Super Heros

Sam has gotten some awesome presents, and Santa hasn't even been here! Dede got him some great costumes: Superman, Batman and Robin.

Last night, Sam said, "Pick one, Mommy!" I chose Batman, because he has the best song. : )

Sam was Superman.

Sam said, "Here, Daddy, you're Robin." Matt said, "I don't want to be Robin - being Robin blows!"

I begged Matt to allow me to photograph him in his Robin costume. He kindly said: No "Freaking" Way.

Santa comes tonight, a night early, and then we're off to the O.C. Rainy, high 60's, but it beats the snow.

Merry Christmas.

Living the dream

I'm about to wrap-up my final story for the sizable writing project I've been working on - and I'm over a month ahead of schedule!

Poor Sam has spent some pretty boring days around the house, when he's not at preschool, with Mommy typing away on her computer. I'm about to make that all up to him as we're going to spend the entire week next week going to movies, Monkey Joe's, Chuck E. Cheese--whatever he wants!

Matt and I asked him what Daddy does for work. Sam shrugged and said, "He works in a tower." We asked him what Mommy does, and he said, "She's a writer." He's a good man, that Sam.

Even Matt tells Sam to play guitar!

We're heading to California next week for an entire week of sunshine. It's been 87 degrees there all week. I cannot wait. We're going to take a trip up the coast again, and take Sam with us this time. There's so much adventure waiting for us. Sam has definitely had more life experiences than most children his age, and he's absolutely wonderful to hang out with. Whenever I pictured the type of child I might have someday, Sam was definitely in the dream.

Sam slept between us the other night, and Matt said, "Can you imagine how comforting it is to be sandwiched between your parents like this? Sam will never feel as safe as he does right now."

This was also part of my dream. : )

A Visit to Santa

After a day of sledding on the "Carmel Hill" yesterday, we took Sam to meet Santa at Clay Terrace. They had a pretty swanky set-up, as Santa rested inside a little gingerbread house that had a Tom Roush car give-away parked right in front, insuring that no one could take a decent photograph.

Sam had a runny nose all day, which should have been red flag enough to postpone this event. He fell asleep in the car on the way there (5 minutes), so we took him into the sporting goods store to liven him up a bit -- his sleep coma remained. We decided to forge out into the snow and wait our turn to see Santa, with the shiny new Chevy parked outside the gingerbread house. There really was no line, just us and the Chevy.

After a few moments, I rapped on the door (because, after all, this is a Christmas story), and Santa's grouchy, middle-aged elf, let's call her Sheila, came outside and snarled, "It'll be a few minutes!"

We hadn't planned to purchase photographs, given Sam's slight cold and physical torpor, but I knew that Sheila was really trying to say, "We have paying customers in here!" I told Matt to get his credit card ready.

We decided to walk across the street and grab two coffees and a hot chocolate while we waited. While in the store, Matt realized that Sam's gym shoes (I completely forgot to buy the child snow boots!) were caked in mud, which was now covering the floor of the Gelato boutique. I tipped the guy three dollars because I knew he'd be responsible for mopping after we left.

We could see the paying customers leaving Santa's house, dressed in red sweaters, smiling as snowflakes gently landed on their faces. We gave Sam's nose a good wiping and headed back to wonderland.

I'd dressed Sam like the little brother wearing all the winter gear in the movie A Christmas Story. Layers upon layers I'd layered, and it was beginning to hit me that this might be causing Sam's state-of-mind. "He's hot!" I said to my husband, and so right there in front of God and everyone (Santa, Sheila, two girls taking expensive photographs), I began stripping Sam down.

Sam had no interest in Santa after he'd told him about the big green gun and fishing pole that he wanted, but we tossed him on Santa's lap, anyway. Sheila tried using some kind of baby rattle to entice a smile from Sam, but he wasn't having it. "Snap, snap, snap!" Three horrible digital photographs. The girl turned her computer screen so that we could see how awful the photographs were, and she knocked my large coffee off the table, and onto Santa's floor.

Sheila seemed really pissed. We were down $11.00 at this point, and still had to buy a picture.

Sheila threw Matt and me into the frame along with Santa and Sam and yelled, "Smile!" We heard one more snap, and that was it. That was going to be our Christmas photograph, no matter what.

"It's terrible," Matt said, "We're not giving this to anyone!"

We shall not speak of this experience again.

Studying Keats

It's a gray day, the Indiana gray that makes us all begin to deteriorate until Spring arrives. I've been writing a lot lately, 3 stories per day for my project. I love working! My hair has to be in a ponytail when I write, like the girl on Harry Potter. It helps me think, pulls out the ideas.

The house is quiet, and I've settled with a cup of green tea, and some Keats. I once knew Keats, I believe. I was once more romantic.

How many bards gild the lapses of time!
A few of them have ever been the food
Of my delighted fancy,—I could brood
Over their beauties, earthly or sublime:
And often, when I sit me down to rhyme,
These will in throngs before my mind intrude:
But no intrusion, no disturbance rude
Do they occasion; 'tis is a pleasing chime.
So the unnumber'd sounds that evening store
The song of birds—the whispering of the leaves—
The voice of waters—the great bell that heaves
With solemn sound—and thousand others more,
That distance of recognizance bereaves,
Making pleasing music, and not wild uproar.

Boyhood Games

We had to fill out a sheet at Sam's school that his teacher posted on the bulletin board. It included our favorite foods, places we like to travel and things we like to "play." A lot of the other kids' moms wrote things like "Tag," "Get You," and "Hide-n-Seek."

Our list was similar, because I couldn't bring myself to list our real games:

Kill All the Bad Guys
Shoot the Enemy Dead
Gross You Out
I Think I Can Do This
Jump and Crash
Let Me Go

I swear we're good parents, I swear.

High School Reunion

Saturday. 6 pm. Sunny. Gorgeous. I was dressed a little bit like Johnny Cash.

My friend Mary picked me up, and we planned to ditch her car and cab it home. She had a pile of cds in her car as she'd driven down from Chicago earlier that day. She said, "I brought my 'Jill' music." Tragically Hip, Cake, Liz Phair, some standards. I was impressed.

Really overheating in my black sweater.

We met up with four guys we've known since the 7th grade, our best buds, and we all piled into a small BMW (back in the day it was probably a large Toronado) and headed to the reunion. Mary said, "Grab that Tragically Hip cd!" Mary and I were sitting on the laps of our friends, and I handed the cd up to the driver, Dave, whom everyone knows. ; ) (Hip lyric.)

Mary said, "Jill, have him play that r o c k i n g song," and I'm thinking, "Um, um...they all are." She said, "That one. That one that makes you dance in your seat." So, I cleared my throat and said, "Dave, please, track 6."

We had the poor car speakers screaming as loudly as they could possibly go as we drove down the street listening to Locked in the Trunk of a Car.

We played it about 4 times ... I mean loudly ... I sat in the middle of the backseat with an itchy sweater and a huge smile on my face. I'm so easy.

Three of my guy friends said things like, "Who in the hell was that? That was f***ing fantastic." My friend, Alex, said, "....Jill's gift to every person she knows...The Tragically Hip."

I got home around 3:00 am.

Matt took Sam and let me sleep it off the entire next day. What a cool husband.

Sam and I went to lunch this afternoon and Lauren was our waitress. She did a great job, and when she brought Sam free dessert, he said, "Oh... My... Gosh. This is delicious."

I took him to the park afterward, and there were two weirdo kids there, one who kept chasing Sam, and one who kept hitting him. The chaser was wearing a blue sweatshirt, and when Sam woke from his nap later at home, the first thing he said was, "That blue guy was chasing me."

But lately Sam uses "actually," "seriously," and "precarious" correctly in sentences. We never really talked baby-talk to Sam, and it shows. Matt was commenting last night on how he made a giant leap of maturity from age 2.5 to age 3.

On the way to school Monday he said, "Daddy really wants me to go surfing with him, but I don't want to use his big white surfboard, I want my own surfboard." I agreed. Sometimes he's scary smart. He listens to NPR on the way to and from school (16 miles round trip), and he's started repeating, or, better yet, commenting on the commentary!

In other news:

Jason came in 335th in the Madison, WI Ironman. Angie and I both took walks that day.

I went to Chicago for the weekend and danced in really super-high heels. I was able to walk again today, for the first time.

I contributed to the Democratic Party yesterday, and again today, because I want my voice to be heard.

Matt is buying another old Mercedes. That will be two in our driveway. My family thinks he may need psychological evaluation.

Kate is in the hospital again, and we all hate that very much. : (

Matt and Sam are going surfing in November. I mean, how cute is that?!

All for now.

I'm all tingley

Sam went with me to my doctor's appointment yesterday for tennis elbow (caused not from playing tennis, but from landscaping every square-inch of our yard). My arm is so sore that it doesn't even seem like pain anymore, it just feels like a constant tingle. Not the kind of sense and sensibility that I'm used to.

Samuel has become a daredevil. Usually, when he is risking life and limb, either skateboarding or riding his Razor down the middle of the street (yeah, just turned 3 and has been really good on it for months!) -- oh, and now jumping on the trampoline -- we tell him to please be careful so we don't have to go to the hospital.

He started blending the words "doctor" and "hospital," and came up with the term "hot doctor," asking us if that was where he'd end up if he didn't wear a helmet.

We were the first ones at the doctor's office yesterday. People began filing in, the nursing staff busily preparing for their day, and Sam said with almost an echo, "Are we seeing your hot doctor, Mommy?"

There were plenty of snickers and chuckles, and I gasped out an "Oh, honey, yes, we're here to see the doctor, not the hospital doctor..." but the damage had been done.

I'm sure the staff told my doctor, who actually is a pretty handsome man. : )

We are still recouping from the birthday bash. Matt did a terrific job getting the trampoline up (after... 6 hours? haha), and every single beautiful Spiderman cupcake disappeared. Matt bought me my second original painting from a local artist that I love, and even stopped at Sakura and picked up soft shell crab for me. What a man.

I start physical therapy for my arm next week. Ugh out.

The last 4 digits

I just found myself at Lowe's on a Friday night. I was buying wood filler, charcoal, Folex carpet cleaner, and about to have an out-of-body experience. I realized that I know the last 4 digits of our credit card (7143) without looking.

I felt depressed.

I came home and found Matt cleaning the car (the earth's axis tipping simultaneously), and Sam running down to me, yelling, "I wanna ride in there with you!" So I did our favorite thing to freak out our neighbors, besides that thing where we walk around with full wine glasses: I allowed Sam to climb in on my lap, and we did a quick tour around the neighborhood in our cool Volvo stationwagon...with no seatbelts!

The year of living dangerously.

But I found a new street, one we'd never ventured down before, where people were outside with beers in their hands, and they were dressed well! A couple of them smiled and laughed when they saw my blonde bombshell driving the car, and for that brief moment I was filled with hope.

Tomorrow I'm planning a full-on escapade. We're going to walk down that street and talk to people.

The Red Balloon

I almost forgot that I had a blog.

Sam and I shopped for his Spiderman birthday party supplies today, and I bought him a big, red helium balloon at his request. Last night we read the French book, The Red Balloon, that I remember from my childhood. It's really some of the best photography I've ever seen, as the red balloon follows young Pascal around Paris. Sam loved the book (apple not falling far), so it made sense for him to say, "Please, Mommy, a red balloon."

Sam's red balloon disappeared into the afternoon sky after he went in the backyard (by himself) to water the flowers midday. He came inside bawling, the words so meek that he could hardly get them out. I said, "Honey, what is it...what is it?" "My...my...BALL...oooooon." The sadness was unbearable.

Later, after he'd calmed down, he explained how the balloon was up in the sky with the baseballs that he's hit over the fence, and that it's following people around town. (If you're unfamiliar with A. LaMorisse's The Red Balloon, might I suggest it.)

This, my (nearly) three-year-old. As Debbie put it: He's going to do very well in school.

I returned to the store later and bought him another red balloon...and a blue one, too, just because I love him so much.

Gingery

Sam and I went to our local water park today in Hamilton County, the freebie one where I don't have to deal with so many kids, like at the Monon Center. There were lots of pretentious kid names there, my favorite being Carlson, and my least favorite being, ok, I'll do this phonetically, "Aa-ahna." Aahnna. That's a name? Apparently it is, because the mom wouldn't stop saying it. These are my least favorite types of moms: those who name their kids pretentious names and then say them loudly in public so we can all get familiar with them.

"Carlson, Carlson, take that diaper off your head and put it back onto your sister!"

"Aahnna, come here! Aahnna, Aahnna, I'm going to count to three!"

Sam and I just do our thing. I never yell (certainly never in public) because there is no need.

So, we played most of the day and then I painted the dining room. It was already painted, but not to my specifications, so I did it again. I'm loving decorating this new house, and I'm very excited to finally go back to work someday very soon doing what I've always wanted to do: decorating! I can never again sit at a desk, ever, ever, ever.

Ah ha, Matt is home and off for a run in this 90 degree heat. I still have the color "Gingery" on my knees and elbows. The sign of a good woman. In fact, our handyman told me last week that I'm extraordinary. Kind of creepy, to tell ya the truth.

Planting the new house

I touched a cat tonight. I'll never do that again. I have welts all over my arms from the vile creature. Truthfully, I like cats, but I can't be near them, so I hate them.

Jason rode his bicycle from Ft. Wayne to Indy to surprise my dad for Father's Day. 120 miles, that crazy nut. He's a machine; he's always been a machine. At age 5 I saw those machine eyes. I run 3 miles up hill and I feel accomplished. Phooey. He was sitting on the couch at my dad's when we arrived, drinking a beer, all "Hey guys." He's lucky we still speak to him.

Of late, I chopped down a Hawthorne tree; hack-sawed a crab apple tree; helped plant the weeping cherry that Sam and I got Matt for Father's Day; stood on a ladder whacking bushes; planted rhododendruns, hibiscus and tons of perennial flowers, and I'm just getting started.

Chabon

Wow, a free moment.

Just got back from sunny, wonderful California. A little different this time, but still great. Sam surfed with Matt at Newport Beach. There is little this boy won't try, doesn't know, or doesn't figure out in about 2 minutes. He not only talks in complete sentences, but complete concepts, too. His grandparents were amazed at his progess since last time.

I'm unpacking boxes in our new house, and reading Michael Chabon's new book on fatherhood. If there is one person I'm allowed to be in love with besides Matt, it's Michael. Matt is allowed to love the spokeswoman for Electrolux (at least she's blonde); I would never settle for an actor...gotta be a writer. Every word of Chabon draws me in.

We're busy growing a garden, playing with Nerf guns, and I bought Sam his first (as if there will be many) sword yesterday. Life is pretty simple. Matt is proving to be the best dad ever. I mean, really, he's pretty darn good.

I'm so sick of airplanes, layovers and flatulence surrounding me with no hope of an escape. God, it's a long way to Cali. We're tired (except Sam!) and must go to sleep early.

Photo Booth Shots

John & Jaquie's wedding in Florida last year...I particularly like the one where John is kissing me and Matt is trying to run a block. : )

Scream Machine

Met with the contractor, the electrician, the flooring guy, the butcher, baker and candlestick maker all today. I'm loving this. Matt shakes his head at my decorating budget.

We let Sam scream it out tonight because he won't go to sleep in his bed. I've been dealing with it since Matt's been visiting his mom in the hospital, so he was on duty tonight. I had to go outside and do yoga in the yard so I didn't have to hear him screaming for me. An episode of Super Nanny! It's so hard, but we have to do it. At least I keep hearing that from others. God, I hate to hear that cutie pie cry.

We all watched UP tonight. I teared-up, of course. Love my boys.

A Moment

Sam told me that he walked through "waddy mutters" today in his Crocs. I used to say "rabby barrit" for bunny rabbit when I was his age.

He's on a Spiderman kick.

We move into our new house in T minus 34 days. I've been on weekly decorating binges, my absolute favorite pasttime. Matt buys something from Miller Nurseries online every week, too. We're a good mix.

There's so much going on, so little time; I read books in front of the oven at night, usually while I'm stirring someting, trying to keep up.

My writer buddy invented the best name: The MELP.

Gord Downie has a new record coming out. Ahh. I emailed him on his birthday - he spent it cleaning closets with his kids. So respectable.

I hear Sam's footsteps coming down the hallway...

Fantastic Day

Yesterday, what a day. I began by running 2 miles then swimming a mile; it was my mom's birthday; I played outside with my 2 sweeties; we put an offer in on a new house, and the health care bill passed the Senate. Avengers of change!

Change is frightening, I guess for some, but I can't see past those 32,000,000 (so many zeros!) people who will now not live in fear of visiting a goddamned doctor. It's time people stopped rocking in their front porch rocking chairs wondering what's on the other side of the hill (or in Indiana, the street). It's called the world: better wake up and join it.

For my single-mother friends raising kids alone; for the people I know who lacked sufficient coverage or had pre-existing conditions; for my friend who died at age 24 from testicular cancer because he couldn't afford health insurance; and for my dad who, by proxy, visited him several times in the hospital, even though he'd never met him, simply because I couldn't bare to see a friend waste away, this day was for you.

And as for the Republican naysayers, you can kiss my grits.

Rent the Rug Doctor

Swam 1.25 miles today, which doesn't sound like a lot more than 1 mile, but it was an additional 8 laps, down and back (16 laps). I was feeling competitive with Speedo Girl next to me, who was actually a much better swimmer...at first. She gave up at a mile, so, of course, I had to continue.

I need to find a new swim cap that holds all of this hair! I pulled it off several times during my swim, and I tried to swim without it, but so much hair in my eyes. Finally, I pulled it over my head leaving my locks flowing out the bottom, kind of like a mullet. I looked like a pro, for sure.

I've noticed that swimmer girls have short hair. Me no like short hair. Moms also have short hair. I like throwing it all into a ponytail, which I suppose means I should just cut it all off. But no way.

I went to Walmart today (God, I hate that place) to buy a small swimming pool for Gertie to run around in once in a while. I asked a lady who worked there for help. She said, and I'm NOT kidding. "That's a great idea. Maybe I should buy one to use as a littler box for my possum" (Or is that opossum?). She told me that it was blind in one eye. I ran to my car... fast.

I Rug-Doctored the entire house today, too...just for fun. Matt just handed me a glass of wine, he's cooking dinner, and Sam's hanging onto me hoping to watch Youtube. Life's good!

Swim Fatigue

I ran three miles yesterday, and swam a mile today. Sam and I both took 2-hr naps today. My brother told me to buy blue goggles, after I bought black ones. I like them, they're very clear, but both of my eyes look bruised after I've worn them for a while. You can't swim and plan on going anywhere important right afterward. My swim cap won't stay on because of the mass of hair I have, either. I need to work out these kinks.

Swimming kicks my butt, and I love it. Back Thursday.

New Sport

I pulled out my old one-piece swimsuit last night and tried it on for Matt. Some laughter followed. It's at least 15-years-old (maybe more) because, who wears a one-piece? Well, I do now that I'm swimming at the gym! I ran 4 miles yesterday, and that glistening 5-lane lap pool was calling me. I bought some new black swim goggles and a black cap last night to match my 15-year old black suit. Matt said, "You look really cool."

Well, I did look pretty cool once I was swimming. As my brother says, "Muscles have memory." I swam 3/4 of a mile, which is no small feat after at least a 10-year hiatus from serious swimming (splashing around with Sam at the Monon Center and drinking margaritas in Matt's parents' pool notwithstanding).

I loved it. I swam pretty fast; swam right past the girl who chose to wear her bikini, right past the lady who swam with her head out of the water and never once cupped her hands. My heart was racing...and no sweat! I'm thinking a Masters competition is in my future. I wish I liked riding bicycles (I really don't), because maybe a triathlon for this old lady is in order. I must always keep up with Jason.

My two new favorite words from Sam: Lassy Tappy (Laffy Taffy) and Dunk Trup (Dump Truck).

Ma Bell

Sam's sick, asleep on the couch. I've already done a million things today and I found a free moment. "Well, hello, free moment," I said, and then WHAM! The phone rang. Every afternoon, right at the start of my free moment, the phone rings.

I hate the phone. I want the phone out of the house. I never answer the phone.

We have a new gerbil named Gertie. Sam's a little fearful, and he says, "Tiny toenails, tiny toenails!" She's really Matt's pet (oh, man, I thought I was!).

She's asleep in the cage next to me.

I'm unplugging all of the phones and going to greet that free moment with a smile.

All in the sauce

I'm cooking stuffed chicken with homemade bechamel sauce, drinking a glass of champange... and it's only Tuesday.

Matt and I celebrated two years married (five years total), and I'm sitting here thinking that life's pretty grand. I consider every other relationship such a waste of time, but that's because I hadn't met Matt yet. We all make stupid mistakes, I just dated more than he did. : )

I've found a friend in the neighborhood who can transfer old videos onto DVDs, so we've been having some fun with this! Except that I learned that Sam's first birthday party DVD wasn't properly formatted, and blank thusly (nonstandard variant, just like 'thusly'). Matt just shakes his head at me.

Man, this champagne is spectacular.

I'm planning my next trip, planning my next trip, gotta go, gotta travel, planning my next trip. Matt just went to Miami Beach (rotgut, been there a hundred times), but I'm focusing on the magnificent. I also have enough miles on my credit card to go around the world...maybe twice. I've NEVER used my miles. I'm sickeningly patient. But no more waiting. And no more jaunts to Chicago or DC...I'm over those. I want Europe. I want Envoy Class and Five Stars. I want a captain, a chef and a maid, a sommelier, five-course meals and champagne for breakfast.

Oh golly gee damn!

I want to go put my arms around my sick little boy, and stir my bechamel sauce, keep dreaming...

Careful

I'm easily amused.

Ooh, ooh Dreamweaver

I'm sitting at my desk watching the snow fall, which is what I feel like I've been doing for about 6 months. Next time I'm heading East into a blizzard, I'll heed the advice from which I usually run.

Evan Bayh isn't running for re-election? Jon Stewart's analogy of the Republicans moving to the next grade while the Democrats are stuck in the nurse's office with their balls glued to their legs could have some validity.

If I hear Jack Johnson one more time I'm gonna puke. It's true, children love Jack. Sam turns it on and turns it UP by himself now. He calls it "Cool loud." Here we go...

I was thinking, if Jesus had children, besides all the children of the world, and he took them to work on "Take your kids to work day," would it really be "Take your children to Jesus" day?

We took Fredders to the Rathskeller, the place where we had our first date (5 years ago!!) on Valentine's Day. That was a great day to have a first date with the guy I ended up marrying.

Yesterday, after I yelled at Sam for...well, something I can't even remember now, he said, "I'm mad." I asked, "At me?" He said, "Yes, Sammy is mad because you pushed me." I said, "Well honey, thank you for telling me."

Sam slept in his big boy bed for the first time last night and he did GREAT. I'm so proud.

I bought the program Dreamweaver. I'm gonna teach myself. I'm a quick study. Help pass the winter...

California!

We just returned from sunny, best weather in the country, SoCal. We missed the snow here, missed the bitter edge, hung out on the beach watching Matt surf on his new board. He's amazing...ahh. Sam got his first taste of whale watching off of Balboa Island...he's quite the natural seafarer.

And what are we watching now that we're back? The Backyardigans' Surf's Up!

New Year's Day

It's that day again, that calendar date that says, "Let's try this again..." The day when people budget for their new gym membership, only to quit by mid-February.

As Sam gets older, creeping into ownership of his own thoughts and actions, I'm trying to decide what I want to do with ME, for ME, next. For someone who was once told, "You're independent to a fault!" I can say that motherhood and marriage have had their challenges. Not because I don't love them, but because I feel that I've given up my identity and dreams in order to make sure lunch is on the table each day for Sam, piping hot and nutritious. It gets tedious.

I was thinking last night, as I was dancing to the band at the Doherty's party, how I've probably seen over 700 live shows in my lifetime. At least. I was dreaming about the day soon when I'll buy a last-minute ticket to Paris, or fly out to see my favorite band play the Fillmore in SF. When I can be a little more like the old Jill, resting assured that Matt and Sam are waiting for me back at the ranch. That is what a good marriage and a good life are all about: having time to be yourself along the way. I'm very lucky to have the support system that I do, a husband who says, "You're great at everything you do - go do it!"

And as for New Year's Resolutions: we are buying a treadmill for the house! God, we're so suburban.