This Is the Day that the Lord Has Made

Today I go back to work.

Today Benjamin goes to his first ever day of daycare.

Last night I rocked with my little boy a little big longer before putting him to bed. I am so grateful to have had this beautiful summer with him. And I am so blessed to have a job that gives me summers off, four weeks of paid vacation during the year, and a schedule that gets me home by 3:30. I was so fortunate to have had my mom watch him during his first year, when he was so little and so needy. But now it's time to move on. My mom can't watch him full time anymore, and a 900 square foot upstairs apartment is not the ideal place for a toddler. So off he goes to Molly's, where he can run and play in a big house with a back yard and two other toddlers. He will be loved and cared for, and he will be across the street from my school. I am blessed.

But still I hurt. The tears poured down my face last night as I held my man, reflecting on our summer. If this was a movie, this would be the part where there would be a montage, probably with a song from The Fray like "Never Say Never," and there would flash scenes of all our adventures. I am grateful that he took his first steps with me. And while being a SAHM may have been the hardest full-time job I ever had, it was certainly the greatest. And that gift is mine again come Thanksgiving week, Christmas Break (oh, sorry..."Winter" Break), Easter Spring Break, and summer. I will probably be that mom that calls three times a day (especially considering I did that even when he was with my mom), and occasionally stops by for lunch. I packed way too many diapers and extra clothes in his bag, and I'm going to have to work hard to not micromanage Molly. Benjamin will love it--I'm not worried about that. He will be loved and cared for. But I will be the one across the street, shattered again each morning, teaching apathetic seventh graders how to read and write, and realizing that someday my son will be that seventh grader, and I want someone great in that classroom with them, and that these kids deserve that too.

Also, my kid needs to eat, and for that to happen, I have to take the hit.

So sweet Benjamin, when you're in high school and you resent me for letting someone else take care of you, please know I did it because I love you and I had to.

Once more unto the breach...

First Day of School!

Dark Ages Day

Three days ago we got a note from our apartment complex, which we love, saying that the power would be turned off in the entire complex from 9-4 on Friday. Fantastic. That shouldn't be a problem at all, considering the day before it was 99.5 degrees with 90% humidity. But Shannon, no lights means cooler indoor temperatures. It also means no fans or fake air conditioners. I wasn't freaking out at all. Then Thursday at 4:15 we got a message on our answering machine from the complex saying that they will be power washing our neighbors' decks, and they will do ours too unless we call them before the office closes at 5:00. If they don't hear from us, they will wash our deck. Also, please make sure you remove anything from the deck that you don't want to get wet.

So to recap:

• No electricity from 9-4

• Unless we call them within 45 minutes they will "power-wash" our deck (with no power? hmmmm...)

• If we do not remove things from our deck, what will they do? Indiscriminately hose it because we did not have the foresight to put the barbecue in our dark living room?
  

• The office will be closed all day because of the power outage, so if there are any issues we're on our own

This shouldn't be a problem. It's not like I have a toddler who's learning to walk and can barely do it in bright lights without falling and running into things.

By 8:45 I was all ready...

...Ben's lunch prepared...check
...stack of books and education journals...check
...book light...check
...fans and fake air conditioner running all morning for pre-cooling...check

All that was left was to wait.

At 9:20 everything stopped. I put Ben down for his nap, then I settled onto the couch with my stack of reading materials and book light. The morning actually wasn't too bad. The pre-cooling had its desired effect, and the apartment, while not cool by any standards, was not as hot and stuffy as I had anticipated. It was actually kind of nice to be forced to go without the TV, computer, and lights. It was quiet and almost peaceful.

Ben woke up around 11:00. My plan was to escape the dark cave and have one more beach day before Black Monday. While these solo adventures have been stressful at times, I'm really glad I did them. For most weeks I went to the beach at least once, sometimes more. By yesterday I'd come a long way from my novice days. So you'd think after two months of going to the beach with Ben every week I'd be a pro. Apparently I regressed on this last and glorious outing.

At 11:15 I was on the road with the stroller, backpack filled only with the essentials, Ben's lunch, and the umbrella. For my own lunch, I decided that since it was our last beach adventure I would treat myself to a sandwich from the Stuft Surfer, my favorite beach-side eatery. The only thing I didn't have was quarters for parking; I only had 3, which would buy me only 45 minutes. Not a big deal--I would just go to the grocery store, buy something small, and get some cash back in the form of quarters. So I went to Stater Brothers, picked out a banana, and purchased it asking for $10 cash back. The cashier opened her register, pulled out a $10 bill, practically threw it at me, slammed her register drawer shut, and started ringing the next customer up. Not wanting to elicit her spewing flames at me, I figured I'd get the quarters at the laundromat across the street. So I drove across the street (which, I should tell you, was actually a freeway, so it was a little more complicated than just "driving across the street"), unbuckled Ben, hauled him and my ten into the laundromat, and sighed deeply as I saw the token-dispensing machine. No quarters. New plan: there's an Albertson's on the way, so I'll stop there. $1 worth of bubbles, 9 cents in tax, 81 cents in change (including 3 quarters), 1.5 miles, and 40 minutes from my start time later, I was back on the road.

At 12:00 I found a parking spot at 13th street, just two blocks from the Stuft Surfer. I emerged from my car to discover that the suffocating heat and humidity had gone to a whole new level. I walked two blocks to the Stuft Surfer to see that there was a line stretching practically to 14th street. Lunch would have to wait. So I walked down the paved path to the water to discover that apparently all of Southern California had the same idea as me. There wasn't a clear spot of sand to be found. Normally I park the stroller at the end of the path, take Ben out (can't stroll on the sand), walk him and the stroller a few feet, and set up camp. Not an option this time; but I've worked too hard to get this far, and I can't give up now. So I took Ben out of the stroller and walked them for many many feet, wading through the crowds of people, and finally found a small clearing surrounded by bikini-clad preteens, a family of a billion, and for some reason a number of grandmas all by themselves. Why is that important? Because grandmas can't control themselves around Ben. They come up, pinch him, squeeze him, pet him, and say inappropriate things like "my, you're big...your mommy has a good milk supply."

I set up our little area and Ben stationed himself in the sand and started burying himself in it. He's a boy, to be sure. The kid loves getting dirty.


After a little bit we ventured through the throngs of tourists to the water. It was actually pretty fun. This is Ben's first beach adventure since learning to walk, and he was out of his mind with joy and excitement. He'd run a few steps, fall on his face in the mud, push himself up grinning ear to ear and run again with fistfuls of sand. The tide was a little rough, and at one point Ben, myself, and the camera were almost swept out to sea. Thankfully we emerged, alive and with a still-working camera. How that happened I'll never know, but I'm choosing not to question the saving of the camera. However, my clothes were soaked, and I was forced to remove them and wander the beach clad only in my swimsuit. This is something I didn't do when I was in college and skinny, so I wasn't too keen on it now. But I didn't have much of a choice.


The rest of the hour went much the same.

After our beach funsies I packed up my soaked-through kid and sand-covered belongings (Ben had some fun collecting sand and dumping it on, well, everything), and headed back to the pathway, loaded stroller in one hand and Ben in the other. I was moving fairly quickly because the sand had been touched by the fires of Mordor, and I was barefoot. I got to the pathway and put Ben in the stroller, at which point I realized that my sandals had fallen out quite a ways back. So I pulled Ben out of the stroller and ran back to collect my shoes. Ben was squealing with delight and laughing while mommy was screaming with flaming feet. I got us to the shower-ish spiggots to rinse off, as we were way too sandy to get in the car. Ben didn't like it much at first, but by the end he was giggling and entertaining the Matthew McConaughey-like surfer waiting for the water.

We skipped the Stuft Surfer again because it still had a line down to Mexico, and I wasn't about to prolong this adventure. So home we went. Once we got there, we headed to the pool for a rinse (no electricity=a very dark bathroom and potentially catastrophic shower). Upon our return we played for a bit and I put Ben down for his nap. At this point the heat was out of control, and I was staring at my cell phone every couple of minutes in anticipation of 4:00 and the return of the power (also because I'm reading The Satanic Verses right now and I'm having a hard time not drowning in headaches and confusion).

When Ben woke up from his nap, we were both dripping with sweat. So good.


When my mom came to babysit for our date night at 5:00, we still had no power. Thankfully it came on at about 5:15, at which point we gladly left for dinner and Inglorious Basterds. I happily spent the evening eating with two hands, meandering through the other sections besides the children's at Barnes and Noble, and watching a movie that did not star puppets.

Last week I discovered (in the Costa Mesa Parks and Recreation Bulletin) that there is a park across the street from our complex. Since I've been big on parks lately, I thought I'd check it out. Last week I tossed Ben in the stroller and gave it a go. According to Google maps (yes, I googled the park across the street), it was only .5 miles away. I was pretty excited that there was a park within walking distance. All I had to do was cross the street, turn right, cross another street, turn left, ba-da-bing, park. Oh, did I mention I live on the corner of a major five-lane street and a freeway on-ramp? So all I had to do was cross aforementioned five-lane street of death. It's constantly busy; so busy, in fact, that it often takes a good five minutes to be able to turn left out of the complex driveway so I can get to work. So to get to the park I could either dart across five lanes of speeding traffic or walk down to the crosswalk at the on-ramp. There weren't many cars, so I chose to dart. Safe? Maybe not. Legal? Probably not. Faster? Oh yes.

So I get across the speeding traffic (this is hyperbolic; I promise I did not run through traffic; I waited until there were no cars coming), go one block down a little side street, and cross another street, which, I realized when I got there, was another five-lane busy street. I could make the U and go to the signal, or I could dart. I darted. I got to the park in one piece in eight minutes, but hyperventilating in panic. I decided to go the long and legal way home. Which took me in a big circle and involved walking down the sidewalk on the freeway on-ramp. It also took 15 minutes.

So, to recap, my choices were: a) walk a straight line for eight minutes and dart across wide, potentially trafficky streets; or b) walk in a big circle for fifteen minutes and use the crosswalks on the freeway on- and off-ramps.

Because I'm a crazy masochist, I tried it again today. This time I decided to do the legal and (probably) safer route on the big circle. And as I was walking on the freeway on-ramp, dripping sweat because it was 90 degrees at 8:00 in the morning, as half of Orange County sat in their air-conditioned BMWs wondering what's up with the sweaty lady on the corner, I thought deeply about my life. I have a lot to be thankful for. I have the most incredible husband, the best kiddo a mama could ever ask for, a great job, amazing family and friends, and a roof over my head. We have two cars that (usually) work, and a refrigerator that keeps my water ice cold. So I feel really ungrateful for being so negative. While I have had, for the most part, an amazing summer, I'm a few days away from going back to work, and I'm feeling discouraged and overwhelmed. I have these moments of peace and contentment. I'll be sitting at the park with Ben watching him play and laugh, or I'll be curled up on the couch reading and sipping iced tea, thinking to myself, dang, I have a great life. And I feel all blessed and warm and grateful and I nearly burst into tears I'm so full. And in those moments I thank God for blessing me beyond my wildest dreams. And then there are other moments, when I'm sitting on the curb with my history book watching arrogant, selfish Orange County guy after guy walking past me while I wait for my tire to get changed, or I'm dripping sweat on a freeway on-ramp wondering when I'm going to catch a break. I hate where I live. Not necessarily the city, although sometimes I don't like that either, but I'm not super happy with our apartment. The letter we got yesterday saying they're turning off the electricity (read: fake air conditioner, fans, TV, etc.) all day tomorrow certainly didn't help. I'm tired of studying all the time. I don't want to be a working mom. A couple of my fellow teachers would tell me all last year that I would get used to it, and come the end of the summer I would be begging to get back to work and hand Ben off. But that's not where I'm at. And I'm tired of people telling me how I'm going to feel. Going to work and leaving Ben sucks; it just does. And it's not getting easier, it's getting worse. And now on top of drowning in sweat I've got tears streaming down my face because I don't want to leave him on Monday. I love my job. I love teaching, I love English, I love history. But my heart shatters every time I think about dropping Ben off. He starts daycare this time. I love the woman who's going to be watching him. She's going to love him and care for him, and I know he will like it there. But I still want it to be me. Only it can't be right now. If we ever want to get out of this hole and live in a place where Ben can run and play with spiders, and we can take walks to a park that's not on top of a freeway, I have to work. But leaving is starting to feel more and more like a dream that must be deferred until it festers and eventually explodes. Every time it looks like we may be in a position to make our exit, we find ourselves buried in car bills, or there's nowhere to go. We finally found a place we like, but we have no idea when the current tenants are moving out. It could still be months. And in the meantime I've got one more test, and work and...here I am again, feeling discouraged and overwhelmed. And I feel guilty for feeling that way, because I have so much to be thankful for. It's just that right now I feel like I can't see the way out, and it's getting harder to stay optimistic and hopeful.

Ben and I had a lovely morning at the park. It's pretty small, but the nice thing is that it's nestled in a little neighborhood and no one else seems to ever be there (because going twice has made me an expert). Ben played in the dirt and walked around like a little drunken sailor while I bathed in sweat and took pictures. Then he made his poop grunt and face, which was super because I left the diaper bag at home (I'm kind of afraid of it now). I loaded my stinky munchkin into the stroller and took the darting, daring short journey home.

I really do have a great life. I'm so blessed. Sometimes I just have a harder time remembering that.

Stan

When I went to the car later in the day Stan was still there; I discovered him after snapping Ben into his car seat. Naturally, I left Ben in the car (in the 95 degree heat) to run upstairs and grab my camera so you could meet Stan.

You should know he survived the trip to Costco and back (on the freeway) and is probably still hanging out in my mirror.

Here is Stan.

Arachnids

I hate spiders. I mean LOATHE them. Apparently this hatred has become a rallying cry for all of the spiders in the greater Orange County area. My irrational fear of spiders stems from an inadvertent viewing of Arachnophobia when I was young.

Side note: inadvertent viewings of horror movies is apparently something I sought out as a child. The same thing happened with Poltergeist and The Shining. I turn on the TV, see a cute kid, think to myself "oh, a kid's movie," and BAM, there's a tree eating the little girl.

Anyway, back to the offending horror at hand: spiders. The scene of Arachnophobia that I inadvertently viewed was one in which a hoard (is that the right group word for spiders? pack? school? herd?) of spiders emerged from a toilet. As a result, not only am I afraid of spiders, but I'm particularly afraid of sitting on the toilet and having spiders emerge and eat my butt. Imagine my horror, then, when one day I lifted the toilet seat in a Starbucks bathroom and there was a spider crawling up the bowl. I digress.

There has been a proliferation of spider incidents in the last few of days. I shall recount them for you here.

Scenario 1: Two days ago I went to the park with Ben. We finish our picnic, it's time to play a little. So I reach into Ben's diaper bag to grab some toys and out crawls a huge, nasty flesh-colored spider. Okay, first of all, spiders are supposed to be black. So the fleshy ones are extra freaky. Second of all, it was enormous. And I'm not just saying that because I hate spiders. It was really really big. So it's in the bag, and I'm freaked out. Ben has wandered off and plopped down on the grass. So I carefully remove each item from the bag. And when I say carefully remove, I mean gingerly reach in, slowly take the item out with my pincer fingers, then fling it away. Thus I empty the entire bag, and I have seen no sign of the spider. I'm ready to give up and assume it has since crawled out of the bag and into the grass. So I take a diaper, get ready to put it back in the bag, and out comes the freaky deaky spider, crawling all over the bag like he owns it. Naturally I'm flipping out. So, obviously, I grab the sunscreen and start spraying it on the spider. Apparently spiders are impervious to sunscreen. I'm spraying, he's running all over the bag, the inside of the bag is getting coated in baby sunscreen. He's not dead, and now he is protected against harmful, melanoma-causing UV rays. He finally appears to weaken, so I take the can of SPF 50 and smash him. In the meantime, Ben has probably consumed his weight in grass and spiders. After disposing of the spider, I re-packed the diaper bag, not realizing until I was done that it was still coated in a thick layer of sunscreen. Oh well. If it doesn't kill spiders, it probably won't hurt the diapers.

Scenario #2: Yesterday I took Ben to the pool. He's a little fish and LOVES swimming. So we we're splashing and playing. I put him in his floaty thing, and he squealed with delight. Then I felt something tickling my hand. Sure enough, BIG, FAT, FLESHY SPIDER. So I scream, start flailing my arms and splashing. I'm sure the other kids in the pool were impressed, and I'm sure their parents were getting nervous about the woman with turrets playing in the pool with their children. How did a spider get in the pool? Got me. My guess is he camped out on the floaty thing which had been sitting on our deck. Then he waited for the opportune moment. Or maybe he had set up residence in my hair some time ago. The important thing: he is now deceased. I know, because after shaking him off I splashed him around the pool for a bit and eventually splashed him out. Ben thought the whole thing was a hoot.

Scenario #3: This morning I loaded Ben into the car for a quick Target run (is there such a thing?). I go to open my door and, lo and behold, BIG, FAT, FLESHY SPIDER. Now I'm thinking, okay, am I really killing him? Or is it the same one and he keeps coming back to life? This time I did not attempt to kill him. I've decided that his name is Stan and killing him is useless. He will continue to haunt me for the rest of my life. I do not anticipate using the restroom for that time.

Study-Free, Guilt-Free Day

Last night I decided that losing my mind was a hefty price to pay for a test. So I put the books on the shelf and declared my last week of summer my very own. Instead of running around like a headless chicken cooking, cleaning, entertaining a newly walking toddler, and attempting to cram in as much Economics, Government, and California history as possible, I did some light cleaning, played with my son, worked on the family photo album (I did NOT scrapbook--that is not an activity I have the time or creativity for. Just look at Ben's first year book...it is quite clear the days I was on it and the days I was not.), ran a couple of errands, and went to the park.


Until I go to work on Friday, I will be spending my summer resting, relaxing, and maximizing my fun quadrant (thank you, 30 Rock).

The CSET will be there when I get back.

Sweet and Sour

I'm laying on my back on our hand-me-down sofa staring at the spider webs and wasp on the ceiling, reflecting on the last few days. Oh what a few days it's been.

Thursday....

My buddy Shelli came to play with Ben so I could go study. I got two calls that morning before she came: one from the insurance company saying they needed me to take my car in to get pictures taken, and one from my school saying I needed to come in to sign up for insurance. So I'm thinking, that's okay, I'll do them as quick as I can then still be able to squeeze in some study time. Instead, I waited in long lines to sign up for my stupid insurance (oh sweet irony...isn't private insurance supposed to save me from long, life-threatening lines?), despite having made an appointment. I got to my car, starving for lunch, and desperately needing to study because I had less than an hour left of baby-free time. Wait, why is the car moving so weird? Oh, that's a flat tire. So I pulled back into the parking lot, went back into the district office, and politely asked the receptionist if there was anyone in the WHOLE DISTRICT OFFICE that could change a flat tire. No. Really? No one in this entire school district can change a flat tire? Well the maintenance guys are at lunch. And no one who doesn't work in maintenance knows how to change a tire? Um, I don't know. Do you know any guys that work here? I just got back from my lunch. Never mind. I'll call AAA.

So I called AAA and waited in the parking lot of a fully staffed office for 45 minutes. I sat on the curb and read my California History book while guy after guy walked passed me; looked at me, my book, and my flat tire; and kept walking.

Once AAA came and changed the tire, I topped off my study time at the tire store.

The sweeter side to Thursday: I took a practice CSET and got an 80%. This is glorious, particularly considering two weeks ago I scored a 40% on a practice test.

Friday...

I went back to work. I don't think really need to talk about why that wasn't the highlight of my week. When I came home, Ben woke up screaming after having slept for about 45 minutes (instead of the usual 2 hours). He was a treat for the rest of the evening.

The sweet side to Friday: hmmm.....

Yesterday...

We got a note from our apartment complex inviting us to sign a new lease for another six months for the same amount we've been paying. This is interesting, considering the fact that they're currently listing our apartment for $2o0 less. When I asked them about it, they said "there's nothing we can do." So they have to charge us $2o0 more than the market price for our apartment, while the people downstairs, who just moved in, get to pay the cheaper price.

"So if we stay we pay $1515?"

"well, yes."

"But if we moved out then moved back in, we could pay $1300?"

"um, yes."

"That doesn't make sense."

"There's nothing we can do."

In the afternoon we went to an open house for a place we saw on Craig's List. We were excited because it sounded right up our alley. Oh wait, it's actually located in an alley. And it's a dirty crappy mess. And it costs more than we pay here. So that's what we can get for our money if we try to live in a house instead of an apartment. Poop.

The sweet side to Saturday: we went to Adalee's first birthday party in the park. We love our new friends.

AND...

Ben started walking. For realsies.

Which leads us to Sunday...

This morning we went to go grocery shopping, only to discover that Matt's car was no longer in the complex. I went to the store while Matt investigated. It seems that someone called and had it towed. See, we had to buy a new car because our old one died. We were waiting to get the plates so we could register it in the office. Apparently one of our fellow tenants didn't want to wait, and wanted our parking spot, so they called the towing company and had the car towed. I hope they enjoy the parking spot.

So we went to get the car from the towing place and, oh, sorry, "I'm out towing another car. I'll be back in an hour." Sad--that's Ben's nap time. Oh well. I guess we'll go back in an hour.

an hour later...

"hey, we're here to get our car, but no one is here."

"oh, I was just on my lunch break. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

When we finally got home, Ben was screaming because it was way past his nap time. Someone's grandpa was downstairs having the loudest, longest conversation ever about everything in the world. And then there's the wasp.

We're breaking up with our complex.

The sweet side to today: Our new friends Brandi and Jesse informed us that there's a place for rent in their neighborhood. It's cheaper than what we're paying now, and it's way better. Please please please pray that this goes through. If we have to live here for much longer I might freak out and start killing people.

Also, I hate cars. A lot.

The Toddler Becomes a Toddler

Outdoor Adventures: Mason Regional Park

Destination: Mason Regional Park, Irvine


The price: $3 for parking in the park, $0 for parking across the street

(please see Mile Square Park comments about market failures and stealing from the government)

The Journey: 4.0

Quick drive down the freeway, a couple of miles on an empty road, park, happy Shannon.

The Hike: 4.0

To be honest we didn't do much walking. We had a late start and ended up barely having time to enjoy our picnic lunch and stroll around the lake. But what brief walking we did was lovely, and I can't wait to go back and explore some more. Paved pathways that meandered through the park, a couple of bridges, mostly flat...easy. Also, because it's a big park and there are several pathways that loop and connect, your walk can be as long or as short as you'd like. Ours was short. Cranky one-year-olds demand that kind of thing. They can be very disrespectful.



The View: 4.5

The park is very pretty. It was a lot like Mile Square Park, but it wasn't next to busy streets, so it was a little more quiet and remote feeling. We didn't get to see much of the park because of the aforementioned tired toddlers, but what we did see was very nice.


The Extras: 4.0

The ground appeared to be covered in dog poop; although there is a good chance it wasn't poop but the results of the landscaping lawn mowing thingies. Which, by the way, there were three of mowing the grass all around us while we had our lunch. Super fun. Otherwise, it was a nice park. Playgrounds, picnic areas, a lake, the works.

Brandi and I enjoyed chatting and the kiddos enjoyed poking each other in the face and making weird noises. I think that means they had fun, although I can't be sure.


Overall Rating: 4.5

Outdoor Adventures: Upper Newport Bay Ecological Reserve

Destination: Upper Newport Bay Ecological Reserve, Newport Beach

The price: $0

The Journey: 4.5

From where I live (lest we forget, this travel guide is about me), piece of cake. A few minutes on the freeway, a few minutes on a quickly moving street, turn right, park on the side of the road, ba-da-bing. Less than 10 minutes.

The Hike: 3.5

Like Bolsa Chica, no trees. BUT the path was paved, so the stroller was a viable option.

Side note: stroller accessibility is not necessarily required for these "hikes." I just expect that if the book says I can use it, that it won't be a lie.

The trail is 4 1/2 miles round trip, but you can turn around at any time. We did about half of it. And we turned around at a look-out point with a parking lot, so maybe next time we'll do the second half. Flat, easy...but shade would have been a bonus. It was a good workout, though.

The View: 4.0

The Back Bay is pretty (well, the part this trail circles anyway...the other side of Back Bay isn't quite as attractive.). There are a lot of birds, and because the trail is in a kind of valley you're isolated from civilization, which, to me, is important in a hike.


The Extras: 0

No extras. But that was fine, because sometimes you just need a good place to take a walk. The Upper Newport Ecological Reserve is great for that purpose.


Overall Rating: 4.0

Benjamin

I realized it's been a while since I've updated Ben's adoring fans on his latest passions and propensities. My apologies...I know that's the reason we started this little blog thing in the first place, and I'm sure there are plenty of you crying "Less politics and lame travel drivel! More Ben!" And so I shall give it thee.

Our stinky monkey has been very busy as of late. He still eats like an oinker, but he's crazy active, so he's still in the 25th percentile for weight and height. While we all thought he'd skip crawling and be an early walker, Ben has proved, once again, that he has his own agenda. He finally figured out crawling at nine months and until recently hasn't budged on the walking front. He started pulling up on furniture and cruising adeptly around six or seven months. That and crawling (very quickly) have since been his preferred modes of transportation. A month or so ago he started standing all on his own without holding on. True to form, he took his sweet time moving on to the next step. This last Sunday night he finally let go of the coffee table and took four or five independent steps. He's done that a few times a day since then. So any day now. Of course, I was saying that six months ago, and here we are...But this evening he decided he was just going to push on through. He picked up a couple of heavy toys, stood up, and tried to walk forward on his own holding his trucks. It didn't work out. Now that he's starting to man up and try to walk alone, he's already got a few bruises and two scratches on his face (okay...one of those is from me scratching him with my ring).

He's also become quite the social butterfly. He's very friendly. He greets other babies by poking them on their noses. Which brings me to a couple of other new hobbies: pointing and noses. He's also a serious chatterbox. He will go on and on in gibberish, complete with intonation, facial expressions, and gestures. Occasionally he will randomly laugh this really weird laugh. Some not so great new hobbies: pushing the pretty blue (power) button on the computer, trying to do pull-ups on the end table (and once pulling the whole thing crashing down on himself--more scratches, this time on the leg and foot), and throwing his plate/cup/bib on the floor when he's done eating.

He's also a very skilled organizer. He will sort like nothing I've ever seen. Yesterday he was taking his blocks one by one and moving them across the room onto his rug and making a pile. He will also fill his fire truck with blocks one by one, and take his blocks and arrange them in rows on the bookcase. Numerous times I've watched him sift through his blocks, pick one out, put it in a container, repeat a few times, dig through the blocks in the container, pull one out and put it aside, then find more blocks. His favorite toys are his blocks (great for filling and emptying), dump trucks (also great for filling and emptying) and nesting cups. He has a couple of sets of those, including one for the bath. He pitches a fit if we try to remove him from the bath before he successfully nests all the cups. Below is a video of him organizing his socks.

He loves animals, and he loves walking around outside holding my hand. He gives me big kisses, and he still sucks his thumb and twirls his hair when he's tired or stressed. He's also apparently observed me cleaning, because one of his new favorite things is taking anything resembling a washcloth or paper towel and "wiping" things.



So that's our little guy. He's a crack-up, and we're crazy nuts about him. :)

Outdoor Adventures: Bolsa Chica Ecological Reserve

Destination: Bolsa Chica Ecological Reserve, Huntington Beach


The price: $0

The Journey: 3.5

The Ecological Reserve is across the street from the beach. The thing about Huntington Beach is that it's always a long-ish drive. This wasn't too bad. One of the perks is that you get to drive a little stretch on PCH along the coast...and it's one of open the stretches of PCH, so that part of the drive is pretty nice.

The Hike: 3.0

The book said the hike was easy and wheelchair accessible. So when I saw that, I figured, hey, if a wheelchair can do it, we can take the stroller. LIE. The book said the path was "hard, packed dirt." What the book didn't say was that the dirt was packed with rocky gravel and pebbles. To say that rolling the stroller over this path was difficult would be an understatement. Erin and I got our workout. Also, parts of the pathway were actually all broken up. Someone in a wheelchair would have died. Okay, that may have been a bit hyperbolic. But they would have had a difficult time.


Also, there were no trees at all, thus no shade at all. We went on a cool-ish day, so it wasn't too bad. But this walk would definitely be better earlier in the morning and not during the summer. The path is, however, quite flat. So if you're going with kids (not in a stroller), it's pretty easy.

The hike can be either 1.5 miles or 3 miles, as there are two smaller loops that could be combined to one big loop. It took us about 40 minutes (and we had to slow down occasionally to carry the stroller over the potholes).

The View: 4.0

The ecological reserve itself is nice. It's marshy and you can see the ocean. But again, no trees. Sad.


The Extras: 2.5

This is really just a straight up hike. BUT across the street is Bolsa Chica State Beach. Had we more time, we would have gone. Maybe. Since it's a state beach it would have cost $10, which I'm opposed to since I can do Newport for $2.

Overall Rating: 3.0