Suddenly, I am frightened. My older sister, who has walked in the “Breast Cancer 3-Day” 60-mile walk and then worked it as a volunteer, just sent me some advice for the two nights I will spend in a tent—this, after walking 20 miles during each of those days. Now, there are some things she didn’t need to tell me: I can already predict that my body will be hurting from all that walking, and I already know that I’m not a camper at heart, just as I already know that I am a very light sleeper under the best of circumstances. Despite these certainties about myself, I am committed to doing this walk because of everything that it stands for, because of the important uses for the funds that I am raising, and because every now and then I just get a hankerin’ to test my mettle. Knowing these things, I’ve been doing a combination of not thinking about the tents and psyching myself up for a “grand experience that happens to include tents.” Read More…
Apparently taking my sons to the park is just asking for trouble. In England, we holed ourselves up in a jungle gym to avoid a man-eating beast that some people call a dog, we encountered squirrels who would climb right up your leg and tear off a digit for a nut, and we found swans who would just as soon tear off your entire arm as wait patiently for you to toss them a crust of bread. Now that we’re back in San Diego, California, we have a whole new level of terror stalking us at the park: rattlesnakes.
We met one face-to-face last week. Read More…
When you’re a kid, there comes a day when you notice your size in relation to others. This week, my three sons, who are 4 years and 10 months old, started arguing about who is taller. This kind of argument is new. I’ve always been relieved that they don’t compete, as I think that would be tough terrain for triplet boys to navigate. But in the last few weeks, they’ve started contrasting and comparing themselves in terms of being “first” at things, as in, “I’m going to be the first to the top of the stairs.” “No, I am!” No, I am!” That sort of thing. Today they needed to know who was taller, and it really seemed to matter to them. Read More…
If you sit still on our living room floor long enough, my triplets will tackle your head. I haven’t always been thrilled to admit that. It’s a rather new thing, actually, their almost uncontrollable urge to tackle and wrestle, beginning when we returned from England two months ago. I don’t know what caused the spike in this behavior—maybe it’s simply a ‘boy thing’—but it happened and since then I’ve been spending a large portion of my days shouting things like, “Hey, get off your brother!… Stop tackling!… Uh-uh, you don’t sit on someone’s face!… No! Arms are for not for twisting!” Read More…
My sons are talking to trees. Should I be worried? After our two days of intense tree adventures, my three 4.5-year-olds are hollering “Hey, tree!” at eucalyptus trees and pressing their ears to the trunks in eager anticipation of a reply. But then, on any given day you can see college students doing the same thing, so I supposed I shouldn’t be too concerned. If you don’t believe me, go to the University of California, San Diego campus. We did, on Friday.
The day before, we’d been tipped off by my friend Diane, an instructor at UCSD, that her school has talking trees. Read More…
A couple of years ago, when our triplet sons were old enough to be aware of his wedding band, my husband told them, “This is my ‘I Love You Ring’. It means I love Mommy,” and then he pointed to each of the boys in turn, “and I love you, and I love you, and I love you. I will always wear it because I will always love you all.” His explanation stuck. At four-and-a-half years old, the boys still call our wedding bands our I Love You Rings.
Recently, the boys received wristbands from my ‘Breast Cancer 3-Day’ walking team captain Jenna. The wristbands, which Jenna is selling as part of her fundraising efforts, are as spirited as they are colorful, sporting the inspiring slogan “BE AMAZING.” Read More…
If you’re like me and aren’t keen on shelling out $90,000 for a new tree, “urban” or not, then I’ve got the discount version for you: a modelling clay structure with glued-on paper leaves and anchored into a paper bag-wrapped aluminum can filled with homemade play dough. Voila! Your very own Urban Tree at a fraction of the cost.
And the best part is, Read More…
Got a spare $90,000? Oh, good! For $90,000, you can buy a new tree for your front yard. True to the price tag, it’s a special tree, called an “Urban Tree” and fashioned by man instead of Mother Nature. The boys and I walked through San Diego’s latest grove of Urban Trees last week and left convinced that we had to have Urban Trees of our own.
For each of the past six years, a new batch of Urban Trees has been “planted” along a half-mile stretch of San Diego’s scenic Embarcadero as part of a Port of San Diego public art program, wherein artists apply their creative talents to the design of artistic trees that add color, form, interest, and fun to the waterfront. This year’s grove, installed just weeks after we returned to the U.S. from our year in England, features 30 brand new—and wholly unexpected—trees. Read More…
In the past six days, my ‘Breast Cancer 3-Day’ walking team has lost two loved ones to cancer. The latest, Cheryl’s Aunt Sue, succumbed to breast cancer yesterday morning. The last thing Cheryl said to me before hanging up the phone to go make travel plans for the funeral was, “We gotta raise a ton of money to BEAT this thing.” And so…
Announcing the third Pink Lemonade Project lemonade stand: October 10, 2009, 11am to 3pm at Scripps Park in La Jolla Cove, the lovely park just above the Children’s Pool (aka “Seal Beach”). Please stop by and buy a cold one—it’s for a great cause. And if you’re not a San Diegan, you can still have a glass of the sweet stuff at our virtual lemonade stand using my own personal fizzy pink lemonade recipe at www.PinkLemonadeProject.com. Read More…
Potty humor. I am awash in it. I have three four-year-old boys and an adult of the male persuasion in my house, so I suppose the potty humor should not be a surprise. Why, then, didn’t I see Sunday coming?
Sunday started out innocently enough. I walked up the barista in Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf and asked for used coffee grounds. She was surprised by the request. However, when I explained that I wasn’t some frightfully frugal coffee drinker but that I needed the grounds for a project for 6 four-year-olds, she nodded knowingly. I’d be entertaining my boys and another set of triplets later that afternoon, and I was planning an activity: homemade rocks filled with toys. Read More…
Today the boys wore their “Pink Lemonade Project” shirts to the zoo. A lady approached me, with two French-speaking friends in tow. She asked about the boys being triplets, then she asked about their shirts, then she asked what the Pink Lemonade Project was raising money for. When I told her, a strange expression crossed her face. “I’m a smoker,” she said. “My sister just died from breast cancer.” Then she held up a pack of nicotine gum. “I’m trying to quit.” Read More…