner.

We hadn't even settled in yet, were still living in a hotel, and Calvin got sick once again. His breathing never really recovered. Medication didn't seem to be helping much, and any and everything (virus, exercise, being outdoors) triggered an asthma attack. The poor boy was panting his life away. But we were in a new area. I didn't know who to call. We don't have any doctors yet. What to do?I started to research. I found an allergist that had rave reviews and, luckily, was not too far away from our new location. I called, and they got us in within a week. Yesterday was Calvin's first appointment.

They started out with a breath test. He wasn't wheezing. His lungs didn't crackle. But the breath test showed that his lungs were inflamed. What this means is that he doesn't show any symptoms normally, but as soon as he comes into contact with a trigger, he goes from fine to in trouble with alarming speed. Next up was a nebulizer treatment for both the lungs and the nose to try to clear up his breathing. Next, we had to find out what he was allergic to.

I knew what was coming, having suffered through it many times in my life: allergy testing. This is something that is not too horrible if you are mildly allergic to things, but excruciating if you're on the other end of the spectrum. Calvin asked the nurse, "What is going to happen? Will it hurt? Are there needles involved?" The nurse gently informed him there would be no pain, no needles, just some itching. Calvin looked relieved. I didn't have the heart to tell him that "just some itching" takes on a whole new meaning with these tests.

They tested him on 96 (that's right, you heard me, 96!!) different items.

Right after they administered the test

Five minutes in

10 minutes in

15 minutes in

20 minutes in

25 minutes in

Poor baby. He's allergic to everything, just like me -- grasses, trees, mold, mildew, dust, dogs, cats. It's amazing he's been breathing at all. He almost cried when they told him he'd have to come back in two weeks for more testing (foods this time). I am just extremely grateful we live in an age where he can get effective treatment.

He got to choose what he wanted for dinner, but he barely made it through.

The waitress removed his plate just before his face fell into it.

It was an early night for all.

It was a hard day for Mom, too.

She's charming and she knows it.

Me: How is school going? Are you getting settled in? Do you like your teachers?

Sabrina: I like most of my classes. The class I like least is Art.

Me: Really? That surprises me.

Sabrina: Yeah. I don't think the teacher likes me much.

Me: I'd be shocked if that were actually true.

Sabrina: There have been some teachers over the years that haven't liked me, Mom.

Rose: Here's a list of teachers over the years that haven't liked me. (brief silence) I'm done.

Moving Update - Whining Edition

Good grief, why can't anything ever be easy???

Half Moon Bay has some strict city laws. All homes have to have hard-wired smoke detectors that are certified as working by the fire department. Right before we closed on our house last week, we learned from the fire department that the smoke detectors in our house do not actually work. Two days and two visits from electricians later, we learned that the detectors are hard-wired into the alarm system . . . an alarm system that is non-existent since the previous owners stopped their service.

Now, after three more days and over 14 hours spent waiting and fighting with the alarm company, the smoke detectors STILL do not work. They spectacularly failed the fire department's test today. Not one worked. The only upside to this debacle is that the firemen were quite cute, all three of them. And one of them even called the alarm company on my behalf to put some pressure on these bozos. Tomorrow it's back for yet another day of this madness, waiting for a technician to show up, or not.

Although I always try to see the humor in almost any situation, I am finding it extremely difficult to find anything funny about this situation, especially since we are not allowed to move in until the fire department gives the all-clear. Here's looking at living another week in a hotel room with five people. I think David said it best: either we come through this a stronger and closer family, or we will no longer need to worry about the new house having only three bedrooms since we will be down a family member or two.

I think we can swing the last item on the list at the very least.

Calvin said there were some things he'd like in our new house, and could he submit a list? We said sure, and this is what he gave us.

Wishlist for Calvin

-My own bedroom
-A pool in our house or near it (not mandatory)
-A porch
-A tree in the front or backyard (for climbing, treehouse, or tire swing)
-An area in the front or backyard where I can ripstick, bike and play
-Storage area in my room
-My own TV (just kidding)
-An area where it is comfortable to play video games
-A shelf in my room (hopefully near my bed)
-A place where I can exercise (A bike trail or gym, etc.)
-Happiness :)

I have never really liked the beach.

We're moving.

I'm not sure why this comes as such a shock to me. Before we landed in Roseville, David and I moved 11 times in nine years, including an overseas stint. We have spent most of our time in Roseville thinking we probably wouldn't be here long. I am not sure how we kept up that pretense since we have now been here 13 years. But after years of thinking we'll be moving soon, we actually are. David was transferred to the Bay Area

We spent time looking for houses. We looked all over, high and low, near and far, had a heart attack at the prices of houses, and thought perhaps David driving three hours one-way for a commute wouldn't be so bad after all. But after a month of long-distance commuting and being away from the family, he found that the commute was as bad as we originally thought, and we kicked our house hunting into high gear.

The kids were very excited. They thought we would be on House Hunters. I was excited, because after many discussions with David, I thought we were on the same page as to what we wanted in a house. The kids ended up being disappointed because they discovered being on TV was not in our near future after all. I ended up being disappointed because apparently David and I are not as similar as we thought in what we want in a house and where we want said house to be.

But we finally found a house. And I have discovered that God really likes to laugh at me. Because we will be living near a beach. Most people would probably say, "That's amazing! You are so lucky!" And maybe I am. People obviously like it. After all, don't half of the episodes of House Hunters International involve people looking for beachfront property? My general feeling about beaches, however, is that they are really great, except for all that sand. When I told my friend where we were going, she started laughing hysterically. When she could finally breathe, she said, "I can't believe the girl with major texture issues is going to be living next door to the beach!" (Stop being so envious of my super supportive friends. You can't have her. She's mine.)

I now have a few short weeks to learn to love the beach. I'm hoping this will help.

The view from our house.

Half Moon Bay, here we come.

Wild Palms

Last week while traveling for business, David stayed at the Wild Palms Hotel and Bar.

Wild Palms Hotel and Bar ...

After a particularly hard day, David decided to make use of the bar. But where was it? All he could find was this.

No bar, but lots of bad pictures of palms

He went to the front desk.

David: Where is the bar?

Clerk: We don't have one.

David: You don't have a bar at the Wild Palms Hotel and Bar?

Clerk: I know, right? We used to have one, but it is being rebuilt. But I have some wine in the cupboard here. Would you like some?

David: Sure, I would.

Here is his complimentary wine

Which he drank in his room.

Because of no bar.

The end.

P.S. David is going back there again next week. Apparently, they have a lot of availability compared to other hotels in the area.

Two out of three.

The other day we heard a story about a family who had three sons, two of whom were gay.

Me: That's statistically unlikely, don't you think?

David: Unlikely, but not that improbable. Look at our family.We have three kids, and two of them are smart.

Sabrina: (laughs) Wait. Which one . . . ?

Calvin: Sorry, Sabrina.

A different kind of cool.

Me: Sabrina, you're such a cool person.

Sabrina: That's not surprising considering who I come from.

David: (laughing) I think that's the first time either one of us has ever been described that way. Cool doesn't exactly run in our family.

Sabrina: No, other people just have the wrong standard of cool.

Get it? Got it. Good.

Calvin: Mom, what does "get some" mean?

Me: What?

C: Well, the song lyrics say, "Tonight let's get some and live while we're young."

Me: . . .

C: Got it. I'm going out to play now.

Me: Wait. What, exactly, did you get?

C: You gave me the let's-not-go-there look, so I thought I would come back and ask again in a couple of years.

Ouch

Sabrina: Mom, you should go on The Voice. You're as good as anyone there.

Me: Aw, that's so sweet of you to say.

S: Yeah, and don't worry, because it's not like American Idol. They totally take old people.

At least she's self-aware.

Me: Sabrina, have you done your jobs today?

S: Yes.

David: Not all of them. Pick up your laundry off the floor of your room.

S: I will.

D: And just to let you know, I am going to give you that instruction every time I see your room from now until eternity.

S: What if there are no clothes on my floor?

D: What do you think the odds of that are?

S: . . . okay.

He only looks cherubic.

Calvin: Dad, did you know there are people who can't read a clock?

David: Yes, I am aware of this fact.

C: Some of the kids in my class can't read the clock in our room. One kid who sits next to me is always asking me the time. "What time is it? Is it time for recess? When's lunch? " It gets pretty annoying.

D: So what do you do?

C: Well, I tell them the time, but I don't give them the right time.

D: What?

C: Yeah. If they say, "What time is it? Is lunch soon?" I'll look at the clock. It may be only 20 minutes away, but I will tell them it's not for two hours. Then they say, "Oh, man," and look really disappointed.

D: If you want them to stop asking you the time, why wouldn't you just teach them how to read a clock?

C: Because this is much more fun.

A tree hijacked my day.

I had a great day planned -- bike ride, trip to the mall with my girls, reading a book,  and generally enjoying a relaxing vacation day. I got up and asked the girls to go on a bike ride with me. They both said no, but were persuaded when I threw in a stop at Starbucks. Things were going swimmingly (or bikingly).

See how much fun we're having?

Things fell apart on the way home. The girls were zooming ahead. I was trying to keep up, but failing miserably. I had my head down, huffing and puffing, and the next time I looked up, I saw this:

Well, I saw this plus Rose in a heap.

By the time I got there, Rose was back up on her feet and saying, "I'm okay. I'm okay." She showed me her scrapes. Then, she said, "I think I will lay down now." And she went to the grass next to the sidewalk and proceeded to just lie there looking up at the sky. We were still a good three-quarters of a mile from our house. Not knowing what else to do, I made her get up and ride home.

After we got home, I called David to walk me through cleaning her up since I am incompetent in this area. (I'm positive it was in our wedding vows that David was to take care of all scrapes, accidents, and blood.)

First, I cleaned up this.

And then this.

And finally this.

To keep her distracted while I was cleaning, I asked her how the accident happened. Rose said she zoned out for a second, and the next thing she knew her handlebars hit the tree, which knocked her front wheel 90 degrees, and she fell. Honestly, my first thought was, "This girl should never be allowed to drive a car."

After she had bandages on all her booboos, I noticed that she was holding her arm funny. She couldn't bend it or straighten it very far. Getting her shirt back on was a challenge. And the girl who never cries was close to tears when we were done. I canceled all our plans and called the doctor, who got us in immediately.

Waiting.

The doctor examined her arm and said he thought it was badly bruised, but he was concerned that she had limited range of motion. He sent us to get x-rays.

And he gave her a sling.

More waiting. Thank goodness I remembered to bring my iPad.

Getting the x-rays.

The x-ray technician asked Rose how she hurt her arm. Rose said, "Well, my bike and I had some hand-to-hand combat with a tree. The tree won."

Results: Looks like a fracture and we are set to see the orthopedist tomorrow.

Don't you just want to give him big, fat hug?

My 10-year-old son Calvin came home the other day with an announcement. "I need to buy a birthday gift for a friend." I had a quick moment of panic as I couldn't remember any party being on the calendar.

Me: Who's birthday is it?

C: Rachel's.

Me: Were you invited to a party, and you just didn't show me the invitation?

C: No, I just know her birthday is during spring break, and I wanted to get her a gift.

Me: How did you know it was her birthday?

C: She told me, and then I wrote it down in my planner.

Grandma: Do you know what she would like?

C: Yes, I have a list. (Pulls it out of his pocket.)

Grandma: How'd you get the list?

C: I asked her best friend.

Wow.  All I can say is there is someone out there who is going to be a very lucky girl someday.

Morning Glory

This morning was busy as usual. Everyone was scrambling to get out door, everybody except Calvin who was calmly sitting at the dining room table.

David: Good morning, Calvin.

Calvin: Good morning, Dad.

D: Are you not going to school?

C: No, I'm going to school. Why?

D: Well, you might want to change out of your pajama pants, then.

C: Oh! I completely forgot. (Jumps up and runs to his room.)

D: (shouting up the stairs) Changing shirts to one that doesn't advertise beer would be a good idea, too!

Calvin came back downstairs in school-appropriate attire. He grabbed his backpack and started to go out to the car.

Me: Um, Calvin?

C: Yes?

Me: Where are your shoes?

C: Oh, shoot!

A few minutes later in the car.

Sabrina: Calvin, why are you putting on my shoes?

C: Darn it!!

Not a stellar morning for my boy. I told him not to worry. It still doesn't hold a candle to the day that Rose left the house wearing a shirt and her chaps . . . and no pants.

There are days I can't help but love my job.

Admit it. Your heart just melted a little bit, too.

One of the many reasons I love my job . . .

While doing a unit review with one of my classes, there was one kid who kept blurting out the answers, even when someone else had been called upon to answer. While I appreciated his enthusiasm, I had to ask him more than once if he could please refrain from yelling out the answers and let some other kids have a turn. Keeping the answers to himself, however, did not seem to be in his skill set today, so I finally turned to him and jokingly said, "If you don't stop answering when it's not your turn, I will have to bring my duct tape next lesson." His reply was to stick his hand in his desk, pull out a roll of blue painter's tape and say with a smile, "I've got it covered, Mrs. George!"

A continuation of last night's science conversation

David: When I was a kid, I experimented with physics and chemistry.

Calvin: How did you do that, Dad?

D: Well, my friends and I would work in my garage and make hydrogen and fill a balloon with it. Then we'd tie a string around it, take it outside, and let it go. But as we let it go, we'd set the string on fire. Once the string burned through, the balloon would explode.

C: That is so cool! I want to do that. And how was that chemistry AND physics?

D: Well, the creation of hydrogen was chemistry, and the explosion was physics.

Me: Did your mother know you were conducting these "experiments"?

D: Um ....

Me: Calvin, you are not allowed to do that. I do not want my house or garage to be accidentally blown up.

D: Your mother's right. You shouldn't do that without adult supervision.

C: Would we consider you an adult in this situation, Dad?

Inquiring minds want to know

I just endured another family dinner where the conversation around the table once again devolved to science topics. During the course of the evening they covered everything from the difference between chemistry and physics (life sciences being fairly obvious) to the differences between theoretical and particle physics, the six kinds of quarks, and how to create a really great explosion in your own front yard.

Me: I'm getting really bored. Can I request that at least one conversation in ten pertain to literature or history? We can talk about books or perhaps have a lively discussion on the implications of the Inquisition.

Calvin:  Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!

David:  Fetch the comfy chair! There, are you happy?

Me:  Sigh.