Thank goodness my folks are vacationing, otherwise I'd feel very guilty for not posting the past three (three? three!) weeks. I don't even have time to do it now -- it's a busy weekend with a couple parties and a fun freelance gig -- but in bits and pieces, during bathtime and bedtime and dinner making, here's the past three (!!!) weeks.
My brother had a business trip out here in SoCal, and decided to bring along the family. My darling husband left work (one day after he had returned from a week in Seattle), we left the little CA Metcalfs with a babysitter, and Evan took the NJ Brockways and me on a three-hour tour of the WB lot. My 13yo niece Ella is totally obsessed with Pretty Little Liars, and my darling husband spent some time online so he could tailor the tour to showcase her favorite show. (No pictures, because no pictures on the lot, of course.)
Since it was August (when they film the first few episodes of pilots that have been picked up), the lot was bustling. We saw the town green (from The Music Man -- the trouble number, and The Muppets -- the big opening dance number, and yes, the downtown for Pretty Little Liars) all dressed up for Hart of Dixie. We'd seen enough blank sets at that point, so we could pick out the set dressings -- signage, window treatments, hardware -- that set dressers use to take the nondescript square and turn it into a New England village square, or classic turn-of-the-century Iowa.
We had lunch at the commisary, and I think that for the first time in my 42 years, my brother was actually impressed by something in my life.
The kiddos played for a bit and cuddled and mugged, but the Goose was spiking a fever, so I sent the NJ Brockways on my patented "Everything You Need to See in Hollywood in Two Hours" tour.
The Goose got mad at me. I don't remember why, but isn't she cute?
And then! It was time to shop! School was starting!
Nordstroms for shoes. My kids have inherited my husband's flat feet and my tender feet. They are screwed. So we pay up the wazoo for shoes at Nordstroms, since if their special inserts don't end up working or the laces rub a blister after a couple weeks, I can bring them back.
H&M for another batch of clever licensed DC tees and skinny jeans for Oscar and comfy chinos with a sweatpant-like waistband for Arlo. (I think that some of the designers at H&M have "quirky" kids.)
Target for supplies.
Break for a movie. (Brave, this time in 2D. I liked it even better this time.)
A jaunt on Amazon and J-List for lunchboxes and bento.
Success.
Friday: our last day of summer. We went to the Santa Clarita Aquatic Center with everybody else in the Southland. It was 110 degrees. I bought them ice cream because that's how I roll.
The Goose has inherited her Gretta's hair, crossed with my mop. Coarse and thick, with a curl that wants to be a snarl, and able to form itself into a giant mass after being in the pool. I might need to get a part time job just to subsidize the conditioner needed for this kid.
We invited some friends over and walked over to school to find out what teacher the boys had. They post it at 5pm on the Friday before the Monday school starts.
Oscar got a teacher he didn't know. Luckily we checked her out in the yearbook and she seemed sane. Arlo, as expected, was in his beloved K teacher's new combo K/1st class, along with plenty of his K buddies. Phew.
Saturday we puttered. I had made plans long ago to see Rick Springfield that evening with my sister-from-another-mister, Jojo, and a bunch of girlfriends of girlfriends at the Starlight Bowl. I had a moment where I forgot that I am crabby and anti social, and invited 6 people I never met to my house for an early drink and them we could all carpool up to the Bowl. What was I thinking?
It was over 113 degrees that day. I was pooped. And cranky. I wanted to sit in my air-conditioned house and down glass after glass of reasonably priced pinot grigio on ice. Instead, I taught The Goose how to muddle fresh mint in white rum and made mojito after mojito and was talked into going out.
Friends, if there is one thing I've learned as an adult and an exhausted parent, it's "go out." You will almost always be grateful that you did.
The Starlight Bowl is gorgeous. The parking was easy, cheap, and we were able to skip the (totally reasonable) walk up the hill since there were friendly folks in vans that hustled us in.
Ten bucks got us these seats on the lawn, a mini flashlight from Burbank Power, and a couple dozen sweepstake prizes between the opening and the main act.
We brought lots of food. And wine.
The opening act was a disciple of Prince. A female funk guitarist in a gold lame skintight jumpsuit and heels from Minnesota.
And then! Rick Springfield!
I realized that I knew a lot more Rick Springfield songs than I thought. The man is 62 and a powerhouse. He also knows his audience -- he stopped in the middle of "Don't Talk To Strangers" and dragged a bunch of kids on the stage, and he interacted with every single one and set the up with a "I'M TELLIN YOU!" and then sticking the mike for them to sing "don't talk to strangers!"
All the moms were damp in their stretch pants. Present company excepted.
I was so grateful I was talked into going. I had a lovely evening with a pack of awesome, witty ladies, who brought great food and the best wine to be found with screw tops. We sang along to Rick Springfield and had an utter blast. Exiting the Bowl was a breeze. I was home with a chilled glass of Pinot Grigio in my hand by 10pm. I extolled the awesomeness of Rick Springfield and the Starlight Bowl to my sweetie, and we plan on a family trip to whatever Pink Floyd cover band plays next year.
Sunday we took the kids to another one of those public town water parks. This one had water slides, wave pools and a lazy river, which was right up my deep-pressure-seeking kids' alley.
The next day, school!
The first day of school went pretty much the same as all of our days. Oscar noogied Arlo and they got into a grappling match.
Our sunfilled walk to school. Arlo is hiding behind Evan, The Goose is scampering ahead of all of us.
Here's my Arlo, in line for his beloved teacher. He lucked out. This year, she is teaching a combo k/1st class, so my petrified-by-change boy gets a reprieve. Same teacher, same classroom, and out of the 15 1st graders in his 30-kid class, 4/5ths of them are dear friends from last year. Ms. C got to pick and choose her classroom to make up for the combo class challenge, and she choose kids that she loved and parents that she needed.
And the older woman next to Ms. C? That's her mom, who is her unpaid, beloved, and totally needed almost-constant aide in the classroom. She welcomed Arlo back with a smile and a hug that had real, genuine affection.
Evan went off with Oscar, and deposited him in his class and was hustled out. The Goose and I left Arlo's classroom and made it over to Oscar's but found the door closed.
Oh man. My kids are getting big.
I don't know what genius decided that 6-year-olds could move from summer to start school on a Monday for a full five-day week, but I curse that genius. My kids were fried. Thank goodness our next-door neighbors (and landlords) have a pool, and they honestly encourage us to use it whenever we want.
Slide after slide. My kiddos' bodies need the crash into the water, the grappling of siblings in the shallow end. That hour of swimming keeps them in check.
I'm working on finding them a pool to swim in year round.
Arlo gets out 40 to 65 minutes before Oscar, depending on what day it is. We've been snacking, running, and socializing during those times. Although we only live a 7-minute walk from school, we can't go home for 20 minutes and then turn around to fetch a sibling. So we hang out.
There's a climbable tree at the gate where we pick up Oscar. The little guys dig that tree.
Brothers. They are yucky.
Saturday, The Goose had a birthday party to attend.
This week, being our first anniversary in Los Angeles, was fraught with meaning.
Last year, we didn't have friends, and we didn't have much of a social schedule.
A year later, and we are swamped.
The Goose's friend J had hard working parents who decided to delegate the endless birthday parity planning to a local small business. We did a similar thing for the Goose's 3rd birthday.
The next day, our friends Mike and Janice had a tiki-warming party. They moved out here six months before we did, bought and renovated a fantastic SoCal house, with twinges of Disney animation history. They tore down the shed in the backyard and built a Tiki Bar. They have a pool, and Janice seems to have a sixth sense for when my kids need a swim. She texts me and we descend on their pool. and Janice gets to be "my village" for a bit and kindly but firmly redirects my kids from whatever hell they are wrecking.
They went to Hawaii last year and returned with a hulu outfit for the Goose. Oh, there were tee shirts and shell leis for the boys as well, but they knew that the Goose would totally get a kick out of a hulu outfit, so they bought it for her.
How lucky are we to have such friends?
The Goose did her hulu-hulu and blessed the tiki bar with her wild gyrations. Evan and I had a wonderful time chatting with friends, old and new. I went back again and again for Mike to refill my margarita.
On Sunday I took Oscar and Lucy to see the Music Man, performed by a great local rep theater.
I love the Music Man so much that I will go to just about any performance of it.
The Goose starts school next Monday. I'm trying to have some fun times, between the laundry and the freelance and the grocery shopping, with her before we delve into 5-days-a-week-school.
We got our nails painted. She rocks the Kermit nails.
We went to one of the parks in nearby Glendale that had a wading pool. The Goose and her friend Stella flirted with the lifeguard and collected gardenia leaves.
We got donuts. Donuts in Burbank are divine.
We've been thinking about allowing Oscar to walk the three blocks home after school by himself. We practice with him walking across the street.
The Goose was cranky and didn't want to go to bed, so I enlisted her to grind ginger. It wore her out and eventually she went to bed.
This is what I find in my bed every evening. Delicious. But, children: I would like to sleep with my husband without a grabby kiddo between us.
Evan was invited to a Hollywood wrap costume party. He needed to dress up as a DC character. He pulled out a white shirt, nondescript tie and chinos, and topped it off with a trenchcoat. I made him a tinfoil GCPD badge. He shaved off his beard and carried a Batlight with him. He made a pitch perfect Commissioner Gordon.
He looked awesome. I didn't get a picture. The next morning he decided to freak the Bejebus out of our kids and shave.
Oscar sez he looks creepy. The Goose sez his face looks bald. I sez he looks like the 26yo floppy-haired kid I hired 15 years ago, not the man I fell in love with. Even though he's a year older than me, I look about a decade older than my bald-faced husband.
We had a long couple of days. At the end of a long, trying day, we got a package from Aunt Kim.
Cousins Abby and Ella put together a package of handmedowns. Arlo adopted a kitty puppet and a Tag system. Oscar gamely took the box and made a robot costume out of it.
The Goose got about a million Barbies. She is in Barbie bliss.
Here's Oscar's first class project; a timeline. Oscar did a great job but boy howdy, I am exhausted.
The Goose likes to hang out in trees.
She also likes to bake. But just to be able to lick the paddles. The baked goods are a welcomed aftereffect of baking. The intended result is the spatulas and mixer paddles and bowls to lick.
This past Friday was our elementary school picnic. What a difference from last year! Last year we didn't know anyone. We went and smiled and tried really hard to be friendly. It was depressing.
Arlo encouraging The Goose on the waterslide.
This year we
were surrounded by friends and teachers. Our beloved principal came
over to hug our kids, and Oscar's previous teacher came over to inquire
about his summer and see how he was doing in his new classroom. We
provided ad-hoc childcare for friends that were working the bake sale
table and I got a huge genuine hug from Oscar's pal C, who was away all
summer. Arlo had multiple girls from his previous class come over and say "HIIIiiiiii Arrrlooooo!" and he was all yeah whatever, hi, there are treats over there, I am done with you.
We are totally setting ourselves up for trouble. Girls like my boys. Oscar has a few girl friends that appreciate his quirkiness. Arlo has a huge posse of girl friends that clamor for his attention. It will be interesting to see what happens when they all get a little older and they recognize Arlo's combination of intense affection and flightiness.
We had a great time and spent a lot of money. A couple of bucks here and there for waterslides, tattoos, cakewalk tickets and colored hair streaks.
O and his bestie. They look like the before and after of the 90-pound weakling ad.
Evan snuck out of work early and surprised us. I think he just wanted to go to the In-and-Out truck.
In-and-Out gives 100% of their proceeds to our PTA. That's 5-7000 bucks, straight into the PTA account that funds art teachers, library assistants, and gym teachers.
The Cakewalk is a strange SoCal custom. You walk in a circle and either end up on the winning number or have a ticket with the winning number.
Arlo was the final cakewalk winner of the day. He won the cake that we made. He was thrilled.
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