Summer Highlights

Though autumn officially begins just shy of a month from now, I am ready-- ready for the cooler weather, fall planting and the fall semester of school (for the kids plus myself). Overall, this has been a satisfying summer... lots of family bonding and fun with friends.

Some lessons learned along the way these past few months:

The messier, the better (when the kids' entertainment is concerned, that is)...

There's always enough time to pull over and enjoy the view (& talk to a goat or two)...

You never know what you may come across on your travels (camels in CA?)...

Firefighters and fireworks are a dangerous combination...

You can never grow out of skinny dipping, pillow fights, or catching frogs, tadpoles & butterflies...

The best meals are improvised (and the more, the merrier!)...

Love knows no boundaries (just ask a preschooler)...

And, no matter how bumpy the road, the beauty's in the details.

"Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop off like autumn leaves."

--John Muir

Crazy Uncle

Old-timer San Diegans may recall when the San Diego Union Tribune was two different newspapers: the San Diego Union and the San Diego Tribune. Before the two papers merged and became "the U-T," and before it's office building was located in Mission Valley, our San Diego newspaper building was located dowtown at 919 2nd Street. Thus, the "919 Gang" was formed, an email group consisting of most of the original reporters from the downtown building . My grandfather, Charlie Ross, was a founding member of the 919 Gang. He worked for the SD Union from 1956-1992. My Uncle Jerry also worked for the U-T, and here's an unauthorized excerpt from his contribution to the latest 919 Gang email message:

"It's appropriate that my first contribution to the 919 gang would involve Fred Kinne, as he hired me when I was jobless and broke.
I had quit AP-Sacramento in 1970, not wanting to cover the Unruh-Reagan election, and as the only single guy in the bureau I would have spent months with them, instead of with various girlfriends.
I hopped a British freighter, the Blue Star Line's Canadian Star, and sailed from Oakland to Liverpool, where I saw no sign of any beetles, and almost died from bad British food.
After a few months of spending all my money, I sailed back to New York on the Bremen, an ancient art-deco German liner, where I almost died from the bad German food. Fortunately, I encountered a boon drinking buddy, a hilarious guy with a moustache like the propeller on a Constellation. His name was Dali and he could drink as well as he painted. By the end of the night, we looked like figures out of one of his nightmare works.
I stayed at a Greenwich Village apartment with the late, great AP reporter John R. Morganthaler, looking for work. Turned down a stint on the Daily News copy desk but learned where the Editor & Publisher printing plant was, so I flew the press and answered an ad for an "enterprise" reporter on the San Diego Evening Tribune.
Got a quick response from a guy named Fred Kinne, followed by conversations with Dick Eby and Dick Sullivan, who I knew from his Sacramento sojourns when state government was covered by newspapers.
Fred hired me, which was useful as I arrived in LA with 7 cents in my pocket after a cross-country adventure aboard the wackiest Greyhound bus rolling.
I didn't know Fred from Brute Krulak, but without even meeting me Fred liked my clips, the fact "Sully" endorsed me and the AP training, and he took a flier on me. The thing I'll never forget is that he hired me despite my earned reputation as a union goon-troublemaker and public skepticism over the U-T editorial policies.
His decision changed my life. It was my first newspaper job, I worked mostly with real pros, loved working across from the Press Room and living on Coronado and met my eventual wife, Anne-Jeannette (Charlie Ross's kid).
I left two years later for Santa Barbara, much to the relief of U-T non-news management. But I have never worked with as nice a bunch of human beings again, people who personified simple human decency -- Mike Richmond, Dick Eby, Jerry Remmers, Neil Morgan, Frank Saldana, Jack Gregg, some copy kid named Preston Oregano or something, Don Coleman, Bob Dietrich, et al.
And among all these good guys, these inherently decent human beings, Fred Kinne stood out."

Mom's Night Out

One more thing I love about our neighborhood playgroup is our Mom's Night Out. Though it doesn't seem to happen often enough, we occasionally all get together for some fun (off the clock--kiddos stay home with our S.O.s). Last week, we all met at Shanna's newly opened wine bar...a big hit. I'm looking forward to visiting it again with Dan on a Date Night (which, according to the following book, is one of the essential ways to prioritize your relationship post-babies, as is a little weekly time for mommy--all to her selfish self).

Click here to read more on Mom's Night Out.

Chula Vista Nature Center

This is one of those places that provides a new and unexpected experience each time we visit... lets hope it stays open for another 25+ years (it has been recommended for complete closure by the Chula Vista City Council due to lack of community funding... Click here for info on the center's uncertain future...)

We've experienced everything from close encounters with raptors (as seen above) to discovering a hummingbird nest in the brush surrounding the building:

Memories on Paper

My kids (age 3 and 2) are toilet papering the house whilst I write this post, so I'll get to the point (quickly).

During the holiday season when I was a little girl, my grandfather took me to see my first theater performance: Babes in Toyland. I'll always remember how special I felt to be all dressed up and fancy, going on a "date" with Granddad. The years following he took me to see The Christmas Carol; both were performed at the Horton Plaza theater (the Lyceum). These annual excursions with Granddad always included a trip to a bookstore (our favorite was Wahrenbrock's Book House, a 3-story used bookstore), and dinner downtown. (I have vague memories of eating turtle soup at the Grant Hotel, sharing roasted chestnuts with Granddad on a sidewalk, and entering the Panda Inn as if it were a 5-star restaurant.)

Nostalgic holiday memories aside, I'm currently reading this book to my children at bedtime:

Inside, there's an inscription from my Granddad:

"For Jennifer--When you were seven and we went to see 'the Christmas Carol;' Remember? Granddad...Dec 22, 1986"

My grandmother recently gave me some of Granddad's books (he passed away 6 years ago), and one of them was a copy of Dicken's The Christmas Carol.

It had been a gift from his grandchildren:

There's an inscription from my brother and my father, but to be honest, it was mine that made me smile: "Granddad, I remember when you took me to see 'A Christmas Carol' at Horton Plaza's theatre. It's a memory I'll always treasure come the holidays. It's one of the many reminders of wonderful things you have introduced me to and taught me to appreciate. Love, Jennifer...Christmas '97"

In Memory of:

Charles

(my Granddad)

P.S. That took the length of 2 1/2 rolls of toilet paper to write.

They Make Me Laugh

I love my babies, and they remind me of that everyday in every way. Today, when I was reminding Rigel to include "please" with his demands, he stubbornly refused. His response was clever enough to make me smile and relent (just this once):

Rigel: Mom, you do it. I don't want to.

Me: How about asking a bit more politely?

Rigel: (sigh)...please.

Me: Nope. That doesn't count. Start your request over, and then say please.

Rigel: (Begrudging sigh)...That was my last one. I don't have any more left.

Me: You don't have any more pleases left?

Rigel: Nope. Maybe later, if you ask me again, I might get some more. Then, I can prob'ly say please. But not now.

Also, as an attempt to describe a complicated task, I caught Rigel swearing: "What a pain and a heck!" That's his version of Mama and Daddy's "grown-up words."

As for Izzy, we haven't quite gotten into conversations, yet, but communication is definitely not a problem. She surprises us continually with just how much she picks up on. Tonight, for instance, I made chocolate truffle cookies (from Trader Joe's Brownie mix), and she noticed from across the room. She ran to the bathroom, grabbed the step stool, and stood peering over the counter at the cookie sheet as it filled up with rows of chocolate globs. "What doin, Mama?" she asked. When I told her I was making cookies, she replied, "No! Not koookies! It brawn-ies!" Now, how she knows what brownies are is a mystery to me, since I've never made them for the kids before. They've never been alone with anyone else long enough to bake brownies elsewhere, so I'm stumped. And, for the rest of the night, Izzy followed me around the house saying, "Ont brawn-ies!" and, "just ooooonnnne more. Okay, Mommy?"

A couple days ago, while Rigel was in pre-school, Izzy entertained me. She dumped out a bag of blocks and refilled it with her chips, then perched on the side of our pillow basket to watch the Halloween ghosts flying around on our front porch whilst munching. It's those silly little actions of hers that amuse me, so confident and yet so innocent. Like the next day, when we visited the museums at Balboa Park: while taking a restroom break, she discovered a hand-drying machine. This was more fascinating to her than any of the exhibits thus far. She stood beneath the hot air blower as if taking a shower, running her fingers through her hair with her eyes squeezed shut. Coaxing her out of there was a challenge, as she kept insisting, "not yet. Ooonne more."

And yes, I took a picture (in a public restroom, no less!)

Our Beautiful Boy

I read this poem (scroll down) on Jora's blog. I immediately loved it, and wanted to save it so it can be pulled out as we watch Rigel grow. It was perfect timing, too. Today was one of those days when I allowed the negative details to outweigh the good (i.e., tantrums, testing the boundaries, and the likes). How easy I stray away from the simple fact that the good details always outweigh the bad when you are fortunate enough to experience motherhood and to witness firsthand the innocence of a child.

Daedalus
by Alastair Reid

My son has birds in his head.
I know them now. I catch
the pitch of their calls, their shrill
cacophonies, their chitterings, their coos.
They hover behind his eyes and come to rest
on a branch, on a book, grow still,
claws curled, wings furled.
His is a bird world.



I learn the flutter of his moods,
his moments of swoop and soar.
From the ground I feel him try
the limits of the air--
sudden lift, sudden terror--
and move in time to cradle
his quivering, feathered fear.
At evening, in the tower,
I see him to sleep and see
the hooding-over of eyes,
the slow folding of wings.
I wake to his morning twitterings,
to the croomb of his becoming.


He chooses his selves--wren, hawk,
swallow or owl--to explore
the trees and rooftops of his heady wishing.
Tomtit, birdwit.
Am I to call him down, to give him
a grounding, teach him gravity?
Gently, gently.
Time tells us what we weigh, and soon enough
his feet will reach the ground.
Age, like a cage, will enclose him.
So the wise men said.

My son has birds in his head.

Hands Down, the biggest challenge yet...

Of the 3 1/2 years I have been a mom, these past few months have been the most difficult for me. Of course, motherhood is not all about what is easy and what is hard, and like most things in life it requires work, trial and error, and lots of love. The rewards occur daily, at minimum--and they are as simple as a Little Dude smile or a Baby Girl conversation.

When I was adapting to motherhood for the first time, I thought it was the hardest and yet most rewarding process I had ever experienced. Then, when our family expanded and I was adapting to being a mother to a newborn and a 14 month old, I thought it was even harder (yet of course, as rewarding as ever). Now, with a toddler and toddler-preschooler (2 and 3 year old), I think it is HANDS DOWN the biggest challenge for me yet. Two toddlers with two opinions, two agendas, two tantrums, two responding to each other, copying each other, competing with each other, bickering with each other, and learning from each other (and not always setting the best example for each other)... It is a minute by minute challenge, especially on a day when my patience and tolerance levels are low--then, it feels like a game of survival. All that stress is later reflected in my children's behavior.

Now, as you can see above, it is not really that negative. It just feels like it right now, at the end of a long day of meltdowns and pushing Mamma's buttons. So, tonight, as a little reminder of how rewarding motherhood really is, I am going to write a bit about my kids.

Rigel, my 3 year old, has the best imagination. We were walking on the beach today at Mission Bay, observing the animal tracks in the sand, when he referred to the dog foot prints as "ghost dog prints"--I assumed because there were no dogs in sight. Then he elaborated, "when it gets night time outside, the ghost doggy comes out, and then he puts fire out his mouth, to scare people away." Whoa. I know he got the ghost concept from Thomas the Train episodes, but the rest?

Rigel loves stories, and though he can hardly sit still otherwise, he will sit through a good, long story, especially at bedtime. He has memorized the Thomas the Train audio book called The Jet Engine, and he loves Bill Harley's narratives, particularly "The Great Sled Race." He also loves music, and will sing his repertoire of favorite songs over and over again.

Animals are a soft spot for Rigel. From lizards to baby chicks to kittens, he gets a silly little tender grin on his face when he gets his face up close to an animal and talks to it, as if it understands everything he says.

I love how Izzy is so free spirited, especially when she sings and dances. The other evening, on our walk home from a neighborhood restaurant, she found an outdoor stage on the landing of some stairs. She must have danced and sang and posed up there for 2 or 3 minutes before she realized her audience wasn't invisible. I don't necessarily feel it is about "being in the spotlight" that she enjoys, but the actual entertainment factor of singing and dancing. She'll sing to herself everywhere--the car, the bathtub... if she's bored, she'll sing (and sometimes dance, too).

Izzy is very "people observant," and though she doesn't understand everything she sees, she sure pays attention to physical and emotional expression--from a subtle frown to an affectionate hug (of which she always notices and of course makes herself a part). This attention to social detail is one of the reasons why I think she is so outwardly expressive.



Even though there has been a lot of Time Outs lately, I love Izzy and Rigel more than words can ever describe.

Loved this Link

Turn a photo into a pencil sketch--fun! I'll have to try a better photo. Thanks Jora!

Remembering Chuck Valverde

"Books are humanity in print."—Barbara W. Tuchman. I don't think anyone could better understand this than Chuck Valverde. He was certainly the highlight of any trip to Wahrenbrock's Book House in downtown San Diego. Some of the best times with my Grandpa were spent in this 3 story used book store wandering the maze of floor to ceiling shelves. There was not a time I listened to my Grandpa and Chuck converse when it didn't seem like Chuck must have read every book in the house. Though his demeanor was simply modest and straightforward, he was a wealth of knowledge. I don't like imagining what things will be like from here on out, because even though life goes on, San Diego won't ever be the same without him.

Article on Chuck Valverde

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Where Do the Children Grow

When you see a smiling face

Their happiness all over the place

Singing, laughing, cries of glee,

Come, they say, Play with me!

The slide, the swing, the monkey bars,

Look at them close to see who they are.

Lots of races, Ready, Get Set, Go!

This is how the children grow.

When you watch them everyday

You'll see they learn as they play

They'll do what they see, and say what they hear.

You're their teacher through out the years.

Their ideas and thoughts in their eyes shine.

Imagination is a glimpse of their mind

When you're not looking, don't you know

This is when the children grow.

Watch them when they learn to walk

Listen to them when they learn to talk
Keep them safe, away from harm

Wrap them gently within your arms

Teach them to share and how to take turns.

Set good examples from which they will learn.

At home, at school, wherever they go

This is where the children grow.

-Christy R. Dawson